by Aven Jayce
Two killings in one week and I got off scot-free on both. The homeless guy was covered in evidence and Dayne’s disappearance will go unnoticed for eternity. His brother and sister don’t give two shits about... but damn it, I keep forgetting about the woman at the motel.
She’ll need to be dealt with at some point.
Dayne’s murder can be ignored, but who knows if this woman has family and friends who care. This is when things can get tricky. It’s a problem my father often ran into. If you kill someone, you have to make sure there’s not a group of people lining up to find out what the fuck happened or why their son or daughter disappeared. And if a problem arises, make sure you can pin the crime on someone else. My dad taught me that the older the person, the fewer problems you’re likely to have. Kill an eighteen-year-old and the entire town is on a manhunt, kill someone in their thirties or forties and it’s the immediate family who are concerned, but kill a sixty-year-old with no wife or kids and you’re pretty much in the clear.
I’d say by the size, shape, and hang of that women’s tits, she’s in her thirties, which means her parents are possibly still alive and she may have siblings. That sucks. I also noticed she had a flabby stomach, but no stretch marks, so no kids.
I’m wondering if she’s still at the motel or if she took off when Dayne didn’t return. I’ll check to see if the Datsun’s in the lot, maybe even knock on the door and introduce myself if she’s still around.
But that will have to wait ‘til I finish cleaning and covering my boat. There’s still some blood on the stern and the quicker that’s taken care of, the better. It will take part of the morning, and will give me plenty of time to think...
It’s a dark summer night; no moon or stars are visible as I look up to the sky through the window of my father’s car. I’m nervous. I must’ve fucked up again or he wouldn’t have dragged me out of bed at three in the morning. I haven’t a clue what the fuck’s going on, and with him, it could be anything.
“You meet my new house whore?” he asks while pulling the car into a dirt lot.
“No,” I whisper. “She nice?”
“If you mean a good fuck, then yeah, she’s got a nice cunt. She’s a moaner too, unlike the last one who never said shit when Dayne and I fucked her. I’ll never waste my time with another one of those.”
“So what is this place?”
We step out of the car and he takes me inside a building that’s under construction.
“It’s one of my new casinos.”
“No shit?” I reply. “Another one?”
“No shit.” He whistles, signaling for someone to come out of the darkness. A moment later, his bodyguard Dayne shows his face. “I didn’t bring you here for a tour, Mark. You’re here to do your part for the family business.”
I stop dead in my tracks, worried about what the fuck he means. When I saw Dayne, I thought my father brought me here to rough me up, but he could’ve done that back at his mansion. Yeah, that really crossed my mind. I wouldn’t put it past him to break my face. But then I notice a guy behind Dayne... no, two men behind him. Blindfolded, on their knees, with their hands tied behind their backs.
“What the fuck, Paul?” Dayne approaches with a grunt. “Why bring pussy boy here?”
“He’s going to take care of this one. It’ll be a good initiation into the adrenaline-charged side of the business.” He pats my back. “You ready?”
My heart pounds in excitement... and fear. He wants me to kill for him? My hands shake and my legs feel like Jell-O. Deep breaths, fuck, don’t wuss out.
I’m in my mid-twenties and this is the first time I might have a chance to make my father proud, as long as I don’t fuck up. Shit, I can’t believe I’m about to do this. I’m choked up that he brought me here. He must trust me. This is a step in the right direction in our relationship.
“I don’t want you to speak. Don’t argue, talk back, or open your goddamn mouth for any reason,” he says. “Do what I say and nothing more.”
I nod.
Dayne takes out his gun, but my father shakes his head and picks up a shovel instead.
“I already dug the hole,” Dayne says. “We can pile them both into it, no need to dig a second.”
My father ignores his comment and motions for us to follow him over to the men.
Fuck. As we get closer, I recognize one of them. He’s my father’s top porn star, a guy I’ve fucked myself, just a young stud who my father refers to as his ‘Star.’ What the fuck did he do? He’s just a kid, nineteen, maybe twenty, whimpering, and pleading for his life. This would be easier if I didn’t know him, but maybe that’s why my father brought me out. It’s a test. Except the other guy isn’t familiar, so maybe it’s not. If I can kill him first as practice then the one I know won’t be as difficult.
The older guy’s face is already beaten to a pulp and he has a broken arm, definitely from Dayne. He’s also quiet, accepting his fate, just waiting to be put out of his misery.
My father hands me the shovel and I stand behind the two men. “This is your special night. I promise when it’s over your cock will be harder than the first time you got laid.”
“Please don’t,” Star begs. “Paul, I’ll do anything you ask, anything, please!”
“I’m not the one doing shit. You know I don’t like getting my hands dirty. Watching is a hell of a lot better anyway. You’re begging the wrong person. I’m not the one going to take your life away.”
“Please don’t do this.” He starts to cry. “You can do anything you want to me and I won’t complain. I’ll be your slave. I’ll suck you off anytime you want. I won’t talk back. I won’t...”
“Oh shut the fuck up!” Dayne kicks his back and he falls forward, sobbing in the dirt.
My father raises his hand for Dayne to stop then turns to me. “So you’ve got these two assholes in front of you. This one.” He points to the guy with the broken arm. “He created his own porn site using my company name, it’s a clone of my business. He’s been raking in the dough... my money... he’s a fucking pirate.” My father spits on him. “And that one.” He points to Star. “I’m just tired of his mouth, nothing more.”
I nod again, staying silent as requested.
“So here’s the plan. We’ve got this grave dug and I’ve got a cement crew arriving at six in the morning to pour a slab of concrete in this spot. It’s your choice whether you want to put them in alive and fill in the hole with dirt or—”
“Don’t!” Star shouts and then tries to move away on his knees. Dayne takes out a roll of duct tape, but my father stops him from taping his mouth, getting off from the kid’s pleading words.
“My handsome little Star, are you scared?”
“Yes,” he cries. “I’ll never complain again, Paul. I’m yours. You own me.” He continues to inch away. “Take me back to your place. I don’t care what you do just don’t kill me. Take me home and fuck me if you want and I won’t complain. I’ll be good. Anything but this.” He falls onto the rocky dirt and vomits in complete duress. “I love you, Paul,” he sobs. “I love you.”
Now I feel like shit. Killing the asshole that stole money from my dad is one thing, but killing someone because he mouths off is another.
“Star,” my father whispers, hovering over him. “Your pal Dayne has a roll of duct tape in his hand. If we tape your mouth and you puke, all that steamy chunky fluid that comes up from your stomach will get stuck in your nose. Then you won’t be able to breathe. You’ll suffocate, just like if my friend puts you in the hole and covers your face with dirt. If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up.”
“You own me, Paul,” he whispers with a tremble.
It’s interesting that he never says ‘Let me go.’ The poor kid’s got Stockholm syndrome or something. If I were in this situation I wouldn’t act like either one of these men. They’re both pussies. I’d fight to the very end. Even on my knees with my hands behind my back I’d think of someth
ing, like biting into one of their dicks and not letting go. My head would be at the perfect height to do that sort of damage. I’d leave my teeth marks in their cocks forever.
My father sets his finger over Star’s lips and whispers something in his ear then stands unemotionally and turns back to me. Damn, I wish I knew what he said.
“Your other choice is to kill ‘em before you bury ‘em. It all depends on how much you think they should suffer.”
I motion for Dayne to hand me his gun, but my father cuts in again. “No, you’re not thinking,” he scolds. “Try another weapon, like the one in your hand.”
My father frowns and I take it as a sign that I’m a moron. I just made my first mistake of the night. A gunshot would have the police swarming in a matter of minutes and I can see the disappointment in his eyes as he crosses his arms and waits. Fuck. Think, Mark, think. What will be the best way to do this? Maybe I should just bury him? No, too easy. I’ve got a gut feeling my dad wants something more from me, besides the shovel. I need to surprise him.
Crackling sounds leave the mouth of the man kneeling next to me. He’s struggling to breathe and I think he has a collapsed lung.
I’m sweaty and my heart’s pumping out of my chest. My father eggs me on with a smile and a wink.
I can do this.
I drop the shovel at my father’s feet, shove the suffering man into the hole, and jump on top of him.
“Whoa,” Dayne says.
The groaning stops when my hands tighten around his neck. I’m going to silence this guy and show my father I can do it with my bare hands, not a fucking shovel. He’s going to love me.
“I love you Paul,” Star says from above. “Please don’t hurt me.” His voice fades.
Shit, why won’t he shut up? He’s going to ruin my moment.
“Watch me,” I whisper, gripping the man’s neck. “Watch me.” But when I turn to look at my father, he’s gone. The fucking bastard walked away. “I’m doing this for you!” I call out.
Dayne looks into the grave and shakes his head. My dad’s not coming back and he left his shithead bodyguard to watch, like I need a fucking babysitter. I’m killing a man for him and he fucking took off. I’m pissed.
“He’s dead, let go of him,” Dayne says.
The blindfold conceals the man’s eyes, but his split-lipped mouth is open like a fish. I missed it. The guy died in my hands and I failed to notice because I was so goddamn focused on pleasing my dad.
“Fuck,” I whisper. I felt an adrenaline rush at the start, only it quickly changed to disappointment. Next time will be better. Strangling a guy isn’t very satisfying, I know that now, but maybe a knife or a gun will leave me content.
And where the hell did my father go? What an asshole.
“I wouldn’t go over there,” Dayne remarks after I climb out and head toward my father’s car. “Get back here and fill in the hole. Trust me, Paul always gets off from this type of shit then he enjoys a good fuck. Don’t interrupt him when he’s with his boy toy.”
“What?” I look at Dayne then to the car. The bastard would rather be with Star than me? To hell with this, not now, this is MY moment.
I walk to the opposite side of the car, only to see my sick father holding the back of the kid’s head and forcing him to suck him off. That’s right, he’s the disturbed one here tonight, not me. I only strangled a guy; I’m not a fucking rapist.
“What the fuck?” I put my palms up, raising my hands in the air. “Just like that? You left?”
“I told you to keep your mouth shut.” He pushes Star away and tucks his dick in his pants. The blindfold’s still on when Star hits the rocky ground with a groan.
“Are you proud?” I whisper. “Say something to me. Tell me that you—”
My head is slammed onto the hood of his car before I have a chance to finish my sentence. Fuck, he can be so brutal. I want his power... I want to be just like him, but I hate his guts.
His cold breath drapes around my ear as he whispers his final words of the night.
“My dick got hard watching you grip that man’s neck. That should be enough to make you happy.”
Fuck my dad.
He adored Cove. His Star. He had no intention of killing him that night; he just wanted to fuck with his head... and that happened often.
I never told my brother-in-law I was there. He’s unaware of how or if the guy was killed. He saw nothing. But he must’ve presumed the worst. That is, if he remembers. He’s blocked out a lot of shit from that time period. It was a traumatic experience for him, one of many, and I’m sure many of those nights have melded together for the poor guy.
I envied the time he spent with my dad, even though he was raped and beaten by the man. I can’t believe I never helped him, especially that night; I walked away instead. I think it’s because the kid was already too far gone to be brought out of Jameson Industries. He had started in my father’s business as a teen and would’ve been disposed of before he reached thirty.
There’s a lot of shit I keep from him and my sister. Stuff they shouldn’t know, like the fact I don’t consider that to be my first kill. It wasn’t satisfying.
The second one left me feeling the same. I shot a man in the head and was aggravated by the amount of blood that sprayed out. It was all over the walls and floor. I was quite displeased. Nevertheless, I carry a gun, ready to take a man down if he’s about to do the same. Distant kills happen; they’re just not very rewarding.
But when I used a switchblade for the first time... fuck, my dick was instantly hard and it was impossible to wipe the grin off my face for days. That’s what my father meant when he said it would be better than the first time I got laid.
I love the intimacy of using a blade. A close range kill, the victims breath in my face, the blood staying confined to the body as long as I don’t hit any major arteries, and no splattering of brains. My blade sliding in and out of men like gliding my cock in and out of a pussy... it turns me into a starry-eyed and sexually aroused nutcase.
That’s what I consider to be my first kill.
And there’s been a reason behind each one. The men were all connected to my family in some way, not just random kills, although I do crave it enough that I could see myself slipping one day.
My father was kind enough to tell me all the things I did wrong that night, like leaving my DNA on the victim by not wearing gloves and killing the wrong guy first. Even though he didn’t want Cove dead, he said you should always silence the one making the most noise to calm the scene then deal with the others after. He was also disappointed I reached for the gun, saying the blood would’ve been too difficult to clean up before the cement crew arrived, especially in the dark. Plus, I spoiled his fuck.
I did everything wrong.
And yet, everything I did was for him.
Damn it, I do everything for everyone else.
They’re all fucking ingrates.
~ ~ ~
And that’s the shit that goes through my mind while spiffing up my boat. At least she’s appreciative of my care. She’s back in order, clean as a whistle, and covered until the next outing.
Cove tossed her cover on hastily after we docked, but I wouldn’t expect much more from him considering his desire to get home. He was also in a rush to get me out of the cold and into some warmer clothing.
Since he tried his best, I won’t bring it up next time I see him, which will be soon since he couldn’t book a flight out of the airport in Reno to St. Louis for two days. They’re stuck with me. I love it. I get to spend more time with my baby sis and I can ask her and Cove if they remember any of Dayne’s women. There are a number of house whores who fell head over heels for that dope.
Whoever she is, her orange Datsun is MIA when I pass the motel on my way home. And just as I’m pulling into my garage, a text comes through from Jules.
I saw the newspaper. Roland’s dead.
Ladi-fucking-da. I t
ext her back.
You need to be punished. She responds.
I smirk. Punished for my text or for Roland? It’s difficult to figure out the meaning of some texts, but I bet this one’s a joke. The article is clear that the police have someone in custody, so Jules is either happy about the situation and she wants to celebrate, or she believes I did it, in which case she also wants to celebrate. Either way, I doubt she cares much about Roland’s death. She barely even knew the guy. It’s not like murdering someone is a big deal to her; that was obvious by her morning actions. She’s too fond of me to give a shit.
After changing into a clean black suit, I head downstairs to check on things. It’s a busy afternoon and my hotel is booked solid for a three-day marathon that starts tomorrow morning.
I’m happy to see the place is spotless. The carpets have been cleaned, the wood shines, soft music plays in the lobby, the fireplaces burn, and every light is dim for a peaceful setting. Perfection.
Fresh Mariposa lilies have also arrived and Jules looks extravagant placing the white, newly picked, sweet smelling flowers into the vase on the front desk.
“The only punishment in our relationship will be me taking a belt to your ass,” I whisper, pulling her into the back office where my hotel manager is speaking to another front desk worker. I nod for them to leave then shut and lock the door.
If I had more time to fool around, I’d take her upstairs to my private office or back to bed, but I’m waiting for a package and want to be around when it arrives. It’s a special gift for someone.
“Did you kill Roland?” She sets her hand on my chest and looks at me with twinkling honey eyes. “If you did, then maybe it’s time for you to admit that you did it out of love. Right? Is that why? Did you kill another man?”
My lip twitches as I unbuckle my belt, sliding it through my pant loops then snapping it between us. She doesn’t flinch, there’s not even a blink of an eye.
“I asked you a question,” she says, snaking around my body like she’s circling her prey. Her fingers move slowly across my chest, forearm, and around my back.
