Not Forgiven: A Thriller and Suspense Novel: Ungoverned Series
Page 1
Contents
Copyright-Kindle
Dedication
Epigraph
Book Blurb
Sign up!
Chapter One - She Slipped Off My Panties
Chapter Two - Body Dump
Chapter Three - A Rose For A Murder
Chapter Four - Stubbing Your Toe Sucks
Chapter Five - Kill Her
Chapter Six - Dirt Poor
Chapter Seven - Where's Our Witness
Chapter Eight - Wear The Glasses
Chapter Nine - Sniffing Flowers
Chapter Ten - Add A Zero
Chapter Eleven - Menaces To Society
Chapter Twelve - Pulling Out The HKs
Chapter Thirteen - The Kill Shot
Chapter Fourteen - Emptied The Whole Magazine
Chapter Fifteen - Rage Against The Darkness
Chapter Sixteen - His Brain Craved Tequila
Chapter Seventeen - Perfect For Contract Killers, Drug Dealers, And Monsters
Chapter Eighteen - A Massacre
Chapter Nineteen - A Retarded Cunt Calls Me A Bitch
Chapter Twenty - Have To Mourn Later
Chapter Twenty-One - Up Close And Personal
Chapter Twenty-Two - Chain Through The Holes
Chapter Twenty-Three - Her Room Was Open
Chapter Twenty-Four - Motherless Now
Chapter Twenty-Five - Hoped For An Invitation
Chapter Twenty-Six - A Tight Squeeze Indeed
Chapter Twenty-Seven - This Unbearable Pain
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Treated Women Like Things
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Ups and downs
Chapter Thirty - Like JJ Watt Hitting Tom Brady
Chapter Thirty-One - Triple That Amount
Chapter Thirty-Two - Family Guy Was On
Chapter Thirty-Three - The Box Opened Slowly
Chapter Thirty-Four - And Ripped It Off
Chapter Thirty-Five - Needed Her Dead
Chapter Thirty-Six - Got Things Rolling
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Afternoon Delight
Chapter Thirty-Eight - My Right Hand
Chapter Thirty-Nine - High Levels Of Stress
Chapter Forty - The Bullet Will Kill Your Baby
Chapter Forty-One - Peeling Her Toes Like Little Grapes
Chapter Forty-Two - Crime Fighting Techniques
Chapter Forty-Three - You Guys Wanted To Get High
Chapter Forty-Four - A Hostess Smile
Chapter Forty-Five - Sicko
Chapter Forty-Six - Unable To Scream
Chapter Forty-Seven - Nobody Would Blame Him
Chapter Forty-Eight - Surrounded
Chapter Forty-Nine - The Killings
Chapter Fifty - Little Black Boxes
Chapter Fifty-One - Borderline-psychotic Men
Chapter Fifty-Two - Gunfire Inside The House
Chapter Fifty-Three - The Big Plate Of Cookies
Chapter Fifty-Four - Turned Onto The Street
Chapter Fifty-Five - Wore A Shit-eat Grin
Chapter Fifty-Six - A Hundred Driver's Licenses
Chapter Fifty-Seven - Human Degradation
Chapter Fifty-Eight - Heading To The Bar
Chapter Fifty-Nine - Twenty Minutes Later
Chapter Sixty - Bloody Shoes
Chapter Sixty-One - Happy Ending
Chapter Sixty-Two - A Gift
Chapter Sixty-Three - Behind A Locked Door
Enjoy the Book? You can make a big difference!
Sign up!
This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First edition published as an eBook, October 2017.
All rights reserved.
"Not Forgiven"
Copyright © 2017 Shawn Raiford
Kindle Edition
The right of Shawn Raiford to be identified as the author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.
Front Cover Illustration by
Extended Imagery Kindle Edition.
Editors, Stacy Juba & Chereese Graves
For my love, Lilly (mi Osita)
"I am free, no matter what rules surround me.
If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them;
If I find them too obnoxious, I break them.
I am free because I know that I alone am."
Robert A. Heinlein
Book blurb:
Chloe is a contract killer, and is having a little fun with a couple of marks before she finishes the job.
Early morning, a body is dumped in a empty parking. Houston Police Department Inspectors, Henry Creed and Mitch Mason, are on the case. They do their best to soothe the nerves of a witness and her husband.
Siting in stolen car, a hitsquad of a murderous street gang, is parked across the street of a sidewalk cafe. Walking down the sidewalk, Chloe is on her way to meet a friend for brunch when a dark Mercedes pulls out onto the street slowly. Men point guns at the crowd and begin firing. Chloe never (never!) leaves home without a gun, and pulls two of them and returns fire
While Henry and Mitch close in on a serial killer—Chloe leaves a trail of dead gangbangers in her search for the guilty.
Get your copy of Not Forgiven now! Buckle up and join Chloe for an heart-pounding expedition that will surly thrill and entertain until the very last page.
(Go to raifordwriting.com to see how to get a FREE digital copy of True Monsters)
If you like this book, and would like to receive emails informing you when new books and stories are released please sign up to Shawn's email list.
Please click HERE!
Or you can get details at:
www.raifordwriting.com
Chapter One
She Slipped Off My Panties
My name is Chloe, and I am a contract killer.
Not the kind of contractor that will kill your wife because you want out of a rock-solid prenuptial agreement or because your husband is banging the nanny. I only go after bad guys who piss off other bad guys. Never a citizen or one who was not in the game.
For years I worked for Lukas Zimmerman, kind of a mafia guy here in Houston. Lukas was no longer among the living; I murdered him when he went after my brother, Henry, and his wife.
Although I was on a job at the moment, I spent most of my time hunting down monsters. (Monsters: also known as pedophiles)
Lawrence and Stacey were my current job. A real bastard and a stupid bimbo. They waited for me in the next room.
Lawrence, Stacey, and I were supposed to have a three-way, but it would not happen. I have been known to have sexual relations with a mark or two but only if he was attractive, or made me laugh. Lawrence and Stacey were attractive enough to postpone their deaths, but I found myself in uncharted waters. I kind of had a boyfriend. His name was Sawyer Reid. He made his living as a writer and made me feel stuff I had not felt before in my life. He made me happy.
I never had a real boyfriend in my life. It was new but felt normal.
A
s I got ready in the bathroom, I gazed at myself in the mirror, and figured I looked presentable. My purse, a big purse, sat next to the bathtub. It held my clothes, a letter, two knives, two lint brushes, a nine-millimeter handgun, two extra magazines, and a single rose encased in a plastic tube. The rose and the letter would be staying here.
The medicine bottle inside my bra was still there.
With the garter belt hooked, I made a last check of my hair, and exited the bathroom. I made sure I did not touch anything like the sink or the faucet handles. Can't have any traces of my presence.
Both laid on the bed. Stacey took her time, blowing Lawrence.
He brought up his hand and placed it on Stacey's head. She stopped, checking me out. "Damn! Baby, you are beautiful."
Lawrence nodded.
"Thank you."
Stacey sat up checking me out.
My eyes narrowed. "One rule tonight, okay?"
Both nodded like children wanting Halloween candy.
"I'm in control. Do what I say when I say and I will make both of you very happy tonight." A lie, of course. "First, I want to start with Stacey. Lawrence you can watch, but you can't touch until I say you can." I pointed to a chair against the opposite wall from the bathroom.
Lawrence got up from the bed and settled in the chair.
I moved to the edge of the bed, rubbing up against Stacey and kissing her.
As Stacey grabbed my ass and legs, I pulled the bottle from my bra. "I want you two to take a couple of these." I poured pills into my hand. "I promise you that these will intensify what you are about to experience."
Benny—not his real name, the guy who contracted me for this job—told me that both loved doing drugs.
I had seven pills in my hand.
Stacey examined the pills. "How many should I take?"
"These are a little weak so at least three, to make sure you feel it."
Stacey took three of them from my hand and grabbed her beer from the nightstand. I gave the rest to Lawrence.
He smiled before popping all the pills into his mouth. "I don't even want to know what these are."
Xanax: 2mg each, I got off the darknet. You can procure a lot of cool shit off the darknet. Benny found me there.
The amount they took should knock each one out, no problem.
I laid down on the bed, spreading my legs.
Lawrence sat down in his chair.
"Come here, Stacey."
She walked to the edge of the bed and laid on top of me. She kissed my neck. I patted the bed next to me. "Lawrence, I want you to watch. When she's finished, it'll be your turn."
As soon as I said that Stacey started going down on me. She slipped off my panties.
I didn't think that a woman giving me oral would count as cheating. If Sawyer walked in right now, he would smile and sit next to Lawrence and enjoy the show. Although she made me head in the right direction, Sawyer was better at cunnilingus . Less than a minute later Stacey stopped. Passed out, she lay there with her face in my goodies.
I reached over and slapped Lawrence. He was out like a baby after a full tit of mother's milk.
Chapter Two
Body Dump
Rogelio's eyes explored the inside of the car. He almost screamed when he noted a pair of dead eyes staring back at him.
For a long moment he didn't remember the young woman in the passenger seat. Her head tilted in his direction. She was dead.
Then a glimmer of something in his mind's eye, his hands around her throat.
It did not scare him; he just felt confused. He shook his head, wanting clarity. He inspected his watch, and realized he had slept for over an hour.
What did she give me?
Drinking was his thing, not pills. She said they would be great, but he didn't like them. His thoughts moved through mental sludge.
The car was still running with the heat cranked up. Scanning the immediate area, he realized his car had been parked on a downtown street. "How did I get here?"
Not sure what to do, Rogelio drove, glancing to his right, left, and into the rearview mirror. The hairs on his neck prickled. Scanning the immediate area, he sensed someone watching him. But he could not see anyone.
Frustration bubbled under the surface.
A few people walked along the sidewalk. He checked his watch. The sun would be up soon.
The man drove around with a dead body in the passenger seat downtown. He had never it done like this before.
His memory coming back now, he recalled taking some pills she gave him. Not sure which pills though.
Whatever he took, they made him feel paranoid. Or was someone really looking for him? He scanned the street, the sidewalk, and the rearview mirror—no one there.
He took a few deep breaths, trying to think clearly.
Rogelio stopped at a red light. He glanced to the right again. Then to the left.
A homeless man, or woman, pushed a cart along the sidewalk. He almost shit himself when he peered into the rearview mirror and saw a police car with two cops inside. It was parked behind him. For the life of him, he did not understand how it snuck up on him.
The light changed to green, and his foot eased down on the gas pedal. The police car followed.
"God! This is it!" His thought process had sped up as adrenaline pumped throughout his head and body.
Images of prison and the things that would be forced inside him by much bigger men, danced inside his head. Images of the HBO show Oz came to mind. Rogelio would not survive in prison.
The police car did not move in the rearview mirror. His chest began to hurt. After three blocks, the police car hooked a left.
Get rid of the body!
Where?
He couldn't dump her on the side of the street. There were cameras everywhere.
His chest hurt.
His breathing needed to be slowed and controlled. For the first minute, he didn't turn to his right or left, or look at the rearview mirror. He drove slowly down the street, catching three green lights. The police car turned after the second green light.
He stopped at a red light in the second minute, breathing easier. His chest pain lessening.
A few minutes later he drove along on a street in an unknown neighborhood. The area was ideal; not many lights and no street cameras.
He drove another five minutes before a big green dumpster came into view. It sat in the parking lot of a small convenience store parking lot on the street perpendicular.
Turning the wheel, he pulled into the parking lot and made sure that the passenger door was positioned near the dumpster opening.
Rogelio switched off the headlights, parked the car, and put on his gloves. He checked the immediate area for any looky-loos, and did not see anyone. Why would there be? At this hour, most people were still asleep in their warm beds, dreaming of better lives. No one was even up yet to walk their dogs. There was no one around. He got out of his car and circled around to the dumpster.
"Goddamn, it's cold!" he said.
He tried the door. "Shit!" It was locked.
Nothing was more important at this moment than getting this dead woman out of his car.
Not many options here.
Screw it!
He opened the door and unfastened the seatbelt. He carried her to the back of the dumpster, however, a stack of pallets and a bunch of cardboard boxes blocked his access.
The side of the dumpster would have to do. He laid the body down on the cold cement. As he stood up, beginning to feel better, a woman's voice asked, "Hey! What are you doing?"
Chapter Three
A Rose For A Murder
I raised up from the bed and got dressed.
Lawrence owned the house, but Stacey practically lived here. All of her clothes hung in the closet. Lawrence kept her in fine things. Like Prada purses and Manolo Blahnik shoes and Tiffany jewelry. I grabbed her Louis Vuitton tote bag from the closet. Some clothes were inside the bag, so I emptied everything onto the closet
floor.
From Stacey's jewelry box I plucked out one of three necklaces, two of six pairs of diamond earrings, and an exquisite platinum bracelet. Then, from a luxury twelve-watch box, I removed two men's Rolexes. I left the other ten watches. Lawrence had no jewelry, only the timepieces. When I pilfered I never stole enough to alert law enforcement unless the job was to make it look like a robbery.
It wasn't as if I needed these things, I had enough money: USD, gold and silver, diamonds, bitcoin, etc. Despite having all of that why leave fruit on the tree to rot or in a police evidence storage? I had a guy who could melt down the precious metals and create other kinds of jewelry. This guy would accept the two Rolexes as payment. One timepiece up front and one when he finished the job.
Easy.
I moseyed over to my purse, pulled out a pair of latex gloves, and snapped them on.
Two lint brushes lay in my purse. I grabbed them, and used them on the bed, on spots next to Stacey and Lawrence. Even under their heads. CSI techs would not find my hair, because I wore a wig, I liked being thorough.
There was not a lot of dirt present on the beds, just a few strands of hair. I rolled the brushes on the carpet around the bed to make sure. Didn't find anything. All good.
I tossed the brushes back in my purse and grabbed a clear plastic sandwich baggie that contained a small .38 special. I placed the small weapon on the bed near Stacey's feet. Next, I pulled out an envelope. Inside was a letter written by Lawrence's fake lover. I placed the letter in Stacey's hands and pressed her fingers on the paper, crumpling it some, and then folding it.
Opening some drawers, I found where she kept her underwear. I placed the letter under her delicates.
I checked their pulses. They still had heartbeats.