by Simon King
When Fenton had carried Tim in, her concern had turned to fear, a fear for what might happen to them. But that fear had slowly been replaced by something new as she quietly listened to the conversation between the former partners. She was angry. Angry in a way she hadn’t been for a long time.
She watched Fenton hit Tim in the face, the blood instantly creating patterns on his shirt, then watched as he hit him again. She heard her name mentioned, then listened as the prick meant to use her for his revenge.
“That’s what this shit is about?” she said, making sure to be heard. Fenton looked back over his shoulder.
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“You’re vendetta, or whatever you want to call this shit. That’s all this is about? You’re worried your manhood took a hit because some bimbo didn’t wanna play with you?” Fenton looked back at Tim, then hit him a third time.
“Fuck that feels good,” he said, finally turning to Sam. “Listen, lady. There’s more to this than you could ever know.” He slowly walked towards her, as if trying to intimidate her by making her wait.
“Of course. With you big men there always is. Too scared your dicks aren’t going to compare; making sure it’s always someone else’s fault when you don’t stack up. That’s why you end up beating on poor defenseless girls. Is that what you planned to do with this bitch you keep mentioning?”
“Don’t call her that,” Fenton said, visibly irritated by the name.
“What, bitch? Sounds to me like she was playing the both of you. Maybe she really did have the last laugh, prick-teasing the pair of you until you were too caught up to know better. And now you want to use me because you aren’t man enough to kill him yourself? This bitch really knew what she was doing.”
Fenton ran the final few steps and hit Sam in the middle. The wind was instantly knocked out of her as she struggled to breathe, her lungs feeling on fire. He grabbed a handful of hair and snapped her head back.
“I said don’t call her that,” he said, but the voice box failed to convey his threat convincingly and Sam couldn’t help but laugh a little. He instantly brought his prosthetic up, held it in front of her face, then thrust wildly out, the blinding pain ripping into the side of her jaw. The blood filled her mouth and Sam, absorbing the taste like a deprived addict, smiled back.
“Bitch,” she whispered. Fenton smiled, looked back at Tim and shrugged his shoulders.
“Is she all there?” he asked. Reaching into his pocket, he felt around for the gun he’d used to end them all, brought it back out and held it up for Tim to see. “Say goodbye,” he said, then turned back to Sam and took a step forward.
Sam, her head filled with the insatiable taste of blood, lost all sense of presence as her mind seemed to take over complete control. The pain she’d been feeling in her arm and shoulder all but disappeared as her subconscious monster came forward, taking control like a dominant split personality.
Fenton stood only a couple of feet from Sam, his one eye watching as she slowly opened her own. As their eyes locked, he leisurely brought the gun up, his finger preparing to pull the trigger the moment her face was in his sights. This part he had visualized many times and knew that taking his time would no doubt increase not only her fear, but also dramatic effect.
Sam looked at him as his arm slowly rose and whispered her words, the taste in her mouth driving her senses to near insanity.
“Suck my dick, bitch,” she snarled, then kicked one foot into the base of the pole, pistoning her legs up and out. Fenton barely had time to react as Sam’s legs clamped around his neck and began to squeeze together. As he brought the gun up, meaning to shoot her in the face, Sam pushed her entire body outwards, Fenton stumbling a step back. He lost his footing and as he fell, Sam suddenly pulled on her broken arm, the pain exquisitely helping propel her back against the shackles. At the final moment before his weight would pull them down, Sam tightened her thighs as much as she could, Fenton’s eyes bulging as he struggled to breathe.
She held on as he dropped to his knees, the burning in her thighs threatening to cramp. Fenton had dropped the gun as he desperately fought for air, hammering his fists against her legs. But Sam held on, Tim watching in shock as she tried to squeeze the life from him.
The body between her legs fell back to the ground as Fenton lost consciousness. Sam’s wrists whipped back as her feet hit the gravel, Fenton collapsing in a heap beside them. She looked at him, raised a boot and brought it down on his neck, kicking down with all her might. Tim, shocked by the sudden attack, could see from his vantage point that her initial assault had done enough to render him lifeless, but quietly hoped it wasn’t over.
Only when she was positive he was out of it did Sam look up to where Tim was, his jaw hanging down like the rest of him. As if to add insult to injury, she spat a wad of blood on the ground beside the prick, screamed in triumph, then whispered a final word at him.
“Bitch.”
It took a bit of manipulating, but after pushing her boots off and working her toes around, Sam was able to get the key from Fenton’s pocket and stretch her foot up enough to deposit it into her tied-up hands. The chain used to restrain her, still had enough play and it didn’t take long for her to drop the padlock on the ground.
After making sure Fenton was still out, Sam ran to Tim, first flinging her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. But with Fenton only unconscious, she quickly set to work and soon Tim was rubbing his wrists, the way cuffed people alway did when first released.
“He’s alive?” Tim asked. Sam nodded, looking back over her shoulder. “Let’s finish this,” he said and slowly walked towards the condemned man.
There was no grand finale, no big hooray as Sam watched on. This was Tim’s suspect as far as she was concerned and he deserved to end this any way he chose. She remained back as he stood over Fenton for a moment, then carefully knelt beside him. As Tim reached down and grabbed the voice box, Sam saw Fenton’s fingers start to curl as consciousness returned to him. Tim didn’t bother taking notice, pushing down on his forehead with one hand, then ripping the box from his throat with the other. Fenton’s eyes instantly shot open, his hand balling up into a fist as his partner knelt down to deliver his final retribution. As Tim sank his teeth into the soft flesh of the jugular, a faint and muffled groan rose into the air, one trying to scream, but unable to.
The gurgling sound of blood drowned out the weak attempt of objection as the sweet smell hit Sam. She watched as jets of blood sprayed across the ground like a Tarantino movie, secretly hoping to quench her own thirst. The guttural scream that tried to rise from deep within his chest never had a chance to take flight, with Tim tearing the final strips of flesh from his throat within moments of starting his execution. Small glimpses of white bone were visible as the thrashing finally stopped, Tim simply sitting up and staring down at a man he once considered the best friend he’d ever had.
The events of the past few days sat heavily on his shoulders and Sam could see he was hurting. The memories and emotions stirred up were nothing short of horrific and she wasn’t surprised to watch on as Tim began to weep, at first low and controlled, but then in a near fit as the grief really gripped him, and once he stopped holding back, was finally able to let go.
***
Tim later asked Sam what she would have done if the key hadn’t been in Fenton’s pocket like he said. She only smiled back, then flicked him a little wink. He nodded, aware that given the circumstances, there was very little choice for alternatives. Fenton was ready to kill her and she needed to act.
Once the grief had been given enough time to really break free, the pair of them went to the small office in the corner of the shed. Inside, they found a cell phone, as well as a large amount of Pogrom equipment that included multiple ear pieces and tracking devices. He had been following their every move since the very beginning.
A quick call to Mumma was enough to bring the world to their doorstep. Despite Sam speaking to her, Tim coul
d hear Mumma’s jubilation from where he sat across the room. Her voice exploded into high-pitched flurries of rejoicing, with Sam needing to hold the cell away from her ear. The smile on her face as she listened was a sight Tim never forgot.
When she finally hung up, Sam went to where Tim was sitting on the floor and dropped down next to him, her arm starting to throb again. They sat silently with their backs to the wall, each quietly letting the moment sink in. It had been an eventful couple of days and now that it was over, it seemed to need a gap of inactivity to properly sink in.
“You let me kill him,” Tim finally said, reaching over and taking Sam’s hand. She looked down at it, then twisted her fingers through his, squeezing them just enough to return his gesture.
“Yes, I did.”
“Thank you,” Tim said “I honestly thought we were done for.”
“So did I. I still don’t know how I did that, but I guess it worked.” She let go of his hand and rubbed her throbbing arm.
“I’m sorry I let you down. It nearly cost us everything,” Tim whispered.
“Given the circumstances, I think you can be forgiven, kiddo.” He began to laugh at that, hearing the pet name he had for her. It was a sound that remained with Sam forever.
It wasn’t long before the first clean-up crew arrived and shortly behind, followed by John and 3 other agents. He had already been on his way to the area by helicopter, Mumma having figured out the only other logical place for them to be.
As he hugged each of them in turn, his relief was clear, John grinning from ear to ear as he watched the doctor continue to treat them. They only had minor injuries and would require minimum time to heal, but he made them promise that they would take a holiday, one he would personally organize.
Tim and Sam looked at each other curiously before turning back to John. Sam tilted her head a little as she asked, “A holiday to where?”
“Oh, somewhere where I can keep an eye on you,” he replied. “How does two weeks in Australia sound? I hear Jim Lawson has got quite the zoo on his farm.” Sam smiled, looked at Tim and nodded.
“Yah, a holiday would be great.”
Thank you for reading the latest Sam Rader Thriller. Could I ask a small favor, one that really means the world to me? Would you please leave a review for me here? It really does help a new author like myself and helps others decide whether they might enjoy this book. Thank you so much.
Author’s Note
Thank you, Awesome Reader, for once again joining me on another journey into Sam’s world. I think she is growing into quite the hunter I had always envisioned. Her next journey is going to be into familiar territory, if you’ve been reading my other books.
Sam and Tim are both headed to prison, to try and find a killer wreaking havoc with inmates and guards alike. I hope you can join them and find out where it all leads.
I’ll be working on a new MAX series for the next couple of weeks, then revisiting Sam for a few more adventures. I really hope you stick around and enjoy the ride.
Take care.
Simon
August 29th, 2020
www.booksbysimonking.com
Copyright © 2020 by Simon King
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