by Kara Hart
I’m wet.
“Thank you, sweetie-pie,” he says, winking. The wink. It kills me. I need to calm down. My heart starts beating in a very different way. All of the blood has moved between my legs. I’m warm and he can sense it. Men like him can always sense it.
“You’re cute,” I say, laughing a little and scrunching up my nose. What the hell am I doing? I’m riding the line…
32
Marshall
“I’m cute?” I reply back. I can’t believe this woman is saying I’m cute. The things I could do to her. The things I will do to her. She has no idea. I’m not cute. I’m an animal and I’m going to ravage her.
“Little bit,” she smiles. God damn, her cute little nose. She’s the cute one. She’s fucking beautiful. Jaw-dropping, gorgeous. Perfect figure. An ass and a pair of tits that men would kill each other over. She’s talking to me. I found her first. I can’t believe it.
“Damn, you’re a whole lot of wonderful,” I say, feeling the alcohol start to influence me. “I needed this.”
“Needed what?” she smiles. Her teeth are white. Her eyes are hazel green. Her skin has a slight tan color to it. Perfect. She’s perfect. I want to bend her over against the bar right now. I want to kick everyone out and have her do a little dance for me, while I sit in the back and stroke my…
“I needed to talk to someone beautiful,” I say. “I had a hard night last night.”
“Yeah?” she looks down at my belt and I feel my cock twitch a little. Gotta control myself. Can’t get hard in front of a crowd. Everyone here knows who I am.
I see her glance at my holster and then at my badge, which is tucked inside of it. It shouldn’t be hangin’ out like that, but it is. Fuck it.
“You some kind of a sheriff?” she asks me.
“Somewhat,” I say. Ranks don’t matter. She doesn’t know the ins and outs of the business. Anyway, I’d rather not even talk about what I do for a living. That whole thing is boring. Unfortunately, women tend to focus on it. They love a man in uniform. They love the idea that there are some bad men out there and I can be the one to protect them.
“You lock up the bad guys?” she asks innocently. She makes a fake gun gesture with her hand and shoots at the air, making some noises.
I laugh when she laughs. I want her to keep having a good time. Being a cop is much more than that, though. It’s putting your life on the line. Any place you go, there can be trouble. Shit, there are probably a few people who want me dead in this bar here. I try not to let it get to me.
“Been a cop almost all my life. Even when I was a kid, I was already a cop. It’s in my blood, I guess,” I tell her.
“Was your dad a cop or something?” she asks. She stirs her ice in her glass, letting me know that I need to buy her another drink. I glance at the bartender and point with my head, making a “two” sign with my hand. She continues, “Seems like a scary job to sign up for.”
I laugh again and glance down at her legs. She’s wearing a basic skirt, white, it’s a little short, but I want to see more. I have to see more. I place my hand on her thigh again and try to test fate. She doesn’t fret or say a word. She just lets me. She’s warmer the higher I go, but I stop at a normal respectable place. I don’t want to press too much, too fast.
“It’s a stupid job to sign up for. Most of us, believe it or not, aren’t the smartest people,” I smile. “But I was called to it. I, uh, grew up around some pretty bad people growing up. My pa used to beat up on my sister… Being a cop was a duty I felt I needed to do, despite my well-being.”
It’s the truth. My parents were assholes. No. They were worse. They were low-life drug users who had a knack for knocking my older sister around. Then, they took to beating me, which wasn’t really the whole problem. I could take a beating. I wanted to protect Sarah, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough. Helpless. That’s the only word that sounds right.
“That’s very noble,” she says, nodding. I look solemn. I know it. I gotta snap out of it.
“Anyway, I’m getting all depressing now. Let’s talk about something nice,” I say.
“Like what?” she asks. She checks her watch. Have I blown it? Is she going to leave me here high and dry?
“Like that smile of yours,” I say. She glances down bashfully. It’s damn cute. “How can I get that smile to go out with me?”
She laughs a little and keeps on smiling. “I don’t know. I…” she trails off, thinking a little. She’s seeing someone. I’ve seen this reaction before. “I sort of have a boyfriend,” she says. Nailed it.
“Is your boyfriend as handsome and charming as me?” I ask her.
“Well, he’s not a cop,” she says. Ouch. “Just joking. He’s kind of a deadbeat.”
I don’t care what he is. I want to feel what it’s like when my lips crush against hers, dragging down her delicate skin, kissing her bellybutton, as she twitches ever-so-slightly, and I finally meet the center of all pleasure. I want to suck on each fold, massaging my tongue against her smoothly. I want to taste her and enjoy her. I want to devour her.
“Good,” I say. “I’m not. Let me take you out. Steak dinner. It’ll be expensive.”
I never put this much effort into a woman. She should feel grateful. Hell, I do. I still can’t believe I found a woman this beautiful in this kind of a shithole. “I might have to take you up on that offer,” she says.
“How about we just skip the dinner and go back to your place?” I find myself saying, feeling pretty good about myself.
She just shakes her head and says, “Nice try,” and she begins to walk away. I call after her and she stops, grabbing in her purse. A real fucking tease, this woman. She smiles and pulls out a pen and a blank card. She writes down a phone number and kisses the front. Her lipstick leaves an impression and I nearly fall from the barstool. “Call me. Maybe I’ll answer. Maybe I won’t,” she says.
“Sure thing,” I say. I’m intrigued, to say the least. If I can solve this bank thing and bag a hot girl, I’ll have won the fucking lottery.
33
Virginia
God, I want to vomit. What the fuck is wrong with me? Borderline personality? Maybe. I don’t know anymore. You’d think I’d play it safe, but deep down I love to skirt the line.
“One week. That’s all you’ll have to wait. There’s a boat with your name on it. Tell the ticket guy at the docks your name and he’ll take you where you need to go,” Craig told me before the big heist. “We’ll all meet up in Sicily. We’ll have a big fucking celebration. Pasta, fried squid, wine… it’ll be perfect.”
We’re all good friends and now things feel so incredibly lonely without them. The only thing I have to do to pass the time is read the few books I’ve kept around my place. Other than that, it’s stare at the wall. So I guess that’s another reason why I talked to him. He really seems to have no idea who I am or what I really do for a living. I’m the girl he’s after, in so many ways.
My phone rings the next day, but I don’t answer it. I don’t want to see Marshall. I don’t need that kind of shit right now. It was stupid of me, anyways. No, instead, I head over to a small coffee shop down the block. It’s a total dump, but they always have the TV on, there’s never anyone there, and I figure I can get some news that way. I don’t have a TV at my place, so it works out.
I open the door and Jin, the old Japanese owner, nods in my direction. I nod back and he smiles. My heart is beating quick again. I still haven’t gotten used to the thought that nobody knows what I did. Part of me is waiting for the day where everyone points in my direction, when I’ll feel that heavy lump fall to the pit of my stomach.
No. I can’t think that way.
“Just a drip coffee,” I tell him and I glance at the top right corner of the store. The TV is off. He’s got the radio playing some old tunes instead. A fly buzzes by an open container of alcohol and he shoos it away.
He pours me a cup of coffee and asks, “How’s it been, sweetheart?” Sweeth
eart. It’s the type of compliment all men give to women in the area. For the most part it’s cute and I accept it around these parts.
“Okay,” I take a sip of the coffee. “Anyway, I’m alive.”
“Yeah, that’s something,” he nods. He doesn’t take it any further.
“Think you can turn the TV on for me? Heard there was some commotion the other day,” I say. It’s a small town. He’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.
“The bank thing? They stole a hell of a lot of money,” he laughs and clicks the remote. “Good on them though. Those bankers have been stealing from us for decades. It’s about time someone gave them some payback.”
“I guess so,” I mutter, feeling sort of thrilled by the whole thing. I never really thought about the idea that other people might actually inadvertently be rooting for us, like we’ve done the town a favor or something. I expected pitchforks and mobs, and angry policemen. So far, we’ve gotten very little of any of that.
“It doesn’t worry you?” I ask him. “Seeing people steal like that? It kind of scares me.”
He shrugs. “Nothing really scares me these days. Nothing except myself,” he says.
Truth is, I really relate to that. Nothing scares me either, except my own guilt, and my history. The one thing I could relate to when talking to Marshall last night was when he mentioned his father beating up on his sister like that. My father also beat on us. The only difference was, my mother went right alongside with him. I don’t know what kind of a relationship he has with his family now, if any, but I still see my parents around this city. I still have to be in the same proximity, knowing they got away with everything. I don’t talk to them anymore, but every so often, our eyes meet.
The knowing hurts more than anything.
The TV volume blares and Jin struggles to hit the remote fast enough to turn it down. “The police have offered very little information, but the investigation is going at full speed,” a reporter says. They cut to a prior interview with Marshall’s partner, a man named Adam. He says, “We will find these men and we will bring them to justice.”
It’s a standard answer, and one that has the desired effect, I suppose. They will find these men, perhaps. But will they find the woman? I laugh slightly and Jin eyes me. “See, you think it’s a little funny too. Don’t you?”
“A little bit,” I admit.
“I doubt they’ll find them,” he says.
“I honestly have no clue,” I shrug. “Life goes on, I suppose.”
I think about Marshall and I feel sick to my stomach again. That guy is a bastard. No doubt about it. He’s a cop who fucks women, and probably doesn’t even think to call them back. And yet, I’m drawn to him like a fly to a spider’s web.
Before I get out of this city, I’m going to do everyone a favor. I’m going to respect Jin and everybody else’s wishes. I’m going to take Marshall down.
I am the spider. And he has no idea just how far he’s caught in my web.
34
Marshall
The bitch won’t even answer her phone. All I get is the same “We’re sorry. The caller you are trying to reach is not available,” message. It’s disheartening, to say the least. Here I am, working on the hardest case of my damn career. I thought she’d be there when I needed her. Well, shit, I thought wrong. I have to hand it to her. She led me on real well.
I have no real case to work on. That’s the worst of it. All I have are a few lousy descriptions of the three perpetrators. Let’s see… they’re about 5 foot 4 inches to 6 foot two inches. They were wearing masks. They carried bags. They were highly skilled. Possible sexual crimes on the side. The pantyhose still perplex me.
But now I have all the higher-ups on my ass, telling me I need to solve this thing in a week or else. Whatever that means. I’ve been with the department for over twenty years now. Would they really fire me that fast? I guess if they had orders to, they would.
It lights a fire under my ass, that’s for sure. I want to solve this case more than anything. I want to take these assholes down. To me, it’s just another chase and, boy, do I love a good chase. But this Virginia woman. She keeps popping into my mind. More so than the dumb fucking robbery.
I walk out of the department with Adam next to me, frowning. His bad attitude makes it that much harder to concentrate on our next move. We need to find out where they’ll hit next. Rest assured, they’ll hit another bank. They always do.
“We got jack shit,” he sighs. “I swear, they’re going to hang our asses when we show up empty handed.”
“Try and stay positive,” I tell him, knowing how impossible that is right now. He’s younger than me, though. I need to lead by example. At least, I need to try to. “We’ll figure it out. You got that map I asked you to make?”
“The one of all the banks within a 200-mile radius?” he asks. I nod. “Yeah, I got it. I’ve been studying it a lot, actually.”
“Good. We need to keep studying it. My guess is that they split up. Maybe they’re waiting to meet up again. If they do, they’re going to hit another bank. The ones without CTV cameras are first on our list,” I say. I stretch my back, feeling every muscle extend.
And then my phone rings. “One second,” I fumble for my pocket.
“Warren Marshall,” I answer. I already know who it is. It’s Virginia. Only, this isn’t a good time. I have work to do.
“What’re you up to?” I hear her voice. That sweet, southern voice.
“Solving a case, honey,” I say, smooth. “And you?”
“Trying not to think about you,” she says. God, she’s killing me every single second. I glance at Adam who’s tapping his heel. Is he still envious of me, I wonder? “…and that steak dinner.”
“Of course you are. You going to take me up on that still?” I ask.
“Why not,” she says. “I mean, I don’t really have any plans.”
“Tonight then,” I say, feeling pretty damn confident of myself at this point. I smile big and think about all the positions I’m going to put her in tonight. I think of her smell, the way her smile angles ever-so-slightly, and how her nose shrinks up when I make her laugh. I need her.
“Tonight. I’ll meet you at the bar again. 6:30,” she says.
“7,” I tell her.
“Sounds good.” She hangs up the phone and I’m left with Adam’s dumb, tapping heel.
“What?” I ask him. “What’re you staring at?”
“Another woman?” he smiles.
“No, a man,” I laugh. “What do you think?”
“I think I hate you,” he says.
“They all do, son,” I smile. “They all do.”
35
Virginia
So I did it. I really did it. I made a date with the devil himself: Warren Marshall. The worst part about it is that I’m actually excited about it. It’s not that he gets me going. I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s hot. His body is practically perfect. It’s clear that he works on himself, on the daily, in that natural kind of tough way. Still, it’s more that I like the risk. I know that I’m about one second way from losing everything, and somehow that gets me going.
I take a deep breath and get ready. It’s already six and I haven’t even done my makeup. Marshall is cocky. He thinks he has me in the bag. But I’m going to make him work for it. I’m going to make him grovel for me, make him show me what he really thinks of me.
Outside, I walk toward the bar. I haven’t ever owned a car and I doubt I ever will. Still, I look classy as ever. “He’s going to die,” I think to myself, with a smile. The black dress I have on was my mothers and though I despise that woman, she did have some taste every now and then. This is the one thing she gave me, before I severed all contact with her.
I’m not going to let those thoughts get me down tonight. No, tonight is all about making Marshall feel at home. I’m not going to fuck the guy or anything. That’s a bit too much persuasion for my taste. What I’m going to do is lead him to the wron
g place.
As I walk, I get a text. It’s from an unknown number, but I already know who it is. Craig and Elroy. They’re breaking up the plan already. It figures they would do something stupid like that. Luckily, we all have new numbers, new burner phones. There’s no way they’re tracing the lines.
The text reads: “We’re hitting another spot.” I feel my stomach drop and I nearly turn back around.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I text back. Then another, “You can’t just do that. It’s not part of the plan. I won’t go through with it.”
“The people overseas want more of a cut. They know just how much we made out with,” he says. I can’t picture which one it is, but I can imagine both of their faces right now. No doubt they quickly met up afterward. I’m the only one with enough grace to follow through with everything correctly. It’s fucking bullshit.
“Then we’ll pay our fair share. We don’t need to get greedy. I’m not going away. One was enough,” I say.
“We’ll take your cut then,” he says. “They want 300. You willing to spend that much for a year somewhere overseas?”
“I’ll manage,” I say. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.” But I know what he’s saying. He’s saying we’re all fucked out of a shit ton of money. 300k? That’s ludicrous. But we don’t have any options.
“He’ll go to the authorities,” he says. “The feds. He’s one dial away, he claims. Do you really want to risk it?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I feel like slamming my head against the wall. No, I feel like giving up. The initial adrenaline makes me angry, but that quickly subsides. Now, I’m just sad and terrified. I don’t want to go to prison. I don’t want to sacrifice absolute freedom. The worst part is, now I really need Marshall. Now I need protection from the enemy himself.