Tilting at Windmills (Claire Lance)

by Geonn Cannon

  Kelly bit her bottom lip and twisted. Mallory cried out and ground her hips hard against Kelly's stomach. Kelly chuckled low in her throat. "Oooh, baby, you like it a little rough, huh?"

  "You know it."

  "Little whore...you'd like a spanking, probably. Bend you over my knee, spank you all rosy red."

  Mallory grunted. "God, I fucking love your accent." She bent down and kissed Kelly hard, as if she was trying to steal the accent for herself. Kelly twisted underneath Mallory's assault and pressed her thighs together. She was still fully dressed, save for her panties, and she was already close to coming. She writhed beneath Mallory and gave a long, weary sigh as Mallory finally reached for the buttons of her uniform blouse.

  "Don't rip it," Kelly pleaded. She slid her lips along Mallory's cheek and bit her ear. "I need to wear it tomorrow."

  "Okay." Mallory sat up, her sex pressing tight against Kelly's stomach, and painstakingly undid each and every button of the blouse. By the time Mallory tugged it free of her skirt, Kelly was panting. Mallory bent down and kissed her breasts, running her tongue along the lace edge of her bra before pulling it down to suck on her nipple.

  "Oh, fuck, yes," Kelly groaned.

  Mallory shifted her weight and rolled to the side. She lay on the mattress next to Kelly and pushed her skirt up again. Kelly's lips were parted, her skin flushed, and her eyes half-lidded. Mallory cupped Kelly's pussy with her hand, using the middle two fingers to stroke the folds. Kelly locked eyes with Mallory as long as she could, but after a moment arched against the mattress. She moved her hand to strum her clit as Mallory pushed her fingers inside her. "Talk to me, Kelly," Mallory said. "Let me hear your voice."

  Kelly grunted. "Oh, fuck, yes, put your fingers in me, chick...fuck me with your fingers."

  Mallory growled and kissed Kelly hard. She sucked Kelly's tongue into her mouth as she thrust her fingers hard, deep into Kelly. The bed rocked and hit the wall as she moved her head down, kissing Kelly's neck and the flat plane above her breasts. She wrapped her legs around one of Kelly's, pressed herself against her thigh and rubbed herself hard against the smooth flesh. "Oh, yeah, Kelly..."

  "Oh, you're going to make me come...Faye!"

  Something chirped across the room and Mallory said, "Fuck, not now!"

  Kelly moaned. "What is it?"

  Mallory dug her fingers into Kelly's hip and pulled her hand from between Kelly's thighs. She reluctantly disengaged from the panting, sweaty stewardess underneath her.

  "Oi! You're not done here. Where are you going?"

  Ignoring her, Mallory crawled to the foot of the bed. She walked to the door and dug through the pile of clothes she had left there, searching until she came up with a ringing cell phone.

  "I was about to come." Kelly whined, sitting up against the headboard.

  "Shut up," Mallory said. The screen of her phone was impossibly bright in the dark of the room as she flipped it open. She picked up her trousers and stepped into them without bothering to find her panties. She tugged them up with her free hand while she answered the phone with the other. "Mallory."

  "Our girl's been busy."

  "Shit," she said.

  "Uh oh. Oh, man, were you...busy, Faye?"

  Kelly was lying back, legs spread, idly masturbating as she watched Faye. Of all the goddamn luck, she thought. "Shut up," she told the man on the other end of the line. "I'll call you back in five." She snapped the phone shut and shoved her phone into her pocket. She picked up her shirt and pulled it on as she sat on the mattress, twisting to look at Kelly. "Come."

  "What?"

  "I want to see you come," Mallory said.

  Kelly smiled and continued to stroke herself. She used the fingers of her free hand to part her folds and groaned as she fucked herself. "Mm...you like to watch, huh?"

  Breathing hard, Mallory buttoned her shirt over her white undershirt. She bent down to put on her shoes and sat up in time to see Kelly arch her back. She grunted, her hands went still, and she closed her thighs around her hand. "Oh, fuck..."

  Mallory stood up and pulled Kelly to her. They kissed roughly and Mallory thrust her tongue into Kelly's mouth, then pulled back. "Duty called."

  "You're just going to leave me?" Kelly panted.

  Mallory took Kelly's hand and sucked the fingers into her mouth. She ran her tongue over the tips slowly, sucked them dry and sighed heavily. "Yes," she said as she placed Kelly's hand back on her lap. "I am." She went back to the door and turned on the light. Gathering her jacket and hoodie, she looked longingly at the redhead sprawled on top of the mattress.

  She walked back to the bed, picked up the remote off the nightstand and handed it to Kelly. "There's porn on pay-per-view; charge it to the room. There's a vibrator in the black bag in the bathroom. Leave everything the way it was when you found it." She pulled a wallet from the nightstand and stuck it in her pants pocket, and Kelly frowned as she took a second wallet out of her bag and shoved it into the pocket of her hoodie.

  "Really sorry about this." Mallory sighed and shook her head. "I had such plans." She licked her lips and shook her head, then gestured at the room. "If you can find my panties, you can keep them. Souvenir. Sorry. Bye." She left the room before Kelly had a chance to argue. Once she was in the hallway, she flipped her phone open, exhaled, and dialed the last incoming number.

  "David Mather."

  "Tell me what you know."

  "Hell, Mallory. You could've waited until you were finished."

  "Give me the damn information, Dave."

  "All right, all right." She heard paper rustling and he cleared his throat. "This morning, the Texas Rangers got a call from the local sheriff in a town called Saxe, Texas. Which is a palindrome, you know? Same backwards and forwards. Anyway, a local bartender named Roy Morse was shot and killed this afternoon. The bar was robbed, and there were signs that there had been a lot of gunplay recently. Mirror was shot out, someone had tried to cover up bloodstains on the floor, that sort of thing. Straight out of the Wild West."

  "And?"

  "The Rangers spoke to a fella named Garrett Hadley. Apparently he was Morse's right-hand man. He told them that Morse hired a new bartender the day before he turned up dead. And we wouldn't be talking about it if that bartender hadn't been named—"

  "Claire Lance," Mallory said as she jabbed the down button on the elevator.

  "Got it in one," David said. "The Morse family car is missing, along with a couple thousand the guy kept in his safe. Not too smart, but I guess in a tiny town like that..." His voice trailed off.

  Mallory hit the lobby button. "Is there anything else?"

  Dave hesitated. When he spoke again, the humor was gone from his voice. "Yeah. Morse's wife is missing too."

  "Son of a bitch." That wasn't part of Lance's M.O., but people could change. Maybe the lady had seen too much. Or, hell, maybe Lance was just lonely. "I'll call you back. Give me the number for the Rangers."

  He gave her the number, and she memorized it. "Agent in Charge was Tony Lazareva."

  "I'll call you back." She hung up as the car reached the lobby and she stepped out, already dialing. When the call connected, she said, "I need to speak to Ranger Tony Lazareva."

  "May I tell her who is calling?"

  She was momentarily thrown by the gender, but recovered quickly. "FBI Special Agent Faye Mallory, Chicago branch. Tell her it's urgent." She was put on hold as she left the comfort of the lobby and stepped into the cold Chicago night.

  #

  The sun went down as they drove north, slowly draining the light from the world. Lance had seen too many sunsets lately. And sunrises. Once, they had been romantic clichŽs, something to wake up early for. Now it was just another marker, another day she hadn't been caught. She hardly noticed them any more.

  The headlights carved out a slice of the darkness ahead of them, but everything looked the same mile after mile. Occasionally a piece of scrub brush would appear beside the road or a rabbit would dart out in front
of them, but it was mostly the same flat view no matter how long they drove. Lance kept her speed steady, despite feeling increasing pressure behind them.

  They crossed the Red River going fifty, keeping up with the rest of the traffic so they wouldn't stand out. Once they were into Oklahoma, she pushed it up to fifty-five, but she kept her eyes peeled for any official-looking vehicles. They stopped for a late dinner at a small restaurant that promised hometown cooking. Gwen trailed into the restaurant behind Lance like a petulant child who had begged for McDonald's. In the booth, neither of them attempted conversation.

  Gwen sat quietly on her side of the table, watching Lance scan the menu as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn't tilted on its axis earlier that morning. Roy was dead. The blood was on both their hands, even if she couldn't see it. The waitress came over and Gwen lifted her eyes briefly, noted how attractive the woman was, and then ducked her chin down. Twisting a bit of dead skin next to her fingernail, she watched her hands and listened as Lance ordered for the both of them.

  "She's pretty," Lance said.

  Gwen lifted her shoulder in a shrug. She didn't want to look up, afraid her eyes would be drawn to the waitress' retreating back. She was used to ignoring beautiful women, keeping her eyes to herself and keeping her mind from wandering to dangerous places. She kept her eyes down until the waitress delivered their food and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Well aware of how often real, full meals could get overlooked on the road, Lance tore into her dinner. She looked up and saw Gwen merely picking at her food. "You should eat," she said. "You don't know when you'll get another hot meal."

  "I'm not hungry," Gwen muttered, and pushed her plate away.

  Lance sighed and called the waitress back over. Gwen's dinner went in a "to go" box, and Lance paid for the meal with money from her wallet rather than the cash she had taken from Roy's safe. Back on the road, inside the darkness, Gwen tried to sleep curled up against the passenger-side door. She tossed, turned, and shifted against the seat for half an hour before she finally gave up and straightened to look out the window. She picked up her "to go" box and picked at the food with her fingers. "Where are we?"

  "Somewhere in southern Oklahoma."

  "I've never been to Oklahoma."

  Lance looked around. "I don't think anyone has ever been to Oklahoma. I don't think anyone is in Oklahoma." But that suited her fine. The fewer people they saw, the fewer people could see and remember them. After another few minutes of silence, she saw a sign that promised gas, food, and lodging in twenty miles. Her hand tensed on the steering wheel.

  "I'm going to stop for the night. Is that okay with you?"

  Gwen nodded.

  "How about everything else?" Lance said. She could feel the lumps of Roy Morse's money in her pants, knew that she had a bit of his blood on her boots. She looked over and even in the darkness she could see the dark bruises that Roy had left Gwen with. "Are you okay with all of that?"

  "Yes," Gwen said softly.

  Lance looked back out at the road. "I'm not kidnapping you. I only took you with me..."

  "I know."

  "I just didn't want you to think I am going to hurt you if you say something I don't like," Lance said.

  "I know."

  Lance sighed and pulled off the road at the next exit. It was a small no-name place, an L-shaped building with a blue awning. Lance parked near the manager's office and pulled one of the cash bundles from Roy's safe out of her pocket. She tore off the binding and counted out three hundreds. She folded those, put them in her shirt pocket, and put the rest back in her pants pocket. "Stay in the car," she said. "I'll come and get you."

  Gwen only nodded, looking at the world outside her window as if she had been transported to another planet.

  Lance climbed out of the car and went into the manager's office. There was a chest high, Formica-topped counter with a TV on it. An old man was seated behind the desk but stood up at the sound of the door, wiping his hand on the seat of his pants as he opened his ledger. Lance paid for a room with two beds and signed in with the name, Elaine Lake. It was the only name she had false ID for, and she wasn't comfortable using her real name even this far from Saxe.

  It hardly mattered, since the clerk didn't bother to check her ID. After she signed, he closed the ledger and handed her a key for Room Four. "Thank you," she said. He nodded and started back for his chair. Lance saw a stack of local newspapers next to the door and said, "Are these fifty cents?"

  "They're yesterday's," the clerk said. "Take it."

  "Thanks." She picked up the newspaper and scanned the front page as she backed out of the office. She wasn't looking for news about Roy Morse, not this soon, but maybe there was a mention of Boris Younger. She wasn't sure how well Hadley and Estevez had hidden his body, so it might have been found. If it had, maybe the police would believe the two were connected and waste time looking at Garrett Hadley. Some sort of violent, bloody coup meant to give him control of—

  Her mental processes ground to a halt as she reached the car and realized it was empty. She spun in a slow circle, scanning the parking lot. Had Roy's men followed them? How could they have already gotten... No. No, if they had been followed, Hadley would have struck long before now. There were no new cars in the parking lot, no cars quickly pulling out onto the highway. She finally spotted Gwen kneeling on the grassy strip of land between the parking lot and the road, illuminated by the headlights of passing cars.

  Lance ran across the parking lot and crouched next to her, putting a hand on Gwen's back. "Gwen? Gwen, what are you doing out here?"

  Gwen's eyes were locked on the ground, her hands lying palm up in her lap. Tears ran down her cheeks, ruining her make-up before dripping to the ground. She finally looked up and focused on Lance's face. "He's gone. Roy is really gone, isn't he?"

  Lance was afraid to answer. Gwen looked like she could fall either way. Acknowledging he was dead could drive her into depression, maybe even make her catatonic. Or it could free her. She decided to go with the truth. "Yes. He's dead. I killed him because he was going to kill you."

  Gwen lurched forward with a sob. Balling her hands in Lance's shirt, she began to cry loudly, her entire body racked with sobs. Lance awkwardly wrapped her arms around Gwen and held her, rocking her back and forth until the sobs began to form into words. "Thank God. Thank God. Thank you. Thank God..."

  Lance stroked Gwen's hair and rocked her as she wept, turning her eyes to the stars until Gwen was ready to walk back to the motel.

  Chapter Five

  Garrett Hadley felt as if his entire world had imploded in the space of an afternoon. He had been planning a grand gesture for months now, something that would force Roy to treat the rest of them more as equals. When the shit hit the fan with Boris, he knew he had his window of opportunity. It was true Boris had gotten sloppy, overspending during his occasional trips to Dallas and bragging about how he could get all the money he would ever need without working a day of his life. But the way Roy had cut Boris off showed how tenuous their own positions were. So Hadley quietly organized the other guys enough to stage a walk-out. He convinced them to stand up and walk out of Roy's office behind him as a show of solidarity. The plan had been to sit and wait a while, let Roy see that they meant business, and then go back and talk about how things might change.

  The plan went up in smoke the second he went back to the bar.

  Hadley returned alone just as the sun was going down, planning out the speech he would make to Roy. He was a little surprised to find the bar apparently deserted. Usually Gwen was stationed behind the cash register to take care of the legal part of the business, but sometimes Roy let her leave early to go shopping. He went behind the bar, recoiling before he could knock on the office door. Roy was curled in the floor space behind the bar, his arms folded underneath him. Blood streaked his hair and pooled on the floor under his body.

  Hadley could feel his heart pounding in his temples, his eyes wide as he s
tared at the inconceivable tableau. It was all he could do to get around the bar and drop onto a stool before he fell down. As soon as the body was out of his sight, he started doubting what he had seen. The world swam, and he had to grip the bar with one hand to keep from falling off the stool. He took a few deep breaths, ran a hand over his face and felt the rough stubble on his cheeks. He focused on the stool under him and the hard wood of the bar, and forced himself back to reality. This was real, and it was no time for a panic attack. He needed to assess the situation.

  Roy was dead. Could Gwen have killed him? He had seen Boris' gun stored in the cubby under the bar with his own eyes. God knew the woman had a reason to put a bullet through his head, but did she have the guts? Even if she could make herself put a gun to her husband's head, would she actually have pulled the trigger? It didn't seem possible. That left only one possibility — the new hire, the Lance woman. Roy had hired her to protect Gwen; maybe she had taken it too far. She certainly knew her way around guns, and she hadn't shown the slightest hesitation shooting Boris. And Hadley was sure Roy wouldn't have eased up on his abuse just because another woman was around to see it.

  Hadley finally pushed away from the bar and forced himself to go into the office. He didn't avert his gaze from his former employer's body, as that would have been a sign of weakness, but he did close the office door once he was inside. He didn't waste time trying to decide what Roy would do. The king was dead, long live the king. It was up to Hadley to pick up the reins and keep the business running smoothly. First he would call Roy's boss and let him know what had happened, then a call to the local police. That definitely wasn't something Roy would have done, as evidenced by the way he handled Boris' shooting, but Garrett Hadley was going to do this by the book.

  At least for the time being.

  #

  The county sheriff was a good ol' boy named Luke, who generally believed in letting the people police themselves. Anything so long as he didn't have to get off his ass and work. He shambled into the bar, obviously still groggy from sleeping off a bender. He took a cursory look at the body, looked like he was about to throw up all over the crime scene, and then told Hadley he was going to bring in the Texas Rangers. He was in and out of the building in less than two minutes. It would take the Rangers time to get all the way out to Saxe, so Hadley used the time to assemble the rest of the crew and fill them in.