Beware the Snake

by Samantha Cade

  Snake grabs a hold of my hair, pulling my head back to talk directly into my ear.

  “Who sent you?”

  “No one sent me,” I say, desperately. “What’s this about?”

  I feel Snake smile. “You know what it’s about, Jess.”

  He pushes me back inside the car, then slams the door shut. He gets back into the driver’s seat, and peels out of the parking lot. He’s driving fast, like a madman. I grip the seat as we speed onto a highway, hurtling out of the city towards the west. Where’s he taking me? Snake drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other under his chin and his elbow against the window. He’s completely closed off from me. I start to miss the chauvinistic, over confident asshole that picked me up tonight. Maybe he’s still in there.

  “I don’t know what your thinking,” I say in a timid voice. “But you’re wrong.”

  Snake ignores me, which pisses me off. What right does he have to take me against my will like this?

  “Take me home,” I say, anger rising my voice. “Stop the car. Let me out.” Snake doesn’t react, so I keep trying. “This is kidnapping.”

  Snake turns to me slowly, and smirks. With one hand, he unbuttons his jacket, and pulls it to the side, showing me the gun strapped to his hip. He lets his hand rest on the handle.

  “Stay quiet,” he threatens.

  Time moves in a blur. The lights of the city diminish, and eventually disappear behind us. The road flattens out before us, long and straight. There’s nothing out here, save the occasional farm. As night deepens, the stars brighten, weaving a glittering web of constellations. I pick out the big dipper.

  I’m going to die. And I didn’t even get to kill Monty.

  This is what they did to Jake. They drove him out to the remote desert and shot him dead. When I first learned of Jake’s death, I had no idea what he was doing out here, so far away. Once I made the connection to the Mariano’s, it all made sense. They must have tricked him into getting in the car with them, or kidnapped him. What was he thinking on that long drive? Did he feel something similar to the eerily calm certainty that I feel now?

  Snake pulls over to the side of the road, and cuts the engine. This time, I don’t even try to open my door. I let him open it for me. Snake pulls out his gun and trains it on me.

  “Get out,” he says.

  I cautiously do what he says.

  “Walk.” Snake grunts, directing me towards the endless desert.

  He walks behind me, the gun on me, while I struggle through the dry, sandy ground in my pointy heels. Low-lying brush grazes against my ankles, making me think of snakes and scorpions. But the wildlife here is the least of my worries.

  In the crisp, dry air, my head starts to clear, even with the gunman at my back. I could accept my death is imminent if I didn’t have unfinished business. Shit, I don’t have anything to live for, haven’t for a long time, and I always knew killing Monty would result in my demise. But I can’t go to my grave knowing that that evil son of bitch, after all he took from me, is walking free and drinking expensive tequila.

  And Snake still needs something from me.

  “Stop,” Snake says.

  We walked so far out, I can’t see the car, or the road, anymore. I turn around cautiously. Snake is still pointing the gun straight at me, but he’s not the calculated business man from the car. His eyes are dark, intense, but he seems a little distressed. I take a sharp breath as he poises his finger over the trigger.

  “Why, Jess?’ Snake asks. “Why poison Monty? What do you have to gain from that?”

  I hold my hands up, showing him my palms. Denying it won’t get me anywhere, so I decide to level with him.

  “Revenge,” I say, curtly. “A vendetta. Isn’t that a mafia thing? Monty destroyed my life.”

  “And how did he do that?” Snake says, cockily.

  “He killed someone close to me, and covered it up.”

  Snake smirks. “All in a day’s work.”

  Fucking dickhead, I think, clenching my teeth. “The credit card numbers are real,” I say, jumping to the only leverage I have. “The plan will work.”

  Snake lowers the gun, only slightly. “What makes you think I’d ever trust you again?” He raises the gun, then approaches me quickly. “On your knees.” He grabs my arm, wrestling me down to the ground. A big, black scorpion scurries away as my knees sink into the soft earth.

  “You can trust me, because I don’t want you to kill me,” I say. “They’re real, Snake. You know they are. I imagine you tested a few, didn’t you?”

  Snake towers over me, lining up the sights of his gun so he’s aiming directly at my forehead.

  “Where are the rest?” he asks. “Where are the thirty million?”

  I swallow. “I’ll show you.”

  Snake steps forward, pressing the barrel against my forehead. The metal is cold and hard. I clench my eyes shut, waiting for the bullet to crash through my skull. This is it. It’s all over. At least there will be no more pain, grief, or misery where I’m going. I’ll sink down into the dry earth and go to sleep.

  Suddenly, the cold sensation at my forehead is gone. I open my eyes tentatively to see that Snake has replaced the gun in his holster. He hooks his hand under my arm, and roughly yanks me to my feet. I slam against his torso, feeling the gun at his side.

  “You will show me,” Snake says. “And after that, our business is done.” He pushes me away, in the direction of the car. “Now, walk.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Snake

  I contemplated killing Jess for four hours, from the moment I saw her poison Monty’s tequila, to the moment I pulled my finger away from the trigger in the desert. That was three hours and fifty-nine minutes too long. What kind of soldier does that make me? I’m too squeamish to kill this chick, why? Because she’s cute? I’ve pledged my iron clad loyalty to the Mariano’s. In the oath I took, I promised to do anything for the good of the family; serve time in prison, even if innocent, and of course, kill.

  If anyone on the crew knew that I saw an attempted hit on our capo, and let the perp live, they’d hang me by the skin of my balls. Monty is Salvatore’s father for Christ sakes. I owe Sal my life. Without him I’d be nothing, probably just another dope fiend like Matt and the other guys from the boys’ home. I don’t even want to think about what Salvatore would do to me if he knew who Jess was.

  I’m a coward. I’ve given into my emotions, and let them hold me back. Right now, I’m escorting a enemy of the family back to her apartment, to gather the credit card numbers that I should’ve fucking grabbed in the first place. I look ahead at the road, letting the moonlight guide me, and try to forget she’s there.

  Sometimes I miss the days of slinging dope on the corner. Salvatore had about twenty of us orphans working under him, driving a lucrative drug industry. I rose to the top, making more sales than anyone. That’s because all I cared about was the hustle. I didn’t pocket my earnings like the others to spend on strippers and beer, or inject my profit back into my arm. I just worked my ass off, and Salvatore took notice. He gave me the most profitable territories, and a bigger cut than the other dealers.

  Back then, before I was made, things were easy. Everything made sense. I had a clear mission, and all I had to do was keep my head down and chase that cash. Now, one stupid little mistake leads to another, and suddenly, my whole life is fucked.

  When I pull up to Jess’ apartment building, I look at that stupid little mistake in the seat next to me. She’s not scared anymore. She’s not trembling like she was when I was hurtling towards the desert, pleading for her life in an unsteady voice. I’ve got to admit, I got a rush from having so much power over her. All I had to do was move my hand towards my gun to make her flinch. I probably could’ve done anything I wanted to her.

  To see her now, with that snobbish look on her face, and her pageant queen posture, pisses me off. After what she tried to pull, she should be terrified. Maybe if I wasn’t such a coward, she woul
d be. Before getting out the car, I open the glove box, and take out a pair of handcuffs. I glare at Jess while I shove them in my coat pocket.

  I open her door and politely tell her to get out. I’d like to reach in there and grab her, but I don’t know who could be watching from their apartment window. Jess hesitates, giving me a sarcastic smile, then takes her time getting out.

  “Thank you,” she whispers as she walks past me.

  Arrogant cunt, I think, biting back the words so I don’t say them. I watch her ass sway as she walks towards the apartment. I should tie her up, make her scream my name, and show her who she’s dealing with.

  We probably look like a regular couple coming back from a night out as we walk up the stairs to her apartment. While Jess unlocks her front door, I put one hand on my gun, and the other on the cuffs. Jess strides inside like I’m not there. She even slams the door closed behind her. I stop it with my foot and kick it back open.

  Holding my gun on her, I back her up into the kitchen until her ass bangs against the cabinets. Her hands are up, showing me her palms, but the look in her eyes is one of bitter anger. I grab her wrist, then cuff her to a towel rack. I have her now. She’s my prisoner. If I wanted to put my hands on her, to rip her clothes off where she stands, she couldn’t do anything.

  But I remain professional. I have business to take care of. Unlike before, I won’t let my cock get in the way.

  “Where are the credit card numbers?,” I say. I hold the gun by my side, ready if I need it.

  Jess grits her teeth. I almost want her to resist me. I want to have to press the gun into her lower stomach, and watch her eyes turn to pools of fear. But she seems to have sprouted some sense.

  “There’s a CD-ROM,” she says, coldly. “In the bedroom. Under the mattress.”

  I head down the hall to her bedroom. It’s as drab as any other room in the apartment. There’s nothing hanging on the wall, no knick-knacks, nothing. Of course that cold bitch would think it’s not worth her time to decorate.

  I slip my hands under the mattress, and heave it off of the bed. The corner hits a full-length mirror hanging on the wall, cracking the glass. There it is, lying on the bed frame. It’s an unmarked CD-ROM in a clear case. I snatch it up.

  I have what I came here for, so I need to go. But I can’t stop myself from opening the drawers of the side table. Jackpot. It’s her underwear drawer. I sift through the plain cotton garments until I find a stash of lacy thongs. I take a black one with red ribbons, and stretch it over my fingers, imagining how it looks wrapped around her tight ass. Deeper in the drawer, I find a pink vibrator.

  Who do you think of when you use this? I silently ask her, turning the device around in my hand. I switch it on, and it buzzes inside my enclosed fingers. Apparently, even the Ice Queen needs some sexual relief every once in a while.

  Back in the kitchen, Jess is right where I left her. I hold up the CD-ROM for her to see, then stash it in my pocket with the black thong.

  “What the hell were you doing in there?” Jess spits. “It sounds like you were tearing the place apart.”

  I give her a menacing smile, then slowly push a blender off of the counter. The glass breaks when it hits the tile floor. Jess’ complexion turns a shade whiter. Her eyes widen with fear. There she is, my scared little lamb.

  “You got what you want,” Jess snarls. “Get out.”

  I sidestep the glass on the floor, examining the contents of her counter. I look at her while running my finger over the handle of a large kitchen knife.

  Jess bites her lip. “What are you going to do to me?” she asks, solemnly.

  What am I going to do with her? I know what I’d like to do.

  I walk up to her calmly until I’m pressed against her. Jess leans back over the counter, but there’s no where for her to go. She can’t escape me. I feel her breath in her belly. With every inhale, her chest expands, pushing her tits against my chest. I take my gun and press it into her side. She whimpers, and begins to shake.

  “Do you know what I should do to you?” I ask. “What my loyalty to the Mariano family demands of me?”

  I push the barrel of the gun harder into her flesh. Jess swallows, then hardens her face.

  “What’s stopping you?”

  I feel a rush of anger. Is she really calling my bluff? I stare her down, making my eyes cold and hard. Jess’ upper lip curls in defiance. After a few moments, I step away from her, chuckling.

  “You got a suicide wish or something?” I ask. “Whatever this little vendetta you have isn’t worth it. You strike at the Mariano’s again, we’ll strike back. Consider this your last warning.”

  I feel her eyes on me as I search through a bowl of keys on the counter. I find one labeled spare, with her apartment number written on it, and make sure she sees me take it.

  “I’ll be watching,” I say, then head towards the door.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” Jess yells. “Are you just going to leave me here?”

  I slam the door closed, and use my key to lock it. Jess shouts, “Fucking prick,” at the door, then grumbles lowly to herself. I take out the reverse peephole viewer I bought off a cop, and take a look at her.

  Jess has opened a drawer, and is searching through it. She takes out a meat thermometer, and uses the pointy end to dig into the lock. It takes her a few minutes, but she eventually gets the cuffs to open, freeing herself.

  “Sneaky bitch,” I say under my breath. Maybe I should go in there and fuck her, get it out of my system so I can kill her. But no, once won’t be enough. One taste won’t satisfy my craving. I’ll just have to watch her. Closely.

  I go downstairs to the car, recline the driver’s seat, and settle in for the night. While watching Jess’ window like a hawk, I see her open the drapes. I flash my lights at her a couple of times. She looks right at me, then angrily yanks the drapes closed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jess

  Snake is there, parked outside of my window, all night. I sleep on the couch, waking up every couple of hours to peek through the drapes. In the well-lit parking lot, I can clearly see the black BMW, and the outline of Snake’s head and shoulders. I can’t be sure, but it doesn't look like he’s sleeping. His gaze is unwavering on my window, watching.

  Fuck, he’s never going away. I’ve really backed myself into a corner here. Snake will either watch me for my entire life, or kill me. I want to cry when I think of all the work I’ve put in to this plan. It wasn’t easy drying out in rehab, or going back to Stanford to complete my MBA. But I did it because Monty deserves to die.

  The last time I wake up is around five am. The sun has just begun to rise. A dewy fog floats over the hood of the black car. I feel like shit. I’ve barely slept at all. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep, so I get up to make coffee.

  While the coffee brews, I stew with anger. Why can’t Snake just fuck off? My beef with Monty has nothing to do with him, even if Snake is a so-called soldier. What a prick. He can’t see past his precious oath of loyalty to use his brain for one second. He does whatever that psychopath Monty says, for the sake of what? His reputation? Some kind of distorted sense of honor?

  I take my coffee to the table and stare into the steaming mug. But Snake didn’t kill me. He didn’t tell anyone about what I did. Obviously he knows they’d kill me immediately. In a strange way, he’s protecting me. Is that why he’s watching me now?

  I smack my forehead, groaning. Wishful thinking, much? The mobster outside will put a bullet in my head and bury me in the desert if I so much as look at him wrong. I need to get a grip.

  And I need to figure out where my plan for revenge stands.

  I shower and get dressed liked usual, then walk outside to my car. Snake is there, staring at me through the windshield. He doesn’t wave, he doesn’t smile, or nod. He just stares. My middle finger itches to salute him. I hold it down with my thumb.

  Ignoring him, I walk to my car. I immediately notice a black, box-shaped object sti
cking out from under the car, near my back tires. It’s not conspicuous, but it’s not hidden either. He wants me to see this. A tracking device.

  I get it, you’re going to be up my ass for while, I think, rolling my eyes. I walk up to the device, and give it a quick kick with the pointy toe of my black pump. I look back at Snake, sneering. I didn’t do any damage to the device. I just wanted him to see me do that.

  I pull out of the parking lot, and start on my usual path to work. In the rearview mirror, I see Snake following a few cars behind. He follows me all the way to work. He parks on the curb while I walk up to the building and go inside. I look through the window on the first floor, and that’s when I see him finally drive away.

  At first, I feel relief, then anxiety edges its way up my spine. Snake’s gone. He’s not watching me anymore. But he won’t be around if someone else decides to come and get me. A migraine crashes through my skull, making me pinch the top of my nose. The stress, disappointment, and fear has hit me all at once in the form of a mind crushing headache.

  I walk quickly through the cubicles to my office, my head down to avoid the light. Sharon, the receptionist, calls my name when she sees me. I hold my hand out to her.

  “Not now,” I bark.

  The entire office heard this, and they cower in their seats as I pass them by. My office is dark, and I keep it that way. I close the blinds on the windows, and lock the doors. Sitting at my desk, the headache dissolves, escaping through my eyes as watery tears. Everything’s fallen apart. I fucked it up, everything I’ve worked for months to set up, right at the end.

  I’m sorry, Jake.

  The tears overwhelm me as I unlock the bottom drawer of my desk. I take out a small box that contains the last remaining evidence of the wedding I’d planned. There’s a swath of Italian silk from my wedding dress, one of the invitations I never got to send, and the engagement ring. It’s not shiny and new like in the picture I have at home. The diamond is cracked, and the white gold band is split. I was wearing it during the crash.