by Lauren Hunt
Ryker
I had one rule when working for the Murphy brothers: no women or children. I didn't mind asking someone a question but I would never lay my hands on a woman. And the O'Malleys knew that. Respected it. This junkie whore with a needle still in her arm was no exception.
I walked up to the frail figure on the mattress and looked into her sunken eyes. There was nothing there. She was as high as a kite. I picked the syringe out of her arm and threw it across the room. This chick would have been a knockout if she didn't let the drugs take over.
I never liked drugs. Never got the taste for it. Most of the men I worked with used because we were around it all day. But it wasn't for me. My drinking problem was already enough for me. No reason to fuck up my life even more.
I lifted the girl until she was sitting up. “I'm looking for your dealer?” I asked politely. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and drool dripped from her lips and onto my arm. I shook her shoulders a couple times until her eyes came back and looked at me. “Who is your dealer?”
No response. I wasn't going to get anything out of this junkie. But I couldn't go back to the O'Malleys empty-handed. My only option was to take her to my place and get the info out of her when she sobered up.
In the back of the head, a small voice whispered, “What are you doing, Ryker?”
Tempest
This steroid-fueled monster was screaming at me and messing with my perfect high. Everything out of his mouth just sounded like gibberish. I covered my ears but he wouldn't stop. I wanted to yell at him to get away from me but I couldn't find my voice. I felt like Ariel in the Little Mermaid. If only I could sing again.
The man picked me up and I tried to call for help but all that came out was a whimper. He carried me through the hallway and I felt like flying. The entire New York cityscape was beneath me as I flew through the clouds. Superman had nothing on me.
One of my homeless neighbors came out of his room and tried to take me away from the monster. The man knocked my neighbor to the ground and kept on walking. He carried me down the stairs and it went on and on. Down we went into hell not stopping for anybody.
Suddenly we were outside and the sun was blinding. I tried to shield my eyes but the sun was just too bright. There was no way too keep it out. If only it could be night time.
The man threw me into his car and we drove away. The nice rumbling from the passenger seat sang me softly to sleep.
Chapter Three
Ryker
The junkie threw up in my pristine Dodge Charger and I wanted to toss her out the car. The whole thing was going to have to be detailed after this and it wasn't going to be cheap. This wasn't going to be worth it.
I parked and lifted her limp body from my car. She was sound asleep now. I carried her into my apartment building and old Mrs. Jones from a few doors down peeked out from her door. “Everything okay, Mr. Ash ?” she croaked out, raising an eyebrow.
“Don't worry about it, Mrs. Jones. Just go back inside.” She harrumphed and closed her door. I was probably going to miss out on her Christmas cookies this year.
I unlocked my apartment door while still holding the chick. It wasn't hard since she barely weighed ninety pounds. I navigated through the mess of dirty clothes and empty pizza boxes, making it to my bedroom. I dropped her on my bed and she instantly curled up with my comforter.
I wondered how she got in this mess in the first place. Her black blouse and jeans were torn and ripped but I could tell they were expensive brands. Did she run away from something or someone? Drugs can really fuck up a person's life.
The O'Malleys weren't very patient and I'd have to give them an update soon. What could I tell them? I kidnapped the junkie and now she's held up in my apartment. They'd think I was crazy. But there was a method to my madness. If I could get her to speak about her dealer, the O'Malleys would look the other way if I didn't check in with them tonight.
I went to the kitchen and looked for a clean glass. The place hadn't been cleaned in years and I didn't even remember the last time I used a glass. I went to the sink and filled up a dirty one with water. It was the best I could do. I placed the water on the nightstand next to the bed. She'd wake up soon enough and be deathly thirsty.
I splashed water on my face in the bathroom, staring at my dirty mug in the mirror. What if she didn't give up the dealer, Ryker? Torture was my best tool in the toolbox but I couldn't do that to a woman. No matter what. The O'Malleys had been forgiving when I'd refused torturing a kid a while back. But this was different. They'd cut this chick's head off if it meant getting their drugs back. I just had to hope that I could convince her to spill her guts.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, shocking my system. I pulled it out and the screen read: Ian Murphy. He wanted an update on my progress but I wasn't ready to give him one yet. I hit the end call button and shoved the phone back in my pocket. I could dodge his first call but if I tried to do the same thing on the second call, Ian would have his dogs out looking for me.
The junkie was still sound asleep in my bed when I went back to the kitchen. I opened the fridge and found a beer can sitting all alone in the very back. I cracked the top and drank half of it on the way to the bedroom. It sure took the edge off the situation. I took a seat across from the bed and watched the chick sleep in the dark, sipping on my cold beer. This might take awhile.
Tempest
My high had worn off as I woke up in a strange bed. The mysterious bedroom reminded me of my place except this one had more furniture. The room had more holes in the drywall than mine did. Did I crawl to my dealer's house to find more drugs? The memories of being taken from my room by a monster hit me like a whip. My body was weak and it took all my energy to lift myself out of bed. That's when I saw him.
Sitting across from the bed was a dark figure in a chair. An empty beer can fell off his lap as he stood up. He wasn't a monster like my drug-riddled mind had led me to believe. But he was still one scary motherfucker. His dark brown hair was cut very short and a little bit of facial hair hugged his jawline. His deep blue eyes looked right at me and I knew I needed to leave.
“What am I doing here?” I asked, looking for an exit. The man blocked the door and the other doorway led to the bathroom. Maybe there was a window in there that I could escape through.
“Don't even think about escaping. In your condition, you wouldn't even make it a block before I caught up with you. And then I'd have to do some bad stuff to you.” How did he know what I was thinking? “Sit back down on the bed.”
I did as I was ordered. Something told me that I didn't want to mess with this guy. “Why did you kidnap me?”
“You have some information I need. And you're going to tell me everything you know.”
My brain was screaming at me to run. I tried to bull rush the guy, sending all my weight into him. It was no use. My body bounced off him like a rubber band and I flew back onto the bed. “Let me out of here!”
The man shook his head slowly. “You're going to tell me everything you know about your dealer. And you're going to tell me now.”
“Or what? You're going to kill me?” I never stopped to consider my words before they escaped my mouth. I just said whatever was on my mind. Even if I didn't want to know the truth.
“There's worse things than death,” he said softly. His words scared me to the core. But his grin was even more horrifying. What was this man going to do to me? He sat down on the chair across from the bed and studied me. The pathway to the hallway was wide open now but I knew it was hopeless. He'd run me down before I even got five feet.
“I'm not telling you anything,” I said, using every ounce of confidence. I didn't even know what he wanted. And when did I become a keeper of secrets? Not that I had any secrets to keep. My life had been in the dumpster the past couple of years. I didn't know anything worth knowing.
“What's your name?” he asked.
“Tell me yours first,” I replied defiantly. For some reason I thought I
had some control in this conversation.
“Name's Ryker Ash. Now what's yours?”
He wanted to start off small. Get me talking. I'd give him my name but nothing else. “Tempest Turner.”
The man leaned over in the chair and scratched his facial hair. “Tempest Turner, tell me everything about your dealer.”
What the fuck? That's all he wanted to know? But I couldn't give up my only source for smack. It took me months and months to find a dealer who would give me drugs in trade for blowjobs. Other dealers wanted to fuck me for the smallest amount of heroin. But my first time couldn't be with a drug dealer. I wouldn't let that happen no matter how much I needed a fix. My mouth on the other hand was a different matter.
I hated the way my dealer's disgusting skinny cock tasted. It was a cross between stinky cheese and a rotten banana. It took all my efforts to keep myself from gagging as he fucked my face. But it was all worth it for those hours of being high. There was no way I could give him up. He was too valuable to me.
I put on my best poker face. “I don't have a dealer. Who are you talking about?”
Ryker laughed hard, slapping his knee. “That's a good one. A junkie without a dealer. Don't even try to play games with me, Tempest. Who the fuck is your dealer? I want a name.”
The urge for a fix was already coming on. I could feel the need deep in my veins. My hands began to shake slightly and Ryker noticed it. “Like I said before, I don't have a dealer. I get my drugs from whatever random guy is standing at the corner of the street.”
“If you want to play it that way, we can play it that way.” Ryker walked over to a beat-up dresser and pulled out a pair of steel handcuffs.
“What are you going to do to me?” I crawled backwards on the bed, trying to get as far away from Ryker as possible.
Ryker grabbed my wrist and locked one cuff around it. The other cuff was locked to the bedpost. “You're not going anywhere. And I think you'll be singing a different tune in a few hours when you need a fix.”
I pulled on the handcuffs as hard as I could but all I did was hurt my wrist. “You can't do this to me, Ryker.”
“Oh Tempest, I can and I will.” My eyes widened as he smiled and left the room, leaving me all alone with my addiction.
–
During the night, the withdrawals had taken over. The need for smack was overwhelming. My body was going back and forth between ice cold and scalding hot. Ryker had put a bucket next to the bed that I continually filled with vomit. The room was spinning and the bed sheets were soaked with my sweat. There was no way I was going to make it through the night.
I screamed Ryker's name over and over again until he finally came back into the room. “How are you feeling, Tempest?” He sounded like a doctor looking after a patient. Ryker was one vile son of a bitch.
“Fuck you,” I said through clenched teeth. I rattled the handcuffs against the bed post, making as much noise as possible.
Ryker held a cold compress in his hand and set it against my forehead. “I have a proposition for you that I have no doubt you'll agree to. Give me your dealer's name and I'll come back with some heroin.”
Those words were almost too good to be true. I'd do anything for drugs at this moment. Even give Ryker my most prized possession: my body. “My dealer's name is Jenkins. Now get me some drugs now. I can't take it anymore.”
“Jenkins? Sounds more like a clown than a dealer.”
“Will you fucking stop talking and get me my smack!”
“Where does he live?” Ryker asked.
My brain was so cloudy that I couldn't remember right away. If only I had a little bit of a fix to clear my mind. I visualized his house a few blocks away from my apartment building. He lived in a nice neighborhood for being a drug dealer. “Oak Street. Jenkins lives on Oak Street.”
“Good girl. See that wasn't too hard.” Ryker ran his fingers through my wet hair. “I'll go first thing in the morning and get your drugs.”
My body was about to blow up. There was no way I could survive until the morning. “You have to go now, Ryker. I can't wait any longer.”
“Not gonna happen, baby.” Ryker winked at me and sat down in his favorite chair. He was going to watch me suffer all night. I was going to die in a few hours and Ryker was just going to just watch me wither away. He snapped open a beer and drank. Fuck him.
Chapter Four
Ryker
I didn't want Tempest to know that I could barely keep my eyes open. I hadn't gotten any sleep since I brought her to my apartment the night before. I needed just a little bit of shut-eye to regenerate. But tonight was going to be rough.
Tempest was going through extreme withdrawals and if I didn't watch her closely she could die. But it was all worth it because I had the information I needed. Jenkins, her dealer, didn't live far away. In the morning I'd get the drug shipment back, return Tempest to her dumpster of a home and everything would go back to normal. Or at least I thought.
We both survived the night. There were some pretty close calls when Tempest almost choked on her throw up. I was able to roll her over so she could vomit into the trash can. I didn't get a wink of sleep again and knew that it would affect my entire day.
When dawn came, it was time to show this drug dealer what happens when you mess with the Murphy brothers.
I drove down Oak Street in my Dodge Charger. Tempest didn't give me his exact address but I knew his house immediately. Oak Street was filled with two story mansions that were easily in the million-dollar range. Jenkins' drug house was the only one that didn't fit—a white one-story with bars on the windows.
I parked across the street and watched the house for awhile. It was still really early in the morning. The sky was clear and the air crisp. I'd known many dealers in my time and he was most likely asleep right now. Most dealers didn't do business until the late afternoon and stayed open late. If I was lucky, I'd catch him off-guard in bed.
I walked to his front door and tried to look through the side window. The blinds were closed and the view blocked. I quietly tried the door handle but it was locked. Some dealers were stupid enough to keep their doors unlocked. My only way in was the old-fashioned way. I looked around carefully down the street. Any witnesses could easily put a wrench in my plan. But nobody was out this early.
I curled my hand into a fist and smashed it through the side window. The dealer would probably be awake by now. But I still had time. I reached in through the broken window and felt around for the deadbolt. My fingers barely grazed it but I was able to turn the lock and open the door.
The living room was completely empty. Not usual with a drug dealer. Most of them made a lot of quick money so that meant lots of high-end electronics: big screens, sound systems, and video games. But this house was barren. Something was wrong. I could sense it.
The back bedrooms were empty too. Not even a mattress was in there. If a drug dealer lived here, there was no evidence of it now. Or that bitch, Tempest, was lying to me. That sounded more likely. In her messed-up state I took what she told me as the truth. Why would she lie to me when she needed drugs so badly? She had to of known that I wouldn't bring any back when I found out she was lying.
Or what if she was just trying to get me out of the house? I quickly checked my car keys and noticed the handcuff keys were still on there. She could break apart the bed if she really wanted to. I had to get back home.
I rushed back to the living room and to the front door. I almost opened it when I heard someone knock from outside. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. Could be the police or a concerned neighbor. I'd have to run out the back in a hurry. I looked through the peephole and saw a skinny guy shaking and constantly scratching his arms. Definitely not a neighbor or a cop. I opened the door.
“Hey man, is Jenkins around? I know he's not open yet but I just really need my fix. I'll pay whatever he wants.” The guy looked around nervously. I pulled him inside by his shirt, closed the door, and slammed him against it.
<
br /> “Where the fuck is Jenkins?” I growled. My patience was already wearing thin.
“Dude! What the fuck? Just chill out.”
My fist sank into the junkie's stomach and he collapsed to his knees, his breathing turned to rasps. “Tell me where Jenkins is or I'll have to hurt you more.”
The druggie put his hands up in surrender. “I don't know, you psycho! I just came to his house looking for a fix.”
The rage told me to hit the guy one more time for good measure. But he didn't know jack shit. Getting my hands dirtier wouldn't get me any closer to finding the dealer. But it would damn well make me feel better. I threw a right hook at the junkie's face, snapping his head back and knocking him unconscious. The boiling anger subsided and I really did feel better. I opened the door, pushing the druggie's limp body to the side.
