Her skin was the shade of chocolate, accentuating rows of pearls around her neck. Large breasts above a tiny waist defied gravity, and thick, firm thighs tapered smoothly to her knees. Golden earrings dangled behind long, black hair that fell loosely over her shoulders, flowing in waves. As she neared, Trent straightened his chair and returned his feet to the floor.
A closer view of the woman lessened Trent’s wonder not in the least. Over-the-top make-up fancied her face, and dark, slanted eyes conveyed a riveting and mystical charm. Her nose was small, and her mouth was narrow, full-lipped, and glossed with burgundy lipstick. She was truly one of the most impressive women he had ever seen.
In a velvety soft voice, she asked, “Hi, baby, whatcha doin’ way back here all by yourself?”
Trent shrugged his shoulders, hoping she’d simply move on. Instead, she circled the table toward his chair and asked, “Cat got your tongue?”
“No,” Trent said.
She rested a hand on the tabletop and put the other on her hip. “Is there anything I kin get you?”
“Um, no.”
Trent expected the encounter to be brief, but to his utter surprise, the woman twirled around and plopped onto his lap. She swung an arm around the back of his neck. “You’re a cutie,” she said, as she dragged the tip of her finger down the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never seen you before, cuz if I did, I’d remember. Are you a first timer?”
“Um, yeah,” Trent confessed. He tried to keep his mind on why he was there and not on the nearly naked seductress sitting on him.
“You know, we’re allowed to give lap dances,” she purred into his ear. “Would you like that?” She seemed eager to please him. “An’ you kin touch me anywhere, except for here...” She put her hand beneath her magnificent breasts. “...and here.” She dropped her hand to the triangular patch of silver fabric between her thighs.
The woman surprised Trent again by straddling him and beginning a steady thrust against his groin.
Trent was about to free himself from the predicament when he happened to notice the room’s far door swing open. He pinned his gaze to it and sobered when he recognized the man walking through. It was the big Samoan in the black suit. He was scanning the room as if searching for something—or perhaps he was searching for someone.
In an effort to remain undetected, Trent squeezed the woman’s back, pressed his mouth onto hers, and delivered a passionate kiss. At first, she seemed surprised, but then she returned his embrace, slid her fingers through his hair, and became an equally willing participant.
Trent made sure his face stayed hidden and was thankful the woman had a lavish hair-do. The Samoan patrolled the room, and when he was at a point nearest them, he shot them only a glance. Trent maintained the moment until the giant bodyguard slipped through the opposite door.
Deciding it was time for air, Trent leaned back and gazed into the woman’s eyes, which seemed to melt as he watched. “Oh, you’re so gentle,” she cooed. “I could take you home.”
Trent was at a loss for words.
“I want seconds,” she added and sealed her lips against his for another go round. Trent was happy to oblige. With the threat of eviction abated, he made sure the second kiss was even better than the first. In due course, the woman restarted her pelvic motions.
At this point, Trent realized his body was responding. Not wanting to lose himself to the decadence of the night, he decided it was enough. He stopped the kiss and put his hands on her hips to nudge them away while trying his best not to offend her. But just as he started, the door through which the huge bodyguard exited, slowly reopened. Trent ceased his effort until he saw who it was this time. Sure enough, it was his Samoan nemesis again, so he resumed the kiss with his best effort yet. Tilting his head, Trent was sure to keep the black-suited giant in sight through the strands of her hair. The Samoan glanced again in Trent’s direction and then wandered the raunchy room.
Meanwhile, the Nubian beauty didn’t hold back. As though pleased that Trent had stopped resisting, she renewed the lap dance with a greater passion than before. She discontinued the kiss only to say, “I want you to know, this one’s on me,” and then she held him like she’d never let go.
Her hips moved slowly at first, then faster, then slowly again. She changed to a circular motion, faster, and then slowly yet again. “Mmmmhh...”
She finally stopped when her eyes closed, and her skin shimmied with a climax, accompanied by an earthy groan. “Oooh, Ooooh!”
Trent was successful in his effort to suppress his own pleasure, made less difficult by the presence of the sinister Samoan. Then, as if deciding all was well, the Samoan exited the room, Trent hoped, for the last time.
Recovering from her ecstasy, the dancer moaned, “Oh, Jesus.”
“No, I’m Trent,” he said with a smile.
“Not you, silly.” She returned his smile and tenderly pinched the beard on his chin. “But you know what? If you let your hair grow long, I bet you would look just like him.” She gazed at Trent for several seconds. “I’m Susie Q,” she said, “and I hope I see you more often. I think you’re a keeper.”
Again, Trent found himself wordless until she asked, “Are you sure I can’t get you somethin’?”
“There’s nothing in the world that can top what you just brought,” Trent replied with a grin.
Susie’s smile widened, but then she rose from Trent’s lap and rejoined her swanky sisters atop the radiant and multi-colored stage.
Within the hour, a trickling of exiting patrons clued Trent to the party’s imminent end. Still, he kept his eyes peeled for the Samoan, not sure what his plan of action would be if the brown bruiser returned.
* * * *
It was near six a.m. when the music stopped. The floodlights ignited, and the dancers withdrew from the stage only to reappear on the floor minutes later, wearing various colored jumpsuits. Trent watched them move about, pushing linen carts and clearing off tabletops. The DJ exchanged goodbyes with the last of the celebrants, and when they left, Jeremiah Flint, passed out on his table, was the sole attendee besides Trent still in the room. Even the two prostitutes had departed long before.
The Global Girls focused their chores at the front of the room where the action had been heavy. Carefully cleaning around the slumbering Flint, they left him and his table untouched. Shortly, Susie parted from the others and strolled in Trent’s direction. While clearing his table, she leaned over close to his ear and whispered, “Are you here to kill Flint?”
Trent made his best effort not to appear shocked, but he knew he failed when Susie added, “Look, I know you’re no pervert, you don’t do drugs, and you don’t drink. You’re not a cop, and you sure as hell ain’t no customer.”
Bewildered, Trent asked, “How do you know all that?”
“We’ve been waiting for someone to kill that creep for a long time. And since Benjamin got it a couple weeks ago, us girls figure he’s next.”
Her reasoning was still beyond Trent. “What if I am?”
“We’ll be out of here in a couple minutes, and the mop-up crew doesn’t get here ’til seven. But you gotta hurry before TT comes back.”
“TT... Is that—”
“The big guy!”
“Flint’s bodyguard?”
“He’s the only one allowed in here, and he means business.” Susie sounded worried. “He usually dozes off at the bar by now, but not for long. If he catches you anywhere near Flint, he’ll stomp the life out of you.”
“Why do you want Flint dead, and what’s he got to do with Stiles?”
“Flint’s wife was one of us. And the family that Benjamin killed? The twins? They were Global Girls, too.”
Susie turned to leave, but pivoted again to ask, “Are you the one who killed Benjamin?” She must not have expected an answer because she didn’t wait for one. Instead, she winked and scuttled back to the other women who were now filing into the adjacent room behind the stage.
Trent didn�
��t really know what to make of the information he just received, but the floor was empty except for Flint, and he knew he was well advised. He stood up, stretched, and crossed the room to the slumped movie star. An eerie sight it was, every table stripped but one draped red, its flickering candle competing with overhead spotlights. He had no intention of killing a sleeping man, so he started poking him, again and again.
When Flint finally awakened, he looked at Trent with confused eyes. After several moments, he grumbled, “So who the hell are you?”
Trent answered, “A critic.” In the next instant, he shot forth a finger strike, piercing Flint’s throat just above the collarbone. His trachea crushed, the man gagged for air with both of his hands clasping his neck. Then his eyes rolled up, and he doubled over on the tabletop, knocking the candle to its side. Trent watched the melted wax blot the crimson cloth until it doused the flame, producing a smoky wraith that drifted to the ceiling.
It was then he noticed the medallion. The same one he observed on Stiles’ lifeless chest. It rested next to Flint’s head, and this time Trent studied the sideways eight. It was sleek and highly stylized with the loops flaring upward. It was the symbol for eternity, and he pondered its connection to Stiles and Flint. On an impulse, he grabbed the medallion and plucked it free.
While inspecting it more closely, Trent’s ears caught the creak of the door behind him. He whirled around. Facing him was the mammoth TT, who looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of Trent.
“What are you, a thief?”
“No,” Trent replied, choosing not to volunteer what he really was.
“I don’t even care,” the bodyguard snarled, “because you’re gonna be dead.” He clenched his fists and started forward.
After pushing the medallion into the pocket of his jeans, Trent assumed a back stance—the Kokutsu-Dachi. TT seemed to recognize the martial arts posture. He slowed his approach but never stopped advancing and fired a pile driving roundhouse punch. With a quick pivot, Trent parried the swing and fired a hard punch of his own, which landed squarely on the bridge of TT’s nose. It stopped his forward progress and snapped his head back.
Undeterred, TT again started forward with his eyes glaring ferociously over nostrils trickling scarlet. Once more, Trent pivoted and launched a front kick to the bodyguard’s midsection, halting him a second time. A follow up roundhouse jump kick forced TT backward. Completing the combination with a three sixty-jump kick from a running start sent the Samoan reeling with his arms flailing until he crashed through a table, and then another, shattering both into a hundred bits of kindling.
* * * *
Behind the doors on either side of the stage, several pairs of eyes lined the horizontal windows. One pair of eyes belonged to Susie. After witnessing Trent win the first round so convincingly, she turned to Alicia, the red-haired girl next to her, and proclaimed, “That’s my boyfriend.”
Alicia replied, “Which one?”
“The cute one, stupid!”
Susie looked back through the window and gasped when she saw her new darling heaved across the room and slammed against the wall. “Come on, baby,” she uttered through the door, “show him who’s boss.”
* * * *
Trent recovered from the impact before the Samoan could press the advantage. He sprang to his feet just as TT charged, scowling, with both of his arms extended. Unnerved, Trent shot his right leg between TT’s gaping hands, stopping his momentum with a heel to his face. Then, with dazzling speed, a reverse roundhouse jump kick deflected TT’s body through the underside of several tables, rippling a successive crunch of shattered table legs.
The black-suited bodyguard jumped up enraged, swiping overturned chairs and broken tables out of his way. Hunched over with both of his arms bent, he seemed resigned to reassess his strategy. He stepped forward once and then stopped. He stepped forward again, and then stopped again. Trent resumed his back stance and waited for the assault.
It came. Throwing roundhouses, upper cuts, and backhands, TT exposed no opening through which Trent might counterstrike. But even though the Samoan had size and strength to his advantage, Trent’s speed and reflexes were far superior. He ducked and sidestepped every blow that TT delivered. Not giving up the offensive, TT maintained his barrage until Trent had backed into one of the tables. Demonstrating the agility of an acrobat, Trent leapfrogged the table, rotating in midair to keep his foe in sight.
Trent thought the piece of furniture would provide a break from the onslaught, as TT stopped on the table’s opposite side. But in an impressive display of sheer power, the Samoan strongman raised both of his fists and brought them down, smashing the wooden surface asunder. With no more obstruction between them, he stepped up the bombardment, adding kicks and martial arts combos. It was an act of futility. Focused razor sharp, Trent’s concentration kept his oversized opponent moving as if in slow motion, and he was touched only by the wind of swinging arms.
The attack ceased, and TT hunched his shoulders, heaving swirls of air. Seeing his foe spent and unguarded, Trent delivered a jump kick to TT’s mouth and then a roundhouse to the side of his head. The huge Samoan didn’t even blink. He merely formed a blood-curdling smile and wiped the edge of his mouth with a shrug of his sleeve. “I am going to kill you slowly, you son of a bitch. Very slowly. What do you have to say about that?”
Up to this point, Trent had no intention of using a death strike on the monstrous bodyguard assailing him. But with his life threatened, he had no qualms about changing his mind. “I kill quickly,” he replied.
With a roar, TT charged directly into a circle throw. Trent grabbed TT’s lapels, planted a foot on his hip, and dropped backward, catapulting the Samoan through the air, upside down. It was a classic Tomoe Nage.
* * * *
Susie and Alicia, still peeking through the window slot, realized TT was hurtling straight at them. In a panic, they scurried away, screaming. Scant moments later, TT’s huge body crashed through their door, which exploded into splinters throughout the backroom.
Susie had retreated as far as she could, but TT slid to within inches of where she and the other girls cowered. Seeing TT recovering right next to her, she reached for a slice of wood and broke it over the top of his head.
TT rubbed his crown and snarled, “Why’d you do that?”
“That’s my boyfriend, you big bully.”
“Your boyfriend? Not for long.”
* * * *
Leaping up, TT stormed the now doorless doorway, but Trent was waiting in a crouch on the other side of the wall. He kicked his leg out, ankle high, tripping the galloping goliath head-over-heels through several more tables, bulldozing each one to rubble before he finally came to a stop.
With a rabid shake of his head, the infuriated Samoan picked up a tabletop, still intact but for the missing table legs. He blitzed Trent, roaring like a madman, swinging the makeshift weapon sideways. Before Trent could roll with the blow, it shattered over his body, bashing him to the floor. Sure to maintain his advantage, TT grabbed another legless tabletop and brought it down flush over Trent. The furniture again smashed into countless pieces. Before Trent could recover, TT grabbed yet another tabletop, raised it high, and a third time pancaked him, scattering still more debris about the room.
Trent wasn’t out, but he was taking too much damage. His ears were ringing, and his blood spilled onto the floor just inches from his face. Recalling a strategy from his past, he waited for TT to lift another tabletop, at which point he planned to topple him with a scissors throw.
But TT didn’t lift any more tabletops. Instead, he jumped on Trent’s waist and wrapped his hands around Trent’s neck. Murderous rage twisted his face, framing the lust for blood in his eyes. “I told you I was going to kill you slowly, you son of a bitch. Do you remember that?”
Trent looked for an opening. Hunched shoulders covered the scalene muscles of TT’s neck, and his chin, scrunched onto his chest, shielded the soft part of his throat. E
ven though Trent’s arms were still free, he was not in position to mark a vital organ or nerve anywhere on TT’s enormous trunk. There was an option available, however, if he could muster the strength and speed needed to pull it off.
“I told you nice and slow,” the confident TT said again.
Trent knew the man was taking his time, having yet to employ full force to the stranglehold. TT was killing him slowly, as he predicted, and Trent felt his life ebbing. Summoning a final effort, he tightened his fists, thumbs bent at the knuckle, and fired a bilateral strike, targeting the temples on TT’s head. It was a double Kasumi—a brutal deathblow, which, if executed properly, would puncture the temporal lobes and rupture the middle cerebral arteries therein.
He gave it everything, yet the brute above him still glared bloodshot eyes, gnashed blood-smeared teeth, and thrust ever-swelling pounds of pressure into his throat. Defiant to the last, Trent raised his hands to gouge TT’s bulging eyes, but the vise about his neck loosened, and the suited giant fell forward, dead from a massive brain hemorrhage.
Trent pushed the large body off his chest with the strength he had left and rolled over, heaving endless coughs and gags. His head spun so fast, he hugged the floor as a long lost friend.
Finally, Trent sat up with his breathing steadied only to realize it wasn’t over. A tingling in his skin began slowly at first until its increasing intensity rivaled the sensation of ants swarming a naked body. Attempting to brush the invisible insects from his arms only swelled the prickly tide. His vision blurred, and he dropped into nothingness.
* * * *
Seeing the fight was over, Susie came running with the rest of the women, shouting, “My baby, my baby, what did he do to you?”
The women crowded around the fallen fighters, and Susie cradled the man of her affection. Streams of scarlet crisscrossed his face for a tri-cut on the bridge of his nose and a gash in his forehead. His brown hair was a tangled mop, matted in sweat and congealed blood.
Standing with the others, Alicia put her hands on her hips and frowned. “He’s not so cute right now,” she said.
Killer of Killers Page 4
