Vicious Loves: Vicious City, Book Three

by Renard, Loki

  “They want the package as much as you do, and as much as the Russians, and the other interested parties,” Slick says. “It’s time we retrieved it.”

  I want to throw myself at him, beat him with my bare fists and choke the fucking life out of him, but that would be a waste of time, and we both know it would be assault on a federal officer. It would be reason for the CIA to rescind our deal, and it would put me directly into a cell.

  “Please leave.”

  “Arthur…”

  “Leave,” I growl. “Before I put a bullet somewhere soft.”

  He doesn’t argue further. He turns around and he goes. For the last fucking time. This betrayal was always on the cards. All this time he was holding that ace. We both knew he would play it one day, and we knew all hell would break loose when he did. I can barely believe he’s decided to play it now, over Kitty.

  She’s behind bars now, and I can’t get to her. They won’t let me see her. They won’t let her out. I’ll put money on it that she’s scared. Helpless. She’s probably in pain.

  I’m going to get her back. And Slick is going to pay for this. I am going to take him a-fucking-part.

  6

  Kitty

  “Let me the FUCK out of here!”

  “Calm down.” A man in a suit gives the order. I do not follow it.

  Slick handed me over at the fucking gate, and since then I have been put through a humiliating set of experiences which have seen me stripped of my civilian clothing, put into an orange jumpsuit, patted down, questioned, and finally chained to a table.

  I’m a prisoner.

  I am seething, and I am terrified. I feel as though I’ve been abandoned by Slick, sold out to the CIA. I know it’s the CIA because almost everybody I’ve come into contact with has a badge with the letters stamped on it. I don’t know why they want me, but I do know I haven’t gotten any of the answers he promised me.

  “Let me the fuck out! I haven’t done anything! Let me go!” These are stupid things to be saying. We all know I’ve done some stuff. I’m obviously a known associate of a master criminal. Is this how it ends? Am I going to jail?

  The door opens and the agent standing in the room with me is replaced with the man I’ll never trust again. Fucking Slick.

  “You fucking asshole,” I growl. “You sick, lying, piece of shit.”

  “And hello to you, Kitty.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I’m relieved to see him, only because he’s someone familiar, and I have some small lingering amount of hope that he intends to keep his promise - though right now, I’m not sure it matters if he does or not.

  “Sorry it took me so long to get back to you,” he says. “Vicious wanted to see me. He’s worried about you.”

  “And he didn’t put a bullet in you? Or you didn’t tell him what happened to me?”

  “No and yes,” he smiles.

  “You’re a spook, aren’t you.”

  “My name is Agent Bravlavsky.”

  “Your parents called you Agent?”

  He smiles at my thin joke and sits down across from me, slipping a thin piece of film under my nose. It’s a medical scan image, someone’s guts with a little white box inside. At first glance, it looks like one of those pictures you see online where someone has put something up their butt.

  “You’re showing me some dude’s ass with something shoved up it? Is this your kink? Because if it is, I’m not interested.”

  “Her ass, and no. This was inserted during an operation.”

  “Okay,” I shrug. “When am I getting out of here?”

  “In a bit. Let’s talk first,” he says in that calm drawl which makes it impossible to keep panicking in his presence.

  “A couple years ago, you had your appendix out,” he says. “What you don’t know, is that during that surgery, a small transmitter was embedded in your abdomen.”

  He pauses to let that sink in.

  “That… does not sound like a thing that actually happened.”

  He smirks at my disbelief.

  “Your boss, Rollo was a known trafficker and criminal for a long time. A while ago he was approached by a now defunct private laboratory to find a test subject. He volunteered you. You were slipped a substance which gave you severe stomach pain, and when you were taken in to the hospital, a doctor was waiting to bring you directly to the operating theater.”

  I think back. I remember the pain and the ambulance ride, I remember being taken into surgery. It was all so quick, but I never questioned it. Pain makes you stupid. Stops you asking questions. All you want is for it to go away.

  I remember the relief on waking up. Being worried about the medical bills, then being told that they’d been covered. I walked out of the hospital a day later and haven’t really thought about it since. It certainly never occurred to me that any of it was underhand. Nothing was different afterward. Nothing strange happened until Vicious took me.

  “Remember that ‘test’ you failed which Vicious gave you? The one where the cops were waiting? The message wasn’t in the envelope. It was in the transmitter. The moment you got into range, instructions were sent for another job. When you were taken to the police station, the chip began reading data from police computers. Thus far, since you’ve been in Vicious’ control, you’ve assisted him in the theft of a painting, as well as several other crimes which do not need to be listed.”

  I stare at him, unable to process what he’s telling me. This is outlandish, outrageous, and totally unbelievable.

  “That is why you are in this lead lined room. There’s no circuitry here. Nothing for that chip to interact with. It’s the only way you can be kept…”

  “Don’t say safe. Don’t you fucking dare say safe,” I growl. “Every bad thing that has happened to me in the last week has been from someone who said they were keeping me safe.”

  “I was going to say, kept from sucking data our of our servers.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I clear my throat. “So are you going to take this chip out?”

  I don’t believe him. This is so ridiculous, but whatever, let’s play this out and see what happens.

  “Here’s the problem. That transmitter has been partially embedded into your body. It’s not floating loose. It’s been wrapped in your intestines and the operation to remove it is going to be invasive and lead to long term health consequences for you. Doctors agree it is best if it is left.”

  “But it’s still transmitting? Is there a battery or something?”

  “This is high tech circuitry. Super-military grade. It is powered by your body’s own energy. It’s really more like a parasite than it is a piece of machinery, if that makes sense.”

  “It fucking doesn’t.”

  He sits back and gives me that blue eyed, super calm stare he has. “I know this is a lot to take in, Kitty, but unfortunately, it is the truth.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, that’s fair, but it also doesn’t matter. You’re going to be kept here in the short term until you can come to terms with your situation.”

  “So you’re keeping me prisoner. That’s it. How is that fair?”

  “Fair doesn’t really come into the calculation,” Slick says. “But, let’s be real, Kitty. You’ve spent the last years of your life profiting from crime. A stint behind bars was always on the cards for you.”

  “Is Blaze here? Are you going to fuck her over too?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not here to fuck you over, Kitty. I know that finding yourself locked up is a shock. And this news about the transmitter is bad too, but some of this was predictable. Crime leads to prison.”

  What a fucking asshole. Locking me up and then telling me I’m a criminal who probably deserves it. It’s true, and that makes me angry.

  “Vicious is going to fucking kill you,” I hiss through my clenched teeth.

  “Vicious is as much an asset as you are.”

  “No. Fucking. Way.”

  Slick gives a li
ttle shrug. “You’re a smart girl, Kitty. Look around you. Think about what’s happened to you…”

  “What about that doctor with the brain surgery. Who was that?”

  “You’d have to ask Vicious.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m not getting in the middle of that situation,” he says, standing up. “I’ll be back to see you later. In the meantime, have a think about what I’ve said, and about what you want for your future.”

  He’s going. Anxiety kicks in.

  “Slick, please… don’t leave me here.”

  He reaches out and covers my hand with his own. I hate him, but I need to be comforted by him, and right now, that handsome face of his does make me feel better.

  “It’s going to be okay, Kitty. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but I promise, you do the right thing, you cooperate with us, and you’ll be okay. You’re still very young. You can come back from this. It just needs to be on the right side of the law.”

  “You mean, I need to use my powers as a walking talking spy device for good, not evil.”

  He gives me a smile. “Smart girl. I’ll see you later.”

  7

  Vicious

  ‘Anger’ does not begin to describe the way I am feeling. Cold rage has gripped me. Slick’s betrayal of what I thought was our alliance, Kitty’s capture. I need her back.

  The CIA are a powerful enemy, but I have allies. The agency came to me, not because I needed them, but because they needed me. My tendrils go deep into this city. I could call the Mayor. Or the Chief of Police. I could raise an army of criminals. But right now, there’s only one person I’m going to see.

  * * *

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  Blaze glowers at me through the crack in her door. She lives in a total shithole of a neighborhood, which doesn’t surprise me. From what I know of her, she seeks out bad things. I’m sure she could move if she wanted to, but she’s choosing this decayed edge of society. Someone should really give her a good talking to and get her out of here. Maybe I’ll do that when she’s done what I need her to do.

  “We need to talk.”

  “We definitely don’t.” She tries to slam the door shut fully, but I put my foot to it.

  “Blaze, open the damn door or I’m going to kick it off its hinges.”

  “Like give a shit.”

  I take a deep breath. “Blaze, Kitty is gone.”

  “Okay?”

  “Slick took her.”

  Her eyes narrow, then she throws the door open. “What do you mean, Slick took her?”

  I’ve got her interest. Good.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know. Let me fill you in.”

  8

  Blaze

  I’m sitting at a cafe. The last cafe Kitty and I had a normal brunch at. Feels symbolic somehow that this conversation should be taking place here. It’s been a couple days since Vicious came to visit me. A couple of days in which I’ve processed what he told me, compared it to my internal version of events. Unfortunately, I’ve come to the conclusion that he wasn’t lying.

  Slick strolls up, takes his seat, gives me that look he can give me, the one that makes me feel small and safe, the one that’s complete and utter bullshit. I can’t believe the shit I’ve let this guy do to me. I let him past my defenses. He spanked me. He chained me up and fed me ice cream on the goddamn floor, and why? Because I let him. He got under my skin. He disarmed some of my defenses. And right now, sitting across from his stupid handsome self, I hate him for it.

  “So,” I say. “You’re a disgusting fucking liar.”

  “You’ve talked to Vicious,” Slick says, picking a speck that doesn’t exist from his trousers.

  “What did you think would happen when I found out you’re a fucking spook?”

  He gives me a casual, sexy smile. “I thought you’d flip out, throw one of your inimitable tantrums, and then calm down.”

  Oh he’s so fucking easy-going and in total control. He’s such a goddamn asshole. I’ll show him tantrum. I’ll show him temper. I’ll show him that there are some people he can’t control, even if he does understand them.

  I grip the edge of the table and lift it up with one rough jerk, flipping the water, the plates, the cutlery over into his lap.

  “You fucking lying scumbag!”

  “YOU GO GIRL!” A complete stranger weighs in, approving of my actions. She probably thinks he’s been cheating. She’s not wrong. He’s been cheating on everything I believe in with a government agency.

  “I knew Vicious was a fucking psycho, but you? You lie just as easily as he does. I’m never going to trust you again. I would have slept with you!” I rant at the top of my lungs, spreading our business far and wide.

  “Uhm, ma’am, you have to leave!” A very agitated general manager has appeared on the scene. “I’m calling the police.”

  “That’s fine. Call the cops. Or this guy here. He works for the CIA!” I announce that as loudly as I can. The one thing spooks hate is being exposed. Their bullshit only works if they can stay hidden.

  “Ma’am, leave now.”

  “Why? Not my fault your tables aren’t well secured. It just turned over! I should sue you for insecure tables that flip over at the slightest provocation.”

  I am making a scene, a big one, and I’m not done, not by a long way

  Slick grabs me by the back of my jacket and drags me away from the destruction. I have no choice but to go with him. He’s big enough to hold me and overcome my strength, and no matter how much I kick and swear, he manages to get me away from anything I can break - except him.

  “Don’t let Vicious wind you up and send you out like a homing missile,” he says. “I’m not the enemy.”

  “Like fuck you aren’t. I’m literally a criminal, and you’re literally the law.”

  “Technically true, but I fry much bigger fish than you,” he smirks. “I’m not going to take you downtown for any of your little errands.”

  “Oh fuck you,” I scowl. “You think I can’t do worse crime?”

  “I’m sure you could. But you won’t. You are going to settle down and think about this a little more. You’re going to process it, instead of just letting your emotions get the better of you.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. I’m taking you back to my place.”

  “Like fuck you are.”

  He grabs me by the back of the collar and begins marching me through the streets. We’re several blocks from his place, and I guess we’re going to walk. Nobody around us seems to pay any attention to the grip he has me in. It’s like he has some kind of blue eyed boy pass to be as fucked up as he wants without social interference.

  “You’re going to regret this, snitch.”

  “I’m not a snitch, Blaze. I’m the law.”

  “You’re the law?” I fucking laugh. “You’re a spook. You fuck about in the shadows, lying to people, pretending to like them. Pretending to care…”

  He swings me around suddenly in the stream of people and I find myself staring into his eyes.

  “I never pretended a thing with you, Blaze. My care is very real.”

  “Sure it is,” I bite. “You live a lie, but your love is real.”

  Oh shit. I said love. Oh fuck. He didn’t say love. I just said fucking love. I have to cover for that now. Shit. How? As usual, violence becomes the answer. I bite his hand as hard as I fucking can. Hard enough to taste meat and draw blood.

  The word must have thrown him off too, and the swift hard bite works. He lets me go, and I run like fucking hell.

  9

  Kitty

  “Okay Ms Kitty,” a new agent says. They’ve been coming in and out of this room all morning, briefing me on what they’re going to need me to do for each of their cases.

  After Slick left me a few days ago I sort of gave in. I told them I’d do what they wanted. What choice did I have? The alternative was to say no
and spend the rest of my life in a fucking cell. I trust Vicious to get me out of most things, but not this. There’s no way his influence extends this far.

  They are wasting no time putting me to work, or at least, preparing me to. I already have six jobs lined up, apparently. I have less than no intention of doing a single one of them, but I’m not telling them that. I need them to send me out on at least one job, so I can get the fuck out of here, start running, and never stop.

  This new agent is a tall man. He has a square jaw, blue eyes, dark hair cropped close to his skull. There’s something vaguely familiar about him. Maybe I ran into him before in my life before Vicious.

  What was my life before Vicious? It has been less than a month, but it already feels like forever ago. Memories of what it was to be single and innocent to the world I was in the middle of are already fading, tinted with the intensity of more recent experience.

  Everyone I’ve spoken to in this place has been business-like and cold. I’ve heard the term “asset” before, but I never knew what that meant until right now. I feel like a thing to be used. I don’t matter. My wants, wishes, needs, are all irrelevant. I’m a life support system for this chip inside me.

  “Why can’t you just use someone else? Stick one of these inside one of your people and disable the one inside me?”

  I start the conversation mid-stream, but I get the feeling many people are watching these conversations. They all know what’s been said, and everything they say is being observed.

  The man takes a seat opposite me. His name tag reads “Agent Koch.”

  “The researcher who made that chip is dead. He was assassinated six months ago. His research, as far as we know, was destroyed when he died. A failsafe ensured that it was erased from all devices he’d used to create it. We don’t have access to any more of them, but we have plenty of uses for it.”