Lex Talionis

by Keira Michelle Telford

  “No bullets.” She loosens up Ria’s arm, nudging her out of what appears to be an experienced shooting stance. “Too noisy.”

  “Noisy, messy, and a very bad idea,” Luther concurs, looking up at Silver. “Clearly, we share impeccable taste in whores, but as magnificent as Myshka is, she’s not worth dying for. So get her to hand over the gun and—”

  Crack!

  Silver lunges toward the bed and elbows the bridge of his nose, snapping his cartilage and causing an instant and profuse nosebleed.

  “She said be quiet.”

  “Bitch!” Luther pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna kill you.”

  “Nope.” Silver rolls up her sleeves. “Other way around. I’ve already died once today.”

  To Ria, the next few minutes pass in a blur. Perhaps it’s only seconds, but they drag on. How long does it take to stab someone anyway? How much strength does it take to drive a blade through the ribcage to puncture the heart in one thrust?

  Luther’s agile, but not agile enough. He’s strong, but lightheaded from the erection he’s been massaging, and Silver overpowers him easily.

  Ria hears another crack, the blade of Cutler’s knife shattering a rib or two on its way into Luther’s pleural cavity en route to his thumping heart. As the steel blade passes through the left ventricle, a surge of blood rushes into the spongy tissue of his lung, choking him. With every attempt to draw breath, the blood is forced into his trachea, soon gurgling up into his throat.

  While Silver slides off the bed, careful not to get any blood on her clothing, Ria lowers the gun and peers down on her former captor.

  “You should’ve let me go, you stupid twat.” She leans over him, jabbing his shoulder with the barrel of the gun. “Why didn’t you just let me go?”

  That’s as much of an apology as he’s going to get in his last moments. He tries to speak, but can’t, his eyes conveying a sad mixture of confusion and disbelief—still no fear. He looks almost pathetic.

  Ria slaps his cheek, keeping him conscious a few more seconds, which is long enough for him to hear her whisper:

  “Zhri govno i zdohni, mudak.”

  Eat shit and die, asshole.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Oliver’s nearly unconscious when Silver hauls him out of a hen’s bedroom and forces him to put on his clothes. His flaccid cock is enflamed and red, sore from the sudden onslaught of sexual activity, and he groans as it chafes against his underwear.

  Carmen, on the other hand, is raring to go and eager to leave Ria’s bedroom.

  “Cutler shit himself,” she grumbles, her mouth and nose covered with a silk scarf from Ria’s wardrobe. “It stinks in here.”

  Using the servants’ passages for convenience and secrecy, the foursome sneak downstairs into the kitchen and meet up with Argo. On the way, they hear a scream: Jess ‘discovering’ Luther’s corpse, Cutler’s knife still embedded in his chest, his meat still warm.

  The con is underway.

  Jess’s scream not only alerts Luther’s men—that is, the few armed security staff who remain in the building and aren’t still out searching the north of the property for Silver—but also lets Argo know that Silver’s fulfilled her end of the bargain.

  Keeping his word, he releases Ria, Carmen and Oliver from their tethers while the security staff head for the hen house in search of Ria—the only person who could’ve been alone with Luther. They’ll search her room and find Cutler dead, then they’ll expand the search to the rest of the house. When they get to the kitchen, they’ll stumble upon nothing more than three tethers discarded on the tabletop.

  So far, so perfect, even if Carmen is still a little skeptical.

  “Have I ever steered you wrong?” Silver tries to cheer her up, following Argo down a secluded path toward the Aston train station.

  “I dunno, let’s see.” Carmen counts things off on her fingers. “In the week that we’ve known each other, I’ve been held at gunpoint three times; captured twice by the militia; almost nommed on by a lake monster; and I’ve had to listen to you having it off with your new tail—more than once! I’ve watched you put an end to people without batting an eye, and you have such a blatant disregard for your own wellbeing that I’m certain it’s only a matter of time before a stray bullet strikes one of us instead.”

  With no warning, Silver spins around, grabs her by the neck and holds her still, checking both of her eyeballs in turn.

  Carmen squeals. “Whatchu doing?”

  She tries to break free, but can’t. When she opens her mouth to speak again, Silver snatches her tongue and pulls it out, examining it crudely before letting go of the slippery, wet muscle and pressing two fingers against her carotid artery instead.

  “A heartbeat!” she declares triumphantly, beaming with glee. “That confirms it: you’re alive!” She pushes Carmen away from her. “That means I must be doing something right, so quit complaining.”

  “Ughh!” Carmen spits on the ground, trying to clean off her tongue with her own saliva. “Where’ve your fingers been?! I think I can taste Ria’s girl parts!”

  “You’re welcome, kid.” Silver ruffles her hair. “That’s the closest you’re ever gonna get to hot Russian pussy.”

  Scowling, Carmen flicks her a vee and hangs back to let Oliver catch up with them.

  “Hurry up, Ollie.”

  He’s walking awkwardly, wincing, holding an ice pack against his groin. “Is my nethers s’posed to burn this much? I’s been rubbed raw by clunge.”

  “How many times did you do it?”

  “Careful.” Silver laughs. “Don’t ask questions you might not wanna know the answers to.” She helps Ria over a stile at the edge of the path.

  On the other side of the stile, an embankment leads down to the railway line, the freight train already idling there. Too long to fit neatly along the station platform, freight cars—those filled at previous stations—extend much further down the line, well out of the way of the workers on the platform.

  Argo shows them to one of these full cars and yanks open a little side door. “In you get, then. Bugger off.”

  Silver peers inside the metal box: stacks of wooden crates to the right, reams of fabric and rolled up carpets heaped to the left. The floor is smattered with dry dirt, probably leaking out of the cracks in the boxes. A digital screen on the side of the freight car notes various things, including the number of boxes contained therein, the number of fabric rolls, and the total weight of the compartment.

  Oliver clambers inside, and the weight raises a hundred and fifty-seven pounds.

  Shit.

  When they reach London, the weight of the car’s going to give them away, and she knows it—but she’s the only one. No-one else gives it a glance, so Silver says nothing. Ignorance is bliss.

  She helps Carmen in next, and as their bodies brush together, she catches on to a scent she’s never noticed before—and it’s one she can’t quite put her finger on.

  “Do you smell weird?”

  Carmen makes a face at her. “No weirder than you,” she says pointedly, then slips inside, finding her way by the dim lights running along the walls.

  It’s Ria’s turn next, but before she boards the train, she throws her arms around Argo’s neck and sets upon him with a hug.

  “Thank you, Argo. Again.”

  “Don’t come back this time,” he chides her tenderly. “And where’s Cutler’s gun?” He holds his hand out. “I need it.”

  “What for?” Silver complies, removing it from her belt.

  “Ria forced me to escort you all out of Aston at gunpoint. Once we were clear of the grounds, there was a scuffle, and we fought for control of the gun.” He checks the clip, making sure it’s loaded. “I fire one shot, I kill her, and this problem dies.”

  Ria presses a hand to her chest, her heart fluttering at the prospect that this might all finally be over. “No-one will come looking for me?”

  Argo shakes his head. “You’ll be cold meat.
”

  Smiling gratefully—and a little fondly—Ria climbs inside. Silver gives her rump a helpful little shove, then offers Argo a handshake and wishes him good luck. In turn, he tells her to take care of Ria, and they part ways.

  A series of bells and whistles indicates the train’s imminent departure as soon as the car door is slammed closed, and the first chug of the engine is swiftly followed by a gunshot. They’re off!

  By the time they hit their stride—top speed being rather modest, on account of the length of the train—Oliver is already asleep on the floor, the ice pack inside his trousers.

  Silver elects to sit atop the pile of rolled up fabrics, knees bent and spread, and pats the soft space between her legs, inviting Ria to sit. It’s clearly the most comfortable spot in the freight car. Not only are the fabric rolls thick and cushiony, but Silver’s parted legs are undeniably tempting.

  Ria accepts the invitation and settles down, enveloped by Silver’s warmth, her bare arms chilled from their outdoor excursion.

  “Damn, I’m sorry.” Silver runs her hands up and down Ria’s arms, her cool skin a sharp contrast to hot fingers. “We should’ve grabbed you a jacket or something.”

  “Don’t worry.” She snuggles close, hugging Silver’s thighs around her. “You can keep me warm.”

  “Gladly.” Silver bundles her up tight. “But I need to strip you of something else first. You won’t be needing this little thing anymore.” She tugs on a tail of the red ribbon around Ria’s neck and pulls it free.

  “She might.” Carmen plants herself on a crate, legs dangling over the side. “Are you still under contract with your house?” She eyes the tattoo on Ria’s wrist.

  “I suppose I am.” Ria fidgets with her whore mark, wishing she had sleeves to cover it. “But I’m not going back there.” She adds that for Silver’s benefit.

  “I might be able to help you. I know a Mad—” Carmen reminds herself that she’s in safe company, and that the truth need not be feared. “My girlfriend, the whore runner, could probably talk to the Madam of your house and find a way to release you. She’s been in the business a long time, and prides herself on helping women out of sticky situations.”

  “Who’s your girlfriend anyway?” Ria enquires, intrigued. “I wonder if I know her.”

  “Madam Emmeline.”

  Ria’s jaw drops slightly, the name striking more than a bell. “Not Madam Emmeline MacKinsey of Tredegar Square?” She turns pale.

  “The very same.” Carmen looks suspicious. “Why? You’re familiar with her?”

  As fast as the color fled from Ria’s cheeks, it flares back into a burning blush that she has no hope of concealing. “You could say that.”

  Carmen doesn’t need a magnifying glass to read between those widely-spaced lines. “You’ve shagged my girlfriend?!”

  “On a number of occasions. One of which was particularly memorable.” Ria giggles. “She took my virginity when I was nineteen.”

  Carmen looks horrified: eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, lips pinched together, arms folded.

  “Not to worry.” Ria keeps giggling. “It was an ardent affair—a consummation of mutual lust, little more than a fling—and it happened a very long time ago. I’m sure she doesn’t even remember.”

  Silver pulls her tighter, butt to crotch, back to boobs, shoulder to shoulder.

  “I’d remember banging you.” She pinches Ria’s earlobe between her teeth and tugs on it. “How could I forget the best lay I’ve ever had?”

  “You flatter me.” Ria welcomes two strong arms around her waist. “But I was dreadfully inexperienced back then, so I was hardly any good.”

  “Was she?” Silver keeps nibbling.

  “Absolutely. Very … thorough.” Ria smirks at Silver over her shoulder. “Very much like you actually.”

  “Oh, really?” Silver arches an eyebrow. “How’s that? Do tell.”

  “Enthusiastic.”

  “And?” Silver’s nibbles turn to kisses, her intent to arouse.

  “Hungry.” Ria lets Silver kiss her hard enough to leave a mark.

  “And?” Silver persists.

  “Passionate.” Ria’s nipples are stiff and tingling. “Intense,” she goes on. “And extremely good at—”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Carmen spins around on her crate, turning her back on them. “Please stop using my girlfriend’s sexual prowess as fodder for your foreplay.”

  Ria would be quite happy to cool things off until they can be alone again, but Silver has somewhat fewer qualms about escalating their intimacy in front of such a small, inattentive audience.

  “Keep talking,” she encourages Ria quietly, still gnawing on her neck. “I like it.” She caresses Ria’s thigh, sliding a furtive hand beneath her skirt.

  “Give it a rest.” Ria slaps her hand away. “What’re you trying to do to me?”

  “What do you want me to do to you?” Silver is undeterred. “Spread your legs.”

  “Nyet!” Ria giggles again, the heat from Silver’s breath sending a shiver down her spine. “Don’t!” She glances at Carmen and Oliver, worried that they might see. “You’re such a dreadful tease.”

  Silver doesn’t stop.

  Despite Ria pulling her legs together and trying to prevent it, Silver wriggles a hand in between her thighs and explores her knickers, finding the clean pair she put on earlier already soaked through.

  “You’re still damp.” Silver runs her fingers back and forth along Ria’s cleft. “I wish I could taste you again right now.” She bites on Ria’s neck. “I’d lick you right here.” She rubs her index finger deeper into Ria’s valley, making her squirm.

  “Damn you,” Ria whispers under her breath.

  Becoming aroused beyond her own self-control, she checks to make sure that neither Carmen nor Oliver is paying attention. Carmen has her back turned, messing with a frayed thread on the black silk ribbon tied around her wrist, daydreaming of home, and Oliver is still sound asleep on the floor, snoring.

  Satisfied with that, she adjusts her position, angling her body so that Silver can properly reach between her legs.

  “Ya tebya ochen’ khochu,” she mumbles. “I want you so much.”

  She instigates a kiss, one of Silver’s hands teasing her throbbing cunt over her knickers, the other groping her breast over her bodice.

  “Promise me you won’t go back to D10.” She pants breathlessly, starting to move her pelvis against Silver’s hand. “I want you to stay with me.” She holds Silver against her. “I want you to be mine.”

  “I am yours.” Silver slips her hand inside the cotton knickers.

  “Completely?” Ria purrs with pleasure as Silver touches her bare, white-hot skin. “Tell me you’re mine completely.”

  “I love you.” Silver circles her forefinger around Ria’s clit, tickling the slick skin of her sex before slipping lower and pushing inside. “I couldn’t be any more yours.”

  Ria leans her head against Silver’s shoulder, biting her lip to stifle a moan. Closing her eyes—trying to pretend that she’s anywhere other than inside a freight train in full view of two potential spectators—she starts to buck her hips, writhing and gyrating on the silk pile, causing Silver’s fingers to slip in and out of her in a steady rhythm.

  Silver’s barely moving, letting Ria fuck her hand.

  “Bol’she,” Ria murmurs, holding Silver’s arm around her torso, thrusting harder.

  Silver recognizes the word from earlier: more.

  She eases in a third finger, Ria soon working herself back into a comfortable pace, offering soft utterances of satisfaction with every draw of breath.

  After a few minutes of this slow, gentle fucking, Ria starts to move faster and harder, practically slamming her pelvis onto Silver’s fingers, her climax building, her raptures becoming less easily contained.

  She tries, rather unsuccessfully, to muffle herself against Silver’s neck and slams harder still, forcing Silver’s fingers deeper. “Unghh!” She grabs S
ilver’s wrist and pushes firmly inward as she thrusts her hips forward, grinding into Silver’s hand, rubbing Silver’s palm all over her swollen clit. “I’m coming!”

  And she does.

  The noise of the chugging train drowns out most of it, and Carmen ignores the rest, Oliver oblivious to it all. Her spasms are so strong, Silver’s fingers are pushed out millimeter by millimeter with every contraction until, finally, she’s ejected from Ria’s shuddering body completely.

  “I’m so deeply in love with you.” Ria lets her body go limp, curling like a cooked noodle into Silver’s muscular arms. “Ya ne khochu byt’ bez tebya, milaya.” She sighs blissfully. “I don’t want to be without you.”

  “You won’t have to be.” Silver kisses her cheek. “Now see if you can get some rest.”

  Even as Silver utters the words, she’s not sure if they’re true. The car’s going to be searched at the border—that she’s sure of—and she spends the rest of the journey in silence, running through scenarios in her head, playing each one out for best and worst. In the end, there’s only one thing to be done.

  The train comes to a dead stop. Oliver jolts awake, his loins cold and numb, and Ria stirs in Silver’s embrace, wishing it didn’t have to end. But it does.

  Silver can hear border guards working their way down the train, yelling ‘clear’ every time a car passes inspection.

  Taking a deep breath, she extricates herself from Ria and gets to her feet. “You know what guinea pigs do when they’re attacked by a predator?”

  Three pairs of anxious eyes turn on her.

  “No,” Carmen says at last, sliding down from the crate she’s been perched on for the whole journey. “Is this the start of some weird joke?”

  “They scatter in different directions.” Silver takes her empty gun in her hand. “Aim being: the predator has to make a choice about which guinea pig it’s going to go after. Will it be the harmless-looking young lad, the half-naked woman, the skinny girl who could probably outrun a horse, or the tough-looking bitch with the gun?”