TO DIE FOR

by Sandra Ruttan

  TO DIE FOR

  & Other Stories

  By Sandra Ruttan

  TO DIE FOR

  Sandra Ruttan

  Copyright 2011 by Sandra Ruttan

  Kindle Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used ficticiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  First Ebook Original Edition, 2011

  Copyright: © 2006 LAST SHOT original by Sandra Ruttan.

  Originally published by OUT OF THE GUTTER

  Copyright: © 2006 RESTORATION original by Sandra Ruttan.

  Originally published by SPINETINGLER

  Copyright: © 2007 FUCKED AGAIN by Sandra Ruttan

  Originally published by DEMOLITION

  Copyright: © 2008 WHAT EVERY GUY WANTS original by Sandra Ruttan

  Reprinted by MOUTH FULL OF BULLETS

  Copyright: © 2008 BULL'S EYE original by Sandra Ruttan

  Originally published by PULP PUSHER

  Copyright: © 2011 TO DIE FOR original by Sandra Ruttan

  Originally published by CRIME FACTORY

  Copyright: © 2011 LAST SHOT alternate ending by Sandra Ruttan

  Originally published by Sandra Ruttan

  Cover Photo © 2006 Arrielle Edwards

  Cover Model: Arrielle Edwards

  Cover Design: Sandra Ruttan

  All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Author’s Note

  Short fiction affords writers with the opportunity to experiment. While in long form, I tend to write police procedurals, in short fiction it's a darker side that comes to the fore. This collection of short stories delves into dark hearts, suspect motives, and the most depraved motivations that drive some of the most heinous acts imaginable.

  I hope you enjoy this collection. For more information about my books and free short fiction available via Smashwords, visit www.sandraruttan.com

  Table of Contents

  To Die For

  – Page 5

  Last Shot

  – Page 14

  Restoration

  – Page 27

  What Every Guy Wants

  – Page 45

  Bull’s Eye

  – Page 47

  Fucked Again

  – Page 52

  Last Shot - Alternate Ending

  – Page 67

  To Die For

  “Looking for this?”

  The voice was low, sultry, compelling. He felt his head snap up as though it was nothing more than tiny metal shavings caught in a magnet’s pull.

  She was leaning against one of the beams that anchored the covered balcony. Her left foot traced a slow path along the calf of her right leg and the short red skirt fluttered in the soft breeze. The sandals she’d removed dangled in her right hand while she gently rubbed her neck with her left. She didn’t need them. Even leaning back she was almost at eye level with him.

  Her back arched. Just enough to make the thin white blouse pull against her breasts. The tissue-thin material betrayed the absence of a bra but she definitely didn’t need one.

  Gary straightened slowly, his pulse quickening as his eyes lingered on her body.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Ah.” Her left eyebrow rose as a smile danced across her lips and she pulled her hand out from behind her neck. “This.”

  The key to the door dangled from her manicured fingers, right in front of those supple breasts. It wasn’t until he managed to pry his gaze away that he realized she’d finally opened her eyes. Crystal blue, which stood out against the chestnut hair, the bronzed skin.

  “Sorry if I startled you.” Her face betrayed no lie, or apology. The curve of her lips, the way her eyes sparkled, even the softness of her words hinted at her amusement. He’d been staring at her. In his mind already on the other side of the door, pulling that translucent blouse off, steering her toward the bed.

  And she knew it. She wanted it. He was certain.

  “I, uh,” he nodded at the tree behind her and flashed a casual grin, “didn’t see you.”

  Her smile widened. “That was the idea.”

  Even the way she brushed back a loose strand of hair with her fingertips made him salivate. Gary scratched his head, proffered a smile and small chuckle. “Okay…”

  Let her do the talking. Let her take the lead. Just in case…

  It was the shrinking voice of reason whispering in his ear, barely audible over the staccato rhythm his heart was pounding out.

  Her laugh trickled out soft and low, like water in a shallow steam gently rushing over the rock bed. It was musical.

  Hypnotic.

  Then she stopped, the tip of her index finger against her lips, the key now clasped in her hand. ‘I’m here to look after you, Gary.’

  “Where’s Catherine?”

  The smile faded, eyes widening just enough to hint at concern as the woman pushed herself off the beam with her shoulders, tossed the sandals down and stepped into them. Slow, deliberate steps, closing the gap between them as she said, “Poor thing wasn’t feeling well.” Her fingertips outlined the curve of his bicep as her gaze drifted slowly down his body.

  He liked the way she took her time studying him, as though it wasn’t a put on but for real. When she looked up she ran her hand down his chest, stopping at the button on his shirt just above his belt, fingering it playfully. The skin that brushed against his was smooth.

  “I’ve only ever seen Catherine.”

  The lips puckered into a small pout, her shoulders lifting and falling in a matter of seconds. “Suit yourself. She just didn’t want to let you down.”

  He caught her hand as she turned away. "Hey. I didn’t say-“

  “That’s okay.” This smile didn’t reach her eyes. “We can just cancel and you can see Catherine when she’s feeling better.”

  “Whoa whoa whoa. Hold on.” He moved toward her, still holding her arm, and reached for her shoulder to turn her around as he murmured, “I didn’t say I wasn’t-“

  “Maybe I’m not interested anymore.”

  He felt his stomach drop, landing somewhere south of his pancreas. She wasn’t smiling now. Her lower lip had curled into a pout. “I’d really like to spend some time with you.”

  “I’m not Catherine.”

  “I know. It’s… It’s okay. I was just surprised, is all.”

  “So you don’t expect me to be like Catherine?”

  “I-“

  “Because I like to do things my own way.” The glint in her eye was back, even just the subtle change in the way she stood elevated her sexual energy, his boxers starting to pull against him uncomfortably.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” She moved closer, barely an inch between their bodies, her breath tickling his skin.

  “I’m game. Whatever you want.” Gary was fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice. He was glad that Catherine was sick.

  It never hurt to try something new.

  Something exciting.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He smiled as he did, starting to speak but he heard the, “Shhhh,” as she placed a finger on his lips for a second. Then he pulled back instinctively as the cloth wound around his head.

  She stopped. “I thought
you said-“

  “I know, I know. Sorry.” He held steady as she tied the blindfold, catching the scent of something almost floral. He couldn't think of how to describe it but he sure as hell knew the effect it was having on him as he drew in a deep breath.

  If he’d thought his heart was racing before, it was in overdrive now. The next few moments were disorienting and exhilarating. He heard the key slide into the lock. The door opened, her

  hands against his muscles as she guided him inside the cabin.

  He was aware of the loss of daylight. The change in the air as she shut the door on the fresh breeze and pushed him back against a wall, starting to unbutton his shirt.

  His hands rose automatically to her blouse. But she pushed them back, leaning in against him.

  “Patience,” she said as she exhaled against his chin. And as she undid button after button he felt her breath against his chest. Lower and lower, until she pulled the shirt from his pants. Then he felt her hands grasp the belt.

  Gary relaxed back against the wall as his pants fell down around his ankles. He moaned softly as his boxers followed. Just the idea of her made him hard, the warmth of her breath against his calf, his knee and now along his thigh adding to his excitement as he clenched his hands to keep himself from reaching for her. Those smooth, silky hands worked their way up his legs.

  It took everything in him to hold back. He fought the urge to pull the blindfold off, kick away his pants and rip off her clothes as he pushed her against a wall. It was making it harder to hold back, and he could feel her now, putting the condom on him as he released his breath.

  The blindfold was disorienting. He’d had the sense that she’d moved away from him, that feeling of space growing around him, and was just about to reach up when he felt the soft fabric land on his head. Her blouse, he guessed as he snatched it away. Immediately replaced by another item that his hands told him was a skirt.

  He pushed himself up from the wall, and stumbled. Damn pants were still around his ankles. As Gary reached down to free his right foot he felt the urge to scratch. Aware of how unappealing it would be for a woman to see him scratch his cock right now he resisted, swallowed, tasted metal. What the? The need to itch was growing, overshadowing his lust for the woman. What was her name? He felt a ripple of warmth spreading over his skin as he swallowed again, fighting hard to choke the breath through his throat.

  Gary opened his mouth to call out, strangely aware of how jumbled his thoughts were as he reached out, tripped over the pants and crashed into the side of the bed. He grunted as the frame impacted his stomach, which burned worse than the back of your throat when you swallowed a half cup of coffee before you realized it was near boiling.

  He sucked in and in and in. Wheezing and gasping as he clawed the side of the bed. Trying to pull himself up. But he still couldn’t get enough air.

  “Help,” he gasped out once before his knees collapsed and he slid to the floor.

  ***

  “You’re fuckin’ with me.”

  “I shit you not. Shows up with her client and she’s dragging him inside when he gets one look at the stiff on the floor and he’s gone.”

  “Yeah,” Parker said, chomping his gum noisily as he nodded at the blonde staring blankly out the window of a cruiser. “And she just tells you she’s a workin’ girl?”

  “Nah.” Guthrie shrugged. “No need. The other one, looks like she dropped the card for the escort service when she was throwin’ her clothes around. This one can hardly say she’s the maid, not dressed like that.”

  Parker’s mouth cracked into a wide grin as one of the uniforms opened the door and the woman stepped out, being led to a different vehicle. Her boots were long and her skirt was short and even from where Parker stood he could tell she was wearing a thong. “Nope. She’s not getting paid to clean house. What’s the deal with the cabin?”

  “Belongs to the company.”

  “Convenient.” Parker frowned. “So how’d we get called in?”

  “She called us. No money, no client-“

  “No charge. Yeah, yeah.” Parker scratched his head. “So whaddya figure?”

  “Two of them go inside to get busy. But he forgets to mention his allergy. Within minutes of getting ready for business he was gasping for breath. Died quick.”

  Guthrie tipped his head in the direction of the bathroom and Parker followed him to the door. “Sure she didn’t know?”

  The brunette’s body was in the tub. She had nothing but her underwear on, color matching the splash of dark red that had seeped into the bathmat on the floor, one sliced wrist dangling over the edge, brushing against the floor.

  “Christ. What a waste.”

  “Best we can figure she got scared, shot up, slashed her wrist.”

  “She was high?” Parker asked.

  Guthrie shrugged. “It fits. Found some cocaine and a syringe.”

  “Straight up accident-suicide. Twist on the usual murder-suicide.”

  “Boss called in already. One in the tub is Catherine Le Bon. Our victim is Gary Fordham, allergic to latex.”

  “Some allergy.”

  “Doubt he was crazy about the safe sex campaigns,” Guthrie said.

  “Huh. Anything but safe for him.” Parker reached for the bagged wallet, a medical alert card clearly visible opposite the drivers license. “And he gets so hot and bothered he forgets to mention it? Jesus. Should’a stuck to those silver bracelets.”

  “We’re supposed to go tell his wife.”

  Parker glanced at the other bag his partner held. The one that contained a gold band. He looked up and saw the way the color had gone out of Guthrie’s face. “Good a time as any for you to handle informing next of kin.” He walked away, not giving the man a chance to respond.

  ***

  Forty miles away outside a busy supermarket, Celia Fordham juggled grocery bags as she double-clicked on the remote lock and reached for her car door.

  “Excuse me? Miss? I think you dropped this.”

  Celia turned slowly. The woman had her chestnut hair pinned up in a bun, thick black frames outlining her blue eyes, a smart gray pinstriped business suit augmented by heels that gave her a considerable height advantage. She held a box of garbage bags in her hand.

  “Thanks.” Celia tugged the door open and set the bags in on the back seat before, removed a small map book from the side door pocket and reached for the item she’d allegedly dropped.

  “Jumbo box, extra strength."

  “Spring cleaning,” Celia said as she took the bag. “I have a lot of trash to get rid of.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Celia tapped the map and passed it to her. “You want 140 for

  Baltimore. Just follow the signs.”

  “Thanks.” The woman smiled as she looked inside the map book at the money in the envelope stuffed inside. “I took care of it.”

  "Just it?”

  “All of it.”

  Celia shut the back door. “Was he… happy?”

  The woman arched an eyebrow. “Not as happy as he wanted to be.”

  Last Shot

  “Plenty of jobs out there involve killin’ and you don’t see those guys cryin’ in their beer, moanin’ about it. Look, it ain’t personal. It’s business.”

  I lifted my gaze just enough to stare at Dack across the top of my glass, I was slouched so low. He was leaning back, tapping his fingers on the table, twisting around to scout the room, undoubtedly pissed that I’d claimed the corner table and the chair against the wall.

  “Name one.”

  “Huh?” Dack’s eyes pinched together as he pulled his gaze from the figure at the pool table, bent over, lining up her shot. Specifically, turned from looking at the backside of the blonde broad’s pants, unless I missed my guess.

  And I seldom missed. In anything.

  “Name one of these fucking careers.”

  “Jesus, man. Butchers. Farmers. Cops.” Dack shrugged, but his face lengthened. He sighed and
turned in his seat, facing me head-on. “Look, this is a job. It ain’t no different than what you did working for Uncle Sam and you know it. Only thing is you make some real money.”

  That, and I could go to jail. I didn’t point that out to Dack. He was a company man, through and through. If there was one thing I knew about him it’s that he would never try to get out of the game. It wasn’t just his job. It was what he was, and he was good at it.

  “MacDougal send you?” I lifted the glass to my lips and watched him as I took a drink. Good thing for Dack he was good with a gun because he was shit as a liar and he knew it. His eyes widened just a touch, the corners of his mouth twitched and in that second I knew without him saying a word.

  And when he looked me in the eye, he knew I knew. Dack blew out a breath as he shrugged again.

  “So what? Doesn’t make what I said wrong.”

  No, it didn’t. And it seemed to matter to Dack that I hear him, because he’d peeled his eyes off the blonde for more than ten seconds straight and still hadn’t turned back around in his seat. Instead, he was staring down into his glass, as though the foam worked like tea leaves and if he looked hard enough he’d see his future.

  The only thing his staring told me was that MacDougal was worried. And if MacDougal was worried he knew I wasn’t happy about how the job went down. Guys like Dack use guns and keep their distance. I’m more hands on. Takin’ someone out with a gun is one thing, and it works for some. Don’t get me wrong. I carry a gun, always ready to use it if the job goes wrong, but the jobs I do are as much about sending a message as doin’ the deed. I shoot them full of heroin and help them slit their own wrists.