How to Kill Men and Get Away With It(45)

As usual, it doesn’t take long for Niall to bite. He slides into Kelly’s DMs like a rat up a drain. At least sociopathic sex offenders are predictable.

Niall – it turns out – isn’t one for ‘long, drawn-out chats’ on the app messenger. He much prefers meeting in person.

Kelly replies: ‘I’d love to meet you in person. The trouble is though, I find it hard to get out for an evening because of the kids. They’re pretty good sleepers though. So maybe you could come to mine for a drink? I’m not doing anything tonight.’

Niall can hardly believe his luck. ‘That would be great. But only if you’re sure? I don’t want you to be worried about putting yourself in danger.’

I grit my teeth as Kelly replies, ‘Lol that’s so sweet, but I trust you.’ Then she gives him my address and tells him to come over around 8pm.

I prepare for a kill in much the same way I’d prep for a date. I always make sure I’ve been waxed and threaded and often have a professional blow-dry beforehand. I like to look good while I’m telling them exactly what I’ll be doing to them for the next few hours.

My make-up is minimal, a teeny bit of foundation and some mascara. As I watch the clock tick its way around to 8pm – Kelly’s ‘kids’ are sound asleep by then – I feel the delicious pounding in my chest, knowing it’s almost time.

Niall doesn’t disappoint, and I hear a knock on my door at exactly eight o’clock. I smooth my skirt down, hide the syringe up my sleeve and get ready for the show.

‘Oh,’ Niall says, clocking that I’m not Kelly when I open the door. ‘I’m looking for Kelly?’

‘You must be Niall? Kelly’s told me all about you.’ I give him a flash of my Insta-famous smile. ‘She’s in here, I said I’d stay for a few minutes just to check you’re not a serial killer.’

We both laugh.

I stand aside to let Niall walk into the apartment and he gives a low whistle just as I plunge the syringe into his neck. He falls – like the sack of shit he is – to the floor. I can’t help but give his overpumped torso a quick kick while he’s down there.

I didn’t really think things through however and when it comes to moving the piece of steroid-infused shit, I get myself quite puffed out and sweaty as I try to drag him to the kitchen where I’ve laid out my tools, and lined the floor with pages from Vogue.

In fact, I can barely shift him at all.

It quickly becomes obvious that I’m going to have to do him right here in the hallway. I glance around at the newly painted walls and grimace as I realise I’ve got a lot of work to do to get the place kill-ready. And with about two hours before Roid Rage wakes up, I’d better get cracking. It’s a tiresome task moving all the magazine pages from the kitchen into the hallway and I am really loath to use the duct tape on the solid oak floors.

The walls are an issue too. Ideally, I’d like them free from blood spatter if possible. Blood spatter is definitely not hashtag stunning décor. I gingerly use tape to stick the pages over the walls, cursing myself for not foreseeing the potential problems of moving an eighteen-stone man.

I’m finally done when I hear some movement from Niall on the floor, where he’s lying duct-taped at the wrists and ankles. And mouth, of course.

I’m looking forward to this one.

As I head into the kitchen where my freshly sharpened Shun knife is sitting, waiting to slice its way through some rotten flesh, I hear a knock at the door.

What?

I grab the knife, shove it up my sleeve before heading back to the door.

Shit.

It’s Charlie.

With flowers.

I glance back at the hallway – the walls and floor looking like an explosion in a newsagent and there’s a semi-conscious body builder coming out of a GHB coma in the middle of it all.

It would be quite tricky to explain this.

Maybe I can pretend to be out.

Charlie knocks the door again. ‘Kits? It’s Charlie. Open the door. Rehan told me you’re in.’

Damn you, Rehan.

I tentatively open the door an inch and peek out.

This is extremely inconvenient.

‘I know I should’ve called first, but I wanted to come over and talk to you about the James stuff. So, can I come in?’ He raises one eyebrow half a millimetre, barely detectable but enough to make the gesture suggestive.

‘Um. It’s not a great time right now if I’m honest.’

He looks crestfallen yet still devastatingly fuckable. He tries to peer through the door. ‘It looks like you’ve got at least half an issue of Elle on your walls. What are you up to in there?’

‘It’s Vogue. And I’m getting ready for some decorating. Next week.’

Charlie looks puzzled. ‘But you’ve covered up the walls?’

Niall chooses this moment to make a grunt from the corner. He’s almost fully awake now and is battling with his bonds, clearly unimpressed with the piece of tape over his mouth.

‘What was that?’ Charlie asks, craning his neck to see into the apartment. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Hen’s here,’ I say, giving Niall a warning kick to the groin. ‘We’re trying out a new waxing technique. It’s pretty painful.’

Charlie pulls an uncomfortable face. ‘Okay, girl time. I get it.’