I touch his face gently and he lets go of my right arm. I lean into him, my lips against his ear, “If I tell you this you must never repeat it. If they find out who I am now there will be hell on earth. Promise me.” He nods against my head. “I. Am. The Exorcist.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he pulls me at arm's length, his eyes scanning mine. “It can't be.” He whispers.
I nod my head in confirmation.
He suddenly grabs me and pulls me out of the room so fast my feet don't touch the ground. He pulls me into my bedroom and closes the door. “Why would you say something like that to me? How is it even possible?”
“Butch sent me off to train with a sniper when I was thirteen.” I shrug. “He thought he could make me his mercenary when I was old enough. I was put through all sorts of martial arts training, weaponry lessons, guns, knives, agility tests, mental tests of all kind. Hell, he even put me through military torture tactics to see how well I could cope. Things like isolation, starvation, water torture etc. He kind of brainwashed me into thinking it was what I was destined to do. To become a skilled assassin. A way for me to avenge you and dad.
“Turns out that's not what he wanted from me at all. He just wanted me as a weapon. After he died, his son decided I had to pay for what mom did.”
“What did he do to you?”
“Nothing my big brother needs to know about.”
“Nova, if he...”
“It doesn't matter, Tate.” I know he doesn't go by that name anymore, hasn't since he was a child, but that's who he is to me, always will be. “Whatever happened to me, I made them pay. And I will continue to make each and every member of that motorcycle club pay until the day there is not one member standing.”
“Jesus, Nova.” He runs his hand through his hair. This is a lot for him to take in, but he needs to know the rest.
“I've made sure Celia is hidden with no way of them finding her. I sent evidence of her death to Dodger.” Dodger was one of Butch's sons, the now president of The Devil's Hornet's.
“I thought you said Celia was alive?” There's that look on his face, the one that tells me he still loves our mother and wants her to be safe. Even if he won't open up about it. That woman left him behind like he was nothing to her, yet he still loves her.
“Celia's fine, Jett. I faked all the evidence. I learned how to do that years ago. Along with killing at will.” He shifts slightly on his feet. “None of us will ever see her again, that was her choice and we have to respect it.”
He nods slowly. He knows it's for the best.
I still have love for my mother but dying alone is no more than she deserves for the things she's done over the years, believe me.
“After I left the hospital, I went right back to training... I needed to make sure I could fight to save myself from those pigs. It wasn't until a couple years ago that I managed to be who Butch had always told me I would be. I have fought so hard, Jett. So hard to right the wrongs of men like him. When I got a message from Hammer requesting my services...”
“Wait,” He holds up his hand, “How in the hell do people get in contact with you when they have no clue who you are?”
Good question, big brother.
“Marlon, the guy who trained me, is the one people contact. Only a few people know how to do so. But once they do, requesting help for a friend of a friend, I have to decide who to help and who not to. Marlon is an asshole but I can always count on him when I need him.
“When I got the little information Hammer handed over, or it might have been Ghost, I don't know, I never asked, but I went to meet him. I knew I wanted to help him. That's why I met with him. I always meet with the clients, always in disguise. They have no idea of who I really am. I mean, who in the hell would ever suspect a woman? But his story hit me right in the heart. I held that man while he cried, Jett.”
My brother looks at me with curiously furrowed brows, but he says nothing.
“My life is very dangerous, Jett. I should never have come here.”
“Don't you dare say that,” He takes me by the shoulders. I lift my head to look at him. “You have no idea how much it killed Dad not knowing where you were all those years. He searched all that time for you. None of us had any idea Celia had joined up with those crazy bastards. But the fact they've been on our case for the past couple years makes a lot of sense now.”
He strokes my face with the back of his hand. “Whoever you are, whatever you do, you are my sister and I would both kill and die for you.”
“And I would for you. You know that, don't you? I'd do anything for you, Jett. No matter what that was.”
“I know.” He tells me softly.
“I love you, Jett. All I want is to be here with you, dad, the kids. But I'm scared that me being here will put you all in danger.”
“Let me worry about that.” He pulls me into his arms, and I melt into him, my big brother. God how I've missed him. “I love you, nothin' is gonna happen.”
“Please don't tell anybody what I told you. Not even dad. It's the only way to protect everyone. You have no idea what could come our way if just one other person finds out who I really am. I already have people trying to find me so they can use me as a weapon. I'm no one's weapon, Jett.”
Trust me, I even have Mafia Don's working to find out who The Exorcist really is. Everyone wants a piece of the assassin they think they can control.
They have no damn clue.
No one controls me.
That and they're so stupid they've never thought to look for a woman.
Who'd really believe a woman could be capable of what I do for a living?
My grandfather, Apollo, Shepard's father, used to tell me that a man who underestimates a woman's true skills is a very stupid man indeed, and that man deserved everything he got.
Not that I remember him much, but he spoke sense.
“Promise me, Jett.”
“I promise.” He whispers.
Why am I here again?
Oh, yeah, I took the damn job.
When Marlon called me last week with information about a young woman who wanted a job done, I initially refused. I'm here getting to know my father. I'd already warned Marlon that I'd be out of commission for a while. Cunt didn't listen.
He told me a little about the girl and what she wanted. I decided to meet with her. He story intrigued me enough to get me here.
So here I am, a hundred miles away from Dad and Tate, dressed like a rich bitch socialite. Long blonde wig – not the cheap kind, damn things always cost me a fortune, but they look real – styled in a French twist. Three-inch heels that match my fitted navy-blue dinner dress, silk under bust length jacket with the turned-up neck piece at the back, makeup elegantly done. I look the part, and my hazel contact lenses make me look like a whole new person.
I made the mistake only once of not wearing contact lenses, I know that's how Ghost remembered me. I'll never make that mistake again.
I walk into the restaurant Marlon told me the girl wanted to meet in. The place is nothing special, but not a dive either. If you can't afford to meet me at a decent restaurant you sure as hell can't afford my fee.
From the information Marlon gave me, the girl in question will be wearing a green cardigan. She's been given a fake name for her to address me by, I've been given one for her. This is the way I work, I need to make it look like I'm meeting with an old friend. They need alibi's after all. Well, when it's a domestic job like this, at least. I don't need all this shit when it's a job like Hammer wanted.
I spot her on the left of the restaurant in a booth by the window. This was her request. After pointing her out to the maître d', I make my way over to her. She looks nervous, fidgeting with her glass of lemonade. Time to put on my little show.
“Julie!” Her head shoots in my direction, shocked, scared, does she really want to do this? “I'm so sorry I'm late.” She's out of her seat just in time for me to hug her, shocking her more. “Play your par
t!” I hiss into her ear.
She nods slightly, I feel it against the side of my head. “Guurl, don't worry, you know I'd wait all day for you.” She laughs, putting herself into character.
I pull away from her and take a seat on the opposite side of the booth. I can tell she's in disguise, just like Marlon told her to be. Fake hair, eye color, makeup done in a way she wouldn't usually wear it. It's all part of covering my tracks. Nothing I do will be brought or lead back to the person paying for my services if they play their part correctly.
Take this woman in front of me right now. A domestic abuse victim, who wants her ex-husband dead. I know why but I need for her to tell me the reason. I want to hear it from her own mouth. I have to know what she's telling me is truthful and not just some silly vendetta she has against her husband.
Only then will I help her.
Because there have been people I've turned away in the past. I'm good at reading people, I know liars from those telling the truth. Marlon always does background checks on everyone, surveillance in case the person wanting help is an undercover cop.
You can't be too careful in my line of work. The cops would love to get their hands on me. Won't happen, they ain't smart enough. Believe me.
I can see how scared the woman in front of me is just being here with me, how much she's risking to end the hell she's lived for too long.
“Why don't you start by telling me why you want this done.”
“But I thought,” She whispers toward me, her elbow on the table, hand covering her face as if it would shield her somehow. “I just had to hand over the information and the money and that would be it.”
“It's not that simple. You want help, you need to tell me why. The Exorcist only helps those who really need and truly deserve it. Do you really need and deserve it?”
I don't know her real name. Names aren't needed. They never are. I could find out who they are, the people who hire me, of course, I could. But I don't. I don't go into their backgrounds. All I need is the name of the “Bastard” and why they need sorting. Once I have the information, I'll have it checked out to make sure I haven't been lied to. Once Marlon comes back with what he's found out, if it is the truth, I'll act.
“Can I get you, girls, anything?” Waitress, blonde, young, ditzy. Probably a college student hoping for a tip, that's why she's smiling at us like we're her meal ticket, asks. I ask her for coffee and wave her off.
I wait until she drops it off before telling the woman in front of me to get to the point already. I don't have time to hang around. They have but fifteen minutes from the time I walk into a place till the time I leave it to convince me.
“I'm not going to sit here and spin you a sob story about how he beat me all the time. He did. But I will tell you how he beat my five-year-old son to death and got away with it.”
“How did that happen?” I'm genuinely interested. He killed her son and got away with it. That, to me, is crazy.
“Cain is a manipulator,” Her short thumbnails scratch the sides of her coffee cup. “He convinced the cops that my boy had fallen from the bedroom window. Two stories. According to the MD, my baby's injuries were consistent with a fall, but she couldn't rule out that he wasn't beaten.
“The jury believed my husband's bullshit and he was released. He was given a restraining order to stay away from me. But he walks around like he hasn't a care in the world. Got a new life, a new family, while my baby is gone.” I can't even imagine how in the hell she's survived this.
My mind flits to the baby I left behind. What would it do to me should I lose what this woman in front of me has lost? How would I go on? I may've run from my child, but I did it for the best reasons. I am not a stable person. I live a dangerous life. I will not put my child in danger when I don't have to. I have my child's best interests at heart. I swear that I do.
“How in the world is it fair that he gets to walk away from what he did, find a new family, and I'm left heartbroken and wondering why my baby isn't here with me anymore?” She wipes the tears from her cheeks. I see so much pain in those green colored contacted eyes of hers. She's a grieving mother who wants revenge on the man who stole her child's life.
I'm going to help her. No mother should have to go through what she's going through, what she'll always be going through because of the man she thought she loved, who she thought loved her.
“Do you have the information you were asked for?”
Her eyes widen, still glistening with tears. “You mean he'll help me?”
I hold my hand out to her. She hurriedly rifles through her large purse, finding the envelope I assume holds what I need, and hands it to me. “Is everything inside?”
“Yes,” She nods frantically. “Everything that I was asked to gather, plus the payment.”
“Good.” I tuck it inside my jacket and get to my feet. She gets to her feet and I hug her for appearance's sake. “It will all be over this time tomorrow. Believe me,”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I pull away, nod once and walk away from her. She will never see me again, nor will she see the murdering bastard she used to be married to.
* * *
Men. They're so weak. So very fuckin' weak it's laughable. They see a pretty face in a bar, enjoy a little flirting, can't believe their damn luck that a beautiful young woman would want to leave with them. Wives forgotten, they always follow.
Lead men by the dick and they'll follow. No matter who they are.
Take my assignment, for instance, I call them that because I don't want to know who they are. I get their names but I don't use them. They don't deserve the recognition.
Anyway, he was at the bar just as his ex-wife explained. It took five minutes of flirting before he was asking me back to his hotel room. One he'd booked for a “special” lady. Shame he didn't get the night he was hoping for.
He tried to kiss me, I wouldn't allow it. His hand on my ass in the elevator was enough. Told him I liked to be in charge and if he lay down on the bed I'd make all his dreams come true.
Idiot couldn't wait to get on that damn bed.
I could've done without having to see his tiny fucking dick, rock hard and standing to attention. I seriously think he's the smallest man I've ever seen. But whatever, each to their own.
He watched as I removed the tiny dress from my body, leaving me in my sexy underwear. His fucking eyes almost popped out his fuckin' head. Just the reaction I wanted. Motherfucker couldn't believe his damn luck.
I handcuffed him to the headboard and then straddled his lap. Made me cringe inside but it was necessary. I watched as he squirmed beneath me as I leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes!” His enthusiasm was laughable.
“Ever taken a little something to keep you going?”
He shook his head.
I lifted to look at him with an innocent but mischievous smile on my face. His big brown eyes sparkled with lust, and the smile on his face told me he'd do anything I asked of him as long as he'd get what he wanted from me.
I leaned over the bed, grabbing my jacket, I pulled out the small baggy with two small blue pills inside. I giggled while holding the baggy up for him to see. He narrowed his eyes, so I did what I knew I had to to get him where I wanted him. I unclasped my bra and dropped it beside me, and let him stare wide-eyed at my tits sitting pert on my chest. He was practically salivating.
Oh yeah, he wanted me badly.
I ground my hips into him, my panty-covered pussy rubbing against his tiny dick, giving him a taste of what he thought was to come. He groaned so loudly I thought he'd come on the damn spot.
I took the pills from the baggy and leaned down, my breasts brushing his hairy chest.
Took all I had not to gag!
“Open your mouth. I want you to fuck me for hours and hours, this will help you do that.” Seductive was my tone, my pussy grinding harder against his tiny dick. Did nothing for me, I wasn't even slightly wet, but it did a hell
of a lot for him.
He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out. I popped the pills in and smiled as he swallowed both pills. “You're so fuckin' sexy. Let me touch you.” I giggled like a stupid hooker working her trick for everything she could get from him.
I removed the handcuffs. This was all too easy. He touched my right breast lightly before his eyes rolled and he fell asleep. Filthy fuck!
I dressed quickly before making a quick call to let Marlon know the job was done.
“What's for me to clean up this time? A hotel of all things? Jesus Christ!”
“Shut up, Marlon, I know what I'm doing,” I told him. “And there's no mess to clean up.”
“What? No bloodbath?” He laughed.
I rolled my eyes while grabbing my clutch and checking the room to make sure I'd left nothing behind. There would be no fingerprints because I still hadn't removed the satin gloves I was wearing. That was my assignment’s kink. Lucky for me.
“I gave him a little something to help him sleep. A little something that is completely untraceable after thirty minutes. Something that right now is causing a massive, fatal heart attack.” I chuckled to myself.
“You're an evil bitch, Nova.” He laughed.
He was right, I'm evil. But you can't have feelings and connections in this job. I don't feel anything for those I take out. Never will.
“Right. Look, I need you to call the front desk in about fifteen minutes and ask to be put through to room five-five-four. They won't be able to. Wait half an hour and try again. Then tell them it's an emergency and you need to speak to him right away. They'll send someone to the room and they'll find him.”
“Job done.”
“Job done.” I parroted back before ending the call.
Was I worried that the police would find out?
No, they'll just think he was a kinky fuck who had a heart attack and died. But it does help that I know one or two cops that know their stuff. They don't know who the hell I am, and the police would no doubt love to haul The Exorcist in, but they'll never find me. Every person I take out is a bad one. I've never just killed for the sake of it, and never an innocent person. I do my research before I do the job. You never know who might be feeding you false info.
The One I Need Page 7