Binary

by Sarah Cole

  “I think you should discuss this with your team first.”

  “Why?” he asks. “This is my company. I’m in control here.”

  “Right, but as a company owner myself – albeit on a much smaller scale, I know it is inconsiderate to make these decisions without consulting your team first. It would be insulting to them to disregard their opinions. Their time here today will have been wasted if you hire me right now.” he appears genuinely surprised by response as I stand and gather my bag and jacket.

  He stands, and I hold out my hand and he takes it without hesitation. “Mr. Linwood, it has been a pleasure formally meeting you in person. Take the rest of the week and think about it. Interview the other candidates, and if you still want me… make me an offer.” I smile, and turn for the door when he grabs my arm.

  I turn pretending to be a little startled, and instead of dropping his hand as most gentlemen would, he closes the distance so his chest brushes against my arm sending a shiver through me. “I’m not going to change my mind. Like I said, I know what I want. I’ll talk to you Monday.” He releases my arm, and I shoot him a smirk before walking through the door.

  Nailed it.

  ***

  The street lights tear through the black night with an unnatural yellow glow, and I pull the hood of my shirt up around my face, protecting it from the rain. Zipping my leather jacket up over the top, I press my back to the wall and take a deep breath as I wait. I slide my hand down to my hip and feel the sheathed steel against my skin and bite my lip in anticipation. I’ve been waiting for this. For eight years, I’ve been patiently anticipating this moment.

  Sweet Revenge.

  Just as I knew they would, I hear footsteps approaching and I hold my breath as I wait, counting each step as they near. Two more...one more. I take a deep breath, and step out from the darkness where I sat in wait, and for a moment the man seems shocked until his eyes roam over my body and a slow smile curls on his scarred face. He doesn’t move as I take another step closer… idiot. He certainly doesn’t expect when I lash out, catching him in the trachea with the full force of my fist. As he clutches at his throat, wondering if he will be granted his next breath, I make my next calculated move. Kneeing him in the groin, I send him off balance as he attempts to strike back, failing miserably. The stench of hard liquor wafts off him as he struggles for purchase on the damp pavement. He stumbles and I fist his hair, using my body weight to ram his head into the brick building beside us. There’s an audible thud that sends a thrill through me.

  Stunned and confused, he stumbles around. “What the fuck?! You crazy bitch!” he growls out between coughs.

  “That’s right,” I say back as I land a few well-placed punches in his face. “But you helped make me this way,” I say in Russian, landing him a kick in the ear.

  “You’re insane. I don’t even fucking know you.” I see the blood trickling out of the various wounds, and it only fuels my desire to keep going despite the pain in my hand.

  I pull the hood from my head, and in the dim glow of the rusting street lights, I see recognition flash in his eyes. Good. I want him to know me. I want him to know that Ivan and Yelena Borkova’s daughter was the one that had the last laugh, just like he laughed as he helped rape and defile my mother’s bleeding body while her husband was tied to a chair and her children watched from the bedroom closet.

  “You look scared, Timur. You should be…” I advance on him again, and he reaches for the inside of his jacket, but I’m faster, grabbing his arm and twisting just right so it forces him to his knees. I have a ‘fuck it’ moment, and decide to keep twisting until it breaks with an audible pop. He cries out through clenched teeth and I shiver with excitement and laugh. His intoxication and aging form don’t do him any favors, but that’s ok.

  “You should be scared. Do you think the fact that Sergei died in prison was a coincidence? Hmm? The fact that he was the only one caught that night just made it easier for me to track him down,” I ask in his ear.

  “My brother was a cunt,” he spits, and I grind the heel of my boot into his spine, forcing him down on the abandoned sidewalk.

  “Yeah, that’s probably true.” I flip him over with more force than I realized I was capable of and slam the back of his head into the pavement. I watch as he loses consciousness momentarily, but I smack his cheeks.

  “Oh, come on. Wake up! You’re going to enjoy this. I promise.” I repeat the words he said to my mother so long ago with a crazed smile, and his eyes close briefly as if he’s remembering that night too.

  “You’re not going to get away with this, little doll,” he speaks to me through his gritted teeth in Russian. “You’re going to pay with your life.” He pants between labored breaths as I quickly pull the sharpened blade from its sheath at my hip and run the back of it down his face until it lands at its final resting place at his neck. He looks terrified as he begins to see the monster make its appearance, and he makes a feeble attempt at pushing me away with his good arm, but its quickly pinned under one of my knees as his knuckles grind into the crumbling sidewalk. He whimpers and the sound is fucking music to my ears.

  “That’s alright, Timur. It doesn’t matter if I live or die because I’m already dead on the inside. I don’t really have much left to lose now, do I? You killed me when you killed my mother and stole my father. You made a monster. Look at me! Do you see it?” I laugh again. “This is the last face you’ll ever see, and you don’t even stand a chance. You never saw it coming. I’ve been watching, waiting… practicing.” He opens his mouth, but only a weak cry for help comes out and it fades in the wind along with the rumbling of a nearby train passing. I grind my knee deeper into his stomach, and he tries his hardest to keep fighting as his broken arm reaches for my throat with no success. I swat it away with a gloved hand as he lets out a wail.

  “You can scream all you want, big man, but no one is going to hear you. Even if they did, do you honestly think they’d care? You’re nothing…no one. You don’t exist anymore. Erased. The only place you ever existed is in memory for those unfortunate enough to remember you. And I made it happen,” I whisper the last part before kissing his check and his eyes widen by my sudden movement.

  I feel the blade slice though his waiting flesh, and my heart rate spikes as adrenaline courses through my veins. The slow gurgling sounds of his bitter end are dampened by the brick walls of the alleyway, and as his slick blood coats my delicate fingers, I smile to myself. For the first time in over a decade, I feel something that isn’t agony…I feel contentment. The smell of it on my hands is like a high, and I find myself wanting more. I want to make it rain red with the blood of my enemies.

  And I will, I promise myself.

  “Happy birthday, Anika…” I whisper to myself as I stand and pop the trunk on the car I lifted hours before.

  I sit on the kitchen counter letting the metallic swiping of blade on stone soothe me as I think about that night almost three years ago. Timur was number one. Well, technically number two, but that was the first time I personally felt the thrill of complete control and the rage inside me quiet as I held his life in my hands and let it slip through my fingers. Sergei was just an expensive treat to myself for my college graduation. I now regret not doing it myself, knowing all of the things I know. Dwelling isn’t going to change the past. It’s a slippery fucking slope, and if I start second guessing myself now, I’ll end up drowning in myself and the moments I’ll never get back.

  I distract myself with something more useful as I pick up the next knife in line and set it to the stone. Three weeks until my birthday. Three weeks until number three. My eyes scan the documents on the laptop screen that’s sitting next to me searching for patterns in the data, when my eye catches something. Bingo! I set the knife down and hit enter, enlarging the screen and screenshot it as I open up my browser, keying in the address I just found. Of course, it requires a password and credentials. After only four minutes I’ve hacked the site, dismantled their firewalls
and I’m staring at a familiar face.

  Yury Volkov, I’m coming for you. I send the file to my phone, and close my laptop. Hopping off the counter, I put the knives back in the drawer.

  Slipping into my cool sheets I find myself humming happy birthday. Happy birthday, indeed…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Carter:

  Anika has been at Lintech for a little over a week now. It’s where she belongs. I knew she’d accept, because I made her an offer that she couldn’t really turn down despite the outrage of my colleagues. My decision pissed them off, especially Veronica, but it was my decision to make and no one else’s. It wasn’t about who I hired – it was apparent she was more than capable. It was the why and the how much that concerned them. I couldn’t risk not having her, and I wish I could say that it was purely her expertise that I craved and wanted to possess. It’s not. It’s every fucking part of her – her mind, her body, and even her heart as much as I hate to admit it. I want to know what makes her smile, just about as much as I want to know what makes her moan. It was stupid of me to hire her. I let my dick do the decision making, but fuck me, does it feel right even if I can’t touch her. My personal rule is that my employees are off limits. It keeps things from getting messy – complicated. The animal in the back of my mind rears its head and feeds me filthy fantasies. Rules are made to be broken. Especially if they are mine to break.

  I watch as she bends over her desk to set down her coffee, her tight-fitting skirt inching up her toned thighs, exposing just the top of the garter clips that hold up her hosiery. Biting back a groan, I force myself to keep walking back to my office at the end of the hall. I should have put her downstairs with the team she’s leading, but the masochist in me couldn’t stomach the thought of her being where I couldn’t look at her when I want to. It really is pure fucking torture seeing her and not being able to lay a finger on her. I’ve already managed to piss her off today when I questioned her about her split lip and bruised cheek. Someone’s head was about to roll, until she told me it was from an advanced self-defense class. Then she proceeded to tell me to essentially fuck off. I was nearly ready to bend her over the desk right there and mark her ass until it was swollen and red, but I didn’t because even if for just an instant, I swear I saw a tiny piece of that hard and cold exterior chip away.

  I can’t take it any more as I storm into my office, grabbing my phone, keys and wallet from my desk. “Leanne, hold my calls and reschedule my ten o’clock and my eleven thirty. I’ve got to go take care of something.”

  She stands from her desk as I storm by her. “Is everything ok?” she asks with concern lacing her tone, and I feel bad. I don’t mean to worry her. I’m not usually like this. I’m usually in control.

  “Don’t worry, everything is fine. I just need to get out of here for a bit, and get some fresh air,” I say and I give her a reassuring smile.

  “Ok, if you’re sure. Don’t forget. You have your one o’clock with Anika about the new application launch.” Leanne winks like she’s aware of my growing obsession, and I just nod in confirmation because I can’t tell my sweet secretary that is precisely why I have to leave. I have to go release some of this fucking tension that is building up inside of me before I lose my shit and do something I will regret.

  ***

  “Carter? What are you doing here at this time?” Ray checks his watch as he approaches where I sit at the bar.

  “Just needed to unwind a little.” I shrug and down the remainder of my glass and set it down with a clink on the matte black soap stone. I’ve been drinking more lately, and I know it needs to stop before I end up spiraling down a dark path.

  “You don’t seem quite yourself. Everything ok?”

  “Yeah, just shit at work. Is anyone back there?” I ask, and he knows exactly what I mean.

  “Carter, there’s always someone back there. Everyone has their vices.” He chuckles as I pull out a hundred to lay it on the counter. He eyes it and picks it up and hands it back to me.

  “It’s on me.”

  I shake my head, but he insists, “Just a thank you for your generous contribution to my wife’s gala last month. She was so thrilled.”

  I offer him my hand, and he takes it firmly, giving it a good shake.

  “Anytime,” I say, standing from the velvet upholstered bar chair I was perched on.

  “Enjoy,” he says with a wry smile and I nod. “Oh, and Carter?” he stops me and I turn over my shoulder. “My offer about the club still stands.”

  “Thanks, Ray,” I say as I head down the darkened corridor, lit only by modern crystal chandeliers that are dimmed so much, there’s only a faint golden sparkle up overhead.

  I stop at the end of the hallway, and pull aside the deep emerald velvet curtains and type a code into the keypad and the hidden door clicks open. Stepping inside the lounge area, the atmosphere shifts as the seductive beats create a low hum in the room. Various couples and groups of people are positioned around the room engaging in all forms of debauchery, but others are merely here for the show, or to be the show themselves.

  That’s why I like it here. There’s no right or wrong, no judgement; just pleasure and pain. Its sexuality in its realest and rawest form where people are free from life and the masks they wear to hide themselves from the world. I slide out of my suit jacket and hang it on the hook beside the empty alcove I choose that sits directly across from the raised black glass platform. Opening the curtain all the way, I sit on the black tufted leather daybed and simply watch. It’s dark, but with the glaring light from the center platform, I know I can still be seen.

  It doesn’t take more than a couple minutes for someone to climb the steps to the platform. I don’t know the woman well, but know she’s a regular here. Her chestnut colored hair is twisted into a tight bun at the nape of her slender neck, and she wears nothing but a simple set of black satin undergarments. I feel the slight stir of arousal as she steps out of her red bottomed pumps, and sets them neatly at the back the platform. She kneels as an open invitation for any willing participant to join her. For a second I hesitate, but cast my reservations aside as our eyes meet and she nods in acceptance.

  Quickly I rid myself of my blue dress shirt and shoes and socks, leaving me only in my black Armani suit pants. Slowly, I climb the four steps and stand above her as she lifts her eyes to acknowledge me.

  “What are your limits?” I ask.

  “No wet play and no gags. My jaw is weak,” she explains matter of factly. I like that. All business.

  “I can work with that. Just say stop, and I will.” She nods her understanding.

  “What do you like, Mr. Linwood?” she asks. I’m taken aback by the fact she knows me by name, but I ignore it since I know people like to talk.

  “Control. Complete and total control.” Is all I say before asking her name. Serena, that’s right. Now I remember – she’s usually playing with some guy named James.

  “I want you completely naked, Serena.” She stands immediately and rids herself of her undergarments, and I appraise her. She’s beautiful. But she’s no Anika. That voice in the back of my head taunts as I take in Serena’s small, but plump breasts and clean-shaven sex.

  I feel my cock harden when I run my hand through her wet center and she lets out a small sigh. She’s already slick with anticipation for me. Above my head, I reach up and pull down the soft leather swing and guide her legs through the holes and fasten the other straps. Using the lock and pulley system that is in place, I pull, hoisting her feet from the ground. Her legs dangle helplessly as her knees pull to her chest, exposing her fully to me. I walk over to where there’s a hidden door in the platform floor and press on the corner, popping open the latch.

  Reaching into the compartment, I pull out a pair of leather cuffs that I use to fasten her hands securely to the harness. Completely powerless she hangs from the ceiling waiting for me to make my first move. Choosing a few more items, I lay them out and close the door and take my time to circle ar
ound behind her before putting the blindfold on. I pick up the tickler and let it trail down her back and continue on, teasing my way around her body. By the time I’m done, her breaths are coming in shallow pants and I can see the arousal that is dripping from her.

  Sure, the sight of Serena spread out before me and completely bent to my will arouses me. I’m only a man after all, but for some reason my head just isn’t in it because its somewhere else right now. That pisses me off even more. Not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, I pick up the short leather whip I selected. I don’t waste any time cracking it across her bare breasts. Immediately the skin reddens in a straight welt and she lets out a yelp. I love it… I hate it. I hate that I need this-that I want to take my rage out on her body.

  “Quiet,” I command, and I hear the irritation in my tone. “No speaking unless I ask you a direct question.”

  I lash out again this time across her ass, and I watch as she bites her lip trying to stifle the noises that are desperately trying to escape her. “You like this, don’t you?” I ask, seeing her nod her head and whimper.

  Continuing on I crack the whip, marking patterns in her skin with pain and welts. “Tell me. What do you want me to do? Do you want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes, please,” she replies breathlessly. I don’t normally give choices. It isn’t in my nature, but I need this to be over. Unfastening my pants, I pull a condom from my pocket. The sound of the packet tearing is the only indication she has of what is about to happen. Her anticipation is nearly palpable as I sheath myself and slide into her with a force that causes her body to swing in the air. This time she doesn’t even try to stifle the moan that comes out as she takes all of me.

  “I said quiet,” I hiss as I grab her throat and squeeze with one hand while I take the other and reach above to grab the handle of the harness and use it to swing her body into mine with force. I can’t bring myself to admit the only reason I can’t stand the sound of her pleasure or look into her eyes is because it isn’t the voice I want to hear or the face I’m trying desperately to imagine in my head while I fuck another woman.