The Perfect Husband by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blake Pierce
Published: 2022-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

She thought the Venice Beach Boardwalk was always fun at this time of day.

Mid-morning was when the ambitious tourists came out, the ones who knew they wouldn’t get everything they wanted accomplished that day if they didn’t start early. Then there were the stay-at-home moms, power-walking their babies in strollers with extra-tough wheels that could handle the bumps and the grit of the sand that constantly blew onto the path.

There were also the skaters, the vendors, the artists, and the beach bathers. There weren’t as many of those out today, at least not yet. The marine layer hadn’t burned off yet so the there was a slight chill in the air and the fog made visibility a bit of a challenge.

Still, she loved it. With her office so close by, it was easy to take a little break and just wander around, people watching and appreciating the wackiness of her surroundings. But that wasn’t all she was doing today. She had a job to do. And this was an essential part of the preparation.

Very soon, someone else would be coming by this very spot and she needed to be ready for them. She would be. She was very meticulous. She hadn’t made any mistakes with Amelia Sullivan two nights ago. Nor had she made any with Rebecca Barstow last night. She would be equally vigilant today.

Some might say it was too much—to take out another offender so soon after the last one, and in broad daylight. But there were no rules when it came to this sort of thing, other than the ones she created for herself. And those rules were simple: the guilty had to be punished. The victims deserved respect. The scales had to be balanced.

Everything else was immaterial. Her cause was just, and she was its avenging angel. And avenging angles weren’t troubled by concerns like “broad daylight.” As long as she stayed true to her purpose, it would all work out in the end, one way or another.

The only reticence she felt was a result of the exhilaration her work provided. She hadn’t expected that. She thought eliminating the guilty would be a solemn, dutiful obligation. She hadn’t anticipated the thrill that came as she waited for the proper moment to strike, or the rush as the knife punctured their flesh and slid through their organs like a knitting needle through a pillow, or the orgasmic hum deep within her as she pulled it back out.

She hadn’t expected to enjoy her work so much, and she knew she probably shouldn’t. But she had made her peace with it, deciding that allowing herself this one little pleasure in the service of something larger wasn’t so terrible. If she was to be judged down the line for embracing her task with too much vitality, so be it.

For now, all she needed to focus on was her next target. Based on their schedule, they would be arriving very soon. There was no time to think about abstractions like guilt, exhilaration, or judgment.

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