Violet Ends

by Jisa Dean

  By:

  Jisa Dean

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue I

  Epilogue II

  Epilogue Bonus

  Late Notice

  Lake Bound

  Coming Soon

  Keep In Touch

  Copyright © 2019 by Author Jisa Dean

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording,or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to jisadean@yahoo.com

  http://www.jisadean.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locals and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events institutions, or locals is completely coincidental.

  There are an estimated 24.9 million people thought to be trapped in the nightmare that is human trafficking worldwide. Over five million of these are children under eighteen. The number of lives that this touches goes beyond just the 24 million, with countless loved ones left to wonder what happened to and where their loved ones have gone.

  If you see something or suspect human trafficking please don’t hesitate to call 911 or the National Human Trafficking Hotline, 1-888-373-7888.

  You can also text at 233733 or email at https://humantraffickinghotline.org/

  It’s a twenty-four-hour hotline staffed by people who can answer your questions and help you. It can stay anonymous and only takes a few minutes to help safe someone.

  The number for National Center for Missing and Exploited Children is 1-800-THE-LOST (843-5678).

  https://www.humanrightsfirst.org/resource/human-trafficking-numbers

  Dedication

  To all my friends abroad,

  You are very appreciated!

  One

  _____________

  I pour in enough bubble bath to fill two tubs but as far as stress relievers go this is all I have right now. I'm trying to stay calm and focus on what I have to do to make sure my friends are safe from the shit I put them in. It's not easy to stay calm because I don't know what's happened. I sent one of my students, and someone I consider a friend, a message to meet and it all went to hell. I don't know if she's dead or if bad people have her.

  I run my hands under the water to make sure it's still warm. I've been going from motel to shitty motel for days now trying to stay one step ahead of the killers this stupid senator hired to kill Poppie, and then Sally, now that she's involved. I had Poppie, my brightest student, look into this human trafficking ring. She's good with a computer. I wanted proof of what I suspected. She got it. A very influential Senator that everyone loves was shipping cargo loads of women across the ocean to places like Africa and Asia. Women and sometimes teenagers would have no hope of getting help or finding their way home once they left port.

  My best friend was one of those women. I saw her snatched off the street right in front of me when I was only seventeen. That feels like a century ago. Poppie got me the evidence I need to take the Senator down and make him tell me what happened to my friend. There may be a chance she's still alive. It was only six years ago. And the flash drive has so many names of women sold like they were nothing more than life stock. Surely Noel is on there and I can find her at last.

  I have to think that she is still out there somewhere waiting on me to save her. I have lived the past five years nearly killing myself so I could find her and bring her home. I graduated early and threw myself into my career and made sure that I was at the right place at the right time so I could get close enough to find what I was looking for. I've lied about my age. I've lied about my work history and stolen private documents and passwords all so I can bring her back home.

  The Senator isn't going to go down easy. He hired men to come and find Poppie. Big men, with lots of guns. For a science geek like me, it's overwhelming. I think back to the massacre two days ago. I haven't slept much since then, haunted by what happened every time I close my eyes. Mostly I think about the man I saved. I couldn't tell who was bad and who was good but the guy with blue hair seemed to be a good guy. He threw his body over Poppie so if someone was going to get hit it would've been him and not her. That seems like a plus for him. He's definitely going on the good guy side.

  The guy I saved looked like his friend. The two men were shooting at the same group and at one point they were back to backfiring at these guys that looked like ants spewing out of a picnic basket from hell. They all looked like ants from where I was laying but I could use my scope to make some things out. When I saw one of the bad guys take aim at one of my good guys I couldn't lay there and do nothing. I shot. And now a man is dead because of me. But another man, hopefully, a good guy, is alive because of me too. God, I hope the guy was a good guy and I didn't just save a murderer who eats children and fucks with grandmas.

  I can't believe I'm a killer. I'm hollow inside but I have to stay focused on finding Noel. If I can just find her than all of this was worth it.

  I go still when bells tinkle. I hung them on the door so even if someone was very quiet when they come in I would still be able to hear them. Someone is here. I leave the water running and lift the toilet lid off the back pulling out the handgun I bought three years ago. I wrapped it in waterproof plastic. I didn't want to leave it laying out for just anyone to find it. I really wish this bathroom had a window now. When I first got the room I was actually happy it didn't have one because it was one less thing I had to guard but now the damned thing would really come in handy and I wouldn't have to take another life.

  I go to the crack in the bathroom door and peek out of it, hoping I can tell who is in my room. All I see is a broad back dressed in black. It takes me a minute to realize what he's doing. He's going through my stuff but he's so quiet that he doesn't make any sound at all. If I had any doubt about why he's here I don't anymore. He's looking for the flash drive Poppie has. That has to be what he's looking for, doesn't it?

  When the guy turns around I look at the same dark eyes from before. I can't hold in my gasp realizing this is the man I killed for. I press my hand over my own mouth to keep myself quite. I guess he wasn't a good guy after all. Why else would he be here? He glances around the room but I don't think he heard me. He doesn't act like he heard anything out of the ordinary. He dumps my bag on the bed and picks up one of my more lacy pair of underwear. I don't know what he plans to do with my panties and this just got a whole lot weirder if he's going to do something like try them on or maybe take them home to his wife or something.

  Instead, the guy brings them to his nose and takes a deep breath. The guy is actually smelling my panties, what the ever-loving fuck! Thank God he chose a clean pair. He isn't so thankful and tosses them behind him on the hotel floor moving on to the next pair. Eww, now I'm down one less pair. No way am I wearing them after they've touched this floor. He rummages through the clothes throwing them over his shoulder until he finds a pair that I have worn.

  Even though no one is around to see me, my cheeks turn stop sign
red and the thought of this man doing what he's doing makes me so damned unsettled I don't know what to do. A part of me is utterly disgusted but another part of me, a dirtier part, is leaning closer to the door to watch when he runs the lace under his noise. That slutty side has my nipples tingling and moisture gathering at the juncture of my thighs. Unbelievably the guy takes several more sniffs and then puts them into his pocket like he's going to keep them for later.

  I can't wait any longer. I have to leave before I do something stupid like hand over the gun and beg him to fuck me before he kills me. I have never, ever, been someone who lets sex get in the way of what I have to do. I am a fucking machine. I can lock shit down and send the person home feeling like they got turned down by a robot. Now, of all fucking times, now I have urges and hormones popping up. Why? Stupid body is a traitor, that's why.

  The guy in the room with me is hot. He is like a five-alarm fire. Seriously hot. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, an ass that won't quit and hair that a runway model would be jealous of, but he's also a bad guy. He's a killer. I watched him shoot more men in a single hour than most cops shoot in the entire span of their career. I guess I wanted him to be good so I didn't have to live with the idea that I killed a man for someone who is bad, who may have deserved to die.

  I wait until he's turned his back again before I ease the door open as quietly as I can and make sure the gun is out in front of me at all times. The only way I even stand a chance is if I can use the element of surprise on him. I tiptoe up close so it will be easier to hit him if I have to shoot. This isn't the rifle; it has no scope to make it easier to shoot a target. I am just inches away from him when he spins around and takes the gun out of my hand leaving me with my mouth hanging open and no way of protecting myself against him.

  I am faced with a six-foot-plus linebacker with the most stunning eyes I have ever seen. He has violet eyes. Their beautiful and probably the last thing I will see before I die. He raises the gun so he can point it at me and all I can do is stand here and think about how pretty his eyes are. God I hope it's because of sleep deprivation because if it isn't I have some seriously fucked up issues I need to fix.

  "You hesitated. If you pull a gun don't ever hesitate to use it."

  Oh my God! His voice makes my already damp panties feel like I've been swimming. So wet. I raise my hands like the cops tell you to do on television shows. He practically growls every word that comes out of his mouth. This guy is so alpha they could make a cologne out of it and make millions. Women would be throwing their panties at men on the street, getting into catfights over who gets to stand next to him and causing widespread pandemonium. Clearly the panties part is something he would like to happen if his theft of my underwear is any indication.

  We stare at each other for what feels to me like forever. I logically know only seconds have passed but the longer he goes without saying anything the more messed up I get. I would crack if I had something to say or something to give him that would keep him from killing me. Just like my gun, I have nothing left.

  "Natasha I presume." That, I won't confirm or deny. If he knows my name he has at least had some contact with Poppie. I make damn sure that I'm known by my other name when I do things like this. Nothing is left of Natasha Soriano except my teaching career. Everything else is done in my codename- Nyx.

  "The way I see this you have two choices. You can make this real easy on yourself and come with me willingly or I can take you out of here and it won't be easy on you again."

  God I hate this pricks ego. He thinks just because he has a gun he can tell me what to do. That I haven't been down dark roads searching through my own demons like he has his. Jokes on him, I'm not afraid to die. Not anymore.

  "There's always option number three."

  He narrows his eyes at me, "There is no option number three."

  I take my eyes off of him to show him how unimportant he is to me. He's not even important enough to keep an eye on. "There's always an option number three."

  If he clinches his jaw any tighter he's going to break it. "What do you think option number three is?"

  "We fight until one of us dies." His eyebrows go up and I think I have accomplished something not too many have, I've surprised him. "Because I can guarantee that you won't take me anywhere with you, alive. And I have no problem dying."

  I can tell he's going to call my bluff when the corner of his mouth lifts on one side in a smug smirk that makes me want to grind my back teeth down to nubs. He never gets the chance to say what he was going to say because a thump at the door makes both of us jerk our attention towards it. A loud bang makes me jump out of my skin but Mr. Ego doesn't so much as bat an eyelash.

  "Expecting anyone?"

  "Just more like you." I think the fact I jumped and he didn't is some kind of personal achievement for him. Dick!

  "Baby, there aren't any like me." If he got anymore egotistical we'd have to open the window for his swollen head to hang out of while his fat jerkiness takes up most of the room inside.

  "Miss, open up. We're with maintenance and we have to ask you to vacate the property right away." There's some shuffling and whispering that I can't pick up before the knock is back. "Gas leak, ma'am. You have to leave."

  Son of a bitch. I am standing in the middle of what is about to become a pissing contest between men with guns and I have no way to protect myself. I hope with all my heart that whatever I am showing him doesn't betray how fucked up I am on the inside. For once in my life I have gotten myself into a situation I can't think my way out of. I am completely screwed!

  Two

  ____________

  Well, this blows. This was supposed to be a simple extraction and now I have to kill a bunch of people. It must be Monday. I know it isn't but it feels like a Monday. Pisses me off. The lady standing in front of me isn't going to be much help. She acts cool under pressure, and I have no doubt she's good, but little things give her away. It's mostly in the eyes, and man does she have some lovely eyes.

  I'm not sure what color to even call them. Tiger eyes, not really brown but not green either. Flecks of amber shooting through them with knives of green here and there. Her eyes remind me of a tiger. Hell, she reminds me of a tiger. I would never turn my back on this girl that's for sure. I was witness to her shooting a man in the head from a hundred yards away. Not bad. Not as good as I am but still not bad.

  Those idiots aren't going to stay on their side of the door for long. I throw her shit back in the bag I dumped. She surprises me by coming over to the bed and playing tug-of-war with her stuff.

  "Leave my stuff alone. What the hell is it with you and my clothes? Freak."

  So she did see me sniffing at her panties. I suspected she knew I was in the room so I decided to put on a show for her. Playing out the part of an obsessive monster wasn't all that hard to pull off. This woman has my attention and she's had it ever since she took that shot and saved my life. From that moment on I’ve wanted to learn everything about her. Where she is, what she's doing and why are all questions I want to understand before I figure out if she's a friend or foe.

  "Any minute now those men are going to come through that door and we have to be ready to run out of it. I thought you might want your clothes instead of going around naked." I give her a look that says I clearly don't mind if she wants to run around without a stitch of clothing on.

  "I'm not going anywhere with you! Do I look stupid?"

  The sigh that huffs out of me is just one of the signs it might be time to quit. The other guys are thinking about it too but I'm the only one who doesn't seem to have a back-up option. That's because unlike the other two I've been killing for what feels like my entire fucking life. When I look back on my past and try to remember the first time, I think I was about seven or eight. There was a girl who was a little older than me - it always starts with a girl - and she was smart and funny. I came across some boys in an alley one day pushing and shoving her around.

  At first, I thought the
y were just bulling her but then it turned into something more, something worse. I wanted to stop what was happening but I knew if I went into the alley and let them see me I wouldn't do her any good. I hid and watched. I watched every face in the alley until I could recognize them in my sleep. I was going to a grown-up and turning their asses in so she could get some justice. The next day, our teacher came in and told us that the girl had taken her own life the night before 'for some reason'. She hadn't even told her parents what had happened to her and, rather than everyone finding out, she chose her own way out. They let classes out for the day and suddenly going to a grown-up wasn't an option anymore.

  I went home and got my father's gun and over the next two weeks, I hunted. I shot every one of those boys and some of their friends. By the time I finished with the last one everyone around me was getting suspicious. I didn't come from a great family by any means, dad was a raging drunk who spent more time in the biker bar than at home and I don't even want to think about how my mom got paid, let's just say I had a lot of 'uncles'. It was really an easy choice for me. After the last one was dead, I planted the gun in my dad's truck, replacing it with the one he kept hidden under the seat and called it in.

  After that night, I flew under the radar for a couple of years. Due to mom's extracurricular activities, she wasn't very particular about what I did or where I went. I skated around the gangs in my neighborhood, but just barely. I got into it with one of the leaders. They caused trouble. I stopped it. By this time, I had learned a little bit more about what the hell I was doing and made the death look like gang violence gone wrong. That's still a favorite to fall back on for me. No one looks too hard at gang violence.