by Shay Savage
“Evan! Evan, no!” Felisa begins to really fight me now. Her fingernails dig into my arm painfully as she kicks at my legs. She twists and turns, but I have a good grip on her. She only slows my progress toward the hole.
She screams as loud as she can, and I let her keep it up until she goes hoarse.
“No one can hear you,” I say. “That’s why we’re all the way out here.”
We reach the edge of the hole, and I wrap one arm around Felisa’s throat as I reach around and pull a pair of gloves out of the bag. Once they’re in place, I grab the Ruger. The silencer isn’t necessary way out here, but I always have a contingency plan, and the sound of shots do travel through the air farther than screams.
“Rinaldo will find out! You know he won’t like this! He’s not going to forgive you for this, Evan! You can’t do this!” All of her words are pointless.
I shove her down to her knees next to the hole and kneel across the backs of her legs to keep her there. I drop the bag from my shoulder to get it out of the way. I check the chamber of the Ruger once more before placing it against the back of her head.
“Please, Evan, please!” She’s crying now. “There are things you don’t know!”
“Sometimes I have to save Rinaldo from himself.” I lean back a bit and pull the trigger. A muted thwack echoes through the trees. Felisa falls to the ground at the edge of the hole, and I kick her inside with the toe of my boot. Her body falls awkwardly into the rocks and clumps of dirt at the bottom, but there isn’t any reason to jump down there and straighten her out.
I toss the gun in after her, then pull the T-shirt over my head, wipe the blood off of me with it, and add it to the pile along with the gloves. If anyone ever finds her, the weapon should be easy enough to trace and the color of the shirt a blinding clue. Grabbing the shovel, I get to work. Once the hole is filled, I cover it with brush and smooth out the tracks leading up to it. I toss the shovel into the back of the Camaro. It doesn’t fit well, but I just need to drive far enough to ditch it somewhere. There’s a change of clothes in the back as well, and I quickly button up the shirt I find there.
As I reach for the gearshift, a glint from the sun through the leaves reflects off something between the passenger seat and the center console. I reach down and feel something cool against my fingers. I pull on it, but it doesn’t want to give, so I yank harder.
With a snap, half of Felisa’s diamond tennis bracelet flies into my hand. It must have fallen off when I pulled her out of the car, and now part of it is stuck in the track for the seat. I reach down and grasp the end with my fingers and manage to get another piece out.
I take the two pieces in my hand. Together, they’re about the size of her wrist, so I think I got it all. I glare at the jewelry and consider tossing it out the window, but it’s too close to her body. I need to get rid of it somewhere else. There’s a lake not far off the dirt road right before I get back to pavement, so I drive to the edge of the water.
“Some pussy just isn’t worth it, boss,” I whisper to myself as I throw the bracelet far off into the lake. I can barely hear the splash before it sinks into the murky green water.
*****
I turn up the radio on the way back into town. It’s playing some classic rock, and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and hum along. It’s a little early still, but I veer off a few exits before mine to pick up Alina.
I’m not actually tired. I’m a little elated. That is, until I get to Alina’s corner and can’t find her anywhere. Loretta is there, standing close to one of the whores I’d taken home weeks ago—the one I nearly ended up shooting.
She’s still got gum in her mouth. Evan at this distance, I can see her chewing it.
I don’t stop. I pull around to the gas station and wander around in the convenience store for a little while. I buy cigarettes even though I already have a full pack, and it takes me three or four days to go through one.
Back in my car, I troll the streets a while. There are hookers everywhere but not the one I want. I end up pulling into a drive-through fast food place and eating a burger while leaning against the car. It doesn’t sit well with me, and by the time I’m out looking for Alina again, my anxiety is right back where it was at the beginning of the day.
I make three trips around the block before I see her. She wasn’t there a few minutes ago, but now she’s hanging out with the gum-smacking whore. I pull up and call over to her. Alina smiles as she drops into the passenger seat.
“Hello, Evan. I haven’t seen you for a while.”
Not for my lack of looking.
“Been busy,” I respond with a shrug.
The silence is comfortable as we head back to my apartment near the river. It’s unseasonably warm this evening, and the windows are down a bit. Alina closes her eyes against the wind, and there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.
She turns to me and starts to ask something about putting the radio on but stops. In my peripheral vision, I see her widen her eyes and close her mouth quickly. I glance down in the direction where she’s looking and turn my arm toward me so I can see the back of it. I notice some dark brown spots on my arm.
It’s blood.
I don’t know how I missed it. I thought I had wiped it all off. There’s nothing I can or will say, so I ignore her reaction and continue to drive. As soon as we reach our destination, I head for the shower, feeling uneasy and a bit idiotic. I should have washed off more carefully before going to find her.
Alina’s already in the bed when I finish. She’s noticeably tense as I slide in beside her but tries not to show it as she turns toward me and wraps her arm around my head. With no words spoken, I close my eyes and go to sleep.
In the morning, I wake up early. I can’t remember any dreams, but my muscles are still tense. I take another shower to try to relax, but it doesn’t help. I’m still aggravated when I walk back across the hall with a towel wrapped around my waist, dripping wet. Alina is standing beside the bed in her bra and panties, reaching down to strap on her shoes. Her back is toward me, and as she bends over, the clear view of her ass covered in black lace grabs my full attention.
I’m hard seconds later.
Maybe it’s the rush of a kill. Maybe it’s just seeing her bent over like that. Maybe it’s memories of Lia. It could even be that it’s just been a while, and I want to get off.
None of that seems right, but I can’t pinpoint my reaction either. I just want her.
Now.
Coming up behind Alina, I place my hands on her thighs. I run my fingers up to her hips and pull her up against me. She startles briefly, and I realize she didn’t hear me come back in the room. She recovers fast though. She stands, drops the skirt in her hand, and reaches up around my neck with one hand.
Grinding against her ass, I move my hands around to her stomach and then up to her breasts as I press my lips against the side of her neck. Her tits feel good in my hands—firm and soft, just the right size. She tilts her head to give me access to her throat as she closes her eyes. I press my lips against her neck for a moment, inhaling the lingering scent of lavender.
I spin her around so she’s facing me and push her up against the wall near the bed. I glance down, admiring her sleek build, and lick my lips. Staring into her eyes, I touch the side of her face with the tip of my finger, leaving a wet trail over her skin. I lean in slowly, then hesitate. I’m not even sure why. This woman has been paid to sleep with me for two nights now, and I haven’t touched her—not really. Not like this.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shove the towel away from my hips and reach around to skillfully unclasp Alina’s bra. She drops her arms to allow it to fall to the ground as I shove her panties down to her ankles. She barely has time to kick them off before I’m lifting her from the floor and pressing her back against the wall.
I cover her mouth with mine, opening her lips and finding her tongue. She wraps her legs around my waist as I lift her a little higher. She
brings her hands to the back of my head and grips me hard. Turning my head, I devour her mouth again.
I hold her up with one arm as my other hand caresses her side, down to her hip, and then back up to her breast. I thumb her nipple as my mouth moves down to her throat. I lick the hollow there, and I can feel the thrumming of her heart. Her hands grasp my shoulders as she tilts her head back and moans.
I can’t wait any longer.
I press her body against the wall with my hips before I reach down and grab my cock. I run the head over her pussy lips a couple of times, but there is no doubt she’s ready to take me.
“Condom!”
“Fuck!” I release my cock and set her back on the floor. I pant hot breath and look at her through narrowed eyes. I run my hand through my hair and growl. “Get on the damn bed!”
Alina scurries into the middle of the mattress while I yank open the nightstand drawer and tear a condom from its wrapper. I feel as if I’m going to come before I even get inside of her, and I’m just barely controlling myself. I can hardly get the condom on because my hands are shaking so much. I’m on her half a second later, pressing her shoulders to the bed and shoving her legs apart with my knees.
I sink into her.
Immediately after I’m inside of her, I hold myself completely still. There’s an odd sensation of total darkness around me that has nothing to do with my closed eyes. It’s not a frightening or foreboding kind of darkness. It’s something different.
The peace I felt when I first woke has returned.
I’m dimly aware of her hands on my back. She uses slow, gentle strokes over my skin, and I try to match my breathing to the motion.
Raising my head, I look down at her beneath me. Her eyes are bright, but there’s a hint of trepidation in them. Moving slowly, I press my lips to hers, kissing her softly. She holds still as I gently kiss her and run my tongue across her lips.
I pull out slowly and then move back inside of her at the same rate. I keep kissing her as I move, keeping the slow pace until she begins to move with me but pushing me to move faster. I slide my hand down her side and then move up to cup her breast.
Alina wraps her arms underneath mine and up over my shoulders. She holds tight as I rock against her. The little gasps Alina makes as I stroke into her are enticing, and I speed up just to hear more of them. She holds tight to my shoulders and wraps her legs around my thighs.
I want this to last. I don’t care if I ever come. I just want to stay like this.
I thrust into her in a smooth, steady rhythm. She tenses around me, drawing me in with every penetration. I try to focus on something other than the feeling of being buried in her flesh, but her sounds drag me back with each thrust. My thighs tighten, and I have to pause to keep from losing control.
I take several deep breaths and ignore the throbbing in my cock. I grit my teeth for a second to steer my mind in another direction. It works—just barely.
I want her to come first.
Holding myself up with one hand, I stroke my fingers over her from neck to stomach. I lean down and lick her nipples one at a time, then blow cool air over them as she shivers. Using my free hand, I pull her arm out from around me and move her fingers down between us.
“Touch yourself,” I whisper in her ear. “Show me what you like.”
With her eyes closed, she reaches for her clit and slowly starts rubbing. I place my fingers over hers and time my thrusts with her movements. I watch her face, view the tension around her eyes as pushes up to meet me, and match my breaths with hers. When she reaches her tongue out to wet her lips, I meet her mouth with mine.
She moans against me, pushes up hard, and I feel her tense around my cock. She tightens her legs around my thighs, pulling me deeper inside her. I feel the contractions of the muscles in my legs and stomach, and it’s almost enough to make me lose my balance. The orgasm hits me hard, and I moan against her as I let go.
My arms and legs are shaking, but I hold my position over Alina as I pant against the skin of her shoulder. I feel her fingertips against my abs, stroking around to my back, over my hip, around my ass, and then back to where we are connected. She wraps her hand around the base of my cock and the edge of the condom, gently pushing me out of her.
So professional.
My jaw tenses, and I shove off the mattress with my palms and land on my back, grasping the condom and ripping it off. I toss it in the trashcan near the bed and stare at the ceiling.
I’m shaking ever so slightly, and I have to contract my muscles to keep the trembling from getting worse. My head is full of random images—the look on her face as she came, the crosshairs through the scope of my rifle, explosions around dry, sandy ground, Jonathan laughing and smoking a cigarette, and that fucking Soccer Mom sticker on my car.
None of it makes any sense. All of it pisses me off.
“Would you mind if I used your shower?”
“Suit yourself.” I sound terse. Any remnants of the calmness I felt when I first woke up are gone. Though I’m no longer tired, I am as tense as I had been before I brought her here.
Alina disappears into the bathroom, and I get up and slam some dresser drawers, looking for clothes. Apparently, I need to do laundry.
“Bullshit,” I mutter. I grab the last clean pair of boxers and shove the drawer hard enough for it to shake the whole dresser. My dog tags rattle in their dish, and I grab them in my fist. Pulling the chain around my neck, I stomp out of the room.
I head into the kitchen in my boxers. It’s too cold, but I don’t care. I listen to the water in the shower as I make myself a piece of toast and devour it. In the back of my head, I remember Alina making me breakfast. I should return the favor, but I don’t.
Ralph is in the living room, leaning against the couch with his arms folded across his chest. I want to walk over there and punch him. Knowing how pointlessly insane that would be doesn’t make me feel any better. I glare at him for a moment before turning away and grasping the edge of the counter with my fingertips.
I’m angry—not just annoyed, but completely consumed by unnameable rage.
I have no idea why.
Every muscle in my body is tense. I keep clenching my hands into fists, but it doesn’t help. My breath is shaky, and I realize I’m just staring at a plate full of breadcrumbs.
A moment later, I’ve hurled the dish, shattering it against the wall.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tell myself to get it together. I want to slam my fist into the countertop, but self-preservation won’t let me break my own hand on the granite. I don’t know what to do with the boiling rage inside of me, and I can’t manage to shove it back down into my gut.
I’m also terrified.
I feel tears at the corner of my eyes. I’m holding my breath, and the pressure in my lungs is causing my diaphragm to contract. I want to scream, but I can’t open my mouth. I want to pound my fists against the counter, the wall, the window—I don’t care which—but I can’t make myself move.
Breathe, Arden! Breathe!
I gasp as I drop to my knees on the hardwood. A huge wave of tension flows over my skin, and I almost fall the rest of the way to the floor. I end up with my palms against the wood planks, rocking slightly. I stare at the patterns made by the grain of the wood, focusing all my attention on the wavy lines and circles.
A minute later, the feeling has passed. I glance up, and Ralph is still there, staring at me.
Little bastard.
I swallow, push myself off the floor, and go back to the bedroom to pull on a dirty pair of jeans and a T-shirt that doesn’t smell too awful. As soon as Alina gets out of the shower, I inform her that I’m taking her back. I don’t even offer her a fucking cup of coffee.
I really need to get my shit together.
Chapter 9—Missing Person
“Evan, hang back.”
“I’ll catch ya later, brotha.” Jonathan leaves with the rest of the group, and I stay in Rinaldo’s office to see what he needs
from me.
Despite the sleep I’d had last night, I’m mentally exhausted. It has been a while since I had a proper panic attack, but I’d had them often enough in the past to know just what they are. Afterward, I’d be left in a foggy, confused state for several hours and sometimes for days. When I have had them before, I had always known what the trigger had been. This time was different. I really don’t know what set me off.
I’d killed someone. I’d slept well. I’d finally fucked Alina. Everything about the past twenty-four hours had been good, so why the freak-out?
There are things you don’t know.
Felisa’s last words echo through my head. I have no idea what she might have meant, but I had been too impatient to have her out of the way to find out.
“What have you found?” Rinaldo walks over to his desk and leans one hand against it.
“There’s definitely a connection to Seattle.”
“Really?” Rinaldo raises a brow. “They are still scrambling and fighting with themselves. How do you figure this?”
“I should say”—I raise a finger in the air—“that there is a connection to people formerly associated with the Seattle group.”
“Which is?”
“As much grief as you gave me for taking care of Justin Taylor, I was doing you a favor.”
“Justin was playing with the numbers.” Rinaldo’s conclusion is correct but incomplete.
“Definitely,” I say with a nod, “but there’s more to it than that.”
“What else?”
“Look at this.” I pull the laptop to the center of the desk, and Rinaldo sits down to check it out. “Justin Taylor’s brother, Joshua. Look familiar?”
Rinaldo studies the picture for a moment. When he doesn’t see it right away, I bring up the picture from the surveillance video.
“Same guy?” he asks.
“It is.”
“Avenging his brother’s death?”
“That’s what I would have thought, but look at this picture.” Clicking around at the screen, I find the picture of Landon Stark from the tournament files. “He and Landon Stark go way back. In fact, Justin trained with Stark for tournaments before he relocated here. Sebastian Stark replaced him.”
