by Rea Winters
Cas couldn’t argue with that. “Alright. But I’m not moving.”
“Better not.” Amie squeezed her hand and opened the passenger side door. Caspar had a bad feeling, but she let her go, her eyes never leaving the girl as she inched closer to the driver’s side of the goons’ car.
Amie stepped back, letting the driver emerge. McCreery tugged on his jacket and peered through the truck’s windshield, a slimy smirk coming to his face that Caspar ached to knock off. Amie shoved the pouch against his chest, putting his attention back to her. He took his time counting the bills, that smirk never waning as his lips flapped with the usual irritating nonsense. He made Amie more agitated by the second, but she crossed her arms and tapped her foot to keep patient. A minute later, the other goon stepped out of the passenger side and rummaged in the backseat.
That didn’t sit right with Caspar. Just as she gripped her door handle, the truck’s passenger door flew open and a silver slide gun stared her in the eye.
“Adami,” Becker greeted as she climbed inside.
“Becker,” Cas growled through a clenched jaw. “What the hell—"
“Don’t speak. Don’t move. Just keep watching.”
Caspar whipped her attention back to Amie. With her door cracked open, she could hear her saying something about the money being all there as she stepped closer to inspect the bag herself. A second later, the bigger man snatched her up from behind. Cas threw her door open and got one foot on the ground when cold metal kissed her neck.
“I said don’t move,” Becker warned.
Mikey shoved Amie against the car to tame her wild kicks, pressing a damp rag over her mouth to mute her screams until she was rendered unconscious.
“C’mon, get her in the car,” McCreery ordered, sounding bored. Mikey hefted Amie into the backseat.
Becker shut the truck door and dug the nozzle into Caspar’s neck until she did the same.
“Drive.”
Caspar followed the goons’ car onto the road.
“I can already hear the wheels turning in your head, Adami. Try anything clever and my new friends will slit your girlfriend’s throat. It’s that simple. So just play nice for once and I guarantee you’ll make it out of this alive.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Digging the gun into Caspar’s back, Becker ordered her to walk. The lock on her front door already picked, they walked in on the thugs setting up in the living room.
“Sleeping Beauty’s in the bedroom,” McCreery informed as he walked up on Caspar with that smirk. “Zip ties, duct tape, she’s all set.”
Caspar hauled off and punched him, rocking his jaw with a hard right. Mikey swiftly knocked her in the back of the head with the butt of his gun and shoved her to the living room floor. McCreery leaned against the breakfast bar, spitting out the blood from his cut lip.
“Good one, big boi. Aims musta gave you a taste already for you to be throwing that kind of heat.”
Caspar struggled to pick herself up, seeing doubles and feeling nauseous. She clutched the back of her aching head and blood seeped between her fingers.
“Where’s our money, Suit?” McCreery demanded.
Becker pulled a heavy envelope out of her pocket and tossed it to him.
“Alright, we’re good here. Mikey, you know what to do?”
“Yeah, boss.”
McCreery helped himself to a beer from the fridge and passed one to Becker before sauntering over to Caspar.
“Yo, Spartacus. Tell Aims no hard feelings, ey? It’s just business.”
He tapped Mikey on the shoulder, then walked out of the house. Becker situated herself on the barstool, took one long swig of her refreshing beverage, then nodded to her accomplice, unleashing the thug on Caspar as planned. After several kicks to her ribs and legs, Mikey yanked her up by her shirt and punched her in the face until her heaving and coughing went quiet, knocking Cas out cold.
Chapter Forty-Two
With her tie and suit jacket folded neatly on a stool, Jo Becker undid her collar and slid on a pair of black leather gloves. She removed the battery from Caspar’s cellphone, then polished off her beer and threw it to the floor. The shatter jolted Caspar awake.
The head to toe pain throughout her body throbbed in a chaotic rhythm. Duct tape over her mouth itched her face and a streak of warm blood oozing down her temple burned the corner of her eye. She squinted at her own lap, becoming aware that she was sitting in a chair. The pinch in her wrists growing sharper, she jerked her arms through the slender iron rods that made up the back of the chair, hitting three zip ties cutting off circulation to her hands.
Becker loudly cleared her throat and planted herself in Caspar’s line of sight, leaning back on the couch like she owned the place. Cas raised her head, glaring daggers, and jerked her arms harder despite the ties cutting her skin.
“Caspar Adami had been carrying on an affair with my wife, Natalie, for about six months,” Becker began, holding her hand to the spot where a human heart was supposed to be. “I was heartbroken, enraged. I went up to her house to give her a piece of my mind, but she wasn’t there. Amie Seda was, though. The new assistant she so graciously allowed into her home after she survived that awful break-in at Adam & Hammer. Being the loyal Girl Friday that she was, Amie comforted me. Got me to calm down, to take pity on her strange lonely boss. She didn’t want me to hurt her. Didn’t want to see me get hurt, either.”
The house phone rang, summoning an aggravated scoff from Becker. Before the answering machine could pick it up, she got up and yanked out every cord in sight.
“Where was I? Oh right. Now, I don’t know what came over us—Amie and I—but when she said she didn’t want to see me hurt, we began to stare into each other’s eyes and…we kissed. She kissed me and I let her. And then, we made love. Right on this couch.”
Becker sat back down on the couch; her gaze practically sparkling as she delighted in Caspar’s rageful tremble. Though angry and afraid, Caspar was also using her head. The iron chair she was tied to came from her garage and she recalled the week she made it. She’d screwed up some measurements, leaving the sharp spiraled ends exposed at the seat. Nudging her wrists down, she found the right groove, jammed the ties in as deeply she could and squirmed in a stunted rhythm. Her glower never left Becker, which is all it took to keep the smirking maniac distracted as she leaned forward, dramatically gesticulating through her lies.
“I thought it was going to be a one-time thing, at least, I intended for it to be. But my marriage was still falling apart and Amie was something new, fresh. So, we planned to meet again sometime after my son’s birthday party. But that never got to happen. Apparently, Adami had broken things off with my wife because she caught feelings for Amie. That must be why she took her out to the bowling alley for a little date, you know, in some sad attempt to seem like a normal person. Being the nice girl that she was, Amie went along with it. But she had no idea that her boss’ little crush was really a dangerous obsession. My kid’s party happened to be at Lucky Strikes at the same time as their “date.” That’s when Caspar caught Amie watching me. She got angry. Accosted me about our relationship. Choked and punched me in the alley and told me to stay away from her. I still have the bruises, Detective.”
A loud thud echoed from the back room. Becker paused, her expression lighting up. “Ah. Our girl has either woken up or she’s a restless sleeper. Mister Mike,” she directed.
The taller goon had been posted up against the wall in the hallway, half-asleep. He stretched and went into the back room to deal with Amie. Muffled screaming and struggling traveled down the hall.
Caspar groaned through the tape over her mouth and desperately spun her head, trying to get the hall in her line of sight until Becker pressed the tip of a gun to her head. She stilled, glaring up at the woman, her breath coming out in short huffs through flared nostrils.
“Something to say?” Becker teased and ripped the tape off.
Caspar said nothing.
&nbs
p; “That’s what I thought.” Becker gave her cheek a comforting pat, then sauntered in the kitchen. She made a mess breaking plates and toppling appliances then returned to Caspar’s side with a steak knife.
“She was still living with her boss—Amie was—and being the big needy freak that we all know Adami to be, she made this poor girl feel obligated to stay by her side. But Amie just missed me so much, you see, that the least she could do is call. I’d given her my card the day we met, so she’d have a way to reach me.”
Becker pulled Amie’s cellphone from her pocket and waved it in Caspar’s face. The screen showed an on-going call with Becker’s number for the past thirty minutes. She ended the call, threw the phone on the end table and laid the knife beside it. Hands on her knees, she bent to about eye level with Caspar and wiped the sweat gathering on her own brow with her sleeve. The white of her eyes were cracked with red lines and her irises hidden under dilated voids that danced over every inch of Caspar’s face. She squeezed her reddened nose and sniffed before touching the corner of her lips with her tongue, thinking of what to say next.
“She begged me—Amie did. Begged me to come to the house, grab her by the waist and make sweet passionate love to her in Chea Adami’s bed.”
“Don’t make me kill you,” Cas warned in a low raspy growl.
Becker cackled, stood behind her and yanked her head back by her pretty black tresses.
“Well, I know you’ve certainly got it in you. You see, everybody knows that I have proven to have my father’s drive, his lion spirit, and you have proven to have the possessive rage of a rapist, the black soul of a monster. And that is what drove you to beat Amie Seda within an inch of her life and slit her throat. Couldn’t be helped after you overheard all the juicy details of our conversation. I mean, in your precious mother’s bed of all places.” She clicked her teeth. “The disrespect.”
Caspar grunted as some of her hair was ripped out from the root. Becker sprinkled the strands on the ground.
“That Amie—my Amie…She put up one hell of a fight when you tried to force yourself on her. Her rejection just made you angrier. So angry, so frustrated that you couldn’t even keep it slick. So, you just kicked the shit out of her instead. The poor girl tried to keep fighting, but she was just no match for you. Hell, half the lads and laddas our age were no match for you growing up. You remember that, don’t you? I know everybody else does. Especially Hayden Ferreiro after the little reminder you gave her last week.”
“No one will believe your bullshit, Becker. We’re not kids anymore.”
It was a small and recent faith, but Caspar grasped for it.
“Ah-ah, correction: Sergeant Taylor won’t believe it. But he’s more than proven to be biased when it comes to you. He can get you off the hook for as many fights as he wants, but murder? Well, that’s another story, isn’t it? And we both know that when it comes to weaving a tale, I am a master. I can get people to buy whatever the hell I feel like selling. Although, I can’t take all the credit in your case.” Becker undid the buttons on her collar shirt and stripped down to her sleeveless undershirt. “Your rage scared a lot of people, Adami. And sure, no one could testify to ever seeing that rage directed at the fairer kind, but they also couldn’t testify to knowing how you acted towards them at all.”
She paced a circle around the chair, then stood behind Caspar and gripped her shoulders.
“You know, a lot of people assumed you were still a virgin who probably rubbed it out to pictures of your mother before I let it slip that my wife was thrill-fucking you.” Becker snorted a laugh, giving Caspar’s shoulder a friendly pat before plopping down on the arm of the couch.
“And those other girls – the ones who fucked you behind their family’s backs out of pity or for the excitement of doing the town psycho, do you really see them jumping at the chance to tell the world you’re actually gentle and misunderstood? Or, were you counting on the girls who went crying to you when their fuckbuddies slapped them around or blurred the lines of consent to come to your defense? To set the record straight that all those times you hauled off on random guys, bloodied them up and broke their bones for no apparent reason, you were really acting as some kind of knight defending their honor?”
Caspar’s glare faltered under confusion.
“Natalie’s gal pals,” Becker answered the unspoken question. “Get a few glasses of wine in them and you’d be surprised what falls out of their beaks. And we both know Natalie can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life, especially when she’s mad and drunk as a little blonde skunk. She just had to tell me how much better you were than me in every way and how it’s just so not fair how people treat you.” She pouted mockingly. “Her and her little circle of whores included. But you see how that’s not enough, don’t you? How no matter how much you give, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never get anything in return. You’ll never be worth it. That’s what separates us, isn’t it?” She jabbed Cas in the shoulder. “That is what you hate about me, what you’ve always hated about me.”
“I don’t give a damn about you—“
“Don’t you? You picked as many fights with me as I picked back.”
“You were hurting people, you dick--”
“We were sixteen!” Becker exclaimed, then threw her hands and scoffed, bitterly amused. “For fuck’s sake, you think nobody in that school ever gave me a smack or two? You think you had a right to punish me every time somebody sniveled my name? You should’ve minded your own business.”
Mikey returned from the back room and took Becker’s place in front of Caspar, holding a gun to her head.
“She’s good to go, Suit.”
“Guess it’s time I minded yours, huh? Thank you, Mister Mike. I’ll be right back.”
“Becker…Becker! Don’t fucking touch her!”
Mikey shut Cas up with a punch to the jaw. A hard kick to the side of the chair sent her crashing to the floor in front of the fireplace. Blood spilled past her lips, but the impact dug her wrists deeper still into that spikey metal groove.
Chapter Forty-Three
Amie woke up in a strange bed, moaning through the duct tape over her mouth and tugging against the thick plastic bands around her wrists and ankles.
Fighting back a wave of nausea, she oriented herself and listened. Flinching at the sound of things crashing and breaking outside of the room, she feared for Caspar. Only one voice broke through the noise and it wasn’t hers. She couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but she somewhat recognized the voice and the sound of her name through an endless string of words. None of this made sense, but now wasn’t the time to wonder why bad guys did bad things. She had to stop this.
Amie rolled and crashed to the floor, scooted through the pain on her side like a worm to the cracked bedroom door. Seconds later, heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. She scooted back, trying to make it under the bed. Too late. The door opened and she stilled, looking up just as large hands reached down and grabbed her. Screams erupted from her throat as she tried in vain to kick with her knees, knocking her feet into the nightstand before being thrown back on the bed.
Mikey stuck his knee on the back of her calves and held the tip of his gun to her temple. She stiffened as much her trembling body would allow.
“I’ve always liked you, Aims. For old time’s sake, how ‘bout you don’t make things messy between us, ey?”
She nodded.
“Good girl.” He hoisted her up and sat her down on the other side of the bed, then looped a second tie through her binds and zipped it around the bed post.
“Hey, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing personal. Why leave with just fifty-five grand when we could get a hundred plus for a little extra labor? End of the day, we’re businessmen. Shoulda picked a better boi toy.”
She wrenched her head away from his comforting pet, glowering at him.
“If it makes you feel better – since you did come through in the end – McCreery says we’
ll be leaving ol’ Tony alone. Let him serve his dime in peace. Honestly, the last thing he’s gonna need is a couple of hounds giving him trouble after he hears about what that nutjob out there did to his baby girl.” Mikey shook his head, laughing a bit. “Crazy world, huh?”
Mikey got up and rejoined the ‘nutjob’ outside of the room, closing the door all the way behind him. Wasting not a second, Amie frantically yanked against her ties and looked around for something useful. Across the room was a vanity full of handcrafted knickknacks. There, a wooden owl next to a picture of a teenage Caspar caught her attention. Specifically, the rotary dial on its belly. It was an old model telephone.
Amie sawed and yanked, leaning her whole body off the bed until the second tie snapped. She caught herself on the very edge of the bed, then slowly clamored down the ground and laid on her back. Inch by inch, she got her hands over her tailbone, then under the knees and feet. She peeled the duct tape off her mouth and looked for something sharp to break the ties. Something shiny glinted from the knitting basket in the corner. Thanking the Ancesti, she shimmied on her butt to the basket, snagged a long knitting needle and punctured the ties around her ankles until they snapped.
“Becker! Don’t fucking touch her!”
Amie jumped, a shiver running down her spine. That was Caspar’s voice. With her wrists still tied, she clamored to her feet, jumped over the bed and tried to lock the door. No locks.
“Shit!” She ran past the phone to the window just as the door swung open. Leaping back, she held the needle out like a knife. A woman she recognized looked her up and down.
“Jo? What—Don’t come any closer!”
Jo scratched her temple, laughing under her breath. “You really are impressive.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Desmond pulled into his driveway and peeled his aching body out of the car. He paused at the barking coming from inside his house and looked around to make sure he was at the right address. Deciding to leave his suitcases in the trunk, he hurried inside the house and was greeted by a dog jumping on his legs.
