A New Life Series - Finisher Set

by Samantha Jacobey

  “Now, Hector; I can see that you’re a smart man,” she worked her way up to him, backing him against the wall. “Little men don’t get to be lead, unless they’re smart,” she mocked him as she spoke.

  “Who are you?” his voice jumped a few levels, no longer deep enough to pass for a man.

  “I’m death,” she breathed, close enough to touch him, glaring down at his wide brown eyes. “That your second?” she tossed her head at the man her colleagues had on his knees, flanking him, while she slipped the knife into her pocket.

  “No,” he bit at her. “They’re gonna kill you. Nobody fucks with them.”

  “Who?” she laughed in a low tone, “The Organization? I told you, I ain’t sceered o’ them,” she punched him in the sternum with the heel of her hand, “Tell me where the Spiders are!”

  “You go’s to hell!”

  “Break his legs,” she bade over her shoulder.

  Immediately, Michael swung his pool cue, catching the patron in the face and knocking him over, his legs sprawling. Taking full swings with the heavy end of the stick, her mate crushed his knee caps, the cracking noise quickly followed by howls of pain.

  Hector’s eyes grew wide at the scene, “You’re crazy, bitch!”

  Tori tossed the cue into her right hand, smashing it against the edge of pool table next to her, causing it to break off into a long, sharp point with the grain of the wood. Pinning the man before her against the wall, she dug the tip of her modified weapon into the hollow of his neck, “Crazy is only the beginning. You should talk, while you still can.”

  “I can’t tells you shit, lady! You know what they do to people who talk? To their families?”

  “Yeah, I know! Trust me,” her voice loud, her lips curled with rage, “You got about ten seconds, and then I’m not gonna wait anymore!”

  “You go’s to hell, cunt!” he clenched his jaw, ready for the end.

  “I’ll see you there,” she breathed, shoving the stick through his jugular and into his windpipe.

  Michael stared, transfixed by the ease with which she had moved, pulling the wood free and listening to the gurgling of Hector’s last breath as it escaped through the new hole. Moving out of her way when she spun around, he watched while she dropped onto the patron’s belly. Spinning the weapon so she could wave the fat end like a club, her eyes were black as night.

  “I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” her victim screamed.

  “The fuck if you will,” her voice flat calm, her hand swung time and again, until his cranium had been reduced to mush. Rising, she didn’t look at her group mates, “Get the drill. We clean out the file cabinet.” Making her way to the back, she pulled out the key, testing it on the small grey box to discover it didn’t work.

  Mason came in, carrying the tool, “Here. Let me at it.”

  Moving out of the way, Tori began to clean the blood splatter from her face in Hector’s private bathroom. “Watch the door. Anyone comes in, kill them,” she commanded, and Enrique moved to comply. “Is the plane ready?” she addressed her husband, while removing her jacket to inspect it.

  “Yes,” he replied coolly, “I made the call while we were following the collector.”

  “Good,” she glanced up at him, “You did well, by the way. Wasn’t sure you would really have it in you.”

  “Yeah,” his breath was a little heavy. “I was thinking the same thing about you. Enrique’s not the only one with a dark side,” he flickered a grin, their eyes locked for a moment, and their connection had never been stronger.

  “I got it!” Mason hollered, pulling the top drawer open to reveal a few stacks of cash and a green, hard bound book.

  “Leave the money,” Tori interjected, snatching up the log and closing the drawer to peek in the bottom one, which held stacks of similar notebooks. Closing it, she called out calmly, “Let’s go,” taking the single volume with her.

  “That’s it?” Brett followed, speaking up in disgust, “You’re not gonna look around or nothin’?”

  “No,” she stated flatly, “This is what we came for. That, and the bodies. Keep a count for me. I’d like to know how many we got by the end.”

  Climbing into the van, the men appeared unruffled. “Go straight to the airport. Take nothing from the van; no weapons of any kind. Do not park anywhere near the bikes. Eli and I will meet you at the plane.” Slamming the door shut, she turned and walked up the block, climbing into the beat up sedan, “Why did you pick such a rough looking vehicle?” she inquired smoothly.

  “You didn’t specify, so I tried to economize,” he grinned at her, “How did it go?”

  “It went,” her voice gave nothing away. “Get us to the plane, Eli. I’m going to need you to get me through security. And you need to call Godfry, immediately. Inform him that the bar is soaked in blood, and there’s a shit ton of materials in their office that will need to be secured.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he pulled out his regular cell to make the call.

  Only half listening to his end of the conversation, Tori cracked open the book she had taken, inspecting the first few pages. A ledger, it contained dates and some sort of code. Damn. Of course, she knew it had been smart, as even if it fell into the wrong hands, it would be unreadable to anyone outside of The Organization.

  Hearing his device snap shut, she looked over at him, “Well?”

  “He’s sending a team to the bar, and he’ll make a call to the airport. You’re in my custody, so when we get there, I will present my badge, and you keep your mouth shut.” He grinned at her, happy to be useful in their endeavor. “Give me your weapons, and I’ll carry them for you.”

  “Of course,” she peered out the window, seeing that they were already at the gate to the parking area. “Don’t park close to the others. They can message us with their phones if they have any trouble. Otherwise, we spread out.” She pulled out her nine, and both switchblades to hand to him.

  “I see,” he agreed, easing into a parking space, placing his claim ticket in the window. Taking the weapons, he could not resist, “Two knives?”

  Tori grinned, “What can I say?” and climbed out of the car.

  Fifteen minutes later, everyone had boarded their transport, the pass through security running like clockwork. Sinking into a chair, Tori placed her face in her hands and breathed deeply. Taking a seat next to her, Michael rested his hand on her shoulder, “How are you?”

  She breathed through her fingers. “I’m tired, love. Just tired.”

  All taking seats, they waited for takeoff; when they had leveled out, the girl presented them with their next set of chores. “That went pretty smoothly,” she praised, “I hope we can keep up the momentum.”

  Mason studied her as she spoke, “I have to hand it to you, you’re even better than I had realized. And you are definitely a cold hearted bitch.”

  “Thanks,” she tossed back at him, “I learned from the best.” Her briefing completed a few minutes later; she turned to the window, closing her eyes and crashing for what sleep she could get before they moved on their next target.

  Yesterday’s Prize

  Arriving in LA, the group set about their task of renting a van and a car to work from. Tori had noted the time, informing them that she wanted to be back on the plane by 5:00 pm, Denver time, so they had less than three hours to get the job done. Again, they split up to make things go quicker, and reconvened at the pawn shop, having been instructed to go inside and look around as if they were shopping until everyone had arrived.

  Tori, Michael and Enrique arrived last, and she noted that her group had done exactly as they were instructed. Seeing them enter, Eli and Geek exited to wait in the vehicles, ready to leave or to warn them of any trouble. Making her way to the glass counter in the back, the girl cracked her knuckles, ready to begin.

  “Hi,” she smiled brightly at the balding man before her, “I’m here for something… special.”

  “Ok, whatcha got in mind?” he didn’t return her grin.

&
nbsp; “Well, aren’t you friendly,” she mocked him, showing fewer teeth.

  He stared at her, clenching his jaw. His eyes shifted to peer behind her for a brief instant, and she knew someone had come up behind her. Looking at the front of the glass, she made out her mate.

  “Something’s wrong,” she called to him in German. As soon as she spoke, the man swung around, reaching for a weapon as far as she could tell. Leaping over the case, she caught him in the back and knocked him to the ground, slitting his throat and allowing his head to hit the carpet with a thud.

  “Lock the doors!” she called to her team, “And close the blinds… shut off that open sign. That’s it.” Moving quickly, she determined that they were alone in the front. “Enrique, call out if anyone comes inside with a key,” she wafted her hand at the others, indicating for them to follow her down the hall to the back.

  Pulling her 9-mm pistol out, she switched the safety off. Holding it up in front of her, she slid along the wall. Nearing the end, she could hear music and voices coming from the last room.

  Waving to the others, they positioned themselves against the sides as well, and she called into the room, hiding her gun next to her thigh, “Anybody home?” Seeing a man move, she returned the pistol to its hiding place and stepped into the door frame.

  “Hey,” she called lightly, “There’s no one out front.” From her vantage point, she could see there were only two others. “Hello, fellas,” she nodded at them.

  The man ambled towards her, quite large and wearing a Hawaiian shirt that reminded her briefly of Terry. The room being well lit, and the hallway dark, she knew he would be blind when he passed the threshold. Allowing him to move past her, into the reach of her companions, she darted into the room, redrawing her weapon and shoving it into one of the two other men’s faces. “Don’t move!” she commanded.

  Waiting for the chaos in the passage to die down, no shots rang out, and a minute later, the fat man lay face down on the floor with his blood oozing out onto the tile. “Clear!” her husband’s voice called to her, causing her to grin.

  “Well,” she sneered at her prisoners, “Our last stop proved somewhat fruitless. Perhaps you gentlemen will be a bit more cooperative.” She kept them covered, while her friends joined them, securing their hands behind their backs with zip-ties. She then snapped the safety on and tucked the pistol into the small of her back.

  “What do you want?” the older of the two inquired.

  “Spiders,” she replied softly, her eyes looking around the room, taking in the furnishings and locating the filing cabinet. “I’m looking for the Spiders.” Toying with him, she smiled coyly, “You wouldn’t happen to know where they are?”

  The silver-haired gent remained calm, his crinkled brown face giving nothing away. “I’m sure you will find them eventually. Or they will find you.”

  Tori held her grin, aware that he knew who she was. “How long ago did you send them out? How many days?”

  “Not enough,” he replied. “You had already left town by the time I got them the orders.” He inhaled deeply, “I have to admit, I’m very surprised you would return. I figured you ran… at least that’s what you should have done.”

  “Naw,” her smile morphed into something darker, “Hiding was yesterday’s prize. Today, I want something more.” She slowly paced around the room to have a look at what lay on top of the desk, stalling. “I guess there’s nothing more you would be willing to tell me?”

  “A thousand platitudes leap into my brain,” he chuckled, “And not one of them will save you.”

  “I don’t wanna be saved,” she cut her eyes over at him, her hand tracing the edge of the desk, “I wanna be avenged. I wanna rain down pain and wreak havoc on The Organization.” She paused, watching him swallow with tightly drawn lips, “Does that bother you?”

  She stared at him, briefly waiting for a reply. “You must be a weak little man, hiding in this office and ordering the deaths of others. Where’s the rest of your men? You can’t tell me the four of you is all that there are.”

  At that moment, Enrique was at the door; “Keys.”

  With a flash, Tori popped open her knife, killing the silver-haired gentleman before he could utter a sound, wiping his blood on his lapel. Turning to the other, she held her finger to her lips, breathing a soft, “Sshhhh,” then she moved to the door and slipped down the hall, Enrique close behind her.

  Michael remained in the room, staring at the younger man, hardly more than a boy. Pulling out a revolver, he cocked it, waiting for whatever would come next.

  A few minutes later, the pair of them returned, “All clear,” she breathed with a giggle, running her hand across her husband’s chest. “They had gone to get something to eat and just let themselves in, like dumbasses.”

  Looking up at her, the boy stammered, “Are they dead?”

  “Of course they’re dead,” she kneeled down in front of him. “You got a name, little man?”

  He stared at her, his brown eyes as big as saucers, “Juan.”

  “Hi, Juan,” she breathed. “I’m Tori. I would shake your hand, but you’re not really in a position for that.” She smiled at him, cocking her head slightly to the side to gaze up at him. “I’m curious, Juan. What’re you doing here?”

  “Learning,” his voice quivered. “I’m here to learn.”

  “You’re in training, huh? You’re awfully young to be in the back. I thought back rooms were only for seasoned veterans.”

  He nodded, “Grandpa was teaching me the business. To take his place.”

  “That was your Grandpa?” she indicated the body in the chair next to his.

  “Yes,” his head bobbed, his jaw tight with rage.

  Tori pursed her lips, “Wow, that must suck, watching him die like that.” She waited to see if he would cry; when he didn’t she continued, “You have any other family, Juan?”

  “No,” he began to shake his head in wide sweeps, the tears finally spilling over and running down his cheek.

  “Awww,” she cooed, reaching out to squeeze his leg. “Don’t worry, Juan. I’m not gonna hurt your family. I only hurt bad people. People who deserve to be… hurt.”

  Michael shifted his stance behind her, growing impatient.

  “How’s our time?” she asked towards the floor between them.

  “Short,” her mate chirped.

  Turning her attention back to the boy, she smiled again, “Where did the Spiders go, Juan?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” he shook his head, more tears streaming down his smooth face.

  “You’re going to make me angry, Juan. You see what I did to Grandpa?” she nodded to encourage him. “I wasn’t angry when I did that, Juan.”

  His orbs moved over to the side, so that he could see the body slumped next to him, the blood beginning to pool on the floor around their chairs. “He was a good man,” he huffed.

  Tori rolled her eyes, standing in front of the young man and grabbing his jaw, jerking him so that he was looking at her again.

  “Shut up, Juan! Your grandfather was a murderer! A horrible man in a horrible world filled with thieves and abusers! He got what he deserved, Juan!” She sensed her companions growing tense at her tirade, but they held their tongues.

  Tightening her grip on his soft flesh, she could feel his teeth below the skin as she squeezed. Grinding her own, she wanted to punish him for making her work so hard. Her chest heaved noticeably; she opened her hand, releasing his face, holding it up so that he could see it suspended above him. “It’s a shame that I killed him first. I think I might have gotten a little more for my effort if I had let him watch you die.”

  He stared at her, snot dripping from his nose, “You’re an evil woman.”

  Glaring at him, she convulsed, resisting the urge to giggle; resisting and losing as the cackle started low, building into a rolling laugh. “I’m evil.” Turning her back on him, she waved an open palm at her mate, “I’m evil, he says; did you hear that?”
/>   Michael watched her, his discomfort with her performance growing by the minute.

  “I warned you, love,” she hissed. Popping her knife out, she swung around to the boy, placing the blade at his throat, so that the point dimpled the delicate skin, her voice a loud whisper. “I am evil, Juan. I am because they made me so. This world, these people you are protecting. They raised me; they created me, to be… evil… for them.”

  “We have two paths we can take, Juan. You can come with me, on the path that leads to a different life, but to make it, we must destroy the other one, the old life. Are you on the old path, Juan? Come with me, Juan… take the new path… tell me where he sent the Spiders… Leave the old path and let it die.”

  She leaned over him, pushing the knife against him so hard that his head lay back enough to stare at the ceiling straight above him, a trickle of blood beginning to run down his stretched neck.

  “I don’t know the name of it. I swear to you; I don’t know where,” he paused, daring to swallow, “They were going to find you… at home.”

  Tori’s jaw dropped, her gut wrenching in agony, “Home…”

  “Oh, dear God,” Michael’s voice cut through her pain, “Come on, baby girl; we gotta go, now!”

  Releasing the boy, she flipped open her phone. She called Eli, who would still be waiting out front, demanding as soon as he said hello, “Get Godfry; they are going after my family. I have a boy in here, alive; I’m leaving him tied up, so they will need to get here ASAP.”

  Not waiting for a reply, she snapped the device shut. Waving her hand at Mason, she indicated they needed to open the drawers, and he bolted for the front door, ready to retrieve their tools. Running her trembling fingers through her hair, she stared at the floor and waited.

  Her accomplice returned quickly, inquiring if she had tried the key. Handing it to him, he attempted it first, then drilled the lock. Once again, they found stacks of cash, along with a hard bound log book, which she took. Turning to the boy, she knelt down in front of him, her lips forming the faintest of smiles.