Ballistic

by K. S. Adkins

  Quietly exiting the bed, I make my way to his spare room and decide to get him some answers. Luckily the cast doesn’t cover my fingers and I can type some, but to say it doesn’t hurt would be a lie. Opening his father’s file followed by Venessa’s, I begin making notes. Taking a highlighter, I run it across the captain’s name every time I see it. Back then, the captain was lead detective. He was part of the task force and had to approve all movement the team made. I also highlight the time of death for both men and reference it with the captain’s whereabouts.

  Now this new development was fucked up. He wasn’t in the city, so where was he? No lead detective would be absent for the biggest bust of his career.

  “Sleep well?” Anthony asks, pulling up another chair and handing me a cup of coffee.

  “I did, thank you. You?”

  “Like a baby,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Find anything?”

  Pointing at the yellow highlights I explain what I have so far. “They were all shot in the same manner. My thought is vengeance pure and simple,” I explain. “If the captain was lead detective of this task force, why wasn’t he killed too? He gave the order. I would think he would be first. He implemented the bust but on the night all this took place, he wasn’t in the city. His name was all over the place when this hit the media. Whoever made the decision to come after those involved would take out the lead detective first. That’s Revenge-101.”

  “The bust happened two weeks prior,” he explains, lighting up.

  “Anthony you aren’t listening to me,” I explain, taking his cigarette to hit it. “He wasn’t in the city when the bust happened either.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Anytime there is a bust like this, the paperwork takes days, sometimes weeks to complete. For months they’d been building this case. If you were the head of a bust this big you’d be here overseeing it, making sure your men were safe. Then when the dust settled, you’d stick around to get the reports where they needed to go and take your accolades with the rest of the team. This bust was huge for Detroit. The captain especially. It literally put a halt to some serious shit at that time. When you finish a job, how long does it take you to do reports? For me, it can take anywhere from eight hours to a full week.”

  “Reports were the bane of my existence,” he says. “So the captain did his reports?”

  Pulling out the file I show him. “Yes, he did them. Four days later and they weren’t finalized until a week after the murders went public. The department was thrown into a tailspin with their deaths. No one would fault him if it took him extra time to finish them. The timelines do not match up. He waited to do these reports, but why?”

  “To cover his own ass?”

  “Or to alter what the reports said. If I were the detective in charge and this happened, I would feel responsible and I would want answers. I would tear the city apart getting them. He didn’t do that. He didn’t do anything. You have to remember that the captain in charge at that time had health issues and passed away of natural causes, sixteen days after the bust. Guess who took his place?”

  “No shit.”

  Just then, my phone pings and when I look down, I see it’s from Jules. She can’t find Max. Apparently he put distance between them again and now, poof, he’s gone. Max going missing means one thing: Hank. I knew this would happen eventually, I just wasn’t expecting it this soon. Hank’s timing sucked.

  “Road trip?”

  “Where to?”

  “I think Hank took Max, but before I can give Jules the green light, we need to head over there and check it out. If he’s there I’ll give her the go ahead. If we go in before her, she’ll shit. She’s territorial like that. We need to do surveillance first.”

  “I’ll drive,” he says, grabbing his keys. “But first, you take your meds and grab some coffee for us to go.”

  “Yes sir,” I say, heading down the stairs. Doing exactly as requested, I pop an ibuprofen and make two mugs for the road. Slipping my Chuck’s on, I’m waiting by the back door when he comes into the kitchen.

  Taking his Beemer because a hummer tends to draw notice, we haul ass over to a residence Hank used to own. If Jules can’t find him, this is the only other logical choice. Jules moved away, I did not. So over the years I’ve had the unfortunate luck of knowing about this asshole and shared some things with her. His residence in Palmer Woods isn’t too far when you break laws. If she was thinking straight she would have remembered that, but she wasn’t so she got a pass. Parking several houses down, I secure my 9mm and I watch as Anthony does the same.

  Seriously, there is something about a man and his weapon. No not his cock, okay yeah, that too, but guns are a close second.

  “You can shoot left handed?” he asks when I palm it, ready for anything.

  “Yes,” I admit. “I could even shoot with my feet if I had to.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” he says, coming around the vehicle to kiss me hard on the mouth “You ready?”

  Once we found a safe position Anthony was shocked that Hank would shoot his own son, I however was not. I knew firsthand what Hank was capable of. Sending Jules a text, I let her know shots were fired at Palmer Woods and no units would be responding. That ought to get her in gear.

  Oh and in a rare act of friendship, I tell her that I love her too. What is happening to me?

  “I can’t leave him here like this,” he says, looking fearsome. “Hank will kill him.”

  “Let Jules and her team handle it, Anthony,” I tell him, trying to pull him with my good arm. “Please, just trust me.” When he looks torn I tug on him again. “Please,” I ask him. “Trust me on this. Hank isn’t going to kill him. He can’t afford to. We have to go.”

  Seeming to make a decision, he backs away, then looks at me. “I’ll trust you,” he says. “You know Jules better than I do.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “She’ll save him. It’s what she does, Anthony.”

  “Shit.”

  Making our way back to his car we no sooner get in and pull away that I see Jules arrived with her team. Knowing matters will be taken care of with threat and bloodshed, I take my first deep breath since the text.

  We made it, this time.

  My father was laughing so hard, tears were running down his face. Coming out to the shed to see what was going on, he threw his arm around my shoulder and whispered, “Look at her, son,” in hushed tones. “She never fails to entertain me.”

  I was confused, what was she doing with that? What was it? A hand saw? “Mom,” I called out. “What are you doing?”

  Rushing forward, my father was still laughing. “Gah!” she groans. “Don’t just stand there, Anthony get this thing off of me! I can’t breathe with it on!”

  “Love, the doctor said four weeks it’s been four days.”

  Moving closer, I see her working the saw back and forth to get her tiny cast off. My mother, albeit the most beautiful mother ever, was a complete klutz. A week ago she dropped an edging stone on her last two fingers and it took three days to convince her to go get it checked out. The doctor said she broke her fingers and even though it was a clean break, the cast would ensure her digits healed properly. “Junior!” she said, calling me over. “You just take the saw and I’ll hold still. Come on and help me out.”

  “Uh,” I sputter, “isn’t it supposed to stay on?”

  “Yes,” my father said, taking the saw and hanging it up. “Vera, Junior and I can handle things until it comes off. No more crazy ideas from you. Let’s go.”

  As he ushered her away she smiled down at me and whispered, “Traitor,” then kissed my cheek. A few days and endless pampering later, my mother was in queen mode happy to let us do everything. I think she did it to teach us a lesson, but if it bothered my father, he never said so. He lived to make my mother happy.

  And she was.

  Lina barely made it seventy-two hours, before I found her in the garage trying to take her cast off with my band saw. Stopping he
r just before she removed her entire wrist, she had the balls to look at me like I was crazy. Dragging her back inside I sit her down, grab a chop stick I had left over from carry out months ago, and slid it inside her cast. When I started moving it around in an effort to scratch her, she literally made the act sexual. She has a tendency to make everything sexual.

  Moaning, she closes her eyes and her head hits the table. “This is almost as good as an orgasm,” she groans. “Almost.”

  When I pull the stick back out she growls, “Don’t stop,” so I scratch her again and again. My balls hurt watching her get off on being scratched. A new low for me was being jealous of a god damn chop stick, but I was. Picking her head up, she smiles at me. “It’s snug in there so don’t be shy about it. Shove it in and work it.”

  “I don’t want to break it off and have it stuck inside.”

  “You know what you’re doing,” she says, with a smirk. “You can go faster and harder, I know you can, and just so you know, I can take it.”

  “Don’t fuck with me right now,” I warn her. “I’m this close to taking you on this table, Lina.”

  “Good,” she says with her eyes going heavy. “Because this wasn’t the only itch I needed scratched, Anthony.”

  Over the years I’ve been with women. I can count them on both hands, though names and faces escape me. Yet I have never met one as brazen and beautiful as her. Occasionally they were a way to pass the time, a few even wanted more. I never did, until now.

  I want to tie down the one woman who refuses to be tied down at all. I might have to tie her down and because she’s a constant flight risk, I’m speaking in the literal sense. She’s complicated, but simple. She’s stunning, but literally has no idea. Knowing she’s been with others was one thing. Knowing she was with Julian is a dagger in the chest that keeps me from taking things further. True, it’s not her fault, but I want to erase him and every other Joe Blow from her memory. It’s funny how I want so fucking badly to talk to her while I’m buried deep, when I never bothered to speak with anyone else in the past.

  Whatever is happening here is different. I don’t want any past bullshit to ruin it before it gets started. Pulling her chair toward mine, I take her face in both hands and kiss her like I’ve been wanting to all morning. In my mind there is nothing sexier than coffee breath, nothing. No sooner does she wrap her arms around my neck, she’s pulling me up and leaning herself back to lie on the table.

  “I’m on the table,” she says, winking. “Hungry?”

  “No,” I growl, moving to stand between her legs.

  “Are you sure you’re not just a little bit hungry?” she asks, wrapping her legs around me, pulling her closer to her.

  “I’m starving,” I tell her, leaning forward to kiss her.

  “Mmm me too,” she says, biting my lip. “Do it, Anthony. Right here on this table, right now.”

  Jesus.

  How does a guy say no to that? He doesn’t. Unhooking her legs, I spread her further then put one leg over each shoulder. Watching her chest rise and fall, no doubt matches mine. I could be the first man over the age of thirty who hyperventilates at the thought of going down on a woman. Obviously, she noticed.

  “Are you nervous?” she asks, biting her lip.

  “Nervous, no. Ravenous, yes.”

  “I’ve never met a guy who talks like you do,” she admits, smiling up at me. “You’re so sophisticated and shit.” Laughing at her own joke, the laugh dies in her throat when take my finger and move her panties to the side and give her one long lick. If I can keep my mouth busy I won’t feel the need to use it to talk. Later, when this over, I don’t want her pissed I broke her condition. Until I get her complete trust, I’ll honor it, even if it kills me to do it.

  “Oh my fucking god,” she moans, while thrashing on the table. “So, so good,” she says, gripping my hair. “Waited forever for this.”

  Hearing her say that, I stop and look up at her. Cocking my head to the side she puts me out of my misery. “I’ve never done this before.” When I stay quiet she continues. “Too intimate, never trusted someone to--- oh!”

  Going at her like her pussy is the Holy Grail, I destroy it with my mouth and tongue. When her knees tighten on either side of my head I reach in with my right hand and pinch her clit. I get such a strong reaction, that I do twice more and then it happened.

  My woman is a screamer.

  Noted.

  Letting her ride it out on my tongue, I secure her hips in my hands. She also has the most fuckable curves I’ve ever seen. Everything about her screams sex, maybe even louder than she did, screaming my name. Once her breathing is under control, she sits up and puts her arm out for me to help her off the table. When she’s standing, she pushes me down into the chair and gets on her knees. Still, I don’t speak.

  “Your turn,” she says, freeing my cock. “I’m a firm believer in earning your meals. Based on what’s running down my thighs right now, I’d say you’ve earned yours. I’ve never been on my knees before, not even to pray. But when I’m done if I don’t get a halleluiah, I’m going to keep doing it until I do. ”

  I’ve decided that this no speaking thing has its perks. The words that come out of her mouth are far better than anything I could come up with anyway. Watching her lean down to take me in, I expected her to jerk me off or maybe suck on the tip. What I didn’t expect was her taking me to the back of her throat, then swallowing over and over, which was gripping my cock like a vice. Grabbing on to both sides of the chair, not wanting to interfere with what she was doing, it took seconds for my neck and back to get sweaty. Gagging doesn’t stop her. My fucking the back of her throat doesn’t stop her either. Lina wasn’t messing around.

  Grunting and groaning with my ass lifting off the chair to ensure I’m in there as deep as possible, I feel it come on. Not wanting to stop it or prolong it I just let that shit go. She works me even faster and tightens her throat, swallowing all of me. Even as it takes me over and I can feel it leave me, I can feel her gulping it down. Suddenly spent, I wait for her to release me from her mouth, she does sucking me like chicken meat straight off the bone, not missing a fucking thing. Releasing me with a pop and sitting back on her heels, she says more to herself than to me, “I’ve never done that before either. I think I did okay for my first time,” then stands up and extends a hand to me. “You can talk now, Anthony,” she says, smiling.

  “Talk yeah, move no,” I say, trying to stand on wobbly legs. “You’re sure you haven’t done that before?”

  “Pinky promise.”

  “I wouldn’t know if you were lying to me,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning in to kiss her sweaty neck. “Mind telling me where you learned how to do that, then?”

  “Strip clubs,” she says, reaching for her coffee smiling. “A lot of strip clubs. There really is sex in the champagne room.”

  “Halleluiah,” I groan, reaching for my own cup then getting her comfortable in my lap, we drink our coffee together before the day begins. It’s almost a vision, the thought of us hits me so hard. I have to have this, her, us every morning for the rest of my life.

  “I need answers, Lina,” he said, hovering over me. He doesn’t care that I have finals or that I have to work a double at the diner. He wanted answers, now.

  “I’m doing the best I can, sir,” I mumble while making notes. “You’re sure this is everything?”

  He hands me another file. Opening it, I see what was missing and was able to exhale finally, now I could give him answers. “Why did you hold out on me?” I ask him, matching up both files.

  “I knew you were good,” he said, taking a seat. “I just wanted to see how good. Most people would make something up to put this to bed, but not you. You won’t rest until you have the truth. That’s what makes you not just good, but damn good.”

  Hearing his praise, I can’t help but puff up a bit. Yes, he’s using me for his own personal gain, but I tell myself that helping him close cases
is a noble thing. Something I can be proud of, even if he does take all the credit.

  “He was angry,” I tell him, matching up the photos. “He cut her here and here,” I point to the gashes on her thighs and wrists. “He left her out in the open as a statement. He wanted her to be exposed.”

  “Do you believe she is the only one?”

  “No,” I tell him, pointing to the victim’s neck. “He cut her, he raped her and then he strangled her. That’s euphoric to him. If there isn’t more yet, there will be.”

  “Because?”

  “He’s a sick bastard?”

  “Yes, that, but what else do you see?”

  “He is very precise,” I tell him. “He wears gloves, possibly a suit of some kind and of course he bags it up. By cutting her in a shallow manor she would have bled out slowly, taking the fight out of her. The victim was a faithful swimmer, she was young and strong. He feels emasculated, so he cuts to weaken her. He rapes her once she’s out of steam and strangles her as he ejaculates.”

  “You’re too young for this,” he says, looking guilty. “Call it a day, Lina. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  “I can wrap this up, Captain,” I tell him, not ready to give up. “Just give me more time.”

  I was too young to see it, but he knew exactly how to trap me. I wanted to be noticed and appreciated. I wanted him to be proud of me, and I’d sit here for days if I thought it would please him. For years he pulled me deeper and deeper into his world until the day the evidence brought me to him.