I was able to open the door to the inquisition room they’d been holding me in. They never thought to lock it when it was just me versus a whole crowd. I did see cameras in the corners of the rooms. I’d deal with them later.
Now I had to finish my job.
There was a little girl in this house. One that had been kidnapped as leverage for a large debt.
I had the layout of the house memorized from the research I had done on the house’s blueprints before I arrived. I didn’t turn on lights as I navigated. I didn’t want to leave an illuminated path for the others that were surely on their way to hunt me down.
Four doors on the left, then a set of stairs, four more doors and the fifth—I kicked that door in.
I heard whimpering while listening for the pounding feet that would signal that people were closer to finding me again. I wasn’t armed with anything but my desperate need to save someone. And tonight—that would be little Christina.
I’d read her profile carefully before accepting the job. She was the granddaughter of a local mobster. Not her fault. And at seven, she didn’t have an interest in money—just My Little Ponies.
I knew my face would scare her, so I zipped the hood portion of my sweatshirt only. It covered me. Then, I pushed aside the sweatshirt’s zipper and opened my button-down to reveal a My Little Pony shirt.
I pointed to it. “Hey, Christina. Can I ask you to come with me? I want to take you back to your mom and dad. “
She was a lump on the bed in the dark room. I found the switch and slapped it on. Christina had desperate brown eyes and sandy blonde hair. She was shaking. I pointed to my shirt.
“This one’s my favorite. Twinkle Fairy Fart.” I knew talking to a guy in a hood with mesh fabric had to be out of her nightmares. I was using the funny joke her father would play with her to try to set her at ease. It would be a lot easier to get her out of here if she wasn’t kicking and screaming.
As if it was a reflex, she responded, “That’s not Twinkle Fairy Fart. That’s Twilight Sparkle.”
“I want to get you out of here. And I’m sorry you’ve been here. Can I get you to come with me?”
I watched as all the lessons she learned from her parents flashed through her terrified eyes. Don’t go with strangers. Don’t talk to weirdoes. All that stuff.
I tapped the image on my chest. “We don’t have a lot of time, princess. Can you come with me?”
I took my glove off and held out my hand. I didn’t want any of the poison I may have inadvertently touched killing six men to rub off on her.
She pointed at my inked hand. “Are you a skeleton?”
I shook my head. “It’s just a tattoo. To scare bad guys. But you’re not a bad guy.”
That seemed like a good answer. Christina scootched out of the bed. The room was barren. The window had been bricked up. I felt my resolve bubble again. For her. To save this girl.
Christina took my hand and I led her from the room. The hallway was dark and her little fingers curled around my fingers harder.
I knew she didn’t like the dark. I also knew if she lifted the back of her sleep shirt I’d see the scars from the five spinal surgeries she’d already endured in her short life.
The fact that she was walking was good. It meant her captors didn’t injure her. Or if she was hurting, she was enduring the burning pain to escape with me.
I heard a shout of alarm somewhere in the house.
Our time just got a shitload shorter. I bent low.
“I’m sorry. Can I carry you? We have to move really quickly.”
The little girl reached her hand out and touched the side of my face, with only the fabric of my hood between us. “You’re a nice guy, right?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“You can carry me.” Christina put her little arms in the air.
I picked her up as carefully as possible. Her grip was strong around my neck, which I took as a good sign for her spine.
“Bury your head in here, and don’t open your eyes for me. Okay?” I was already plotting. The best way out that would disturb her the least was through the garage. I would have preferred to jump out the window. But not with her in my arms.
I could feel her hot breath on my chest. She was getting as close to the cartoon pony on my shirt as she could. I unzipped my hood so I could have my full range of vision.
I ducked when I felt the air move near my ear. The punch went over my head. I shot out my arm to jab the man in the throat. While he reached for his neck, I grabbed his gun from his hand, the pain loosening his grip.
The pistol had a silencer on it. I used it to kill him. I felt Christina’s arms squeeze hard around my neck.
I whispered near her ear, “It’s gonna be okay. Keep your eyes closed and pretend it’s a dream.”
On my way to the garage, I killed two more men. I stepped over their bodies, all the while telling Christina calmly how close we were to getting out. I asked her to whisper the names of her other favorite ponies to me as well.
I made it to the driveway and disappeared with her into the woods that surrounded the compound. We weren’t fully free of danger yet. The grounds lit up and black SUVs came to life. Men in all black with machine guns poured from the house.
I started to sing the My Little Pony theme song softly into Christina’s ear. I wanted her to not cry. I had learned it on the way over to rescue her. But she was tough. A little fighter—or so her father said.
Her parents had no connections that I could find to the mob the grandfather was in. They were most likely pawns in a fight that shouldn’t have involved them.
But I would have come for Christina no matter what.
I have a soft spot for kids.
She started whisper-singing along with me. Her words against my chest. To the pony, I was guessing.
She was melting me.
I would kill every man on the compound to be able to hand this little girl to her mother tonight. To end this nightmare for her.
The shirt I was wearing was white, and Christina’s blonde hair was like a flag in the moonlight. I wasn’t taking away the pony from her, so I had to move faster so we could get as much distance from the compound as possible.
“How’s your back?” I asked when we were done with the theme song.
“I’m okay.” She looked up then, seeing my uncovered face.
I anticipated a scream.
She put her fingertips on the teeth inked near my mouth. “Skeletons are superheroes too?”
“Yeah.” I was the furthest thing from a hero, but if that was what she needed, then that was what I’d be.
“Thank you.” Christina put her head on my chest again.
I was listening for branches cracking while I picked my way through the night.
When we got to my motorcycle, I didn’t take time for a helmet for either of us.
“There!” The shouts of alarm followed us.
We were out of time. I jumped on. “Hold on as tight as you can.”
I was off, not even bothering to try to be stealthy. I needed speed now. And my bike was the fastest thing on the road most times. Every part save for the mirrors was matte black so it wouldn’t shine.
I needed both hands to go as fast.
Christina held on like a little monkey. This part was a concern for me. I couldn’t take her spine into account now. We were at 110 mph with no safety gear. But behind me were men ready to kill us both, so only fast worked.
I needed to get to the grandfather’s territory. His men would set up a defense.
I swerved off the main road and cut the headlight I’d modified for just this purpose. I motored through at a random pace in a residential area, then pulled into an open garage for a few minutes. I checked on Christina and she was shaken, but still breathing regularly. I waited a few more minutes, but saw no movement in the quiet streets.
I set Christina on her feet and took off my hoodie. After letting her put it on so she wouldn’t be cold, she fol
lowed me as I broke into the house. I waited a minute to listen for an alarm. No sounds.
When I got inside, I helped Christina tiptoe into the office. The computer was on, and I was able to get a message to her grandfather. I used the address on the bills on the desk as reference.
We had a few seconds before we had to move, so I implemented a rudimentary hack on the security cameras after bouncing the ISP around. The poor people whose house I’d just broken into wouldn’t get involved in this war. I was wiped from the system.
Christina and I were on the bike in the road when her grandfather’s convoy arrived.
She insisted that I accompany her to her house, fearfully eyeballing her grandfather’s men --who looked a lot like the ones we just escaped, at least in a child’s eyes I guessed.
The men ogled at my face, but I wasn’t going to make Christina take off my hoodie. I agreed to drive her in one of the SUVs and one of the grandfather’s team agreed to follow on my bike. I let her sit up front in the passenger seat, because the SUV was dark in the night. She drifted off to sleep in the twenty minutes it took to get her to her front door.
Her mother yanked at the door handle, waking the little girl as I searched for the unlock button.
“My baby! My baby!”
I looked down at my lap because the raw desperation in her voice brought back memories that I didn’t want to relive.
There was a jacket behind the seat that Christina had just vacated.
I slipped it on as her father reached the huddle. Happy tears and gasps of relief became the night’s most prominent noises. I pulled the hood of the jacket over my face before stepping out of the SUV.
The mother stood and yelled forcefully at the grandfather’s men. “Leave. Get out of here. How dare you? How dare you?”
She might have been irrational with sleep deprivation, but I didn’t blame her. Murderers were surrounding her baby.
Including me.
Christina pointed at me. “He’s good.”
I felt my knees go weak for a moment. I looked at my feet. I was so far from good. She’d just reminded me of a different little girl from a long time ago.
“Well, he can stay then. But the rest get out of here or I’m calling the cops.” She was furious.
There was family drama here that I didn’t want to be a part of. I just hoped, however, it ended for Christina. It was the best fate.
One man approached me and I looked out from the depths of the hood at him.
“That’s my jacket.”
I said nothing.
“Okay. I guess it’s yours now.”
I tilted my head.
“It’s for sure yours. Nice work, Mercy. Jesus. You got this? You have to leave soon or the boss won’t pay. Says you’re scarier than anyone he’s ever met.”
I was silent. The way I liked it. The less I said, the more they imagined. I got the job done. The impossible job done.
The grandfather had promised me favors for the return of his granddaughter to his son and daughter-in-law. I turned them down. I wanted money. Only money. I didn’t want to be tied to any of these assholes.
And I wanted to save Christina.
She came close and I embraced her gently, careful of her back. I whispered that she could sleep in the dark because I would never let anything bad happen to her again.
And I added her to the very short list of women that I watched because my sanity depended on it.
My sister, Ember. Rebecca Dixie Stiles. And now Christina Feybi.
But only Christina would know I was doing it.
4
BOOB FREEDOM
Becca
Taking off my push-up bra after working all night was an orgasm all on its own.
I was able to pull it out through the armhole of my pink half-shirt before my door was even locked.
“Oh, Sweet Nelly. Welcome home, girls.” I massaged my boobs, kicking my combat heels across the room. The left one skidded into the kitchen, the right one landed near my couch.
It was 3:00 a.m. Working late night hours was something I was used to, but it made for interesting habits.
Like making a nice big salad with plenty of avocado while the rest of my apartment building likely slept.
Henry’s text tone made me stop chopping carrots.
You hustled out.
I snorted and replied:
You had sex before you sent me this, didn’t you?
Henry sent the next one with a smiling face.
Of course.
I gave my phone the finger. I wish I were having sex.
Henry texted again.
So how was Alton?.
I considered my screen. So how was Alton? Not good enough to take home for sex. I used the voice to text feature to say just that to Henry and then added more.
Alton was nice. Pleasant. Trying too hard. The compliments came fast and hard. Over the top.
I was ready for that. I got it. The outfit I wore to make money was designed to make wallets loose and dicks hard.
But this guy, who had been sent by my mother, was a reminder that I was not adequate. She’d been married by twenty. Pregnant by twenty-one with me.
That was my mother’s success litmus test.
My liberal arts degree was considered a total waste of time because I didn’t end up with a ring on my finger by graduation.
College was the best husband meat market.
“Get them while you’re young enough to have the pick of the crop.”
I had a sharp tongue and a liberal vagina. I knew I didn’t need a man to make me who I was.
I was also that little girl who had ear burns from the curling iron inside my head because my hair had to be perfect for mom.
She wanted to see her mother happy. And happy was clearly defined: Be beautiful. Be young. Get a man.
Judgment seeped into my mother’s loving expression. I tied that sinking feeling to the building blocks of how I became me.
I was all she had.
When my father left her for a younger woman, my mother was despondent and shared way more than she should have with an eight-year-old daughter.
And my father left more than just her. He started a family with his new wife, but I wasn’t welcome at his house after the new wife had my half-sister.
Then Mom’s doubts about the fact that both of us were undesirable took root. I was old enough to know that I was all Mom had and young enough to believe that I could fix the hole she had.
It was how she held on to me still. All these years later. When I tried to ignore the setups or the commentary on my makeup or hair, she would start to drift away from her happiness.
She was on a perpetual diet so she could look good in her mother-of-the-bride dress, which she already owned. To a wedding that I was nowhere near planning.
Least of all to the very attractive Alton.
In the morning, after Mom’s hot yoga class, I would get a few texts, then finally a call to get the lowdown on how the date went.
Alton was tall, which would send my mother in a tizzy. Height meant success. Good husbands were tall. And the fact that he worked at a BMW dealership was another notch in his husband-to-be belt.
I felt my posture sloping.
As if Henry could hear my depression setting in from miles away, she popped up in my text messages again.
You eating?
I answered quickly. Yes.
She responded. Want to FaceTime and watch Suicide Squad?
I typed: Yes.
I connected to Henry who was eating a huge plate of pancakes. Dick was standing behind her waving. I smiled. I was grateful she wanted to make sure that I felt supported, but seeing Dick look at the back of Henry’s head like she’d just hung the moon was hard to digest tonight.
I wanted what she had. I instantly felt awful that jealousy was panging through me.
I cued up the movie on my TV, and we watched. Me on the couch, Henry with her head on Dick’s ripped chest. Once The Joker was do
ne with his jump into the vat of acid, we both turned it off.
We liked that certain part a little too much. Dick would probably get more sex over it. I walked over to my desk and sketched a cat to soothe myself. I loved drawing.
But after forty-five minutes of art, I was still keyed up. It was almost 5:00 a.m. I knew my mother would be calling in less than two hours. I needed to shower still, but I stayed on the couch and tapped my favorite app.
Like I said, weird habits happened this early in the morning. I had become addicted to a remote claw machine game, Grabby Tabbies. I could control it with the buttons on my phone, and I’d win the cutest stuffed plush animals. I had to spend real money, and that was a drag, but I got the real thing I won delivered to my apartment.
I took a look at the offerings tonight. The machine had stuffed llamas and I knew I was going in. I loaded ten dollars’ worth of credits on my account and got busy.
The key was moving the animal toward the chute in small increments and having patience. After five tries, I won the llama.
I put the phone down and did my winning dance. Nothing felt quite as exciting as winning the claw machine prize.
It was time for a nice hot shower. I wondered how long it would take for my llama to arrive.
5
WINNING DANCE
Fenix
Watching her happy win dance was the reward. Seeing her gorgeous face light up with excitement was why I was sitting in my basement running an entire remote control claw machine just for her.
Technically, when she downloaded the app, she agreed to let the company use the camera and the microphone to play the game. I was the company, the CEO and the only employee.
It was bad. It was stalky.
I wasn’t stopping anytime soon.
Becca was on my short list. I watched two girls—well, now three because I had to add Christina.
I wanted them safe. I wanted them taken care of.
And with Becca, I just wanted her as well.
Mercy Page 2