Knocked Up by the Killer

by B. B. Hamel

  I made a face, picked it up, and wiped the excess tea up with a sponge. I tossed the teabag into the trash then threw away my own.

  “I should be flattered,” I said.

  “You should be,” he agreed. “But you’re not.”

  “Have you ever refused a job before?”

  “No,” he said. “They’ve never deserved it.”

  “Come on. You’re telling me they’ve all been assholes?”

  “I’m typically hired to kill men that did very bad things,” he said. “Men that killed, stole, hurt someone. It’s not often I get sent after an innocent girl that’s caught in a game of power politics.”

  “So you’re a killer with a heart of gold.”

  He sipped his tea. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  I let my eyes move along his muscular arms then up to his lips, his teeth, his eyes. I shivered as I thought of the way he made me feel just the night before.

  I still ached for him between my legs.

  “I’m going to my room for a while,” I said.

  “Fine.”

  “Do whatever you what,” I said. “There’s food. Take whatever.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll cook dinner.”

  I shook my head and carried my tea out of the kitchen. I felt his eyes on my body as I walked down the hall, into my room, and shut the door behind me.

  I stared at the lock on the handle. It clicked when I turned it.

  I sat on my bed and held the mug between my hands. I stared down at the dark black tea and let the steam rise to my lips. I sipped it and tried to picture how bad life would have to get before I’d resort to murdering people for a living.

  Pretty bad.

  But his story touched off something in me. It wasn’t pity. I don’t think I could pity a man like that.

  Understanding though. Maybe a touch of understanding.

  It didn’t change anything.

  He was a killer and a monster.

  But maybe I really could start to trust him.

  7

  Tanner

  Her couch was lumpy as hell.

  The couch was gorgeous. Low wooden legs. Smooth light gray material. It had all the makings of a really fantastic and comfortable sleep.

  Instead, I was pretty sure some gremlin shoved a bunch of rocks in the cushions. I tossed and turned for half the night and ended up with my feet on the coffee table and an old black and white Western on TV.

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Fucking hell. I was tempted to go back into Elise’s room and climb into bed with her. Maybe she’d flip out but she’d probably get over it sooner or later and then I could sleep. Or maybe I’d make it worth her time first then she’d be too satisfied to argue.

  But no, I was a gentleman.

  Well, not a gentleman. More like, I didn’t want to freak her out and make her run away.

  So I stayed on the couch.

  Around three in the morning, after the black and white cowboys turned into black and white detectives, I felt myself starting to drift. I let my mind unfocus and let sleep start to drag me under.

  Until there was a sound on the stairs outside her door.

  My eyes flipped open. I heard ringing in my ears as I abruptly snapped back into consciousness. I leaned forward, heart racing, hand on my gun.

  I heard it again. Definitely someone on the stairs. Someone climbing up toward the apartment.

  I got up, moved fast. I hadn’t had time to set any traps or any security. I figured the family wouldn’t send someone so fast. Even hitmen needed a few days to get their shit together.

  But I heard the noise again. A little creak.

  I thought about waking Elise up and getting her ready to run. Instead, I stayed near the door and kept still. I took a deep breath and slowed my heart down, mastering my own nerves and forcing my body to calm itself. It was a technique I’d used a thousand times and it never failed to keep me calm.

  That was one of the reasons I was the best. I never panicked and never lost it under pressure.

  Killing for a living required a steady hand. Shit went wrong all the time. No matter how much you planned, something always came up. Mike Tyson once said, everyone has a plan until you get punched in the mouth.

  He was damn right. Plans were only good up to a certain point. Beyond that, when the shooting started, when the screaming started, or the fighting and running and crying, you had to be steady. You had to think fast.

  Otherwise, you’d get fucked sideways.

  The floor outside her door creaked. I pressed my ear against the wall and listened. I thought I could hear breathing.

  Someone touched the doorknob.

  I nearly threw myself back. I nearly made a noise.

  But I kept silent.

  I heard scratching against the knob then it began to wiggle. It took me a second to realize that whoever was out there was picking the lock.

  And making a ton of noise.

  Jesus, what a fucking amateur.

  I hoped Dante hadn’t sent one of his own out to finish the job. I really didn’t want to hurt any of his guys if I could avoid it. While we disagreed about the importance of this particular job, I did like Dante and the boys well enough. I almost counted him as a friend.

  The intruder took two minutes to pick the lock, which wasn’t bad. He turned the knob and pushed the door. The deadbolt up top held. I heard him curse softly then begin to pick that lock. I almost laughed but kept myself in check.

  He got the deadbolt faster, less than a minute. It thunked open and I thought it would wake up Elise.

  The intruder pushed the door open again. I was hidden on the other side of the frame.

  The chain held him this time.

  He cursed. I halfway expected him to give up.

  Then two gunshots smashed the silence.

  I kept myself pressed flat against the wall as he blew the chain off the door. He kicked it open the rest of the way and came into the room fast. I stayed behind the door, gun up and ready.

  The intruder was dressed in black head to toe. He wore a black ski mask, black gloves, black jeans, black jacket. His gun swept the living room, swept the kitchen, then turned to move down the hallway.

  I stepped out from behind the door when he turned in my direction and froze.

  “Drop it,” I said.

  His weapon was pointed toward the hallway. I was flat against the wall, my gun aimed at his skull.

  “You’re making a mistake.” His voice was familiar. I squinted at him.

  “Bennigan?”

  The intruder threw himself to the side toward the kitchen table. He fired two shots but both went wide. I dove forward and rolled into the kitchen. The counter separated us and I heard him scramble to his feet. I kept low, just under his sightline and jumped up at the far end.

  He fired twice again. Both bullets slammed into the cabinets above my head.

  I fired back and missed. He rolled to the side as I jumped up over the counter then leapt off it.

  I slammed into him as he gained his footing. He let out a grunt as my weight slammed him into the floor. I grabbed his wrist and twisted, made him drop the gun just as he slammed a knee into my groin.

  Pain flared through my balls and stomach. I let out a moan of pain and dropped my own weapon as I scrambled for purchase against him.

  We wrestled on the floor. I tried to push the pain in my balls away but it ached like something popped. I elbowed him in the stomach and jammed a thumb in his eye. He grunted, punched my jaw. I grabbed his mask and ripped it off.

  Bennigan’s gray-blue eyes stared back at me.

  “What— the fuck— are you doing—” I grunted and tried to throw him to the side, but he steadied himself on the table and slammed an elbow into my ribs.

  “Let go,” he growled.

  I landed a punch to his throat. He gagged and rolled off. I scrambled for a gun but he got to his feet and kicked me in the face. I gasped and thought I felt my nose break. I rolled awa
y as he aimed another kick and got to my knees. He advanced, hands up, and I blocked a kick before catching a punch. I used him as leverage to stand and pushed off the back of the counter, forcing him backward.

  He gained his footing. We traded punches, body blows. Bennigan’s eyes glowed in the air with menace.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” I said through clenched teeth.

  He grinned. Blood covered his gums. I wasn’t sure when I got his mouth.

  “You’re the dead man, Tanner,” he said. “Decided to protect a mark? What kind of insane shit is that?”

  “The girl’s innocent,” I said.

  “The girl’s dead already,” he said. “Just a matter of time before reality matches up.”

  I came at him hard. He ducked and swore, keeping distance, but I landed a left jab to his chin. His knees buckled but he didn’t drop. He caught my next punch, turned it, kneed me in the gut. I grunted and shoved away, staggering back into the TV. A black and white detective whipped out his gun and shot someone first try.

  If only it was that easy in real life.

  Bennigan made a break for a gun. I caught up, kicked the gun away before he could grab it. I shoved him and he staggered, slammed against the door. I jumped at him and landed a couple punches before I heard a stifled scream.

  Elise stood in the hall to our left. Her hands covered her mouth. She stared with wild eyes.

  Bennigan used that opportunity to knee me in the balls again.

  That fucking little shit.

  I gasped and swiped at him but had no power. He shoved me away then turned and ran into the hall.

  “You fucked up, Tanner,” he said. “Only a matter of time.”

  Then disappeared down the steps.

  I stood there breathing hard. I leaned over and put my hands on my knees.

  “Motherfucker hit me in the balls,” I said. “Twice.”

  Elise ran to me. She threw her arms around me and I grimaced. I hurt too much for her to hug me right then. I got the door closed and fortunately the bolt and knob still held. I locked them tight.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “But my balls might never recover.”

  She chewed her lip. “They sent him to kill me, didn’t they?”

  I nodded. “Bennigan.”

  “Who?”

  “Help me into the bathroom,” I said. “And I’ll tell you.”

  She took some of my weight. I left the guns on the floor and limped into the bathroom. I turned on the water and drew up a warm bath then sat down on the toilet lid to take off my shirt.

  I probed myself for serious injuries. Nothing felt broken. There’d be bruising, maybe a few lumps. My nuts felt like they were going to explode.

  But I wasn’t dead.

  She helped me get my pants off. When it was time to take off my boxer briefs, her cheeks turned red and she looked away.

  “No need to be shy,” I said. “I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I know,” she said.

  I chuckled, took off my underwear, got into the water.

  I sank down and let out a groan of pain and comfort.

  She sat on the toilet lid and crossed her legs.

  “You seem like you know that guy,” she said.

  “Right. Bennigan.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Another hitman, like me,” I said.

  “So you’re colleagues.”

  I snorted. “Bennigan is a jumped-up thug.”

  “What are you then?”

  I gave her a look. “I’m Picasso. He’s… Bob Ross.”

  “Don’t hate on Bob Ross.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “Just making a point. Bennigan is a ruthless thug with no moral compass and no technique. He smashes in and makes a mess.”

  “And you’re, what, a moral artistic murderer?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You don’t like him then, I take it.”

  “Fucking hate that guy.”

  “Why would they send him, if he’s so bad?”

  “Probably the only person that was willing to take the contract in short notice,” I said. “And I bet word’s gone around that I’m involved in all this, so most people with half a brain still stay far away.”

  “You didn’t look like you were doing much good.”

  I glared at her. “He caught me unprepared.”

  “Really?”

  “I didn’t think they’d send someone tonight.”

  “So he broke in without you knowing?”

  I hesitated. “Uh. No.”

  “Then how were you unprepared?”

  “I just was,” I said, annoyed.

  “Right, okay.” She chewed her fingernails then tugged on a piece of hair. “My neighbors heard those gunshots, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “What if someone called the cops?”

  “We’ll plead innocent.”

  “Will that work?”

  “Probably not.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “How about you get in this tub with me and we have a little fun before we go to jail?”

  “Tanner.”

  “Just a thought.”

  “I’m serious,” she said. “What do we do if the cops come?”

  “I’ll tell them we heard the noise too but don’t know what it was.”

  “Will that work?”

  “I really have no idea.”

  She let out a frustrated breath and kept tugging on her hair. “You’re useless, you know that, right?”

  “If I weren’t here, you’d be dead,” I said. “Even though he made a damn racket getting in here, you still didn’t wake up until he started shooting.”

  “I was in the other room,” she said.

  I shrugged, grimaced in pain, and let out a breath.

  “Look, it’s not safe here, okay?”

  “We’re not having this discussion again.”

  “What’s with you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a guy that wants to murder you. And your biggest concern is where we sleep? Come on, Elise. We need to get the fuck out of here and move into a hotel that I can properly defend.”

  She opened her mouth and I could see the angry comeback on her lips. But she only let out a grunt and leaned back against the toilet bowl. The lid rattled as she crossed her arms.

  I soaked in the tub as the silence stretched.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Fine, what?”

  “We’ll do it your way.”

  I let a smile slip over my lips. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  “Only because I believe you now.”

  “Did you really think I was lying?”

  “No,” she said. “I knew— I knew this was real. But I wasn’t sure you’d really… you know.”

  “Keep you safe?”

  “Yeah.”

  I opened my eyes and looked at her. I saw tears gathered in her lids.

  “I promise,” I said. “I’m not the kind of man to turn my back on a promise.”

  “You better not be.” She stood abruptly. “Let’s leave tonight.”

  “Good.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to pack.”

  “Good.” I smiled at her. “Bring something sexy for me.”

  She made a strange face then grinned. “You sure?” she asked. “You might not be able to use it.” She glanced down at my dick.

  I laughed and shrugged. Water splashed.

  “I doubt a couple knees to the balls will stop me.”

  “I believe you.” She shook her head and left me alone in the bathroom.

  I sighed and stretched. Every inch of me hurt. I was exhausted.

  But at least I’d get to sleep in a nice hotel soon instead of this tiny little death trap of an apartment.


  8

  Elise

  He looked like he got hit by a train.

  His right eye was puffy. His jaw was swollen. He spit blood on the white concrete outside of my apartment before we got into a cab.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” I asked as the cab drove us to The Rittenhouse.

  I’d never even heard of the hotel, but it was tucked there just beside Rittenhouse Square right in the heart of downtown.

  “Fine,” he said.

  The cabbie dropped us out front and we headed inside. The night desk clerk looked confused and a little annoyed, but she got us a room with two beds. It cost an obscene amount of money per night but Tanner put it on a credit card without flinching.

  “We could stay somewhere cheaper,” I said in the elevator ride up. The metal gleamed as if polished daily. The lights were bright and cheery.

  “And deprive you of this luxury?” He shook his head.

  I rolled my eyes.

  The elevator took us to the fifteenth floor. We got out and I lugged my suitcase down the hall. He limped a little and pressed a hand against his flank. The carpet was rich red with gold patterning. The walls were unmarked and textured. Fixtures looked faux-gold. It was dead silent in the way only hotels can be.

  He stopped outside our room, 1522. I pressed the key against the lock and the door popped open.

  Inside, the carpet was a rich blue with flower-like crests in even spaces. We stepped into a small, narrow living room area with a couch, a chair, two end tables, a small round table in front of a window, a coffee table, and a flat-screen television on a stand. The furniture looked almost new, or at least deep cleaned.

  Tanner staggered into the bedroom. He threw himself into the first bed. There were two queens and barely enough space for a bureau. The door to the bathroom stood open. The floors were marble, the fixtures gleamed. I stared at Tanner as he shimmied up toward the pillows like a worm.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Now we sleep,” he said.

  “Come on.” I poked his side.

  He groaned. “Go away.”

  “We’re sleeping in the same room, I can’t go away.”

  “Go sleep on the couch.”

  “You got two beds, remember.”