Out for Blood - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

May 26, 2012 – Cincinnati, OH

     Revenge.

     It was something that could corrupt even the purest of souls. The thirst for it was almost physical. It seeped into your veins and overtook your entire being.  That need for redemption was enough to drive a person mad. I knew I was a victim of it.

     Inhaling the smoke from my cigarette, I glared out across the bustling street. Downtown Cincinnati – the place was somewhere between beautiful and repulsing, depending what part of town you were in. Tonight was one of my low nights. One of the nights I spent thinking of times long gone.

Times when I was happy. Carefree. They consumed my mind and threatened to shove me over the cliff and into depression. Times like these were when I would have to drive myself back onto the right road. I had to remind myself over and over that this was all I was meant to do now.

     Revenge.

     The word echoed in my mind, beginning to clear my head. The old days – the happy days – were behind me. My emotions were on lockdown. Nonexistent. The day they let the bastard go shattered my world. That same fateful day was the day my life did a complete one-eighty. My grades slipped, my friends faded away. Everything slowly began to fall apart.

     For a time, my mother tried to fix me. She tried to save her precious little girl, but even her love and attention couldn’t mend the hole in my crippled heart. Therapists and psychiatrists were brought in by the dozens, but none of them could get through to me.

     Many left the house running.

     Exhaling a smoke laced sigh, I flicked my cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with my five-inch stiletto. Those days were in the past. I had to live for now. I had to focus on what I needed to do. Raising my storm gray eyes, I watched my target. He stood across the street leaning casually against the brick wall. The big-busted blonde had her hand on his arm, rubbing up and down intimately. The scene was enough to make even the likes of me cringe.

     Stanley Crowley was not the man I whose life I was dead set on ending. He was simply a pawn. A piece in the puzzle. I needed him. He was a key player in a game I never imagined I would have to participate in.

His eyes drifted my way. After his gaze drifted past me he did a double take and stared at me. Smirking slightly, I did a little finger wave and began to make my way across the street. The blonde at his side followed his attention and when her eyes landed on me, she glared. Putting on my best fake smile, I flipped my dirty blonde hair over my shoulder and fluttered my eyelashes. “Stan.” I greeted sweetly as I came to a stop in front of him.

     Shaking his head, a small smile broke out across his face. “Mercy.” He spoke softly, using the nickname he and my father had always used for me.

     “Presley.” I corrected lightheartedly, trying not to flinch. Now was not the time to revert back to the sniveling heap I had once been.

     The woman hanging off him began whining, “Who is she, Stan?”

     Stan rolled his eyes. “Get lost, Tasha.” He snapped. After huffing and sending one last hateful glare my way, she stomped off. I couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly after her. Stan shook his head as he looked back to me. “How can I help you, Mercy?”

     “Presley.” I enunciated, “I don’t answer to Mercy anymore, seeing as how I don’t show it.”

     Stan looked at me oddly before shaking his head. “Alright, Presley. What are you doing back here?”

     It was well known knowledge that the minute I graduated at the beginning of the summer, I had taken off for Baton Rouge. Holden Clay, the man who murdered my father, was said to be there at the time. Unfortunately for me, by the time I got down to Louisiana Clay was long gone. So, I had returned home in hopes that one of my father’s oldest friends would be able to help me. “I need a favor.” I finally said.

     “I should’ve figured as much. Presley, you know that your father’s death had nothing to do with our line of work, right? It was a random killing.”

     “Bullshit.” I spat.  “I’ll never believe it. You seem to forget that I was there, Stanley. I saw the look on Clay’s face. That was no ‘random act’. That was premeditated. Planned.” Just speaking of that night caused me to grind my teeth together in frustration. The glint in Clay’s hard blue eyes still haunted me. That was a night I would never be able to put behind me.

     Stanley sighed. “Presley…” Seeing the glare on my face  he backtracked over his words, “Fine. Fine. What do you need me to do?”

     “Put a trace on his cards. Something. I need to know where he is. Or at least find me someone close to him that I can get the information out of.”

     He eyed me carefully. “You would have made a good agent.”

     I chuckled darkly. Black ops. FBI. CIA. Put whatever label you want on what my father was. He was an agent for the government. For exactly which agency I never truly found out, and frankly I didn’t care. All I knew was that even though Stan was retired now, he could get me the information I needed. He had connections. “Don’t start with me, Stan. I’ve changed. And normally agents have good hearts and want what’s best for people. I don’t fit that description anymore.”

     Stan’s eyes softened as he gave me a sad look. Just that simple expression made my blood boil. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I didn’t need it. I knew exactly what I was doing. The consequences had been branded into my mind when I had chosen to go down this road. After my mission was complete, I’d finish out the rest of my days in prison. I had accepted that.

     Then again maybe I could get off for ‘lack of evidence’ like Clay had.

     Lack of evidence my ass. I don’t know how they got him off when they had my sworn eyewitness testimony, but I would find out. My number one goal was Clay, but if I could take out anyone else who had caused him to get off scot-free, I’d take them down too.

     “Are you absolutely positive you want to do this, Presley?” Stan asked, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “It’s not too late. You can turn back and try to put this all in the past. Where it belongs.”

     Rapidly, I shook my head. “I’ve made my decision, Stan. Holden Clay will die by my hand. I’ll kill him.” Shrugging, I let a malicious smirk slip onto my face. “Or I’ll die trying.”