No Stopping

by Nolon King

  “Fuck!” Jasper punched the banister and bloodied his knuckles.

  “What happened?” Jordyn asked.

  “His kid was here.”

  “I thought he’d be alone. He was divorced. His ex has custody. She lives in New York.”

  “Me, too.” He sighed, imagining the child’s horror and how terrified he must have been walking in on something like that. His life destroyed in seconds, and it was all Jasper’s fault.

  Tears welled in Jordyn’s eyes.

  He shook his head, trying to clear the mire of emotions threatening to pull him under. The kid would find a neighbor who would summon the cops.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  Chapter 2 - Mallory Black

  EDM music thrummed in the club’s walls, in the ground, and through Mal’s entire body as she adjusted her long red-haired wig in the bathroom mirror and gave herself a once over. Her black leather dress was tight, cleavage spilling out, and her makeup on the right shade of garish for this crowd. She looked a few years younger than her usual self, and Down To Fuck.

  She took a moment not just to make sure she looked the part, but also to steel herself for what she was about to do. She patted the blade in a holster on her inner thigh, comforted to have it.

  Two college-aged girls entered the restroom, laughing, practically tripping over themselves. One, a light-skinned black girl with a shaved head wearing a tank top and no bra, gave Mal a flirtatious look. She thought about complimenting the girl’s bright pink eyeshadow but decided to smile and nod instead.

  Best not to engage.

  Best not to have anybody remembering her.

  She left the bathroom. Stopped at the bar for a shot of whiskey, downed her liquid courage. Just enough to dull the edge, not her senses. She made her way to one of the many tables overlooking the dance floor below. It was packed with pretty people, mostly young, and nearly all of them looking to get drunk or high, maybe find someone to take home and fuck.

  But Mal wasn’t here for fun.

  Had she missed her mark? His LiveLyfe post said he’d be here tonight. But Mal had been here for nearly an hour and had yet to see him. Maybe he’d already gone.

  She considered leaving, maybe trying another night or another place, but then she saw him take a seat at the bar beside a blonde in her early twenties.

  He looked different from his mugshot and social media photos. Douchier in person.

  Eddie Marshal, age twenty-three. College dropout. Accused rapist. He got off two years ago thanks to a technicality, with a certain assist from his very rich parents. Eddie was six-foot two, muscular. Had enviable shoulders, a nice smile, and nicer hair. Might have been handsome if not for his weak jaw, beady eyes, and penchant for rape.

  He’d left Volusia County and went north to Jacksonville six months ago, a place where the fucker was still unknown.

  And in that time, there’d been five reported rapes from girls at clubs who had been drugged and couldn’t remember who took them home.

  Mal had a decent guess.

  She watched as he chatted up the blonde. The music was too loud, so their words weren’t even a mumble by the time they made it all the way to Mal, but judging from the blonde’s smile and flirty body language, she was into him.

  He ordered drinks for them both.

  Mal watched as they drank and flirted. She kept touching him, but Eddie was playing it cool, not appearing overly interested. Before becoming a cop, she might’ve wondered why a good-looking guy with obvious charm would ever resort to drugging women. Seemed like a move from the desperate loser’s playbook. But the job had taught her rape wasn’t about sex for guys like this. It was an act of violence. Whether that violence was borne of pent-up frustration with women, anger issues, or some other trauma, Mal didn’t care. The result was the same — dangerous men walking around hurting whomever they wanted, without giving a damn about the long-term damage they caused.

  Men like Paul Dodd.

  He’d raped and murdered her daughter. Hadn’t even been close to done when he kidnapped Jessi Price and Mal.

  Yes, he’d been a victim to a pedophile as a kid, but the man still had a choice.

  No one forced him to continue the cycle of abuse. Or elevate it to murder.

  She could have ended his life. Twice.

  The first time she’d let him go, trusting in the justice system only to watch it fail. Dodd escaped, then kidnapped and tormented Jessi and Mal again, taking them to Mexico where he planned to destroy them both in whatever ghastly manner his twisted soul could conceive.

  And, somehow, fate had saved her and Jessi again.

  But this time, Mal didn’t make the mistake of turning him over to the authorities. She made sure Dodd would never escape or destroy another life again.

  She killed him.

  Nightmares plagued her nearly every night in the three weeks since that moment. And while part of her wished she hadn’t been pushed to murder, another part of her knew the truth — she should have done it sooner.

  She used her three weeks to research some local men who’d gotten away with sex crimes. Followed a few of them for a while. Last week, she’d pursued a particularly nasty piece of work named Dre Hamilton to a club, uncertain what she would do. She wanted to get close, see if she could observe him without getting caught. Mal got close enough to easily hurt him, and she wanted to for all the atrocities he’d gotten away with — some of them to a fifteen-year-old girl. But she chickened out at the last minute after realizing she was heading into action without any plan.

  This time she came prepared. A different target, but still a pile of shit.

  She stared at Eddie, wondering how many more girls he’d rape, how many more lives he’d shatter if given the chance. What if he went further the next time, and murdered his victim?

  The man was a disease, who knew what sickness he carried in is head?

  Someone had to stop him.

  And that someone was Mal.

  But first, she had to be certain.

  Mal had plenty of circumstantial evidence pointing to him for these crimes, but no actual proof. He’d either been careful or lucky. She blamed it on the officers who’d botched the case with their ineptitude when Eddie was actually arrested.

  She kept watching.

  A waitress shouted over the music, “Can I get you something?”

  Mal wanted another whiskey, but she’d already downed a few shots and didn’t want to decay her reaction time any further. So, she ordered a Coke instead.

  As the waitress left, Mal saw what she was waiting for.

  The blonde turned to the girl behind her.

  Eddie waved his palm over her drink with precision. It was so fast, he must’ve practiced the move many times. A pro at drugging women.

  As the girl turned back to him, he slipped something into his pocket.

  She kept flirting and laughing, completely unaware.

  She was about to take a drink when the girl next to her said something, distracting her.

  Eddie looked annoyed.

  Mal could feel his anxiety as he waited for the girl to take a drink.

  The waitress returned and handed her a Coke. Mal said thanks with a ten-dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

  She grabbed the Coke and went into action, acting tipsy as she approached the bar.

  Fortunately, Eddie hadn’t made eye contact with her.

  The blonde was about to take a drink, but Mal stumbled forward, spilling her Coke on the girl’s dress and knocking the blonde’s drink from her hands.

  The girl yelped.

  “What the fuck?” Eddie shouted from behind.

  Mal turned to him, then back to the blonde, apologizing profusely in slurred speech.

  “I am sssssoooo sssssorry.” She grabbed a handful of napkins from the bar and dabbed at the giant brown spot on the girl’s dress, doing a shitty job on purpose, trying to annoy her into leaving.

  It worked.

  The wom
an next to the blonde nudged her toward the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Mal turned to Eddie, apologizing as they left. “I am sooooo sorry.”

  She let the strap fall from her shoulder, to show him more of her cleavage.

  He looked down.

  Mal smiled at Eddie, biting her lip.

  “Whoa, I think I might’ve … had a bit too—” she stumbled toward him, feigning dizziness as she fell into him, holding her head against his chest for a moment, her hand sliding, accidentally, over his stiffening cock.

  She looked up and met his eyes, then leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Damn, you’re hot.”

  Then she pulled away — he was the predator here.

  “I … I, uh, I sh-sh-should probably go,” she said, struggling to stand. “Could you walk me to my car?”

  Any normal man might have responded by asking Mal if she’s insane to think she could possibly drive in her condition. But Eddie was a predator looking for an easy mark, and damn if Mal wasn’t turning their encounter into the ABCs of sexual assault.

  “Um,” Eddie looked around, either to see who was watching or to see if the blonde was out of the bathroom yet. “Sure.”

  He held Mal by the waist as she stumbled around the dance floor and toward the exit with him.

  Outside, Mal pretended to not know where her car was. Truth was, she hadn’t taken her car here. Nor did she have her phone or anything else that would tie her to this location.

  She started walking down the center aisle, looking around the lot in confusion, exaggerating her drunken movements and slurred voice. She laughed and said, “Oh, my God … I can’t remember where I parked.”

  It was dark and starting to rain. She shivered. “I’m so cold.”

  Mal moved closer to him, his hand still around her waist.

  “Maybe I should drive you home.”

  “Awwww, that’s so sweet.” She put a finger on his lips, drunk and overly-flirtatious manner. “I don’t wanna t-t-trouble you.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m right around the corner.”

  She let him lead her to the side of the building where the lighting was mostly a rumor. His van was parked away from the crowd in a patch of pure black.

  “Oooh, you have a van,” Mal teased, running her hand over his crotch. “I’ve never done it in a van.”

  He smiled, his pupils dilating. “No?”

  “No.” She shook her head, leaned into him, then kissed him on the mouth. Even repulsed, Mal was fully in the moment, so excited by what she was about to do, she could mask her disgust and turn it to a cousin of interest.

  He opened the rear door then reached inside, flicking on fairy lights strung up around the ceiling and illuminating a sleaze-ball’s idea of a bachelor pad. Plush red carpeting, a mini fridge in the wall console, a bed with silk sheets, a comforter, and a half-dozen throw pillows.

  “Nice.” Mal climbed inside, careful not to touch anything.

  His smile went from friendly and casual at the bar to a shark’s toothy grin as he climbed in. He closed the rear doors behind her.

  She turned to him, giving him a chance to change his mind. “Um, I don’t think I should—”

  But Eddie was already on her, kissing her on the neck. His hands trailed to her breasts as he tried to press her down onto the bed.

  He was moving too fast, so she grabbed him by the back of the head and kissed him, biting his lip in a tease before pulling him down and shifting her body on top, hoping the blade against her inner thigh wouldn’t press into him.

  She started to unbuckle his belt.

  He met her gaze with a predator’s smile. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes while she slid his pants and underwear down.

  She grabbed his cock and squeezed it, teasing him.

  He tried to sit up and kiss her again, eager to fuck.

  But Mal pushed him back down, acting like she was about to swallow his cock. She spotted the handcuffs laying in the corner and wondered how many women he’d used them on.

  If he thought he was going to put them on her.

  He noticed her gaze and looked suddenly nervous, like she might be getting close to scared off.

  “Ooh, you’re kinky.” She grabbed the cuffs before he could. “I’ve always wanted to suck a guy off while he was restrained. Do you want to be that guy?”

  She squeezed his dick, hard.

  It quivered in her hand, his balls practically ready to burst.

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t do submissive.”

  “No?” She pouted. “Not even for me?”

  Mal leaned down, putting her lips near his dick, flicking her tongue teasingly at the tip. “You sure?” She held his gaze, challenging him, not backing down.

  “Okay,” Eddie said with a nervous little gulp. “I guess I could.”

  She reached up and cuffed his right hand, forcefully, surprising him with her strength and immediacy, slipping the other cuff around a metal ring welded into the side panel like it was a single fluid movement.

  “Um,” he stammered, “just cuff me, not—”

  “Relax,” she cooed, running her fingertips softly over his exposed abs, slowly trailing them lower.

  She bent over, letting her hair fall down so he couldn’t see what she was doing until the blade was in her hand and touching his cock.

  His eyes went wide as he writhed, trying to buck her off of his body.

  “Sit still or I will cut it off,” Mal said, now sounding perfectly sober.

  He went still, save for the rise and fall of his chest. “What are you doing?”

  “How many women have you drugged and raped?”

  “What?” His eyes were wild and scared.

  “I asked you a question. Answer it. No lies.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She pressed the blade against his shaft, drew a ribbon of blood.

  “No!”

  “Answer the question.”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “Ballpark it.”

  “Um … six?”

  “Six, you think? Or definitely six? Come on, Eddie. Don’t be all humble now.”

  “I … I don’t know what you want me to say.” Now he was crying.

  “Try the truth,” Mal growled, sick of his pathetic whining.

  “Six, maybe seven or eight.”

  “Ah, that’s more like it. See, that wasn’t so hard.”

  His dick was now anything but. She squeezed to stiffen it for an easier, cleaner cut.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen, Eddie. I’m going to give you a choice. And I want you to think about it very carefully. Whatever you do, don’t beg, cry, or try and talk me out of this. I will gut you like a pig and leave you here to die. Do you understand me?”

  “Please.”

  “I said no begging!” She pressed the blade harder.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are. In a moment, I’m going to do something you’re not going to like very much. And you’re going to want to hurt me or maybe call the cops on me, but I suggest you don’t, Eddie, because here’s the thing — I know where you live. I know where your parents, Ed Senior and Darlene water their garden every morning. I will gut your whole damned family if you tell a single soul even one damned thing about what happened here tonight. Do you understand?”

  He cried, not answering.

  “I said, do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Now here’s the choice. Do you want to me to cut off your balls or your dick?”

  “What?”

  “I can’t have you out there raping any more women. You’ve got to be neutered, Eddie. It would be irresponsible of me to let you continue. And unless you want to die, this is the only option you have to walk out of here.”

  “Please—”

  “What did I tell you?” Another press of the blade, another dribble of blood. “What do you want to keep? Answer now
or I decide for you.”

  Eddie started to sob.

  “I’ll let you live. You can drive yourself to the hospital, but something’s gotta go. So what’s it going to be?”

  He couldn’t stop crying.

  She had no sympathy whatsoever, not for a rapist like him.

  He couldn’t make a choice, so Mal chose for him.

  And opted for both.

  Chapter 3 - Mallory Black

  Mal woke up to the worst headache of her life. At least the worst that didn’t come with a head wound, and that was saying a lot.

  Her phone was ringing, but as she fumbled around her bed and nightstand in the pitch-black hotel room, she couldn’t find it. All she managed to do was knock several pill and beer bottles to the ground.

  “Fuck.” She wanted to leave the mess, but some of the bottles still had beer in them and at least one of the pill bottles was open. The last thing she needed was to ruin her perfectly good pain pills by drowning them in beer.

  Mal flicked on the light, scooped a handful of pills off the ground before they got soaked, grabbed the offending bottle, then set it upright on the nightstand. She popped a pill into her mouth, dry-swallowed, then grabbed some towels from the bathroom to clean her mess.

  Her phone rang again, but this time — on all fours, hung over and in her underwear — she saw it lying under the bed.

  She reached for it, found her boss’s name on the screen.

  Mal had been on leave since her abduction and everything that happened in Mexico and still wasn’t sure how long she’d take until she felt like going back. Or how long Gloria would wait. She’d told Mal to take as much time as she needed, but she had also asked twice since her return how she was doing and when she thought she might be up for more work. Mal was even offered light desk duty, but it was bullshit and boring to be out of the field.

  Her phone kept ringing.

  Voicemail was full — mostly from reporters wanting to interview her about Jessi Price and Paul Dodd as well as from people pitching books and offering her obscene amounts of money. But the lottery had already made her rich, and the idea of telling Jessi’s story or giving Dodd any more attention for cash disgusted her.