by Renard, Loki
“I wouldn’t hurt a lady, boss.”
“This girl is no lady,” I say, getting into the car I’ve had swept for detonators twice. “She’s a brat.”
Kitty
I’ve got Vicious on the run. I’m in control. It feels fucking great to finally be the one in charge, puppeteering the puppet master. He’s going to have to go and see his bank, and when he does, he’s going to find that several of his documents have been lost in the system. He’s going to spend the next week at least chasing down certified copies of everything from his passport to his electric bill, which is currently curiously inactive. When he gets back home, it’s going to be to a luxury apartment he has to navigate with a torch. I might not have ties with the CIA, but I know a lot of little people. The kind of little people who can make the biggest man’s life nearly impossible when they put their minds to it.
Time to make another call.
“Alright, stage one complete, stage two detonated, stage three getting underway. I need some nuclear waste.”
“You need fucking what now?” Chad’s voice comes down the line, frustrated.
“Just like, I don’t know, a small amount, like a cup full.”
“What the fuck do you need nuclear material for? And why do you think I’m going to be able to get it for you? What do you think I am, Kitty?”
“The smartest guy I know?”
“I’m smart enough to get out of this shit show,” Chad says bluntly. “You’re going to get tangled up in some serious shit, Kitty. People are starting to pay attention, and I’m not just talking about cops. You need to lay low for a while. Maybe go out West. California is nice this time of year.”
“I want to hit Vicious where it hurts. Here’s the plan. I get the nuclear waste. I have it hidden in the basement of his building. Then I call inspectors. Bam! The city spends the next month crawling all over that place like termites. The whole place is condemned. Vicious has to…”
“That’s a ridiculous plan,” Chad interrupts me. “And dangerous. Like, stupid dangerous. You could really hurt people. Radioactive material? Why would you even think of that?”
“I want to literally go nuclear on him. It’s like a pun. And a punishment. A pun-ishment.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He swears down the line at me. “I already told you I’m out Kitty, but now I’m really out. I’m killing this phone. It won’t reach me if you call it again. Good luck.”
Chad hangs up, and I realize I just burned the last of my sane contacts. Blaze is out. Chad is done with me. Maybe my plan does sound cartoonish, but I bet it would fucking work, and I have a lot to get back at Vicious for. What I’ve done so far is just a series of minor inconveniences. I want to do something that will put me on the map of his world forever.
9
Kitty
Two days later, I get an email.
I’ve been reaching out on the dark web, trying to see if I can get what I’m looking for, but it hasn’t been easy. The hysterical television documentaries about the un-indexed internet make it sound like you can have an armed rocket delivered directly to your door with two clicks, but I’ve yet to find anywhere I can get a small cup of nuclear waste.
We have what you need.
That’s all the email says. It contains a little radioactive emoji in the subject line, so we seem to be on the same page there.
I should be thrilled, but I find myself hesitating. For one, this message has come through to my normal email, not my secret dark web one. For two, I am on the verge of buying radioactive material, and Chad’s warning is ringing in my ears. Maybe I am a fucking idiot. No. That can’t be right.
I should probably ignore the message. I should probably get out of this hotel too. Maybe I should go to California like Chad suggested. Someone is on to me, and I don’t like that. This could be a trap from Vicious. Or… it could be that Chad found me a supplier after all.
It’s impossible to trust anyone when you’re on the run, least of all random emailers, but if I don’t trust them, then who do I trust? If I keep going, I’m going to have to end up meeting some random criminals at some point. Why not now? Why not bring things to a head? If I get what I’m looking for, I’m going to plunge the entire underworld into chaos. If I don’t, well, at least I tried. You have to have goals. I cannot let my dreams be memes.
A small part of my mind wonders if I haven’t gone a little crazy the last week or two. I’m doing things I never thought I could do. I’ve broken internal boundaries. I’ve ordered a car blown up. I’m riding high, almost certain that I can handle anything. I’ve beaten Vicious several times now. I’ve got him on the run. I’m making a name for myself.
That must be how they got my details. My name is out there. People are going to start coming to me now, getting me what I want so they can be on the right side of the big next crime lord… crime lady? I will have to work on what I want to be called. I need a name like Vicious does. ‘Kitty’ doesn’t have enough gravitas. Katherine is too pedestrian.If this plan goes off, maybe I’ll get something radiation related. Like Gigi Geiger… no, that’s stupid. I’ll come up with something better.
I dash off a message to have the person or persons meet me at a nearby park. I’ll be the lady in the pink ball cap feeding the pigeons. It’s a public place, so I have plenty of exit strategies if Vicious or one of his minions turns up.
One hour later, half a loaf of bread into my wait, surrounded by birds, I see a couple of men coming toward me. One of them is dark haired and dark eyed with what looks like a perpetual pout on his handsome face. He’s about my age. The other is taller, older, and blonde. Like a much chunkier, stronger Slick in a way. He has a military bearing, that stiff, straight shouldered, powerful walk that never seems to ever go away.
The moment I see them, I want to leave. This is stupid. I shouldn’t be doing this. This is too dangerous. This is going to get me killed. Then the blond smiles and I’m immediately put at ease by his Thor-like charm.
“Kitty?” He says my name and I want to giggle.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Mark. This is my associate, Bobby.”
They’re dressed impeccably and that reminds me of Vicious. I guess I can’t hold that against them, unless every fashionable man is the enemy now.
“You have what I want?”
“Mhm. You’ll have to come with us to confirm the details. We can’t hand the material over here.”
“Are you secretly working for Vicious?”
“Are you coming or not?” Bobby sneers the question disinterestedly.
I don’t like him. It’s almost as if Mark has all the charm Bobby is missing, like he sucked it out of him somehow and left the boy bitter and rude for no goddamn reason.
The warning bells in the back of my mind have been ringing since these two showed up. They’re getting even louder now. It’s as if I should know these two, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never met them, and I’m also pretty sure they’re the only people who have what I need and are willing to give it to me.
This is the most vulnerable I’ve been since I left. If these guys do work for Vicious, they’ll deliver me right to him, and there is fuck all I can do about it. If they don’t, then I’m about to go literally nuclear. The phrase alone makes me smile.
“Alright, yeah, I’m coming. Just don’t murder me. Vicious won’t be pleased if you do.” I’m still using his name as a shield. Maybe that’s hypocritical, but you do what you gotta do to survive.
They lead me to a car, and I get in. Stupid, the voice in my head screams. Don’t take rides from strange men! I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m doing it because revenge matters more than common sense. It matters more than anything.
I sit in the front passenger seat. Mark chats with me while he drives, stream of consciousness small talk that doesn’t mean anything. I can feel Bobby behind me, those eyes searing into the back of the head rest. I don’t feel comfortable around him, there’s just something about him. Something viole
nt, just barely restrained simmering beneath the surface of that suit which fits perfectly and yet doesn’t sit right. There’s something petulant about him and it makes the mature attire seem just a little off, like he’s wearing his father’s suit.
It’s a very long drive. We skirt around New York City and head upstate to a place that can only be described as opulent. It’s the sort of estate you see in music videos where handsome men ride shining horses and pretty starlets whine about being unable to find love.
“Come on in,” Mark says, inviting me in with a gentlemanly air which makes me at ease, even if I shouldn’t be. Something is telling me this is a trap. I just don’t know what kind of trap it is.
He leads me into a sitting room and offers me a drink. Bobby wanders off to be sullen somewhere else, and I can’t say I miss him. It’s nice to be back in the company of a handsome man who knows how to handle himself, I’ll say that for Mark.
“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you lately.”
“All of it good, I hope.”
“Very little of it good,” he winks and I restrain a giggle. If I knew buying radioactive waste was this fun I would have done it a long time ago.
“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you, Kitty?”
“I can be,” I smile, sipping at my drink. I don’t want to get wasted. I have to keep my wits about me. I’m very much aware that I’ve come a very long way with men I don’t know.
“You know what they say happens to bad girls, don’t you?”
“Enlighten me,” I smile at him.
“They end up at the mercy of very bad men,” a new voice interjects.
I turn my head just as another man walks into the room. He is tall, and older, late forties maybe, if I had to guess. He’s one of those men you can tell is Italian just by looking at him. He has those classic stunning Roman features, a natural haughtiness and grace. His hair is dashed with ample amounts of salt and pepper.
“Hello,” he says. “I’m Angelo Vitali.”
I open my mouth to speak, but it’s just a vague sound which emerges as my brain goes into overdrive. Angelo Vitali? I know that name. Everybody knows that name. This is not a man to be fucked with. This is not a man to be in a thousand miles of if you can help it. The dark energy pumping from Angelo Vitali is filling the room and making me so nervous I feel sick. I suddenly know why Mark and Bobby seemed familiar. I’ve heard of them before too. Never met them, mostly avoided them in the past.
Shit. Oh. Fucking. No.
Angelo lets out a gentle chuckle at my expression. I must look stricken. My biggest fear was that Vicious might be behind that email. I didn’t really consider that it might be someone even worse.
I’m not getting the material I came for, I can already tell that. Angelo Vitali doesn’t deal in nuclear waste. He deals in broken lives and shattered souls. I’ve been lured here, and I don’t know why. I look around, trying to spot an exit, but realistically I could be on open ground and still not escape these apex predators who just so happen to be positioned in such a way that I can’t get to any of the exits.
I swallow and try to maintain my composure. I tell myself that I faced Petrov and won, and he wanted to hunt me naked through a freezing Russian forest. I’ve got this.
“You want restricted material,” Angelo says. “Why?”
“That’s for me to know, and you to supply, assuming you’re not just wasting my time.”
Mark coughs gently and shakes his head, as if he’s warning me to shut up. I don’t think so. I know how men like this work. Their reputations do all the heavy lifting for them. Fuck that. I’m not going to piss my pants just because Angelo Vitali asks me a question. I’ve never heard of any of these men hurting a woman in any way. They’re men’s men, through and through.
Angelo’s brows crease together slightly at my response. “I expect you to answer questions directly when I ask them.”
“Well, it’s good to have goals,” I say, setting my drink down beside me. “I think I’ve spent enough time here. I’ll be going now. Nice to meet you.”
“Sit down,” Angelo purrs. I find my body obeying even though I really don’t want it to.
“What does a girl like you want with nuclear material?”
“If you must know, I was intending on having it planted in Vicious’ building.”
“So this, to you, is some kind of prank? A nuclear scare in the middle of Manhattan? That was going to be your revenge?”
Angelo has quite a pleasant accent. It’s a pity he’s lecturing me like some foolish girl.
“You understand, of course, that there is absolutely no way you are going to be able to get such a substance, and in fact, trying to shows more than a lack of judgement on your part, it shows an unstable mind,” Angelo lectures.
I’m starting to lose my temper. Angelo Vitali might be one of New York’s boogeymen, but so is Vicious. I’m used to the way these people think and how they act. They think they have some right to talk down to everyone else, to twist the world to the way they want it to be.
“You understand, of course, that I don’t care what you think,” I smirk back at him.
There’s a snort across the room. Bobby is behind me somewhere. I can still feel him glaring.
“You gonna let you talk to her that way?”
“Quiet, boy.” Angelo doesn’t take his eyes off me, and he doesn’t raise his voice at all. The intensity increases though, just a fraction, enough to change the energy in the room.
There’s no doubt he has control over his men. Word is he fucks them both. I can believe it. This man is a very different kind of handsome to Vicious. There’s a dark, pure masculinity in his being. When he looks at me, there’s no sexual interest, but there is the desire for power.
He doesn’t want to fuck me.
He wants to rule me.
My heart begins to pound under that cold stare.
“What are you going to do with me? Give me back to Vicious?”
Angelo lets out a soft laugh. “We will see. It depends how much he wants you back.”
“So I’m a hostage?”
“You’re a rude little girl who has caused more trouble than she’s worth and should be thankful she is still alive, given she has a chip inside her worth more than she is.”
“Not to Vicious.”
“Even to him,” Angelo says. “You’re more valuable gutted than you are alive. If you were sensible, you’d realize that and appreciate the protection he was giving you.”
“Oh. Ohhhhh!” I get it suddenly. This has happened so many times before I can’t believe they really thought I would fall for it again. “This is Vicious’s plan, isn’t it. He’s gotten you to grab me and scare me. He’s behind this, isn’t he?”
“What is she talking about?” Mark interjects.
All three of them are looking at me with a complete blankness which tells me they have no clue what I’m talking about. Maybe Vicious isn’t behind this. Maybe Angelo Vitali spotted me on his radar and decided to take advantage of it. Maybe.
“Let Vicious know we’ve got his little girl,” Angelo says, his dark eyes searching my face. “And put her in the secure room.”
“Wait, no…”
“Come on,” Mark says, taking my hand. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant. We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Why not? We hurt everyone else,” Bobby pipes up. “I think we should have some fun with her.”
“What kind of fun did you have in mind?” Angelo turns to Bobby.
Mark pulls me a little bit closer to him, just a fraction of an inch, but it makes me feel protected. I don’t know him any more than I know Bobby or Angelo, but there’s something in Bobby’s tone I just don’t like.
Bobby shrugs and takes out a vape pen. “I dunno. She has to be good for something.”
“Don’t be shy. What were you planning on doing to this girl?”
“I wasn’t planning anything,” he says with a p
etulant pout. “I was just saying. We take guys, we fuck them up. We take her and what, put her in the princess room? Just wait for her daddy to pick her up? We’re not even going to punish her a little?”
“He’s jealous,” Mark smirks.
“She’s not ours,” Angelo purrs. “It’s not polite to play with other people’s toys, especially given the way we play tends to leave marks.”
10
The room they put me in isn’t bad. It’s also not locked. I don’t know how Angelo expects to keep me captive here in a house of open doors. Mark warns me to stay, but I can just leave. So I do. I wander the house until I hear voices, one of them very, very familiar.
As I get closer, I realize Angelo is talking to Vicious on the phone inside his office. Peering through the crack in the semi-open doorway, I see that he has his hands free for tormenting Bobby, who is fully clothed, but lashed to a chair for reasons I’m sure I don’t want to understand.
“Yes, I’ve got your little runaway. Seems to be a sweet thing,” Angelo is saying.
“You’ve got the wrong girl,” Vicious snorts. “Mine’s a hellion with an attitude. When can I pick her up?”
“That depends on you,” Angelo purrs. “You know I’ve been looking for a favor from you for quite some time.”
There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “I can’t get that done, Angelo. I can’t even be seen to associate with you. Nobody has forgotten what you did the the last federal agents who came near you…”
“So you admit you’re an agent?”
“No,” Vicious sighs again. “You know what I am, and what I’m not.”
“I know what I have, and I know what you want. Bobby wanted to play with your Kitty. I said no, but perhaps I should let him?”
“Angelo…” Vicious’ voice drops to a severe growl. “We do not want to make enemies of one another, do we?”
Vicious sounds pissed, but he’s not as angry as I am. Fuck this. It seems no matter where I go, or what I do, I inevitably run into some man who thinks he owns me. Vicious might have some claim to me, but Angelo? He doesn’t get to use me as a bargaining chip.
