A New Life Series - Starter Kit

by Samantha Jacobey

  He could tell by the way she walked she had been drinking, but she hid it pretty well. Reaching the bottom, the girl turned the corner too quickly, and leaned her shoulder against the wall to hold herself up.

  Laughing to himself as he stroked his lengthy stubble, he moved up beside her and leaned against the newel post facing her, grinning from ear to ear. Seeing him present himself in front of her, Tori scowled. She had not liked the guy from the instant she met him, and having him speak to her at that moment infuriated her. “Get out of my way,” she hissed, trying to sound menacing and squinting at him for effect. “I’m going to bed; I have to work tomorrow.”

  Gazing at his watch, he nodded in an exaggerated fashion, then leaned closer to her, “Its six pm, love. Think you might like some company?”

  Confused for a moment, she reached up to steady herself by grasping his forearm. She straightened for the climb, and leaned close enough their faces almost touched; dropping into Spanish she told him to stay away from her.

  Taking a few deep breaths, she climbed the run with ease, Enrique standing at the bottom step, enjoying the way her rear end swayed as she moved. He continued to grin to himself as he made his way back into the living room, impressed she had spoken in his native language and thinking, I’m gonna need to get me some of that.

  Tori made it into her room, closing the door behind her. Leaning back against it, she allowed her body to slide down until she sat on the floor. Grabbing her boot, she pulled hard, trying to get undressed before she was too inebriated to remove her clothing.

  A few minutes later, she hauled herself up onto her bed. Having successfully removed her boots, pants, and shirt, she sat in her bra, socks and panties, while panting from the effort it had required. Her head spinning, she knew the blackness would fall any minute.

  Managing to get the bra unhooked, she staggered over to her dresser and selected her sleeping shorts and tee. She pulled them on, noticing the scar on her left breast as she worked the shirt into place. Reaching up with her right hand, she massaged the spot through the thin material. Turning to the closet, she maneuvered her way into the corner she had become accustomed to using for sleeping. Relieved to finally be in her favorite spot, she leaned her head against the wall and gasped for air, trying to catch her breath from the struggle.

  Calming down, her mind raced back to the last time she had been drunk, and she combed through the events that had occurred only three short months before, inside a farmhouse in Iowa. There she had spent her last night with the Dragons, the last night of their lives. The night she murdered them.

  Unexpectedly, a flood of sadness overcame her, sitting alone in the closet. The Dragons had been a terrible blot on society, beaten her, raped her, and forced her to hurt and kill other people. Deep down, she had told herself many times that they had gotten what they deserved. Sitting there, alone in the world, she no longer felt certain she believed it.

  The Dragons had also been the only family she had ever known. They had raised her, and been her constant companions as long as she could remember, teaching her everything they knew. A tear fell from her soft blue orb and landed on her bare leg as she tried to stem the flow in vain. And now they’re gone, just as Henry’s gone, just as Eli’s gone.

  Tori sat in her drunken state, allowing the tears to flow freely as she remembered how she had searched the farmhouse, drinking every drop of liquor she could find, after the Dragons were dead. She had hoped it would be enough, and she would never have to face another day. But it hadn't been enough, or they had been discovered too soon. Either way, she still lived and breathed. The darkness overtook her as she cried, and for a few short hours, she was at peace.

  The alarm woke her at 5:00 am, as usual. Stumbling over to shut it off, Tori could feel her head pounding, and she held it with her left hand, trying to stop the spinning. Making it to the bathroom, she managed to shut the door and leaned over the toilet, sent into a spasm of heaving until nothing remained to bring up. She knelt over the toilet for a moment, looking down into the rancid mess before she found the silver handle to wash it away.

  She wriggled her way out of her soiled night clothes and slid over into the shower stall, kneeling on the floor. The tile felt good beneath her, and she reached above her head with her right hand and pushed the lever to release the spray. Instantly hit with an ice cold cascade that knocked the wind out of her, she sprang up, onto her knees, trying desperately to adjust the handle so the water would warm a little.

  Leaning against the wall beneath the handle and panting deeply, she allowed the water to run down over her nakedness for several minutes before she tried to stand. Eventually, she used the soap to remove the smeared makeup from her face, and gave the rest of her body a haphazard wash, as well.

  Reaching over, she cut off the flow and stood dripping for several more minutes. Grasping her towel, she dried her face and body, saving her long thick tresses for last. Her head still swam, and the reality then hit her; she had not brought any clean clothes, and they were all back in her room.

  Gingerly picking up her sleepwear between her index finger and thumb, she realized her shower would be a moot point if she put them back on. Dropping them beside the toilet to retrieve later, she wrapped the towel around her body, and prepared to slip back to her sanctuary.

  Shutting off the light, she opened the door a crack and listened. The rest of the house silent, she slowly eased her way out, and tried to peer up the stairs that led to the men's floor, knowing Bob would be descending any time for his morning coffee.

  Taking a few silent steps, a shape moved in front of her, hands clamping onto her arms and pinning her against the wall that stood between her door and that of the bathroom. Breathing deeply, she tried to remain calm, hearing a very low voice mumbled, “Well, well, well, look what we have heres.” The hands released her arms, but he remained standing close enough, she could feel his breath as it brushed her face.

  Clutching the towel that covered her bare flesh, Tori leaned the back of her head against the wall to slow the spin and tried to steady her breathing. Enrique slowly came into focus as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could see him grinning at her, his eyes shifting down to take in her tall frame.

  Reaching up with his right hand, he laid his palm against her left cheek, tracing the lower edge of her scar with his thumb. She stiffened at the action, realizing it had been exposed with the removal of her makeup.

  “Relax, baby girl,” he whispered, leaning closer to her.

  Baby girl? Oh, shit, I know this guy, her chest heaved.

  Seeing the scar, it reminded him that he had already had him some of that, and wouldn't mind another helping. “I'm not going to hurts you.” His lips touched hers, and for a moment she considered dropping the towel and knocking him away.

  However, putting up a fight would only draw attention to them, and in her still drunken state, she didn’t want that. She parted her lips, allowing him to kiss her, and he slipped his left hand up and between the ends of the towel she tried to hold closed in front of her.

  She seemed taller than the last time he had fucked her, having been over a year since they had last met. His mind sailed back to the few times his crew had met up with the Dragons, and their paths had crossed. Fondling her breast, she did not resist; but then again, she never resists.

  Enrique knew she liked what they did to her in the dark, a dirty girl, the thought made his pulse grow quicker. He gripped her harder, feeling his flesh swelling in his groin. He wanted to take her into her room for a go right then, and would have if he thought they could get away with it.

  However, nearing 6:00 am, it wouldn't be long before the entire house was awake. Easing his death-grip on her breast, he massaged it gently again, lifting his lips from hers so he could whisper to her before letting her go. “You work at that record store, right? Maniac something?”

  Tori nodded her agreement, remaining silent. He could feel her breath coming in the form of short excited pants, an
d he continued to take her in, his hand leaving her ample mound to caress the naked skin of her ribs, her waist, and down the front of her flat belly to the soft swirl of hairs below.

  He slid his fingers lightly down to her folds of flesh and stroked the trimmed cover in front for a moment. She relaxed her right leg, allowing him to part her soft folds and his fingers to penetrate the wet hollow hidden beneath. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply as he fondled her. “What time you gets off tonight, baby girl?”

  Thinking for a moment, she considered lying to him, and then quickly realized, I’m in no position for games. Stammering slightly, she replied, “We close at eight. I can leave about eight-thirty, after locking everything up.” His thumb massaged the small bead beneath the hairs, causing her brain to go fuzzy, and she met his gaze as she relaxed into his caress.

  Enrique smiled again, nodding his agreement with that assessment, bringing his moist fingers to his mouth to taste her. In a low voice he confirmed the deal, “That's good, baby, I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty then, introduce you to my new crew.”

  Kissing her deeply again, he pressed the full front of himself against her, so she could feel his hardness through the towel. Then he kissed the tip of her nose, released her, and headed up the stairs, Tori watching him from the wall as he went. As soon as he disappeared, she slid down the passage into her own room, her heart beating like kettle drums in her ears, and closed the door behind her.

  Sinking to the floor on her knees, she cursed herself for not recognizing him when he first came into the house. Enrique Dominguez held a position in the Scorpions, a group much like the Dragons. A lower member, his presence there was a mystery.

  Unsure what he meant, with his yammering about a new crew, she knew full well he could not have just walked away, any more than she or any other member of the Dragons could have done. What's worse, alone, she did not have the protection of her own group of misfits. So they have found me, faster than I anticipated they would.

  On her knees, her arms crossing her chest, Tori sat inhaling deeply for several minutes. She rocked back and forth, considering what to do. She could go and tell Brandon and Sharon. Of course, then she would have to explain how she had gotten her hands on the bottle with no ID and broke a house rule by drinking it. Not to mention involving the couple could put them in danger, and the girl didn’t want that.

  For an instant, she considered calling Chicago, before she recalled the phone call that started the whole mess. The fact that she could not reach Eli or Debra, only left Agent Godfry, who was too by the book and Warren La Buff, who hated her. Running her fingers through her damp waves, Tori realized she had very few options to choose from.

  After running through every scenario she could think of, she believed the only way out was to work her way through it. Meet Enrique after work, do what I have to do to keep everyone safe if I can; and figure out what to do about her new problem and his crew along the way.

  She decided she definitely needed another knife and would like a gun, as well. Dressing quickly, she headed back to the bathroom to re-cover her face and clean up her mess before anyone saw it and became suspicious.

  After making herself presentable, she headed downstairs, putting on a smile to add weight to her story. Enrique sat at the short bar that separated the kitchen from the dining, and he eyed her closely as she gathered her water and fruit from the fridge.

  Sharon returned the smile, a bit relieved that the young woman looked so chipper. She had mentioned to Brandon before bed she believed the girl might have been drunk. Seeing her now, she considered the possibility she could have been mistaken.

  Tori gave the group a quick story about having been down for several days, and the long night of rest seemed to have done the trick. Finally, she announced she needed to run a few errands before work, and would see everyone late that night. With a quick wave, she darted out the door and headed down the drive.

  Glancing at the garage again, she wished she had been more diligent on the bike repair, as having it to get away on in a hurry might have come in handy. Let’s just hope I don’t have to run, she consoled herself.

  Making her way to the grocery, Tori called for a taxi to pick her up. It only took a few minutes for the yellow cab to find her, and she rapidly climbed in with a fast look around to see if anyone had noticed. Giving the driver the address, she leaned back nervously in the seat.

  It had been almost a year since their last visit to LA, but she felt fairly certain she knew where she could get what she needed. Of course, at the moment she would place her order and find out how much it would cost her; the hard part would be coming up with the cash.

  Same Old Life

  Riding in a taxi, Tori allowed her mind to sift through the events of the last twenty-four hours. Amazing how quickly she had gotten sucked back into her same old life. A stab of sadness touched her heart as she remembered Henry's words, “You’re gonna have a different life, baby girl.”

  She told herself she was trying, but deep down, she knew she wasn't trying nearly hard enough. Just before they reached her destination, she made herself a solemn vow; if I survive this, I’m going to get clean and do what I should have done. I’m going to do it for me, and no one but me.

  Sliding out of the cab, she gave the driver her best smile, “Would you mind waiting for me? I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

  Snatching the cash from her hand, he quipped, “Not in this neighborhood. Good luck!”

  Tori sighed as the brake lights shone briefly before he pulled back out onto the street and drove away. Guess that means getting a cab out of here won't be easy either, she thought to herself as she entered the run down building.

  Holding herself up straight, she braced herself and made her way through the dark hallway, noticing how little had changed since her last visit to the bad part of town. Deep down, she almost felt at home in the dilapidated building, her heart beginning to beat faster as she climbed the stairs. Making her way to the third floor, she moved to the end of the hall, ghosts from the past showing her the way.

  Eddie had brought her there once before, when they had come into town and realized they needed some supplies to complete a job. The gang who took refuge in the gutted building consisted of a nasty group of people, but they had connections, and had come through easily when the Dragons had been in a bind. Standing in front of door 317, she tapped lightly, causing it to swing open. Cautiously, she leaned inside, calling out if anyone were home.

  In an instant, a shotgun appeared in her face. The young black man holding it trembled from the adrenaline, and he demanded she identify herself.

  Tori didn't flinch, responding calmly, “Tori Farrell, Eddie Farrell's girl.”

  The young man pulled his weapon, “You here alone?”

  Without batting an eyelash, she replied, “Yep. We have a problem, and I need your help.”

  He led her into the apartment, where she discovered the man she had come to see lying on an old couch, holding a blood soaked compress to his belly. “We got problems round heya, too,” he stated as if he were talking about the weather.

  As she took in the scene, Tori's jaw fell in disbelief. Without hesitation, she let her jacket plummet to the floor and pushed up her white sleeves. Dropping to her knees beside him, she lifted the towel enough to see blood oozing from a long gash in his side.

  “You've lost a lot of blood,” she whispered softly.

  “Tell me sumfin I do'n know,” he replied, followed by a short, spastic laugh and a moan from the pain it produced.

  Tori frowned, reaching up to lay her hand against his cheek and neck to assess his vitals. “You have medical supplies?” she asked anxiously, her eyes wide with concern.

  Turning slightly, he gave the boy a nod, and upon standing, she followed him to the bathroom in the back where the emergency kit hid beneath the sink. Rummaging quickly, she located fresh gauze, medical tape and a suture kit. She also grabbed a couple of bottles of rubbing alcohol, and a
sked the boy, “You have any clean water, like distilled or bottled?”

  Nodding, he ran to fetch them while she made her way back to the older man on the couch. Laying the equipment on the floor next to him, she tried to sound calm as she explained, “You know, last time we were here I never caught your name.”

  He smiled a toothy grin and spouted, “Dats cause I neva dropped it. I'm D'Shawn. Dats my boy, Lamont,” he indicated the young man who had returned with five bottles of drinking water.

  “Well, nice to meet the both of you,” her smile barely touched her tense lips. “Lamont, do you have any clean sheets or towels?”

  Again, the boy dashed away to get what she required. Carefully removing the compress, Tori began to inspect his wound, finding it to be long, but not very deep. The relief showed on her face, as she realized if she stitched him up, he would probably be ok.

  Lamont returned with a stack of towels, so she grabbed one to lay along the edge of the couch to catch the liquid as she irrigated the area with the water, and then finished by cleaning the wound with the alcohol. “By the way, this’s gonna hurt,” she warned softly.

  D'Shawn nodded his understanding, panting through gritted teeth while she worked. As soon as she had it washed, she folded the flesh together, and laid another clean towel along the gash, instructing Lamont to hold pressure against it for a minute.

  Opening the suture kit, Tori pulled out the forceps and needle, and began to piece the flesh back together. She had put stitches in members of her crew many times over the years, so her hands were steady as she worked her way across the opening. Reaching the end, she tied off the nylon and clipped the line with the scissors.

  “How yo' know how to do dat?” D'Shawn asked her directly.

  Still kneeling, she leaned back on her heels, drawing in a deep breath, “I've had lots of practice,” her smile genuine.