He heard Gail fumbling in the sink and imagined her hastily washing a couple of
‘decent’ glasses, even though he’d never answered her question. He pulled the pistol from its nesting place and padded towards the kitchen.
***
Pen propped the detail list on the steering wheel and figured out what time she’d arrive, where he would be, and where she should wait. Each location on the itinerary sparked a flashback. When they’d met, when they’d fought, and when that rage had transitioned into passion… She shook her head and smiled in spite of the situation.
The drive only took a couple of hours, and she was a little amazed that he’d been so near, for however long he’d been there. She pulled into his apartment complex, found a nice, quiet spot, and double-checked her notes and supplies. After a quick scan of the parking lot, she slipped out and walked towards the back of the building. She took the stairs and let herself into a dim hallway.
Four doors down on the left waited an empty apartment. Four doors down on the right sat the target’s place. Pen listened for a minute, then let herself into the empty residence.
She stashed her tools back in her bag and took a quick look around. The bathroom was a hollow shell with a hole in the floor. Great! She checked her watch-no time to make a run. Luckily, she’d made a pit stop in town, because hide-and-seek always made her feel like she had to pee.
She settled in to wait, sitting and leaning against the wall, and pulled out the contents of the envelope. She hadn’t given the photos any more than a cursory glance, so she took a minute to study them in detail now. Not much had changed in three years. He looked a little closer to dead, but that was about it.
She ignored the pang, but couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back. Resigned to getting them over with, she tipped her head back against the crinkled wallpaper and closed her eyes.
There he was-all smoldering eyes and slack-jawed concentration, the electricity between them so thick that she could easily picture his sighs coming out in rushes of colored vapor. He’d always known just where to touch her, just which buttons to push.
They’d been in it together, the two of them, completely open, no false names or histories. No one else had ever given her that.
Glancing at her watch, Pen idly traced the fingers of her other hand across the inseam of her cargo pants. The hard knob of material, where all four seams met, was positioned just so, and she rocked against her hand, pushing against the shape.
“No time for weakness, Pen!” she admonished herself.
She sprang to her feet and began pacing the cramped entryway, checking the parking lot on each pass of the window. Get it together, Pen. It’s a job. Just a job. After several rotations, wiping her sweaty palms on the seat of her pants, she glanced again and saw his vehicle pulling up to its assigned spot.
Pen scrambled to her bag and withdrew her weapons, hastily fastening and stashing them into the pouches and pockets of her clothing. Gotta be ready. One quick shot. She screwed the silencer onto the muzzle and slid a round into the chamber.
She rested her gloved fingertips lightly against the doorknob and peered through the peephole. Within seconds, she heard footsteps on the carpeted stairs to her right.
***
One shot to the temple, slightly angled to the back, was all it had taken to leave the shrew in a heap on the kitchen floor. Jason returned to the window and watched the activity below for a while. Matching cops to vehicles assured him that he had accounted for almost everyone on the scene. There was a small gathering of blue off to the side of the hook and ladder. They’d be canvassing soon, he imagined.
Jason grabbed Gail’s keys off the small table next to the door, let her cat out, and exited through the rear of the complex. He weaved through a few alleys, and meandered down a sidewalk or two until he came to his car. As he pulled away, his first genuine-if sardonic-smile curled his mouth.
That was slick. Bonus points awarded for securing a safe spot in which to watch the bar over the next couple of days, and see if the target showed up to assess the damage in person. All bets said he would-Hector kept a tight reign on his business holdings. But Jason knew Hector better than any of the morons who paid his bills. Hector was no fool.
He’d be there, just not quite yet.
Swinging his car up behind an old warehouse, he checked his mirrors one last time, then stepped out and stuffed his hand behind the puckered metal sign to the left of the loading dock. It took a bit of finger wiggling, but he soon had his package in hand. He briefly flipped the flap to check the contents, returned to his car and headed home.
As the streetlights slid across his windshield, he couldn’t help feeling smug. This would put him in a new tax bracket. And well deserved, he figured. He’d paid his dues and worked for every penny he’d earned. In the ten years he’d been an independent contractor, he’d graduated from Molotov cocktails to pipe bombs, to the very latest in plastique. Better toys were more expensive, especially when you only used them once, but the pay scale evened it out.
He’d spent a couple thousand in his head by the time he turned into his complex.
That would be the first thing to change. Time for new digs. Maybe he’d go further west, as in ‘all the way west’.
He pulled in, yanked his keys and jumped out of the car. The calculations put a spring in his step: how much money to throw into his retirement account, how much he could spare to start fresh in another scene. Well, not completely fresh-he’d need his contacts and references, of course.
He made what was, hopefully, one of his last trips up the stained, carpeted stairs.
and jangled his keys into position in the lock. He heard a click from inside, just seconds before the latch of his door disengaged.
He threw his door open, spun inside and back against the wall. What the fuck wasthat? He reached out to swing his door shut, and caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision. He threw his hand in that direction and felt the heavy contact of his fist against metal. A gun clattered to the floor and spun across the hall. He turned to face his would-be attacker.
“You’re shittin’ me!” He drew a slow breath, forced his body to relax and exhaled. He raised himself to the balls of his feet, resting his weight lightly.
“Hey, Pen.” He backed into the room, drawing her inside with the challenge in his gaze.
A knife, balanced loosely in her right hand. “Jay.” They eyed each other warily.
“Well, ain’t this special. It’s been a while, huh? Did you find me to satisfy your own curiosity, or is this a business call?”
“All we know is business, Jason.”
They circled each other slowly.
“Aw, come on, Pen. We did alright.” He took another slow step to the left. Pen followed, staying directly in front of him, body angled sideways, just out of arm’s reach.
Every muscle in her body looked coiled and ready to spring at any given moment. Shewas always so damn good. He shook his head. “Hector sends you. And you wonder why I went solo.”
“Hector’s a smart man, Jason.” Her weight shifted.
He leaned in slightly, centering his weight with a small bend of his knees.
***
Recognizing the gleam in his eyes, Pen drew both arms up, elbows bent, fingers loosely curled, ready to snap into tight balls of sinew and bone, fist and blade. “Well, this should be fun.”
Just as the words left her mouth, Jason threw his fist straight at her face.
Instinctively, she blocked his swing with her forearm and used his momentum to propel herself sideways. She drew her knee back and slammed it into his groin. As he pivoted to face her, she hopped to the side. There was blood in his eyes.
This was not going to be fun.
***
Jason tasted bile in the back of his throat. He needed to get a grip. A joker’s grin stretched his mouth. His cheeks ached with it.
She watched him, sizing up the damage, no doubt. This wasn’t going to w
ork here.
He’d have to take care of her, but not yet. She had a few tasty morsels of information to feed him first.
He feigned a left jab and circled around with his right fist, aiming at her temple. She barely blocked the swing, and his fist grazed past her ear, snagging the cartilage with a grinding crunch. That’ll get her head ringing, at least.
He dodged a swipe of the blade, swung with his left again and connected with the side of her head. She staggered sideways and attempted to shake it off. He didn’t give her a chance, and followed with a fist to her diaphragm. She doubled over, air gushing out. The knife dropped to the carpet. He sent his knee into the bridge of her nose and she was down for the count.
Squirrelly as she was, he knew he needed to act quickly. He scooped her up, checked the hallway once more, and carried her out the back door and down the fire escape stairs.
Shit! His car was parked in the front lot. He set Pen on the stairs, leaned her head against the railing, and peeked around the corner of the building. All seemed quiet in the twilight. Still, he needed to get his car over here.
What a pile of crap this day turned out to be! He shot a glance at Pen, who still seemed to be out cold, then made a casual dash to his car.
***
Pen came to with a bad case of the spins. Her tongue was dry and she sucked on it a little while she took in her situation. Jason leaned against the corner of the building, looking towards the front parking lot. She dropped her jaw and closed her eyes when she saw him turning in her direction. The metal railing bit into her temple, but she kept her head in position and worked out her next step.
As soon as she heard his footsteps jogging away, she sprang up, thankful she’d parked where she had. She looked in Jason’s direction as she sprinted towards the Duster. His eyes met hers, just as they both climbed into their respective drivers’ seats.
Pen already had the keys in the ignition and was cranking the engine when she slammed her door. She could hear him following suit. At least she’d had the foresight to back into her parking spot, a piece of training he’d obviously forgotten. She slammed the shifter into first and popped the clutch, tromping on the gas.
She needed to hit the desert, where she’d have open space to maneuver and no witnesses, time to get into a defensible position. And all her gear was still upstairs.
“Crap!” She pounded the steering wheel and dodged slower traffic. She’d have to go back there. Sloppy, sloppy. No damn good. Good thing she always kept a spare.
A glance at the rear view confirmed he was with her. Ironic as it was, she was going to kill him or die trying. She figured a small part of her would die either way.
She shot wide around a vehicle in the left-hand turn lane, and swung onto the freeway on-ramp. Jason was only a block behind. She fumbled for her sunglasses to block the last shots of sun and merged into the oblivious traffic, crossing all four lanes in an effort to gain some ground.
Jason stayed right on top of her. They kept at it for miles, until the off ramps began spreading out and leading only to back roads and three-pump gas stations. Pen leaned forward, fumbled under the seat for her ‘emergency’ weapon and wedged it beneath her leg.
Eventually there was nothing but desert, and a check of her gas gauge told her it was time to get this over with. Pen braced herself and veered off the road onto the hard- packed sand. Her tires shuddered over every crack and crevice. She bounced the front end through a series of divots and came to a screeching halt in a ravine. She flipped off the headlights the moment the tires stopped moving, giving her eyes a chance to adjust before darting out behind a pile of boulders. Between the Duster, the ledge of the ravine and the rocks, Pen figured she had as much cover as she was going to get, and knew it wouldn’t be close to enough.
***
Jason couldn’t help but laugh when Pen’s vehicle spun off the road. He pulled over and watched the headlights bounce wildly into the night, come to a stop and go out. He eased his car into drive and crept out onto the desert, aiming his wheels toward the spot where he’d last seen those headlights.
Of course, Pen could be creeping along in the dark, just to throw him off her trail, but he suspected she’d holed up somewhere to wait for him-she’d never been one to back down.
The front end of the car dipped and rose over the last ripple of hard-packed sand, then tipped towards the bottom of a ravine. His headlights landed on the piss-yellow Duster, parked at an angle against an outcropping of rocks. She’d been there long enough for the dust to settle. He had to assume she was prepared for whatever move he was about to make.
He killed the engine, cut the lights and gave himself a minute. No sounds interrupted the stillness. No movement violated the dark, but he knew she was there somewhere-he could feel her. It appeared he wasn’t going to get any information after all.
Nice move, rookie. May as well get it over with now. He grabbed his gun off the seat and opened the door slowly, crouching behind it as he crept out of the car. He scanned back and forth over the shrouded terrain and picked up more details as his eyes adjusted to the dark.
***
Perched behind a pile of rocks, Pen watched the lights brighten the closer Jason’s car came to the ravine. Just before the beams crested the hill, she put her back against the rocks and closed her eyes to prevent blinding. She heard the tires slide, crunching down the gravel on the bank of the riverbed. The undercarriage scraped against the rocks at the bottom.
The car stopped and the engine cut out. She checked her weapon with her fingertips; safety off, round chambered, two handed grip. She drew a breath and waited for the sound…and there it was. Just the slightest tick, as the headlights were switched off.
Pen rose to her full height, propped her elbows on the rock in front of her and sighted in on Jason’s forehead. He squinted into the darkness, partially shielded behind the open driver’s side door. Perhaps he heard her, or felt her, because he ducked down and to the left. But he didn’t duck far enough.
Fish in a barrel, Pen. Duck on a pond. Her hesitance bothered her.
Unacceptable.
She squeezed the trigger gently, depositing a bullet just left of center, leaving a black dot on Jason’s forehead, visible only for a second before he slumped backward and fell to the ground. She released her breath and relaxed her arms, waiting for the echoes of the gunshot to fade.
Not foolish enough to take her eyes off him, she crept down from her shelter, eased over to crouch at the front fender of his car, and watched him closely for signs of life.
The sight and smell held a sure sign of death-he’d released his bowels.
Pen made a quick sweep of his car, gathering any items she deemed useful before she tore off in the Duster. She performed a mental inventory of the contents of the bag she’d left at the apartment complex. There wouldn’t be anything with which to identify her, but she knew better than to leave equipment by choice. She bumped her car back onto the highway and headed to town, stopping only to fill her tank at the first available opportunity, an unmanned pay-at-the-pump station. She paid in cash.
Flashing lights surrounded the complex. Apparently they were on to Jason and/or his disappearance. She continued driving, careful not to speed up. Leaving her gear behind grated on her, but she didn’t really have a choice.
The second she hit the state highway, the heebie-jeebies set in. She couldn’t control it. She just kept watching the mirrors and urging the car home faster.
***
Even after the review, Pen couldn’t think of anything she could or would have done differently. Should have been a clean shot at the apartment, but his reflexes had been too damn quick. It ate at her a little, but she was Platinum now.
She leaned her head back against the seat and smiled. Platinum! Triple figures.
She stopped at her brother’s place, chucked some beef jerky at the boys, and switched cars while they munched away happily. Back in her garage, she let out a huge sigh and sunk into the car upholst
ery for a few minutes.
The heavy door rolled shut behind her, and she eased out of the car, took her shoes off in the entry and crept into the house. She padded up the stairs, stripping off her clothes as she went.
The shower was incredible, and Pen allowed herself some time to think. A few tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she pinched them off by squeezing her eyes shut, and scrubbed away the crazy day.
Clean and dry, she padded naked to the bedroom and slid under the covers. Her hands traveled up the muscled thighs beside her until she reached the prize. Brian stretched and gave her a sleepy smile.
“Now then. Where were we?” Pen grinned and slurped his stirring cock into her mouth.
Playing with Dolls
Joey and Tash are friends and roommates. But there’s more beneath the surface.
More than Joey’s ready to deal with.
She was a doll of a woman, four-foot-eleven, blonde, long lashes, evening gown sparkling in the neon bar signs, tiny feet strapped into impossibly high heels. Absolutely beautiful.
Small though she was, on stage she was larger than life, strutting to the beat and swaying her hips, as strong in body as she was in charisma. When she flipped into handstands against the pole, or did inverted push-ups, men threw money onto the stage.
When she was on, she was on, and nothing could stop her. She was the star attraction in that small town strip joint. We ran the club, she and I. Well, not officially, but we had our influence, she being the top drawing dancer, and me being the waitress with the nice rack and special smile for each and every patron.
Anastasia, she called herself, onstage and off. Her real name became a shadow that faded completely. I called her ‘Tash’, and she called me Joey, and we shared a house in the west end of town; more out of convenience at first-both working at the bar and her needing a roommate-but we immediately fell into familiarity. The kind of friendship that burns fierce and hard, destined to burn itself out.
Digressions Into Erotica Page 8
