Marked

by Charisse Spiers

  I'm not even close to coming. She isn't moving near fast enough for my liking. She wants slow and sweet, and I need a fucking freak in the bed, someone who needs it hard and fast like me, and someone who wants to dominate my cock as much as I her pussy, sending us both into a fucking sexual high, elicited because together we fuck like a couple of mad hatters. The whiskey is now in full effect, but I’ve already started releasing some through my pores from the sweat occurring from movement. The room is hazy, and my mind and body are numb to everything except her pussy riding my cock and squeezing it. I'll just have to get myself off later. Her pace starts to slow even more as my finger picks up, aiming to get her off clitoral and G-spot simultaneously.

  "Yeah." I lie. Her body is hot but not even holding my attention right now. "Come for me."

  She rocks forward another time before she starts to come. "Oh, fuck!" She slams her mouth against mine as she rides the wave of her orgasm, barely moving on my dick. When she's done she sits upright, not making any effort to get off my cock, and then looks into my eyes. "I can't wait to do that again. I just came so hard I can barely breathe. I hate condoms. I couldn't feel you come."

  What she doesn't know is there won't be a next time. First time is always a trial run. First impressions are everything. She's hot and I like her, but we just don't have the right chemistry in bed to do this again. It's nothing personal. It's nature.

  I place my hands on her hips and push her off of me. "Yeah, well, they serve a purpose. Nothing is perfect. I got to get home. I have shit to do tomorrow. You need me to call you a cab?"

  She immediately moves back and starts gathering her clothes as I stand and pull my boxer briefs and pants back up, fastening them until I can deal with the condom. I grab my shirt from the floor and pull it on, beginning to button it. "I was hoping I could come home with you, and maybe go for round two," she says seductively as she pulls her dress on.

  Fuck. Why can I never avoid this?

  "Look, Makayla, we're partners and we have to see each other five days a week, sometimes more. You know this was just sex, or at least that's what you acted like you wanted at my truck. You're not going to make this into something it's not, are you? I really don't need for shit to be awkward at work. Coming back to my place or me to yours would only complicate things. I don't do complicated. I hope you understand."

  She looks a little shocked, making me feel like a bigger asshole than I know I am, but she brushes it off. "Of course. I just meant for fun, but you're right. Just forget I said anything. Of course I know what this was. We were just having fun."

  She pulls on her heels and walks toward me as I fasten the last button. "I don't need a cab. I have my car. I'm pretty much sober now. I wasn't that drunk to start with," she says with a fake, half smile. "And what I was I've sweated out of my system thanks to tonight." She places her hand on my cheek and kisses me, now almost my height with the addition of the heels. "Tonight was awesome. Just say the word if you want to do it again. I'm ready when you are."

  She turns and walks away, clicking her heels against the floor. I grab the other used condom and both wrappers from the floor and shove them into my pocket, before following behind her. "Makayla, wait. I'll walk you to your car. I'm not that big of a dick. The fucking psychos lurk at night, waiting for vulnerable women to be alone, especially in bar parking lots where there isn't much light and people are intoxicated."

  She stops, waiting for me to catch up to her. Her smile turns real and she holds up the clutch that she grabbed off the bar. "You know I'm always packing. I'm capable for protecting myself, partner."

  I internally sigh in relief, as her mood is now playful again. Thank fuck. We start walking toward the door. I push it open for her. "I'd be a shitty partner if I didn't pretend that you were clueless. Humor me."

  She walks out the door. Bruce is standing against the brick wall smoking a cigarette. "It's about time, man. I'm ready to go. Shit, you can't get your rocks off in the parking lot? Some of us have to go work a little harder for it at home," he teases. "You good or do you need a cab?"

  I let the door go as I walk out into the darkness, the only lights on are the security lights. He holds out his fist and I bump fists with him. "Nah, man, I'm good, and you know I'm too old for that shit. Danyel should be almost done. I heard her messing around in the office on the way out. Hit me up if you're over my way. We'll do lunch. I'll buy. For now I'm out."

  We start walking toward the only two vehicles left in the customer parking lot. "Aight, but don't make offers you won't follow up on. I'm a bouncer. You know I don't miss a meal, especially not a free one," he shouts from behind us.

  "I keep my word."

  It doesn't take long before we're at our vehicles. I'm not sure why I didn't notice Makayla's car beside my truck when I pulled up. I guess I was preoccupied by my call with Dad. She hits the lock and opens the door as I walk around the front of my truck to the driver's side. "See ya at work, Makayla."

  "Goodnight, Kaston," she says as she gets in and shuts the door, just before I do. She doesn't waste any time before starting her car and backing out of the space, pulling out in a hurry. I watch her taillights in the rearview mirror as she disappears from my sight. I take a deep breath now that I'm alone.

  I reach in my pocket and pull out my keys as well as the used condom and wrappers, reminding me I still have the one on my now soft dick. I start the ignition to empty one hand of my keys and reach into my pants to get the other condom, putting them both in the small garbage bag I keep in my truck. I can't stand shit lying around. I'll just have to empty it when I get home, even though it's not full. Growing up with a dad like mine, the number one thing you're taught is to never leave your DNA anywhere, whether you've done something wrong or not. I cover my tracks always, regardless if I’m law enforcement.

  The cloudy haze is starting to clear and slowly the annoying as fuck twitch is starting to resurface. I need my bed and sleep.

  "Where are we going, Dad? Do you live close by?" He places his arm on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it.

  "Son, where we're going is far, far away. Are you sure you want to do this?" He halts me by pulling me backward as I try to continue walking forward.

  I turn to look at him, now squatting in front of me like he was doing back at Mom's. He looks sad. "What about my sister? Didn't you say I had a sister?"

  "Kaston, there are people in this world that do very bad things. Do you know what it means to die?" I nod my head. "Your sister died, Kaston. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. An evil person did bad things to her and now she's in Heaven. It's just you and me now, Buddy. We have to leave the country for a while. We have to start fresh. Pick anywhere you want to go and we will build a life there."

  She died? I'm not sure I understand. "Did the bad guy get in trouble? Why do we have to leave?"

  He places his hands on each side of my face and looks at me. "Son, one day I'll explain everything to you when you're old enough to understand the complexity of the situation and the context in which things have to be done. We have a shitty justice system, Kaston. Bad people get away with bad things every day, while the good people disappear like a vapor in the wind. There has to be someone to speak and fight for those that are innocent and good, even if it means doing something bad. They got what they deserved, but we must go. I don't expect you to trust me for being absent in your life, but I'm willing to earn it if you'll let me. Us men have to stand together and create a united front. If you remember nothing else from me, remember this: family must stand together no matter what and always have each other's backs. What do you say, Kiddo? Are you with me?"

  I don't really understand, but in some form I do. Be a man. He's telling me to be a man. I grab his wrists and push them off my face. I stand tall, pushing my chest toward him. I make my face as serious as I can, so that he'll believe me. I nod once, mocking a character I saw on television. "I'm with you, Dad, forever. I got your back no matter what."

  He smiles at m
e. "You're a lot like me, Kiddo. I can see it." I bite my tongue until I can taste blood. He's proud of me. No one has ever been proud of me before. I will not be a baby. I will be a man. I don't care how hard I have to try. He turns toward the building in front of us: John F. Kennedy International airport. I know because I can read. "Where do you want to go? Your pick."

  I think for a minute. "We studied about this place called Spain last week at school. It seemed cool. What about there? Is that a good pick?"

  He squeezes the back of my neck. "That's a great pick. I kind of thought of it myself." He stands and holds out his hand for mine. "You need help with your bag?"

  I place the strap of my duffle bag over my shoulder and take his hand; the hand of the man my mother told me didn't want anything to do with me. Girls lie. The only one I've ever known that told me she cared about me did, so I bet they're all the same: liars.

  My cell phone buzzes for at least the twentieth time in fifteen minutes. I roll over and feel around on my nightstand until I find it. It's still dark in my room, meaning it's not even 5AM yet. I hold it to my ear after touching the blurry, green answer key. "Cox. This better be fucking good to wake me up this early. What?"

  "Kaston?" The Spanish accent immediately has my full attention. I jerk upright in bed, rubbing my fingers over my eyes to try and focus. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I look at the number on the screen: out of the country, but an unsaved number.

  Fuck.

  "Yeah, it's me. Jose? Is that you?"

  "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry to call you so early your time, but I didn't know who else to call."

  My heart plummets to my stomach. Bile rises to my throat. Jose is my dad's wingman, his number one trustee. There is only one man that knows everything about my father aside from me: Jose. He's been with my father since we moved to Spain, shortly before Dad started the company. He even helped us gain citizenship. My dad strongly believed in one thing: fucking loyalty. You give it to receive it. It's paid off. He has a crew of men that would give their lives to protect him, because he would do the same for them and their families.

  "What is it, Jose?"

  "It's your father. There's been a situation."

  I jump from the bed and run my fingers through my hair as I pace the floor. That bad feeling I got last night is now back full force and increasing at a rapid speed. A fear ignites throughout my body. There is one person that can shatter me: my dad. No one else fucking matters. "What situation?"

  "There was a change in schedule. He got a call. He had to take the job sooner than expected. How fast can you get here?"

  My breathing is becoming harder to control "What do you fucking mean he had to take the job sooner. He never does that. Everything always goes to plan. Where is he?"

  "Kaston, you need to come. Now."

  My blood runs cold.

  My pupils constrict.

  A burst of anger consumes me, spreading from my core and moving outward to every limb.

  That fear is now controlling my every thought, my every move, and every cell in my body. Only one thing matters: getting to him.

  "I'll be on the first flight out. Have someone pick me up at the airport."

  "Send me the flight details."

  "Will do. Oh...and Jose."

  "Yes?"

  "Don't let anything fucking happen to him. He is everything to me."

  "Don't waste any time."

  He disconnects the call and I throw my phone at the wall as hard as I can, watching it shatter on impact. "What the fuck did you do, Dad?" I whisper, my voice cracking. "We have rules for a reason."

  I dress quicker than I've ever dressed in my entire life, grabbing the bare essentials before running to the door. I stop at the key ring, pulling the set of keys I need when it comes to speed. I just hope the time lapse between here and there isn't one that will kill me...

  I place my palms flat on the dresser and look at the man in the mirror. I don't recognize him. He's dead inside. Everything I've ever known has changed in an instant without my consent. The world is full of hatred. I know that now. I understand completely...but what do I do about it? "What do you fucking do about it, Cox?" I scream into the reflection in the mirror. "Huh?"

  I punch my fist into the mirror, watching it crack from the center and spreading outward like a spider web. One word: pain. Physical pain hides from this. This type of pain there is no escaping from. This type of pain changes a man, making him one of two things: good or bad.

  I look down at my hand: blood. The beautiful red color catches my attention. It runs down in a steady trickle. The twitch is back. Now, it's stronger than ever. A drip falls to a spot on the wood. I inhale. A high is starting to form. What does this mean? Grabbing the sides of the dresser, without thought I slam my forehead into the mirror, shattering it more.

  I look at the gash that now resides in my skin. More blood. I close my eyes as it runs down my nose. My head is starting to pound. When it reaches the tip I touch my index finger to it, stopping it. I pull it back, looking at the bright red on the end of my finger. I rub my thumb and index finger together, circling the blood between them. It's a sign. I know what I have to do.

  I push off the dresser and leave my old room, in search of something, but not sure what. I'll know when I find it.

  Follow the mind.

  Trust the heart.

  Forgive.

  Never forget.

  Protect those that are important to you.

  Never feel.

  Pick a side: good or evil.

  Kill or be killed.

  I mentally repeat the rules over and over as I walk through the mansion he's built; the very one I grew up in.... with him.

  I look around: the master bathroom, his bathroom. I open the cabinet underneath the sink and rummage through his things. There it is. What I need. I pull out the small, but slightly heavy device, and plug it into the wall. Flipping the on switch, I stare in the mirror as it vibrates in my hand.

  I close my eyes. "Tell me what to do," I whisper.

  Keep our worlds separate. Never be recognizable. Today we do business. Tonight we rid the world of monsters, one at a time. Be them to defeat them.

  His words echo in my mind as I lift my shaggy hair and place the blade of the clippers at the base of my hairline. I glide them back in a straight line, watching as it rids me of hair with each swipe. I repeat in rows, my chocolate brown hair falling into the sink. Ten minutes start to finish. One step down.

  Tossing the clippers on top of the counter, I leave the old me behind. Walking into his bedroom, I detour to his closet, opening it. Two different worlds dwell here: business to the left, and a stranger to the right. He could change them with the flip of a switch. It's my turn. I go for the right, grabbing a pair of faded jeans and pulling them on. Luckily for me we were the same size, another sign of my destiny presenting itself.

  I grab a hoodie, black, also the color of death. It fits my mood perfectly. I pull it over my head, letting it fall into place. I walk to the center of his wardrobe and separate it, revealing a safe. I key in the code: my six-digit birthday, her six-digit birthday, and the year he lost her and gained me. It opens, revealing all of the major necessities for ensuring I leave nothing of myself behind. Tonight, I become a ghost. He was smart. He always covered his tracks.

  I grab what I need and lock it back, making sure to cover it before leaving. It's nightfall. I walk into the main corridor. Jose. I flip my hood up as he turns toward me. "What do you want to do?"

  "Do you have the file?"

  He hands me a folder. I take it. I open it and quickly scan the contents. His photo sits on top. "This is him?"

  "Yes. The informant has his location. Just tell me when. I'm ready."

  I hand it back to him. "Read me the hit."

  He shuffles through a few sheets of paper. "Murder. First degree. All women. He prefers blondes, middle to late twenties, all married to wealthy men. He sexually assaults them and snaps their necks upon climax, leaving t
hem to be found. He's never been caught."

  My jaw steels. Fucking sick bastard. "Who put out the hit?"

  His eyes scan the sheet. "The husband of the latest kill. Her name was Melody James. Husband was well known and liked by many. He owned half of the city he was from, only a few hours from here. He witnessed it. He left her long enough to retrieve something in their hotel room and walked out as it happened. The guy disappeared as he approached the body. He went to the police, but they had no evidence to take the suspect into custody. He used a condom. There was no semen left behind. This one is local, but he's been spotted here in town. You need weapons? A new shipment arrived yesterday."

  "Not for this one I don't. It seems he has a preference." I look at Jose to make sure he understands. He was important to Dad. "Tonight you drive, nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?"

  He starts to shake his head. "Do you understand, Jose? This isn't up for discussion."

  He tucks the folder under his arm and turns for the door. I follow. It’s showtime.

  Jose pulls the black SUV into the alley. Dad kept black cars only, because they blended more with the night. It's dark, the only light coming from above the back door of the hole-in-the-wall bar a few feet down, not far from the dumpster. "What's the plan?"

  Propping my elbow on the door, I place my fingers over my mouth as the words exit my mouth. "We wait."

  "We could be here a while. It's still a while until close."

  "This we have time for; all the fucking time in the world."

  I close my eyes, trying to mentally prepare myself for what I'm about to do. Hesitating in the moment can get you killed. I still can't figure out why he did it, or why he failed. He never changed the plan, no matter what the reason. Why this time? I listen to the silence, allowing my mind to roam. In the depths of nothingness in my mind, a creaking door opening makes itself known.

  I open my eyes to the sick fucker stumbling out drunk. It's funny, really, how predictable evildoers are. Of course he's going to use the back door, probably shopping for his next victim; the innocent people that think the dark is fun. He might have gotten a few more arousals had he not pissed off the wrong person. He dropped a bomb...and now it's war.