Killer on Call 6 Book Bundle (Books 1-6)

by Gwendolyn Druyor

  She slipped out of her three inch heels and disappeared into the crowd.

  Mr. E bent to pick up the shoes. He was shaking with fear as he crossed through the dancing kids. He found his way to the steel door and using the key always on his wrist, he slipped into the back room. He set his hat on an industrial table beside the door. Taking deep breaths he removed Vanessa’s glittering jewels. Then he took the lid off a silver container and refilled the false bottom of his hat with the candied jewels of MDMB.

  As he did, his fear twisted and turned into anger. He left the hat and removed his tails. He draped the coat over a hangar beside the door. Crossing the room, he grabbed a ratty gray hoodie from a chair and slipped it over his dress shirt. He was a grown man, he thought, who could handle his own problems. He practically ran through the manufacturing warehouse to the far wall. Snapping the hood up, he let go of his perfect posture and stepped out onto the dark street.

  Eleven

  Tim hopped on his bike and was halfway back to his sister’s flat before he even thought of Kissy. He couldn’t go back for her now. If Mr. E saw him it would ruin the effect of his exit. He couldn’t call her because he didn’t have her number. Kissy was a big girl and seemed to be getting along a bit too well with that cop. She’d be okay. He rode on, stopping at a taco stand for a midnight snack.

  When he got home, Julia was asleep on the couch. He watched her sleeping as he pulled the rest of his big salad out of the fridge to rinse the grease of the midnight snack out of his mouth. He ate standing at the counter.

  Ten years ago she and Kiersten, Kissy had been juniors in high school. Both of them so smart they got into AP History a year early where they tortured him by being fun and cute and popular. Even among his peers, they were cooler than him. He had been a fat, pimply-faced bookworm with no friends. His extracurricular had been video games played with strangers in their own dank basements around the world. He dreaded college. All around him he saw horrible people who cared about nothing beyond their own desires. And when he really thought about it he knew that he was one of them.

  He’d decided to rid the world of one of the worthless leaches. He made a plan. But when he took his fresh pack of razor blades into the upstairs bathroom, he found a black origami lotus. And a poem.

  My big brother is a blond.

  This paper lotus is all black.

  Your heart is as deep and as true as a pond.

  Sometimes I love you so much I think mine will crack.

  He shut the door and cried into a pile of towels. Then he turned the faucet on the tub and found that Julia had used up all of the hot water.

  Tim took the razor blades and stashed them in his father’s sock drawer in place of the five hundred dollars in cash their dad kept there for his secret strip club trips. He packed up a few necessary items, put his stuffed alligator on Julia’s pillow, and rolled his bike down the family driveway for the last time.

  He caught a bus to the city and rode his bicycle around till he came to a theater emptying of well-to-do patrons. For an hour he watched a hard working bum in front of the theater inventing songs, dancing, and reciting Shakespeare for the few coins tossed into his empty trombone case. He saw one man in a shiny ten gallon hat shove his date to his far side when the old bum took a step towards them. The cowboy then lit into the bum with insults and accusations. The homeless man simply lowered his head, bent his knee and offered his quiet apologies. The cowboy knocked the guy down and kicked over his trombone case. He spit on the poor man and stalked off, dragging his mortified date by the arm.

  Tim followed.

  The cowboy’s quad cab truck was illegally parked in an alley a few blocks away from the theater. His date picked her way through the small river of dirty water by the curb and waited for a moment by the passenger door. The cowboy stomped after her, his heavy steps splashing water onto the hem of her delicate white gown. Tim peeked around the corner, watching, wondering if he could get in there and slash the tires. He leaned his bike against the building and took out his pocketknife.

  He started to creep around the corner, sliding the blade open. He spotted a dumpster which would hide him pretty well. But just as he made for the shelter, slinking as best a fat kid can, the cowboy hit the lady. She reeled backwards, hitting her head on the side-view mirror. Tim could see a little blood trickling down her face. He stopped thinking about the tires. He ran.

  He ran so hard and thoughtlessly that he slammed the cowboy into the truck. In the same headlong motion, he had his knife hand up and pulled hard as he drew the serrated blade across the man’s throat. Blood silently spurted from the creep’s neck even as he threw Tim off of his back. Tim fell to the street, the knife spinning away into the sewage.

  The world slowed as he fell. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his own head. His veins suddenly ran ice cold. He tore his eyes from the lost knife and saw the cowboy’s hat falling in slow motion to the street. The man fell the same way to his knees, hands grasping at his throat. Tim saw a delicate white hem lift and then speed rushed back into his world as the man’s date lifted her pink heeled foot and kicked the cowboy over.

  Tim looked up at her. She was covered in blood except where tears were washing it from her face. She stared at Tim, struggling to breath. Then she swallowed. And then she smiled.

  Tim smiled back. This felt so much better than killing himself would have. He struggled to his feet and looked around, wondering if anyone had seen. The woman’s purse hit him in the chest. Then she was down on her knees in the blood and the scum, going through the cowboy’s pockets. She stood again and handed Tim a monogrammed leather wallet. She nodded at him, smiling. He took the wallet.

  She looked at him gratefully for a moment. Then she whispered, “Run.”

  And he did.

  He ran. And he found masters to teach him how to fight and how to shoot and how to kill. He researched what he saw as evil in the world, found the scum behind it. These men were surrounded by bodyguards and even as Tim took them down, he hoped, for most of the first five years, that he would fail and be killed in the attempt. But he never failed.

  He had found his calling. And it had brought him back to this city and back to the sister who had saved his life and now needed just a little bit of help herself.

  He licked the last of the garlic off his fork. Then he rinsed it and the mixing bowl and laid them in the drying rack. He gently woke Julia and carried her into her bedroom where he propped her leg up on some pillows. He gathered her water bottle, book, phone, and painkillers and arranged them within easy reach on her bedside table. Then he kissed her forehead and went into his own room to check his mail and see if anyone knew a bad guy they needed him to kill.

  Twelve

  Avi had introduced Kissy to everyone else in his singing group as they came by to see where he’d disappeared to. Now it was just the two of them again and she was scanning the room for her date.

  He grinned when she looked back at him. “You must be very thirsty by this point.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been told I’d be getting a drink. Honestly, now I’m just wondering how I’m gonna get home in these heels.”

  “You tap danced in those heels,” he pointed out.

  She shrugged, “Meh, walking is different.”

  He smiled. She was charming. And unlike most women he met she was clearly not trying to impress him. But she did impress him. She was intelligent, well-built, and had a performer’s heart. He wasn’t the kind of guy to bust in on another guy’s date but her escort seemed to be busting the date all on his own. Avi had proof that Mr. E was still selling despite his warning and tomorrow he’d try again to talk his Captain into raiding the warehouse. But for now, his evening was free.

  “Would you like a ride to a quiet bar where I promise you’ll actually get a drink?”

  In a flash Kissy stopped scanning the faces around them and focused on Avi. He was almost blown back by the force in her smile.

 
“Yeah. I’d really like that.” She hopped down from the chair and adjusted the now change heavy ukulele case on her back. “Do you have to let your crew know?”

  “Nah, they’re good. They carpooled but I had to come from work.” He stood up and pulled on his jacket.

  “What exactly do you do?”

  “Well,” he offered, “I get to use handcuffs.”

  “I knew you were a stripper.”

  They paused to accept kudos from the Greek on their performances. Following Avi’s lead, Kissy dug a handful of change out her bag and dropped it in the tip jar at the man’s side. Then they went into the airlock and waited for him to shut them in.

  “You know that show 24?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Did she think he was a spy?

  “After watching a couple of seasons my friend Julia gifted us all with handcuff keys and pocket knives just in case we were ever kidnapped by terrorists.”

  “The knife won’t do you much good unless you know how to use it,” Avi warned.

  She turned to him as he opened the far door. “Oh, I know how to use it.”

  He froze where he was. “Noted.”

  Kissy led the way through the door and down the alley between the decoy sewing machines. Avi slipped past her to get outside first. He held the door for her while he scanned the empty street. “Are you warning me because I’m really just a stranger and you’re about to get into a car with me?”

  She stood in front of him, looked into his eyes, and nodded shyly.

  He let the door shut. “How about if I give you the most precious thing I own to hold until we get safely to the bar?”

  “You carry around your most precious possession?”

  Avi nodded and pushed back his jacket to pull the badge off his belt. He handed it to her.

  She held it up into the streetlight. “You’re proud to be a police officer.”

  “I prefer peace officer.”

  “Really?” She looked at the badge thoughtfully. “So do you carry all the time?”

  “My gun?”

  She silently shook her head. “Your handcuffs.”

  Avi licked his lips and evaded the real question. “I am going to get the car and bring it here since this seems to be the only working light for blocks.”

  “Mm Hmm.” Kissy lifted the hem of her dress and clipped the badge to her garter. She dropped the hem and leaned against the building, watching him.

  He backed away. “I’ll be back in seconds.”

  Avi had just turned to run to the car with powerful strides when an old guy wearing a dirty gray hooded sweatshirt crept out of the shadows by the building. Kissy let out a little scream and scanned the street. She hoped he would just lurch on by. But no such luck. He stopped by the door and tried to loom menacingly over her.

  “Tell the KC to finish the job or we’re gonna kill you.”

  “What?” She squinted at him. “No. My name is Kissy.”

  “The KC.”

  “Kissy.”

  The creep lost his patience and she shrank back against the wall. “Tell the Killer on Call or we are going to kill you!”

  Then the weirdo raced off into the night.

  And Avi never showed up. She looked at her phone but realized that she’d put her digits in his phone. He hadn’t reciprocated. She sighed, looked around for any more street freaks, and then stepped off the curb in her strappy three inch heels and hoofed it to the red line.

  She sat alone in the empty car littered with fast food and flyers racing North towards home wondering who in the hell the KC was.

  Thirteen

  Kissy had actually fallen asleep with her head leaning against the train car’s window when her phone buzzed in her lap. She automatically brought it to her ear and then realized it was a text message. From Avi. It was a picture. A picture of Avi with a swollen black eye, hanging from ropes. Kissy woke up.

  The phone buzzed again. Another message from Avi. This one said Bring your boyfriend back to the warehouse. That was it. Nothing else. Who was she supposed to bring? She didn’t have a boyfriend. Tim? Who knew she was there with Tim?

  Kissy screamed in frustration, fearing for Avi and baffled by the demand. She stood and moved to the nearest door as she yelled at Siri to call “Jewels”. Julia always slept with her phone under her pillow just in case the terrorists broke in while she was sleeping. After four rings she was relieved to hear her friend’s groggy voice.

  “What the fuck, Kiester?”

  “Ask your brother.”

  “Okay. Give him the phone.”

  “You give him the phone,” Kissy retorted.

  Julia yawned. “I can’t. He’s with you.”

  “Oh yeah? Why don’t you check your second bedroom, Goddess.”

  “Hold on.” Kissy was grateful Julia lowered the phone before she screamed, “Tim!”

  She heard a thump in the background and crashing noises. Then Julia came back on the line, awake now.

  “Are you not upstairs?”

  “Nope,” Kissy affirmed.

  “I’m going to fucking kill him.” She got louder even though she turned away from the phone. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

  “Give him the phone, Julia. You’re a pacifist,” Kissy reminded her friend.

  Tim came on the line, fighting off his sister from the sounds of it. “Tim.”

  She cut straight to the chase. “Are you the KC?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The people who kidnapped the guy who was going to drive me home after you ditched me! ARE YOU THIS KC?!” Kissy startled the couple making out on the platform as she disembarked and crossed to get on the next Southbound train.

  “Okay, I’m awake. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

  “I’m getting on a Southbound red to go back to that rave to save Avi’s life, apparently.” Kissy took a few breaths. There were other riders on this train and she didn’t want to scare them.

  “Okay. You caught a ride with Avi. Then what?” Tim asked her calmly.

  “He went to get the car. While I was standing there some freak come up and told me--” she tried to remember what he had said, “Something about killing me unless the KC finished the job? And I just got texted a picture of Avi strung up and bleeding. It looks like they’ve been beating him. And it says ‘bring your boyfriend back to the warehouse.’ I don’t have a boyfriend. Do they mean you? Are you the KC?”

  She heard sounds like Tim was moving. Julia was still screaming at him. Then Julia’s voice cut out and he replied breathlessly.

  “I’m on my way to the warehouse. Do not go in if I’m not there.”

  “Bite me. This guy is in danger because--”

  Tim interrupted her. “Yes. I’m the KC.” He sounded like he was running. “I can handle this. I know what I’m doing. Please, don’t get yourself hurt, Kiersten.”

  She paused a moment, recognizing the logic in his argument. But she knew herself too well. “You’d better hurry.”

  She hung up and waited by the door for the train to reach her station.

  Fourteen

  The warehouse pulsed with the bass of the music in the rave next door. Vanessa’s musky perfume did nothing to dampen the astringent odor of the chemicals used to make the club drug. And though it was cold, Vanessa was sweating as she tugged on the last knot to tighten it. She stepped back to look at her work. The KC’s girlfriend had very good taste in men. An intense blond geek in the Killer on Call and then this dark muscular boy scout made for some nice variety. Vanessa appreciated variety in her life. She tried to appreciate as much variety as she could. But rarely did her pleasures coincide so nicely with work. She didn’t even need to hide this one from Edgar.

  She really did like Edgar. Everyone else could call him Mr. E but she’d choke before she called him that stupid name. He’d been a thorough lover and a pleasing companion before this MDMB stress turned him into a spineless child.

  Well, tonight she’d take care of both prob
lems. And have a little fun with this slut in the process.

  The man hung limply, his booted toes just touching the ground. She’d removed his jacket and shirt and set aside his gun and holster before she wrapped him with ropes and strung him up in the beams. Amazing how much a little girl could do with the help of pulleys and a some chloroform.

  She examined his unconscious face. A handsome face with none of the anger she’d become accustomed to seeing on the faces of the drug pushing gang members who ran this neighborhood.

  She’d expected a challenge but he’d been remarkably easy to capture. She saw him jogging to his car and before he could open the door, she screamed. He was at her side in seconds. She fed him a line about some guys attacking her, expecting him like any tough guy to look around for someone to fight. But he didn’t. He focused on her. Looking her over for injuries and asking if she was okay.

  Vanessa was thrown. She hadn’t thought of how to incapacitate him from the front. Instead of wrapping him in a sleeper hold as she had planned, she’s slipped her prepared cloth into her cleavage and then wrapped herself around him like she was overcome. When he’d realized what was happening, she’d simply held him tighter until he passed out right there on her boobs.

  She pulled over her chair and stood on it to kiss his unmoving lips. Then she slapped him. The man sputtered.

  “What the hell?”

  She smiled sweetly, “What should I call you big boy?”

  “What do you want?” He woke up more alert than anyone else she’d played with this way.

  “I ask the questions.”

  Vanessa unbuckled his belt and pulled the black leather out. In the same movement she whipped it around and smacked it along his lower back. The man screamed. But the walls were thick and the music in the rave was pumping too loud for anyone to hear him.

  Vanessa grinned. “Name?”

  “Avi,” he grunted.

  “I believe you.” She draped the belt over her shoulder and hopped off the chair for a moment. “You don’t need to talk anymore, Avi. That’s all I need.”

  She grabbed a bright red ball gag from her bag of tricks and climbed back up on the stool to wrap the leather straps around his head affixing the gag in his mouth. Of course he protested. She twisted one nipple with her sharp nails and he quieted a bit.