Knocked Up by the Killer

by B. B. Hamel

She chewed her lip and let me kiss her. I turned to face her, put my hands on her hips, and pulled her close.

  “What a mess,” she murmured into my chest.

  “I know.” I breathed the smell of her hair then released her. “Come on. Let’s make something to eat and figure out how we’re not going to kill each other for the next few days.”

  She laughed lightly. “After that hotel room, I doubt this can be worse.”

  “True enough.” She turned to head to the door and I grabbed her ass hard then draped my arm over her shoulder. “We’ll share my bed this time.”

  “Oh, no way,” she said. “You’re on the couch.”

  “Brutal,” I said. “I thought I was the killer.”

  “When it comes to my personal space, I’m the biggest killer around.”

  I laughed as we slipped through the door together and headed back into the kitchen. I wanted to pick up where we left off but the moment was gone.

  And I figured there’d be plenty more moments to come. No need to force something, no need to rush it.

  The outside world would rush us as much as it wanted. We could try to enjoy each other, at least for a while.

  27

  Elise

  We spent the next two days in and out of bed. During that stretch, for a full twenty-four hours, I actually manage to forget all about the men that want to kill me and Tanner.

  But on the morning of the third day as I sat on the balcony and sipped some coffee, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Cool air rippled over my skin. Car horns honked down below. A small long-legged spider crawled along the metal bannister.

  The sliding door opened. “Hungry?” Tanner asked.

  I looked back at him and shook my head. He stood wearing a pair of dark fitted sweats and no shirt. Tattoos covered his muscular chest. I wanted to kiss those tattoos, run my tongue along them, and let him tease me just the way I liked.

  But I couldn’t shake the pit in my stomach.

  “Have you heard from my dad?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “I haven’t either. That’s weird, right?”

  “Not necessarily. He’s a busy guy.”

  “You’d think he’d message me, at least. I mean, I sort of disappeared on him, right?”

  “We could go check on him,” Tanner said. “Make sure he’s on the straight and narrow. Maybe I could have a little chat with him.”

  I grunted and sipped my coffee. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said. “But maybe you’re right. We could check on him at least.”

  He leaned against the doorway. “Are you worried?” he asked.

  “About him?”

  He gestured vaguely toward the city. “About anything.”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think I am but I’m not sure why. It shouldn’t matter that he hasn’t gotten in touch yet, but it does for some reason.”

  “We’ll do a safety check. Make sure he’s still alive.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, okay. That’s a good idea.”

  “You sure you’re not hungry? I’m making eggs.”

  “I’m okay, really. I had some granola already.”

  “Suit yourself.” He disappeared back inside and I turned toward the city again.

  Sunlight bounced off the steel and glass of the building across the street. I wondered how many lives were being led in that place, and how many of them would go screaming for the hills if they had to deal with even half of what I’ve been through.

  Didn’t matter. It wasn’t over for me. And I had no other life, just this one.

  I sipped my coffee and leaned back, closing my eyes.

  Tanner drove slowly toward my father’s place. He wore a decent suit with a gun tucked into a holster under his arm. He looked like an FBI agent or a murder detective, except his suit cost ten times whatever they wore.

  “You do the talking,” he said. “I’ll just linger and look menacing.”

  “Easy for you.”

  He smiled. “I’ve got that look, right?”

  “The crazy one, yeah.”

  “Exactly. It’s in my eyes.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Psychopath. Killer. No remorse.”

  “Yep, it’s all in there.”

  “You like it, for some reason.”

  “I guess I’m just too afraid to run away.”

  “That, or you know you’d miss that thing I do with my tongue.”

  “That too.”

  He grinned and found a spot on the right side of the street. He did a quick parallel parking job and jumped out.

  I climbed out more slowly. His shoes made a stomping sound on the concrete sidewalk. A couple kids sat on a stoop up ahead talking and laughing and looking at their phones. He led the way toward my father’s street, just a little alley between two major roads, sandwiched between larger buildings.

  The cobbled alley was wet like someone dumped water on it. Tanner made a face as we walked. “Smells like trash,” he said.

  I nodded at the dumpster. “Probably because it is trash.”

  He made a fake gagging sound and I laughed. He grinned at me, caught my hand. Sometimes he acted like a teenager in love and sometimes he acted like he barely understood how to function in the world. I couldn’t really rectify those two versions of him, and sometimes it scared me how radically different he could be, bouncing between the two extremes.

  We reached my father’s door and I knocked. There was no answer, so I knocked again, and again there was no answer.

  “Shall we?” he asked, stepping up next to me.

  “It’s locked,” I said, trying to the handle.

  He gently moved me aside then produced a little black soft pouch from his right jacket pocket. “Never a problem,” he said, and produced two little picks, which he proceeded to shove into the lock.

  It took him less than a minute to pick the locks. He held up a hand then went inside first, eyes scanning the space. I followed him next.

  The place looked even more barren than I remembered.

  “What the hell?”

  “Stay here.” He strode back into the kitchen. His face was dark as he came back out and headed upstairs. I lingered in the living room and stared at the empty mantel, the abandoned couch. There were no pictures on the wall anymore, nothing on the shelves. It was like someone had packed and left only the major furniture.

  It was eerie, like he’d never been there.

  “Same upstairs,” Tanner said. “Kitchen still has everything though. Refrigerator’s full.”

  “Think he just moved?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I don’t like this.”

  “Let me call him.” I took out my phone and found his number. I dialed it and he answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, honey.” He sounded like he was far away.

  “Dad? Am I on speaker?”

  “I’m in the car,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “I haven’t heard from you in a little while,” I said, “so Tanner and I went to your place to check in on you.”

  Long silence on his end. I heard the sound of cars in the background.

  “You there now?” he asked.

  “Did you move?”

  He cleared his throat. “Listen, honey—”

  “Did you move?” I asked again. “Because half the stuff here’s missing. It’s like you left the furniture but took all the personal stuff.”

  “I’m jumping to a new location,” he said. “Just to be safe, you know? They found that house, so I thought—”

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

  Another short pause. “I wasn’t sure I could.”

  “What, because of Tanner?”

  “I don’t trust him. You know that.”

  “He’s working to save your ass.”

  “He’s a killer. He betrayed a contract. How the hell is anyone supposed to trust that guy now?”

  I opened my mouth to argue then snapped it shut. I hel
d it there for a breath then spoke calmly. “Where are you now?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I just got some business, okay?”

  “Dad,” I said. “Where are you right now?”

  “Just on business,” he said. “Listen, honey, don’t worry about any of this, okay? I got it handled. I’m going to take care of everything.”

  “No, Dad, wait, don’t do anything.”

  “Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go.”

  “Dad—”

  But he hung up the phone. I stared at it then slipped it into my pocket.

  Tanner leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Well?”

  “He says he moved because the Leone family knew where he lived.”

  He nodded. “Reasonable.”

  “But he also said he was going to… take care of things.”

  Tanner grunted. “Really now?”

  “He said I shouldn’t worry. And he’d handle it.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No, it’s really not.” I crossed my arms and hugged myself. “Do you know where his people are? I mean, like, their hideout?”

  Tanner smiled. “They’re not bandits, you know.”

  “I know. But seriously.”

  “They’ve got a spot,” he said. “There’s a club they go to.”

  “Take me there.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah, right now. I think… I think he’s going to do something stupid.”

  Tanner watched me carefully. I couldn’t tell if he believed me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I even believed myself. It seemed crazy to think that my father would attack the Leones. I had no real proof of anything, just a bad feeling and a couple vague comments.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  We left the house together. He locked up then walked fast to the Lexus. We got in, drove into traffic, and headed south. We moved over a few blocks to the west and he parked on a quiet neighborhood street in front of a house with a bright blue door.

  “Stay close to me,” he said.

  “Where’s the club?”

  “On the next block,” he said. “We’re not going inside. We’re just taking a look around. But don’t wander off. If any of them spots you, this whole thing is over and who knows what’ll happen next.”

  I nodded, fear rolling over in my gut. My palms began to sweat as we stepped out of the car. I stuck close to Tanner and kept my head down. He strode along the sidewalk like he owned the world.

  At the corner up ahead, a low black building butted up against the tall red brick facade of the residential row homes. The windows were dark and the words PUTTY’S PLAYHOUSE were stenciled in red on the glass. The door was bright red and two big black trashcans flanked either side of it.

  Tanner lingered at the corner then crossed. He turned right, moved to the far side of the building, and stepped down a short alley that cut down the center of the block between the two rows. He held up a hand as he lingered just inside the alley, listening for something, then walked to the back door. He pressed his ear up against it and waited.

  I stood nervously pacing. He seemed to turn into a statue, not moving a muscle. I wanted to scream and shout at him but I couldn’t seem to work up the nerve.

  He moved back and walked to me. I leaned against the back wall of the house behind us. He put an arm to the right of my head and dipped his mouth down toward my ear.

  “Guys in the back room,” he said. “More than a few of them.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, his expression hard. “I couldn’t hear what they were talking about. But they were talking about something.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going in the front,” he said. “You’re going back to the car.”

  “Tanner—”

  “Listen to what I’m saying.” He tilted my chin toward him. “Do what I say.”

  I chewed on my lip. “Are you sure?”

  “Do it,” he said. “Go back to the car. Sit in the back seat and lean down low. Don’t move, don’t talk to anyone, don’t take any calls. Understand me?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Good girl.” He kissed me gently then pulled back. “Go now.”

  I turned and walked away. My heart raced so hard I thought I might fall over. But I reached the sidewalk, crossed the street, and found my way back to the car.

  It was unlocked. I got into the back and slumped down low, just like he wanted.

  And sat there to wait, my mind reeling with possibilities.

  28

  Tanner

  Something I learned from my years of being a hitman: nobody ever watched the front entrance.

  Especially not in the middle of the day. And especially when the place was full of guys.

  I took out my picks and made short work of the lock. The door opened nice and quiet. I slipped into a dark vestibule and groped for the next door. They hadn’t bothered to lock it.

  I smiled as I opened it and moved into the main room at a low crouch.

  It was empty. Tables filled the central space. A bar was pressed against the right side and a stage with a couple poles occupied the whole back wall. Chairs and stools were up off the floor, and the laminate flooring looked like it’d been mopped recently.

  Strip club, but a clean one. Must’ve just bought it. I wasn’t surprised. Elise’s father was known for running a tight ship.

  I moved along the right side, in front of the bar, and headed toward the back room. Lights shone around the cracks of a single door at the end of a short hallway. Two bathrooms were on my right, both locked. I lingered outside of the door and strained to listen.

  But heard nothing, at least nothing definitely. I heard voices, snatches of conversation, some laughter. I counted maybe ten guys back there, which wasn’t a good sign. I thought I heard the click of a magazine slipping into a gun.

  I could bust in there. It’d probably scare the hell out of them. Might cause a little chaos.

  Not the best move though. I lurked in the darkness, waiting, waiting, trying to be patient. I forced my mind to be quiet, wouldn’t let myself go through all the bad outcomes that might shake out. I had to keep it together or else risk fucking this whole thing up.

  Finally, my patience was rewarded. The door opened and I pressed myself against the wall behind it. A big guy with a bald head grunted to himself, chuckling at something he’d just heard back in the room. He wore a denim shirt and a pair of ratty jeans, like he was some kind of city cowboy. He had a gun in a holster at his hip and a big, bushy mustache.

  The door swung shut. I stepped out of the shadows as he turned toward the first bathroom.

  I pressed my gun against his neck.

  He let out a surprised grunt. “Is that—” he started to say, then stopped when he saw my face.

  “Don’t talk,” I said.

  “Who the fuck—”

  I pressed the gun harder against his throat. “Don’t talk,” I said again.

  He nodded, eyes hard. His hands hovered at his waist.

  “Hands in the air. Nice and slow. Fingers laced behind your head.”

  He raised them up, placed them behind his head.

  I reached around him, took his gun from his holster, shoved it into my waistband.

  “All right,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  “Roy,” he said.

  “Roy, nice to meet you. I’m Tanner. I need a little help, okay, Roy?”

  “Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s a bad idea,” he said.

  “What do you think I’m here for?”

  “Money,” he said. “You with the Leones? You just some stupid shit that walked in off the street?”

  “None of the above.” I tilted my head. “You must be a nobody if you don’t recognize me.”

  “Who the fuck—”

  “Quiet, Roy,” I say gently. “I will kill you. It’ll bring your buddies out, and I’ll probably have to kill a few more
of them too. But after the smoke clears, I’ll have a talk with your boss.”

  Roy stared at me. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Let’s go in the back, shall we?” I asked. “Come on, Roy. All you gotta do is walk and keep your mouth shut. You can do that. Try not to piss yourself too, huh?”

  I grabbed his arms and turned him. I kept my gun pressed against his neck, angled up toward his brain. It’d kill him fast and cause a hell of a mess.

  He stumbled forward to the back door. I reached around him and pulled it open. Light spilled out.

  Inside, eight other men sat around a series of three tables with an assortment of guns stacked all around them. Shotguns, rifles, pistols, even a stack of what looked like legitimate grenades. They were laughing when we walked into the room, but the laughter stopped when they caught sight of Roy with a gun to his throat.

  “Okay,” I said, talking loudly and keeping Roy between me and his buddies. “Let’s all stay calm.”

  Eight guys jumped to their feet. Chairs scattered back to the floor. Weapons raised and pointed at us.

  “Guys,” Roy said. “Calm.”

  “Thank you, Roy, but if you talk again I will kill you.”

  Roy grunted.

  “Who the fuck are you?” a voice called out. “Who the fuck is this? Should we waste the bastard?”

  “And kill Roy?” another answered. “Shut the hell up, you idiot.”

  “Boys, I’m just looking for your boss,” I said. “Where’s Drago?”

  Silence from the peanut gallery.

  “Boys, don’t make me ask again,” I said. “Nobody wants blood on their hands today.”

  “Tanner?” Drago’s voice came from behind a stack of boxes. He walked toward me, an assault rifle in his hands. “Tanner, is that you?”

  “Hey there, Drago,” I said. “Looks like a nice party.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said. “Put that gun down. Everyone stand the fuck down. Guns down right now.”

  Nobody moved.

  “Listen to your boss,” I said.

  “He’s got Roy,” the first voice said.

  “Stand the fuck down,” Drago said. “Right now, you morons. That’s Tanner, the hitman. He’ll kill half us before we manage to bring him down.”