Jeff The Killer Hot Novels & Stories

Sean asked. "I said it was Colonel Zinn," Diego replied. "Good," Sean said. This approach spared him the trouble of lengthy explanations. After all, he preferred to keep his involvement with Melania and Blake to a minimum. "What about that guy? Has he confessed everything?" Sean cut to the chase. Since Diego had called him, it meant that the interrogation was wrapping up. "He spilled everything," Diego reported. "His name's Jeff, and he's a mercenary out of Wysteria. He was hired this time by a woman named 'Ms. J' to assassinate Blake in Skye City."

into my ears, I felt cold and wondered who the next victim was gonna be. Dave died the previous day from an asthma attack which everyone thought but I knew it wasn't. How could I tell anyone that I could see their deaths without sounding delusional? "I'm crazy, this isn't real, please don't let it be" I screamed as I found the right words to express my dilemma. She laughed hysterically and the room echoed. Touching my face, I could feel how cold her hands were as she sheepishly said "It's gonna last forever, this is a blessing don't see it as a curse, you've been blessed with a power that no one could ever imagine".

I knew that the girl I had wanted to save when I was young is an innocent girl, and I don't think she will have changed her character soon. "You think she wanted to kill your mate out of jealousy; you mentioned it earlier that she was a slave here." She could have poisoned your mate without anybody knowing. "Why didn't she do that when she was about to leave?" I said as I stared at him with a cold look on my face. see the look of shock changing on his face. “What do you want to do with that killer?” He asked with a cold look on his face, and I couldn't help but wonder what had transpired between them. I knew that there had to be some reason.

"Jeff is my agent. I hope he's not calling just to chat about the television spot today." "You think he's upset because you turned it into a marriage proposal?" "He'd better not be." He pressed the screen to call back. "Yeah, Jeff? What's so important it can't wait until morning?" he listened, his forehead scrunched up. Then a stunned look swept over his face. "What? What did you say? Can you repeat that?" His eyes widened. "Holy shit. Yeah, yeah, I can do that. But give me a couple of days to make arrangements. I'm bringing someone with me. Uh huh. Yes." He grinned. "Yes, I finally got my head out of my ass. Okay. I'll call you in the morning. What? Oh, right. Thanks. That's a help."

It clipped my forearm, the lid bursting open to scatter gold chains, rings, and trinkets across the dark Persian carpet. "You kidnapped me, you locked me in a fucking cell for days, you locked me in this stupid estate, and you expect me to sit across from you every night and pretend that this prison some sort of safe haven?!! YOU ARE A SICK BASTARD!” "I am keeping you alive!" I roared back, my voice completely shaking. “Then kill me!!! That was the deal right? I either be your human doll or you kill me? Then fucking kill me!!!” My head was starting to spin.

Because if you live outside this city, or if you don’t read the tabloids, or if you don’t listen to the podcasts — you might think he was just one more name on one more news cycle. He wasn’t. He was a ghost. He had been a ghost for years. Nobody had ever seen his face. Nobody had ever caught him on a traffic camera. Nobody had ever taken a photograph that wasn’t blurred silver and shadow. Seventeen confirmed kills, the last count I’d seen, and every one of them a man who had hurt someone smaller than himself and walked away from the consequence. A tabloid writer had called him the Verdict Killer in a piece three years ago and the name had stuck because it fit. Because what he did was not mur

Every slap and every bruise, I swallowed them all because I believed he was my way out. My ticket to wealth. My escape from the pathetic life I used to live. And now he thought he could discard me like trash? Never. I wiped my tear away and clenched my fists. Watch your back, Chuck Gilbert. You liked playing dirty games, didn’t you? You enjoyed ruining lives for fun? Fine. The game was on. Let’s see how you react when Zoey finds out everything.

“Rafe will be here any second.” Jeff shrugs, stepping closer. “Relax. I’m just being friendly.” He’s too close, his cologne sharp, his eyes glassy with something I don’t trust. “I think we both know you’ve got a thing for quarterbacks. And I’ve heard you like to share,” Jeff continues, his gaze raking over me like he’s stripping me bare. “So why stop at one?” My skin crawls, but I hold my ground. “Get out.” “Come on, Harper.” His fingers brush my arm, and I jerk back like I’ve been burned. “Don’t be like that.”

moment I knew I was safe with Jeff and knew he was serious about protecting me. I let it all out, I told him everything I knew. Everything that had happened leading up to Ketzias murder and even about my recurring dream that was really a memory. He listened quietly and asked very minimal questions. Once I was done I let out a sigh of relief. Telling Jeff all of this made me feel a bit better and it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I wasn’t in this alone and that made it easier to breath. After I was done I expected him to freak out a bit about all this supernatural nonsense but he took it all in and acted like it was a normal Tuesday. He was asking me how the fire started but

That night, Jeff had just returned to his apartment. He felt something strange. A car had been following him this evening. He was alert and walked towards the next alley. He hadn't taken a few steps when suddenly he was shot in the arm and, fortunately, missed it a little. Nevertheless. A great pain came. Because he didn't hit the vital point, two men in black jumped out. Blocked his way. There was actually someone using a pin pistol, and it seemed to be a professional killer. What the hell is going on here?