It was just before midnight when Gabriella spotted him at the door paying the bouncer for the night's cover. The man was hard to miss; nearly six feet three and a solid two hundred and twenty pounds. It was his hair, though, that made him stand out among the others—long, blond, and wavy. In the photos, his eyes were blue enough to melt the coldest of hearts—perhaps even hers.
Not a fucking chance!
Then why are you here?
You know the answer to that.
God, he was devourable!
He moved carefully through the sea of pathetic fools dancing pathetic dances to even more pathetic music. Gabriella tensed as he garnered several stares from the makeup hos in their skimpy outfits and tight-fitting tops.
His name was Marcus Leonard Jenson, but went by Mark. He was born in Billings, Montana on February 19th, 1987. He had graduated high school in 2005, worked as an assistant manager at a clothing store, and then later accepted an administrative job at the company's headquarters in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Gabriella had flown into Charlotte four days ago, spending most of her time making preparations, staking him out, and looking for secure places to dump the body.
Upon her arrival, it had taken Gabriella less than five minutes to hack into Mark's computer, and nearly ten to access his cell. Judging by his browsing history, he was into strong, dominant women. That pleased Gabriella. Very much.
She smiled, her eyes tracking him.
Mark took a seat at a table with three other guys—one she guessed was Kyle, who had called him yesterday evening, wanting to meet up at the club.
Gabriella took out her own mobile device, then typed in a code. Moments later the muffled conversation between Mark and his buddies transmitted from his Android to her iPhone. She tapped the screen, increasing his volume. Gabriella held her smartphone up to her ear so she could hear over the music and laughter.
She grunted, then glared at the bitch who had the nerve to bump into her. The little slut started to say something, then thought better of it. Gabriella grinned as the frightened little twat-rocket scurried away.
Motioning for a waitress, she placed her order. She kept an eye on Mark as he chatted away. A spark of jealousy flared when she caught him glancing at a table of young ladies. Her eyes narrowed when he nudged one of his buddies, then motioned toward the women. One was a blonde with really large breasts and likely an even larger opinion of herself.
Gabriella hated blonde women. Heidi had been a blonde.
Don't think about that crazy bitch!
She made you the person you are today.
Yeah, a fucking cold-blooded killer.
A very wealthy cold-blooded killer. Tomorrow night she would become over a million dollars wealthier.
She continued studying Mark as he laughed with his friends. The hired help returned with her Bacardi and coke. Gabriella handed her three twenties, then waved her off. The waitress stared at her wide-eyed, thanked her, and then left.
She may come in handy later on.
As Gabriella took another sip of her drink, some goofball with dreads and a goatee approached. She shot him a look that froze him in his tracks. Like the bitch moments ago, he wisely walked away. Heidi had taught her how to use her eyes to intimidate.
The eyes can freeze even the strongest man's soul, Heidi once said.
Gabriella weaved her way through the club, which was beginning to get crowded. When she was about twenty feet from Mark, Gabriella waited patiently for the right moment to send off the vibe, which was self-taught and highly effective.