by Kara Hart
“No,” I say, truthfully. “I just think this is very sketchy. Like, it’s too sketchy. We’re fucked either way.”
“What’re you going to do over in Italy after one year? Get a job? Work at a bar?” he asks. “Seriously, what do you think you’ll do?”
“I’ll open up a business. I’ll figure it out. Like I said,” I tell him. “Look, just tell me the plan.”
“We need to meet up,” he says. “Virginia. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you,” I type. “Don’t call or text me on this phone. Seriously. It’s not safe. If you need me, you know where I’m at.”
“Cool,” he says. “Ciao.”
“Bastard,” I mumble.
“Who’s a bastard?” I hear that rough voice from in front of me. I jump back and make out a nice pair of cowboy boots. One is leaning against a large boulder. I look up and see Marshall. His back is against the sign of the bar.
“Nobody,” I say, shocked that I didn’t see him. I need to be more careful. He’s definitely the type of guy who pries for more information. “Just some crap I have to deal with.”
“Boyfriend?” he smiles and squints his eyes. “Don’t think I can’t tell. That was an intimate conversation.”
“You think you know everything. Don’t you?” I laugh. He’s wearing all denim, and yes, he’s looking extremely good tonight. He’s put together, much more put together than last night.
“I’m a cop. I’m supposed to know everything,” he says. He presses his boot heel against the rock, pushing himself up onto his feet. He’s wearing this ridiculous cowboy hat that somehow doesn’t repulse me. He takes it off and bows for me. “You look wonderful,” he tells me. He takes my hand and kisses it and I actually feel a rush run through my body.
I can’t. I can’t be into this. I’m a criminal. I can’t have feelings.
This is so wrong. “Thank you,” I smile. “You look handsome.”
“I know. I always do.” He smiles back. “Shall we?”
“Sure,” I say. “We skipping out on the drinks?”
“I thought we could drink some nicer cocktails at the Steakhouse, or get a bottle of red wine. Whatever you prefer,” he says. “After all, it is your night.”
I get into his car and he turns the key. He’s got an old Ford Mustang. Of course he does. Initially, when he smiles at me, there’s that feeling of helplessness a woman gets when in a man’s car for the first time. There’s something about the enclosed space, the lack of control. It rides the line of good and bad, and I wonder whether or not he’s a trustworthy man. To me, cops are the least trustworthy. They wear the badge, but that doesn’t mean they uphold justice. All that piece of metal stands for is power.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “I’m not going to bite. I swear.”
“No, it’s not that,” I tell him. “It’s just that I feel bad about something.”
“Yeah?” he drives and carefully watches the road. “What do you feel bad about?” Every so often, he glances over at my breasts. I know they look good in this dress. They’re practically spilling out. I feel self-conscious when he looks, but it’s not necessarily a bad type of self-conscious. It’s just a total awareness that this guy is bad and at any moment, he could put the cuffs on me, and send me away. To be honest, the thought sort of arouses me.
“I should let you know that I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say, feeling slightly ashamed, and a tad bit alarmed that I’m even admitting that to him right now.
“I thought as much,” he nods. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. You’re hot. Nah, you’re like an angel trapped in this shithole desert abyss. But there’s a fierce look in your eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you might be out to get me.”
I feel my heart speed up to an unimaginable degree. I try my hardest to control the red in my cheeks, but I know it’s starting to show through my makeup. Why the fuck would I put myself in this position? Why couldn’t I just take the next flight to Italy? Right. No passport. No ID. No nothing. That’s why. Still, there were other options, right? Did I have to play with fate?
“I don’t hurt people intentionally,” I find myself saying. It’s sort of robotic. I feel the click in my throat when I gulp down and he parks the car in the parking lot of the place. It looks nice. Fancy. He’s trying to spend money on me. And I can sense that he wants me. But does he want to destroy me?
“I didn’t think you did.” He smiles and leans over. I smell his wonderful cologne. It’s dark and rich, and sensual. I find myself closing my eyes when his fingers touch my chin lightly, beckoning me forward. I obey his commands. I let him do what he wants. Then, his lips kiss my cheek. I know he can feel how warm I am, but he can’t feel how wet I’m getting. This is bad. No, this is absolutely horrific.
He pulls back and smiles, breathing in heavy and slow, like he’s taking all of me in. For a second, I wonder if he’s hard right now and if he is, how hard? Is he thick? Is his shaft hot to the touch? Fuck…
“You’re the kind of girl who kills silently. You don’t play games. Not like these other women, anyway,” he says. He unlocks the doors with one click of a button and I feel a huge weight lifted from my chest.
“I’m a nice girl,” I lie. I want to be. I wish I could be a nice girl. I’ve always tried to be, but I just wasn’t allowed the chance. My parents made sure I’d never be nice, or normal, or anything like the other girls. I’d always be a weed, growing out of the cracks of this scorched earth.
“But you’re right about something,” I continue, stepping out of the car. “I don’t play games.”
“Good girl,” he says.
We’re both outside, walking toward the entrance. I have no idea how this is going to end, but I’m actually quite proud of myself. I’ve played this one very nicely. There’s no way he has any idea, nor will he ever. There’s nothing that could go wrong now.
Yes, I have no idea how this will go. But I’ve got a million images in my mind. Like my body arching across his carpet, mouth wide open, as he pounds me ‘til I scream in absolute ecstasy.
36
Marshall
“Bring us another drink, darling. And make ‘em extra strong.” I smile at the waitress.
“Sure thing, Marshall,” she says, eyeing my beautiful lady, Virginia. She’s jealous, no doubt. But, that’s just life sometimes. You win some and you lose some. Right now, I’m fucking winning.
“So you said you grew up around here?” I ask her. She nods carefully. I take it we’ve had similar upbringings by the way she looks at me. There’s sadness in her eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry. Just wondering is all. Can’t trust a girl from outside of the city, right?”
“That’s what they say around here, anyway,” she smiles out of courtesy. This woman is hot and cold. It’s going to take a lot for me to get inside that dress tonight, but I’m going to try my damn hardest. I need it more than she knows.
The waitress comes back with two drinks and a large check. I slam down a couple hundred dollar bills and smile. “Keep the change,” I wink, trying to act nice, despite the fact that I don’t think she deserves any tip.
“But I think it’s sort of the opposite,” she says. “You can’t really trust anyone in this city.”
I laugh hard at that one. She’s right about that. “Well, I’m going to have to agree with you there.” I smack my knee. “I’ve met just about everyone in this town and they’re all hiding something. Question is, what’re you hiding?”
She smiles wide. “More than you know, Marshall.”
God damn, that turns me on. What is she hiding? All I can say is that whatever it is, I want to know. I’m guessing it’s in between those legs. Those sexy legs, the legs that should be wrapped around my face. The pleasure I could give to this woman… She has no fucking idea.
“We should get out of here. I’ll take you home,” I tell her. She nods and I feel the urge to grab the thick of her ass. Instead, I grab her hand and feel each ridge of her fingers against mine.
Outside, the hot wind wraps around our faces. I feel drunk, but I feel good and present. I want to take this woman to her house. I want to feel in between her legs. And I want her to invite me up. Anyway, that’s the way it’s playing out in my head. Who knows if it’ll work?
I pull her close to me when we get to the car. “You’re impatient,” she says, but she’s smiling.
“I know what I like,” I say. “I know what I want.”
“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” she asks, daring me to do something, to act.
We move close to one another as if we’re pulled by the earth’s gravitational force. Slow. Slower. Even slower. Our eyes close and then I feel it. Our lips crash together, heavy and deep. She falls back, ass against the door of the car. Some cowboy whistles at us and I have half a mind to pummel the bastard, but I can’t even focus on that right now. I have this woman and she’s giving into my every desire.
“Fuck,” she moans as I drag my lips to her neck. I kiss the curve down to her chest bone. I kiss along every ridge, stopping at the most tender spots. She tastes sweet, like sugar. This woman is dangerous. This woman is going to be my end. I know it. But I have to keep discovering her.
Our breaths are hushed and the world around us has turned into a dark haze. Her legs spread on their own. My knee rises up to her pussy. I can feel the warmth radiating from her. I reach down. I feel the edges of that classy black dress. She’s so fucking fine. I’m aching. She’s moaning. We’re both ripping at our clothes. Right when I touch the soft skin of her thigh, she pulls back and says, “I can’t. Fuck. I can’t.”
She’s panting for air and avoiding all eye contact with me now. “What? What’s wrong?” I ask, but I know it’s already too late. Something inside her has set her off. I’m not sure what it is, but this is a losing game. I’m a gentleman. I know when it’s time to back off.
“I just can’t, okay?” she sighs. “Fuck.” Her eyes have turned to fire.
“Okay, no problem.” I lay my hands off her and back up. I unlock the car and watch as she walks hurriedly to the other side.
“Just drop me off at the corner of 31st and Garfield,” she says, staring out the window. She’s tense and sitting fully upright, as if she’s ready to fucking strike. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I’ve done to piss her off this much. None of it is making any sense to me.
“I can take you home. It’s a hell of a lot safer that way,” I tell her truthfully. 31st and Garfield is not the best area. It goes against my morals to drop a young, striking woman off by herself around that area.
She won’t have it. “No. Not my house. Just do what I ask, okay?”
“Fine. Sure thing. Sorry, honey,” I say, taking a deep breath.
My cock is still hard, pushing the top of my jeans up slightly. I adjust myself and turn the car on. I take off. As we drive, she rests her head against the window of the car. She stares out at the passing lights, idly. I have no idea what’s on her mind. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit. Tonight’s different. Tonight, I’m aching to know. I’m aching to make things right.
37
Virginia
I run my hands through my hair. It feels abrasive, instead of silky, thin instead of its normal thickness. I look in the mirror and notice the dark rings under my eyes. “God, I’m disgusting. In every way,” I tell myself. This whole thing… it’s weighing on me bad. I hate knowing how this is all going to end. I loathe thinking about it, but I can’t stop myself. I’m panicking. I’m going to go to prison. I’m going to lose everything, including the chance to get away and live the life of my dreams.
How could this be? Why are Craig and Elroy fucking everything up? I should have never trusted two men to come up with a steady plan. Of course there would be some shakiness to all of it. All I can think is, “This is fucking bullshit.”
I almost fucked that man. I almost let him grapple with his innermost desires. Worst thing is, I think I actually wanted it. I think I wanted his hands to touch me, to grab me, to pull me in deeper. It’s that look in his eyes that does me in. He looks at me like I’m a treasure, like I’m a cut above the rest. I’ve never really felt that before, but now I have the chance to pursue it in the most fucked up way ever.
I shouldn’t do it. I mean, I couldn’t even go through with it. How could I? But I deeply wanted to. God, I’m so fucked up. I’m not a girl that plays games? Fuck, I play the best games and it always starts with myself. My own battles… it’s just not right. I’m not right.
Craig calls the new burner phone that I bought earlier this morning. “What’s the word?” he asks me.
“Nothing,” I sigh. “What do you want? Do you have a plan?”
“We have something cooking up,” he says. He mumbles something to Elroy in the background and then says, “45 minutes outside of town. There’s a small local place. No CTV.”
“Security? Police?” I say, turning my head in paranoia to see if anybody could be listening or watching me. I’m in my house. I don’t know how it would be possible, but I don’t want to take any chances.
“Of course, some security. Nothing we can’t handle,” he says. “Police will get there fast, no doubt. We’ll have to get a vehicle.”
“Why can’t we go at night like last time?” I stupidly ask. Of course, we can’t. We have no materials left since the first hit.
“You know why we can’t. That took months of planning, months of buying the right stuff,” he says. “No. This time, we do it the old school way. In and out. 90 seconds or less. Hopefully less.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” I say. “Not at all. It makes me sick to think about.”
“We’ll be fine,” he assures me in a calm voice. “You’ll do great. Just grab what you need to grab, while I do the yelling. In and out. Remember.”
“We need to meet,” I say. “At least, go over things better.”
“Sure thing,” he says. “Hey, listen. I saw you with that Marshall guy.”
When he says that, I take a seat, quickly. I don’t know how he’s going to react. He’s already expressed to Elroy in the past that he thinks I’m too wild, too crazy. What’s he going to think now?
“Yeah?” I try and keep cool. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Then what are you doing? Are you sabotaging us? There’s people I’ll let know. I’ll bring you down with us,” he says.
“Keep your enemies closer,” I say. “Anyway, it’s not like anything crazy has happened. He thinks I’m just another cute girl at the bar.”
He sighs loudly and talks to Elroy again. Finally, I hear the phone switch over. “Craig wants you done.” It’s Elroy’s voice.
“Yeah, well. What do you want?” I ask him. Elroy’s had a crush on me since, well, forever. But he’s not like Craig. He’s a standup guy. I just don’t like him in that way. Elroy will have my back on this. I know he will.
“I want you to come to your senses, girl,” he says. “This isn’t a game. It’s life or death.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s that extreme,” I argue.
“No? I think it’s worse. We could go away for a very long time, V,” he says. “You really want to get out and see that the world’s changed, that you could have had kids but missed the chance, and that you could have lived a real life if you just chilled out?”
“I didn’t have a fucking choice, okay? He came at me at the bar,” I tell him. “What was I going to do? Tell him to fuck off? I was scared. I was scared for my goddamn life.”
“You should have kept your mouth shut and kept walking. He’s just another horn dog who wants to fuck you. Big deal. There’s no need to talk to the man,” he says. “What did he want anyway?”
“Exactly what you just said. He wants me,” I say, shielding my eyes. The whole thing is just so stupid. I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this mess.
“Now he’s going to do everything in his power to keep his eye on you. You really think he doesn’t know you’re inv
olved in the hit? Really?” he presses me.
“Just let me deal with this. Your secret’s safe with me. You have nothing to worry about,” I plead. I place my head against the table. “Look, just leave me alone. And don’t call me on this number again. Goodbye.”
“V! Wait, I—” I hang up the phone.
Do I really like this... this… cop? No. I don’t like him. But now I’ve done myself in. I’ve given into the idea of the unthinkable and now I have to keep him close, especially after this next job. I need to make sure he has no idea what’s going to happen next. I think I’m about to make the worst mistake of my life.
38
Marshall
I’ve waited for her to call me for days. Fucking days. I don’t get this woman. First, she acts like she wants to straddle my cock, then she acts colder than cold toward me. What’s her angle? Is she game or is she going to keep stringing me along? Better yet, what’s she hiding in that brain of hers? Must be some kind of trauma. Maybe I want to back off.
Of course, just as I decide to, I feel my pocket vibrate. “Sorry about the other night,” she says. “I overreacted.”
“It’s not a problem,” I type. “It’s your choice. If you don’t want to hang with me, you don’t have to.”
“No. I do,” she says. “I really do.”
“What about tomorrow night?” I ask her.
“Sounds good,” she says.
Sounds good? Great. I think I was wrong about this woman. She lives for the game. She lives to play tricks on guys like me.
“What’s wrong with you?” Adam says. We’re sitting at his house, whiskey bottle on the table, but we’re barely even drinking. I’ve tuned out again. I shouldn’t be focusing on what my cock wants. I should be in the game, trying to catch these bastards.