by Weber, Carl
“Uh . . . you forgot a piece,” I called out before he shut the briefcase.
“Good eyes,” he said, snatching up the firing pin and removing part of the rifle to accommodate it. Fucker was testing me. “Now I need you to be my spotter,” he said as he handed me the scope. “Look down at the beach below through those blinds. The target should be there.”
“Okay. Gonna tell me what you’re looking for?”
“European, white male, balding, black hair, black swim trunks, white shirt,” he rattled off.
“Could you help me out some more?” I stressed.
I waited for him to answer me, scanning from left to right across the beach for something fitting Niles’s description. “Gold chain,” he finally added. “He’s supposed to have a gold chain.”
“And he’s supposed to be somewhere directly below?”
Niles read from one of the papers in the folder. “Yes. He should be directly below this unit. Time is ticking.”
“Wait,” I said before Niles began working my nerves. “I see him.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. He’s at ten o’clock. Missed the shirt because he took it off. He’s sitting on a blanket. Putting on suntan lotion. But there’s the gold chain.”
“Good. Knew you could do it.”
“Okay. So once you do the hit, what’s our escape plan?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got that part covered. Once you do your part.”
“Niles, what are you . . .”
“Here,” he said as he took my scope, affixed it back atop the rifle . . . then handed it to me. “Need to see if you got what it takes in this business.”
“Thought I already proved that to you. Remember?” I stressed, picturing the tally of bodies left on the mainland.
“Those were easy decisions, Paris. Need to know if you can make the hard decisions.”
“Sounds like you’re talking about the future, Brooklyn,” I said, grinning.
“Just focus on the job in front of you,” he commented, no grin.
“Uh . . . this is sweet and all, but if I do this, I want a cut of the money. I ain’t stupid,” I said. No need letting Niles know I was loaded and didn’t need whatever this job was paying. But I could most def go on a sweet little shopping spree with it.
“Show me you can make the shot . . . and you get the whole pot,” Niles offered as he cracked a smile.
“Okay,” I agreed as I swiveled around and cracked open the sliding glass door. I adjusted the weight of the rifle in my hands then chambered a round. “I got lard ass in my sights,” I said as I extended the barrel into the open air.
“Good. Anyone with him?” Niles probed.
“Nope. No . . . wait,” I said as the man’s situation had changed just that quick. “He has company now. His wife, a son . . . and a little girl.”
“Okay.”
“You sure this is the man?” I asked as I lowered the rifle and glanced over at Niles, still seated at the desk. “Looks like just some poor schmuck chillin’ with his family. Maybe you should take a look.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?”
“No. I’m saying that maybe there’s another balding dude wearing a gold chain on this beach. Just come over here and double-check. I don’t want you cheating me out of my money,” I cracked, trying to hide my case of nerves.
Niles looked over whatever instructions were on his sheet of paper. “That’s him, Paris. Don’t be nervous.”
“I ain’t nervous!” I yelled. “I’m just wondering why it has to be now in front of his family.”
“Because it’s not him, Paris.”
“Huh?”
“The man’s the identifier. The target is his wife.”
“What the fuck are you saying?”
“I need you to kill his wife. Now,” he said as he stood up from his chair and walked over beside me.
“Why? I need to know why.”
“We don’t always get the whys in this business, Paris. We’re weapons . . . with someone else’s finger on the trigger. Just point and shoot.”
“But you know the whys this time, don’t you?” I pushed.
Niles looked over that damn sheet of paper once more before balling it up and hurling it across the room. “Because that man down there pissed off the wrong folk. And to punish him, he was given the option of whether to kill his wife or his kids. Paris,” he said with a pause, “he’s sitting there because he knows she’s about to die. And if we don’t do it, his entire family will be taken out by somebody else . . . horrifically. Now . . . I’ll say it again. Pull the motherfuckin’ trigger!”
I raised the rifle and put the scope to my eye once more. “Niles, you are a bastard,” I cursed, almost wanting to cry.
“Have to be sometimes. So will you, if you’re serious about this life. Now, I’ll ask you . . . are you ’bout this life?”
“Yeah. Fuck yeah,” I replied, regaining my composure as I lined up the man’s poor wife in the crosshairs, cinched the rifle butt against my shoulder . . .
And squeezed the trigger.
Nadja
46
“Get me Gavin on the phone,” I said to Navid.
“Gavin Gavin?” he asked, his words questioning more than the name I requested.
“Yes, you heard me.”
“But I thought you stopped working with him when your father chose to employ Niles.”
“This job isn’t right for him.”
“Nadja?”
“I need to make Miss Paris Duncan disappear,” I said in no uncertain terms.
“But you’re doing that. You’re sending Niles to London.”
“Yes, but he would like me to secure identification for her. Do you know what that means? He’s falling for her and I can’t let that happen,” Just the thought made my blood boil.
“You can control a lot of things but not a person’s feelings for another person,” he said but I didn’t care.
“No, but I can try,” I said adamantly, “and with her out the picture, we will see where his feelings go.”
“But that may still not get you what you want. Just because you extinguish the competition is no guarantee that he will fall in love with you.”
“Leave that up to me. I’ve been waiting an entire year for him to be ready for a relationship. You think I’m going to just let this whore come in here and take what is mine?” I stared at him, feeling myself grow more determined to carry out my plan.
“But what about your father? He’s not going to be very happy with you,” Navid, ever the sensible one, warned me. “Take a step back. Think about this.”
“You are my assistant. Not my fucking conscience. Your job is to assist me, which you have done very well. Now get Gavin on the phone and assist me in making sure that come tomorrow Paris Duncan is one dead bitch.”
Navid picked up the phone and dialed the number. It didn’t matter to me what he thought or my father or even Niles. I knew that if I were to ever have any chance with the man I loved I had to get rid of the competition.
“Gavin, nice to hear your voice. Oh, don’t be that way. It was a business decision.” After I got off the phone I felt a million times better. Like I could finally relax. I turned to Navid.
“One more thing. I need you to find a gentleman to help relieve my stress. And if he’s also a masseur then that’s a bonus.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, letting me know that he didn’t agree with me.
“And for all your hard work and loyalty, especially in helping me solve this dilemma, you can take the rest of the day off to enjoy the sights,” I said as I reached into my purse and handed him a wad of spending money. One thing I always did right was take care of my employees. They weren’t like family. You had to pay them for their loyalty but in the end it would be worth every penny.
After he left I thought about Niles and how good it would feel to be back in his arms. An hour later I lay spread-eagle on the bed as Tomas, my masseu
r slash adult escort, happily munched my vagina, licking and sucking me into orgasm. He turned me over, his tongue following the crease between my ass cheeks as he thrust his finger deep inside of me, causing my body to writhe with pleasure.
“I want to fuck you,” he grunted as his dick strained against the fabric of his pants.
I sat up, throwing on my robe. “I have work to do.” My voice took on an authoritative edge. It was one thing to let him go down on me and give me pleasure but that’s where I drew the line. I wasn’t in the mood to explain to him that I had only ever had one man inside of me and he was the only one who would ever penetrate me. I walked over to my purse and pulled out a couple of hundred dollar bills.
“But I really want to satisfy you,” he whined, not getting the hint that his work was done. I handed him the money and walked over to the door. Throwing it open I waited until he had gathered all of his things and locked it. I couldn’t believe I’d done anything like that and for some reason I felt unclean, like I had cheated on Niles.
Niles
47
Click.
She squeezed the trigger and it went “click.”
Not a bang, pop, brrrrack, or boom.
Click. Paris lowered the rifle and came flying toward me.
“You . . . motherfucker,” she cursed.
“Never put the firing pin in. Sleight of hand. See?” I said, producing it for her. “A whole other lesson that could save you in this job.”
“So those people out there . . . that family,” she said, angry as hell. “Who . . . who are they?”
“I haven’t a clue. Made it all up,” I admitted. “Figured you’d find somebody matching the description I gave you.”
“But the paper you were reading from . . .”
“Oh. That,” I said, letting a sliver of a smile form.
She hastily picked the paper I’d balled up and thrown, unfolding it and attempting to read from it.
Not easy to do, since it was a blank sheet.
“Pleased with my acting?” I asked. “I had to be sure you could handle a pressure situation.”
“Did that b . . . cunt you work with put you up to this?” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“Nadja wanted to make sure you could be trusted but—”
“Did I pass your bullshit-ass test?” she interrupted me, coming closer.
“With flying colors,” I responded, feeling really proud of her. I motioned her to come into my arms. She had done so much better than I expected. Her first throw almost hit me when I caught her fist in midair. She flailed, connecting with various parts of my body.
“Paris, stop!” I grabbed her, binding her arms in front of me, hugging her against her will.
“Let me go! Motherfucker, let me go!” she screamed out but I tightened my arms around her.
“You gonna be calm? I’ll let you go when you calm down,” I warned her. Almost immediately she stopped fighting me. I opened my arms and let her go.
“Finally,” she said then clocked me in the head with the butt of the sniper rifle. Down I went, a mix of pain and surprise escaping my lips. I placed both hands over my forehead, trying to stem the blood trickling from the wound. “Because when I squeezed the trigger, I wasn’t aiming at anyone,” she completed.
“Damn, Paris. I’m bleeding all over the place. You could’ve put an eye out. Think you could’ve hit me somewhere else?” I groaned as I wobbled back onto my feet.
“That’s what you get for playing games. Besides, you were too pretty anyway,” she cracked as she dropped the sniper rifle onto the desk. “Oh. And don’t you ever put a blade to my throat again,” she called out.
I stumbled to the bathroom and looked in the bathroom mirror. My blood was readily flowing into the sink as I acknowledged the image staring back at me. Not sure if I were angrier at Paris for striking me . . . or myself for not anticipating what she would do. I’d gotten spoiled on way more pliable women. Last person to really push me was Nadja.
And thanks to my arrogance and ego, I knew how that turned out.
Paris was American though. More than that, she was a New York girl.
And I’d disrespected her.
Served me right if she was already on her way back to our room, prepared to pack her shit and get on with the remainder of her vacation. I’d ruined it for her, I supposed. But she’d made my time in Spain so much more memorable.
Once I’d washed up enough, I gathered the bloodied towels and bagged them up in the trash can liner. Even though this whole scenario wasn’t a real hit, any trace of me was not to be left behind.
“Paris,” I muttered, trying to hide my surprise over seeing her still in the room. She sat at the desk, holding the rifle and aiming it at me.
“Like how it feels?” she asked.
“You really weren’t angry at me?” I responded, genuinely surprised. My forehead was convincing enough to me.
“Didn’t say that,” she said, keeping the Steyr-Mannlicher trained on me. “But y’see, there’s something my real teacher taught me. About using emotion as a weapon, too. Kinda like that whole sleight of hand shit you played earlier.”
“And my firing pin?”
“Oh. It’s right where it’s supposed to be this time,” she replied, tapping her hand against the side of the rifle.
“What lesson are you supposed to be teaching me?”
“I dunno yet,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe that I am here to kill you. That I have been the entire time. And was just waiting for a moment like this. Once I figured out what you were all about. Which ain’t much.”
“Damn,” I said with a chuckle. “You really are here to kill me?” I asked, scanning the room to determine my next move.
“Uh-uh. Hands up,” she instructed. “Don’t even think about those fucking blades of yours. And move away from the lamp. I’ve learned your tendencies.”
“What do we do now?”
“Nothing for you to do except die, babe,” she said as she squeezed the trigger.
I lunged at her knowing I was too far away to stop the shot and she was too good to miss. Saw images of my moms telling me it was gonna be all right and to just let it all go. I guessed this was the way it was gonna end.
Except nothing happened.
Just a click.
Just like before.
Except now I looked like a fool.
“I didn’t lie. Firing pin was in this time,” Paris admitted, smiling. “But I emptied the clip and cleared the chamber. Lucky for you. Now the lesson’s over, Brooklyn.”
“So where do we go from here?” I asked, not sure where we stood and glad I hadn’t peed in my pants.
Rio
48
I scribbled a note on hotel stationary, letting Paris know that her brother was off to work at his j-o-b where he was killing it. Wasn’t sure when she’d get it since she hadn’t slept in her bed very much lately. No question where she had slept and I use that word loosely because if I knew my sister she put that stallion to good use. Apparently she and Niles were knocking boots and getting along just fine. Maybe this was some holiday fling for Paris but I wasn’t used to my sister lighting up the way she did when she looked at Niles. Hell, I welcomed the distraction since it kept me from having to explain what the hell I had been doing last night. Hated to admit that I was quickly learning that I had as much ho in me as my twin. I had a lot of catching up to do, which clearly wasn’t going to be a problem.
The one thing I hadn’t considered about club life was the nightly hookups. Yeah, it felt real good to be away from the ’rents and the expectation of what I was supposed to be doing. Here in Valencia I had the real pleasure of doing what the hell I wanted to do twenty-four seven and that felt real good. So great that I was starting to see this place with a real sense of permanence, which made me want to take a look around my new city, check out some real estate. I wasn’t sure what standard of living I could afford, especially if I suddenly found myself cut off from the Duncan d
ough, but you know I needed the finest things. Turning my back on Harvard Law in favor of running a club—co-running, but it was only a matter of time—was the kind of thing that might make my dad angry enough to issue an ultimatum. Shit made me want to get stoned just thinking about really being on my own, but if it meant being my own man I was down with Valencia all day long.
“Hello.” Navid appeared surprised to see me get on the elevator. Shit, we were both staying up in this bitch; if I had known that I may have thought twice about hittin’ it and quittin’ it. I definitely don’t need no drama while I’m establishing myself as the club king of Valencia. After a silent and awkward elevator ride down we stepped off and his eyes suddenly darted around the lobby like the po-po wanted him for some shit. Probably thought his family had spies checking to see what he was up to. Shit seemed way too serious for me, but then I remembered that I had been in his position less than a week ago.
“Hey.” I decided to play nice. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I figured I’d go sightseeing.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna learn my way around, check out some real estate, grab lunch.”
“Can I come along?’ Navid looked so damn hopeful I didn’t want to hurt ol’ boy’s feelings, plus I decided it might be nice to have someone to run around with. After consulting with the concierge we hopped in a cab and headed to the Valencia Street Circuit where they hold the European Grand Prix. Some kind of race had peeps flying into Valencia from all over. Got to the track, folks were dressed like they were at the Kentucky Derby or some shit. We hung for a quick minute then broke out. Looked at two, three places but they wanted long-term leases and I needed something on a month-to-month. Navid proved to be a great negotiator, helped me land a one-bedroom with a view of the sea for practically nothing.
“I’m treating you to lunch. Man, you got it done.” I thanked him for stepping in and using his negotiation skills. He had that MBA degree from Wharton and put it to use for my benefit. Didn’t have to be at the club ’til eight, which meant seven hours to chill. For a minute during our lunch I thought he wanted to tell me something. He started to nervously say something then stopped himself and changed the subject. I wasn’t about to push it though; the last thing I needed was some guy professing his undying love after a one-night stand.
