Vicious Minds: Part 1: Children of Vice #4

by McAvoy, J. J. ;

  Rising from the chair, her grey eyes boldly roamed over my body. I wanted to know what made her think and act like this.

  “A car will pick you up at midnight tomorrow night. I do hope the good Lord forgives me for stealing you from Wednesday mass.”

  “That’s why he’s the good Lord. He forgives everything,” she retorted, standing up and moving closer, her lips directly over mine and neither of us looking away. She grinned and instead of kissing my lips, she bit my ear and whispered, “Make sure to get a room with a good view…I’ve always wanted to be fucked against up glass.”

  Pulling away, she gave me a wink before walking back towards the kitchen, leaving me standing there hard as nails.

  Wednesday, June 27th

  She stepped in to the suite in an off-the-shoulder white dress, which hugged every inch and curve of her body. Her hair was in soft waves and I noticed the only jewelry she had on was a small cross resting over her breasts. She didn’t bother wearing much make up, and I could clearly see the small birthmarks scattered across her chest. How anyone could look so divine and sinful at the same time was a wonder of the world.

  “Hello, boss,” she whispered, apparently dropping the ‘man’ now. Seems we were getting close. But I needed to be closer.

  Reaching up and cupping the side of her face, I brushed my thumb over her lips and she closed her beautiful eyes. “Tell me now what you won’t do…because when I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

  She kissed my thumb, raising her gaze to mine, her eyes full of lust. “Fuck me as if I’m your own personal whore…but don’t you dare treat me like one when we’re finished. If you leave money, I’ll find you and hurt you. Am I clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Brilliant. You can begin.” She took a step back, stepping out of her heels and tossing her purse to the side. Slowly she pulled down the zipper of her dress, the fabric swishing and skimming her curves as it fell and pooled at her feet. She was naked before me, and she was stunning. All smooth skin and generous curves, her full breasts tipped with pink, nipples straining for my touch.

  “Ah…” she moaned as my thumbs grazed over them. If a simple touch could affect her like that, I needed to see what else I could do. “Oh.” She bit her lip as I pinched the sensitive skin. I pulled on one taut nipple, watching her breast bounce as I let go.

  Kissing the side of her face, I made my way down her neck as I reached between her thighs, finding her slick and hot for me. I spread her pussy lips and slid my middle finger into her. Her mouth dropped open, her whole body going limp in my arms. “You’re going to have to stay strong because there is so much I need to punish you for.”

  “Punish?” she gasped, clenching her thighs around my hand, ground down on my finger.

  “All those times you raised your voice to me. You argued with me…even in front of my men.” I kissed her full lips, pulling away as she began to soften. She glared at me. “Save that look too…I haven’t even begun to torture you yet.”

  Pulling my finger from her heat, I held it to her mouth. “Taste yourself.”

  She parted her lips, sliding my finger into her mouth and sucking, licking up and down, until I pulled away, my breath quickening. She noticed and grinned devilishly.

  “If I’m going to be tortured, you’re going to be tortured with me—” I couldn’t take it anymore. Placing my hands on each side of her neck, I angled her jaw and crushed my lips to hers, my tongue commanding as it entered her mouth.

  She was too fucking good to be true, but I couldn’t question it...I didn’t want to question it. I just needed to be with her.

  CALLIOPE - AGE 21

  Bogotá, Colombia

  Thursdays, June 28th

  “Trágicas noticias esta mañana cuando las personas despiertan a la noticia de la muerte del presidente Rojas…” (Tragic news this morning as people wake up to the news of the death of President Rojas). Slamming my hand on the alarm, I tried to go back to sleep. My whole body ached, and I didn’t have the strength to lift myself out of bed. However, as soon as the words on the radio replayed in my mind, I snapped up, planting my feet on the floor. I already knew from the weight of the bed, but I glanced over my shoulder anyway at the rumpled sheets behind me…he was gone.

  I rose from the bed, stretching, when the door opened and young maid stared at me wide-eyed, her eyes traveled down my naked body, her face turning red, but she snapped out of it quickly. saying, “Lo siento señorita…”

  “It’s fine. You can clean while I take a shower,” I replied in Spanish. Grabbing my phone, I walked into the bathroom, mindlessly scrolling before looking at my refection. “Mary mother of… is he a fucking vampire?”

  From my neck to my thighs I was covered in deep red love bites and marks. Turning around I did my best not to laugh at the one my ass…why did he mark me so much if he wasn’t going to stay? Then again, why would he stay?

  I took a quick shower, rinsing my hair before stepping out wrapped in a fluffy towel. When I got back to the room the maid was gone, but my clothes made it from the living room to the bed. Lying next to my dress was a small card which read in Spanish: Women, if you need help, call and we will come…he does not own you.

  I fought back a laugh as I dressed, hoping my coat would cover the marks on my chest. Before I stepped out of the room, I glanced back, grinning to myself. That was fun.

  In the en suite, the maid looked up as I made my way out of the room. I lifted the card asking if she left it, knowing she could be the only one. She nodded frantically, waving her hands for me get out of the suite as fast as I could. Part of me wanted to tell her I wasn’t a victim. I was just fucked so good and so hard it felt like too much pleasure on just one person. But I didn’t want to stifle her mission so I just smiled and nodded to her before leaving.

  Chapter 3

  “Though I walk through the valley of death I will fear no evil, for I am the evilest motherfucker in the valley.”

  ~Alex Garland

  ETHAN - AGE 23

  Bogotá, Colombia

  Friday, June 29th

  I sat at the dining table, watching the screen as they grabbed her right off the corner in broad daylight. When she stepped out of her house, they grabbed her arms, lifted her legs, and threw her into the van. Switching to the feed inside the van, I glanced over my shoulder to see Tobias watching the feed with a frown on his lips before he shifted his gaze to me.

  “Did she do something?” he asked me.

  “She did.” I motioned for him to hand over the information he had for me.

  “So you knew she was trying to play you from the beginning?” he went on, placing photos as well as bags of cocaine on the table in front of me. “But you slept with her anyway.”

  I didn’t answer him, instead flipping through the pictures quickly and tossing them to the side. Taking my steak knife, I cut open each of the four bags in front me, pouring a bit from each one. Slowly I cut them into lines before lifting my lens, looking at each one carefully.

  “Where did these two come from?” I questioned, tapping my fingers on the two whitest bags in front of me.

  “It’s from the Rocha Cartel, their emblem is the open mouth gorilla, their current leader is Miguel Munha.” He handed me a photo of a short but muscular man, tan skin and with curly hair. “Is something wrong?”

  “Don’t you even try it bitch!”

  I glanced up at the tablet to see one of the men hit the side of her face with the butt of his rifle. Her head whipped to the side, and she stilled a moment before sitting up again, licking the blood from her lips.

  “What happened?” the driver asked.

  “She was trying to cut the hand ties,” the other replied, reaching behind her and pulling out a small razor blade. “Where fuck did she even pull this out from?”

  “You try anything else and we’ll kill you here! Do you hear me?” the driver roared.

  She didn’t reply.

  “Do you have anythin
g else on you? Or should I search you?” the other questioned.

  Still, she didn’t speak.

  “Are they bringing her here?” Tobias queried, leaning in to see they were, in fact, on the road to our safe house.

  “Search her,” the driver said.

  I glanced back down at the cocaine and then the picture of Rocha before tossing the knife down and rising from the chair, taking my phone with me.

  “Everyone has already headed back to Chicago, correct?” I moved towards the kitchen.

  “Yes, the jet should be leaving in the next hour,” Tobias was still looking at the screen. “She’s very calm. Which cartel does she work for?”

  “Have you noticed that you’ve been asking me more questions than I have been asking you?” I observed, tapping out a text before pouring myself a glass of water.

  He finally tore his eyes from the screen and looked my way. “I noticed that when I was about thirteen.”

  “And when will you notice that I am not fucking Google and stop bloody questioning me?” I finished my water before walking back to him. His eyebrow rose, and I dropped the glass in my hand, letting it shatter on the ground beside me. “Clean it up.”

  He stood still for a second before bending down to pick up the shards of glass.

  “We are not children anymore, Tobias. We are not equals. You and I are not friends, we are not co-workers. You work for me, you serve me, you are at my feet, and you are there happily. Aren’t you happy, Tobias?”

  He inhaled and looked up at me. “Over the moon, boss.”

  “You should be. There is a long list of people who want to be at my feet and not under them. If you forget your place, if you forget who asks the questions, you’re going to end up like that glass, one moment, needed, relied on, and the next minute shattered, useless, trash. It will happen so fast, you will not even have a chance to beg forgiveness. This is your first and last warning. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Good.” I walked back to the table. “I just messaged the pilot; the jet is waiting for you. Take the Benz and head over there. You’ll be going back to Chicago with everyone else. I’ll let you know what I need you to do when you land.”

  “Do you need anything else—”

  “Are you about to ask me another question?” I challenged, rubbing the cocaine between my fingers.

  “No, sir.”

  “I gave you your directions, why are you still here?”

  “Leaving now, sir.” He stepped out the first door and got in the elevator. I switched the camera feed, watching him go. When he got to the first garage, I noticed he kept the glass in his handkerchief. He took the Benz and drove out so quickly, the car skidded.

  “I’m going to have to kill you one day aren’t I, Toby?” I muttered to myself. I could feel it. His growing resentment, his ambition for more. Ambition could be good…until that ambition butted heads with his loyalty and became treachery.

  It doesn’t help that Donatella is screwing him. Actually, that’s the reason why he was becoming worse. He grew up so close to us, he could have been family, and with Dona now sleeping with him, he might actually mistake that for being family.

  He’s not good enough for her. Dona had to know that, right? She had to see he was not good enough, he couldn’t give her everything she needed.

  “Love makes us all fools, it blinds us, it leaves us powerless and vulnerable… it is a drug with the sweetest of all highs and withdrawals so harsh, so painful, and so cruel it can kill…I recommend it to everyone.” That’s how Dona described love in one of her books. So maybe she was in deep with him. I’d either have to force her eyes open or hope Tobias changed for the better of us all.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  I looked back to the video feed and saw the van pull into the garage. The men filed out of the vehicle and dragged her from the rear. Turning, I crossed the living room and stepped into the back room. The lights turned on and I watched as they threw her into the graffitied room, the ground covered with dirt. They pulled the blindfold from her eyes and she blinked for a few seconds, taking in her surroundings. Her grey eyes finally landed the guards, three of whom had masks on. They stood straighter as a fourth fat man with a grey mustache and greased back hair came forward.

  “Get her chair at least, you fucking moron!” He yelled, but looked over to her with a smile. “Forgive them, they don’t get lady company often, they’re animals. They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

  “Perfect gentlemen,” she replied, her face emotionless as they brought her a chair.

  “Please, please sit, my dear,” he said to her before sitting himself. “I’m Gastón but my friends call me Gus.”

  “Are we friends?”

  “I’m hope we can be. You see, a little birdie told me they saw you…how do I say… being friendly with Mr. Callahan?”

  Her face bunched up and she tilted her head to the side, thoughtfully. “Who?”

  “You don’t know Ethan Callahan?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t have any friends by that name.”

  He sighed and clenched his fist before pulling out a phone. “This a picture of you and him seated together at a María Paula’s restaurant.”

  She leaned in and then sat back “Oh…he’s a customer.”

  “Do you sleep with all your customers? Because this is a picture of you both heading into a hotel isn’t?”

  Again, she made the same face and shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  She trembled and tears started to build in her eyes. “I really don’t remember…I think…I think was drugged! You can ask the maid, I woke up and he was gone—”

  “And you didn’t go to the police?”

  “I don’t want any trouble.” She shook her head, the tears spilling over. “Please, I don’t know anything! Please let me go! Please!”

  “Boys, help the pretty lady regain her memory—”

  “NO! PLEASE!” She screamed and sobbed, clasping her hands together as she fell on her knees. “I beg of you—”

  Gus raised his hand to stop the guards, reaching over to grab her red face by the chin. “At least tell me what he said while he was in the restaurant. What was he looking at? Why is he here? Tell me something, you stupid little whore.”

  She sniffed and nodded. “I heard one thing.”

  “What?”

  “While he was eating he…he said,” she sobbed, trying to catch her breath.

  “He said what?”

  “Go fuck yourself you sack of dog shit!” she hollered, and before I could blink, she stabbed him between his neck and shoulders.

  “K—Ki—Kill her!” he gasped out, reaching up to his neck to as blood gushed out while she took the ties off her feet and rose from the dirt.

  I looked to the guards wondering why none of them fired or even moved to stop her only to see them on their knees gasping and wheezing for air. It was so bad they were trying to take off their masks, but they didn’t have the strength.

  When did she do this? How?

  “Oh,” she wiped her eyes before the zip ties fell off her wrist. “I haven’t forced myself to cry like that in a bit. It took me much longer than usual. Anyway, hold on Gus, I have some people I need to repay.”

  She rolled her shoulders and strolled over to the three men, picking up one of their rifles.

  “Mr. Driver, when you punched me in the stomach before throwing me into that van,” she pointed the gun at his stomach, “it hurt, but not as badly as this will.” She fired. He yelped like some type of wounded animal before falling over. He held his stomach and when he did, she shot his hands. Then his knees, then…right into his groin.

  “Don’t worry, I forgive you now,” she said and looked to the others, who stared at her in horror.

  “Mr. Kidnapper number two,” she called like a teacher in class, stepping to him as he hunched on his hands and knees. She threw her leg over his body
and sat down on his back, tapping the top of his head with a knife pulled from his very own pocket. “You called me a bitch…that is a female dog, but somehow I’m on top…you must have been mistaken.”

  “Pleas—”

  “You won’t make that mistake again.” She slit his throat open before rising and his body collapsed. “And Mr. Kidnapper number three, now where do you think you’re going?”

  He was trying to crawl. Trying being the key word because he only made it an inch towards the gun he’d dropped before she picked it up. “You used the back of this to hit me. Sir, it doesn’t work that way. Let me show you how to use a gun properly.”

  She put the gun in his mouth and fired, blood splattering on her. I opened the door to the room and she whirled at the sound, her gun already leveled at me. The rage in her eyes was enough to set the devil running.

  “Gus, you went through so much trouble and Ethan Callahan was here the whole time. I guess we have nothing to talk about anymore.” Gus turned to me looking for mercy, his hand raised for help—she shot at it. His hand ripped apart, but she didn’t stop there. She fired off a few more rounds. He was long dead; she was just being vindictive now. She looked at the rifle. “Guns are never very satisfying…I feel like it takes all the credit for my hard work, and they’re just messy. But today I’m a fan.”

  She focused on me, a storm raging in her grey eyes. “So, Mr. Callahan, give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

  “Did you get this strong just to marry me Cordelia…or should I say Calliope?” I approached carefully and stood in front of her. “I almost didn’t remember you. You hid your birthmarks well, but you forgot the ones behind your ear. Millions of people have them, but in the exact same place the on same ear? I’d only seen that on you, when we were children.”

  “Ethan, dear, foolish, cute Ethan,” she exhaled as if she was trying to not laugh, shaking her head; her voice became softer and much more serious. “I didn’t forget anything, congrats on finding the clue. But sadly, marrying you is not a good enough reason for this. So, I have to shoot you now.”