Whatever It Takes

by Ben Boswell

  "Oh fuck," I groaned.

  I had wanted to last forever, but feeling this gorgeous creature orgasming beneath me was too much. I threw my head back, plunged deep inside her, and came explosively. I collapsed onto top of Jessi, breathing hard.

  As we recovered, she gave me a teasing smile. "You're a pretty good fuck. I finally get what Kris sees in you."

  I laughed. "You may not know this, but I've thought about doing this for years."

  She laughed as well. "See, it turns out that me ripping off Sal was a good thing."

  I shook my head. It was a crazy thing to say... and yet, there was some weird truth to it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I awoke early to the sound of my phone buzzing. I glanced at the alarm clock. It was 5:43 am. Jessi was still in bed with me, both of us naked. I found the phone, saw the call was from Kris.

  "Baby, you okay?" I asked.

  "Yeah," she whispered back.

  "What's going on?"

  "They're all asleep. I'm at his computer."

  I couldn't help but think back to Jessi's statement "girls have more endurance." She'd fucked a house full of men into exhaustion. I shook my head. I didn't want to think about it.

  "Okay, what can I do?" I asked.

  "I need some info. He's got everything password protected. I can't find them written down. I'll try to work on him today. But I need whatever you can get from Jess. How many kids does he have? What are their names? Birthdates? What about pets? What's Sal's favorite sports teams?"

  "Um okay," I replied skeptically.

  "He's a drug dealer and amateur pornographer, but I bet he picks the same lame passwords the rest of us do."

  "Okay. How should I..."

  "Email it," she replied quickly. "I need to go. I hear footsteps."

  The phone went dead. At least one man in the house hadn't been fucked insensate by Kris. She'd probably be taking care of that shortly.

  I shook Jessi awake. We had work to do.

  _____

  We compiled a quick dossier. From Jessi, we knew his full name, Salvatore Brantone. His son Vincent Brantone. No other kids. Like most douchebags, he rooted for the Red Sox. No pets.

  Going online, I found an old arrest record giving his birth date as March 21, 1959.

  Vinny had gone to State. Jessi called their registrar and schmoozed a birth date for Vinny out of them, July 9, 1985.

  Knowing he was a Sox fan, I sent along some Red Sox related names and numbers: Yastrzemski, Williams, 406, 2004.

  It was a long shot, but Sal was a drug dealer, not a cyber criminal. Kris was right. Odds were that his passwords would be just as lame as anyone else’s.

  We packaged off this collection of data and suggestions in an email to Kris. An hour later I received a quick reply, "thx bye." She still had access to her phone, even if she was using it furtively.

  I tried not to think too much about what was happening with her. If I understood the rules, they had her naked and always available for Sal or any of his guests. I tried not to think of it... but I couldn't help it. The images forced their way into my mind whenever I had a spare moment. So the key was to keep myself busy.

  Problem was, there was only so much I could do. Damon and I had gone over the plan a dozen times, spinning out various contingencies and options. Should Jessi be armed? Where should he and I be? What if DeMac didn't show? What if his men were following close on rather than waiting for him to leave before moving against Jessi? It was a good way to pass time even as the scenarios became outlandish.

  Jess meanwhile had begun an angst-ridden dialogue with DeMac. We watched over shoulder as she slowly allowed herself to be convinced that it was all a big misunderstanding, that Tyrell and Boogs had been freelancing. He called several times. She refused to pick up, texting that she was still too distraught to talk.

  She finally spoke to him that night. I listened to her reel him in, alternating between angry, weepy, and naively in love. When she hung up, she rolled her eyes. She was a brilliant actress. It was at once impressive and terrifying. I couldn't help but wonder about what had happened in her young life to make her such an effective manipulator.

  DeMac had had to work so hard to talk her into a meeting that he seemed grateful even when she laid out the conditions: he'd show up alone in the parking lot of the Pelican Bay on Harborside, she'd call and direct him to their meeting spot nearby. They set a time, 2:00 pm the next day.

  _____

  I was sleeping alone. Jessi had poked her head in earlier, but I'd thanked her and sent her away. As much as I’d needed company the previous night, tonight I just wanted solitude.

  Everything was coming to a head. It thought about how crazy my life had become. My wife was undercover, literally, with one drug dealer trying to hack his computer. And I was part of a plan to ambush a second drug dealer in a waterfront motel.

  I drifted in and out of restless sleep.

  My phone buzzed.

  "Yeah?" I answered automatically.

  I checked the time. 2:26 am.

  "Daniel?"

  Her voice put a smile on my face.

  "You okay Kris?"

  She seemed to hesitate before answering. "Yeah. Sure. It's weird, ya know?"

  I didn't know what to say.

  "Do you hate me?" she persisted. She was speaking in a low, but insistent whisper.

  "What?"

  "Do you hate me?"

  "Jesus, Kris, what are you talking about?"

  "Daniel, I've had sex with four men in the past day. Dirty sex. You understand?"

  I'd fucked her sister in the same time period. Who was I to complain? But that wasn't the issue anyway.

  "You don't need to explain..."

  "Yes. I do. They don't have to force..."

  "Kris, stop," I interrupted firmly. She paused, and I continued. "Do you like Sal better than me?"

  "Daniel, no. What the fuck are you asking?"

  I chuckled. "I'm just asking what I already knew. You don't even like any of those men, do you?"

  "No," she replied sadly. "That's what makes it so sick."

  "Kris, baby, you're not losing me. And I'm not losing you. But the last two weeks... we've discovered a lot about ourselves. And personally, I'm sort of excited to explore how we live with and indulge these new discoveries."

  "Daniel, you don't..."

  "I don't understand? Yes, Kris, I do understand. I do. And as long as you're going to be willing to allow me to explore my own desires as you explore yours we'll be okay."

  I heard her take in a deep breath. "That's hard."

  "Yup. It is. But we can't undo the last two weeks. And we shouldn't want to. If we tried, we'd just end up dying a little with every passing day."

  "Daniel..."

  "Kris, for twenty years, we followed a nice straight highway. Obeyed all the rules. And now we've swerved off-road. No more lane markers, no speed limit, but it's still the two of us, driving together. Let's enjoy the scenery."

  "Scenery, eh?"

  "Some scenery is more interactive than others."

  She stifled a laugh. "You have no idea."

  "Then you'll have to fill me in later."

  She swallowed a quick sob. "Daniel, I love you."

  "I love you too, baby."

  There was a pause before I changed the topic. "So, any luck with his computer?"

  "Not yet. But I have a plan."

  "Yeah?"

  "Describe one of the videos he sent you."

  "Why?"

  "I want to get him to give me a show. I'm gonna tell him I saw one he sent you. I'll tell him how hot it made me. How much I want to see more. So describe one. A hot one."

  "One of them had you swallowing his come. Another had you getting double-teamed by Jerry and Rock. But, I guess, the hottest was one where he filmed you riding him, facing away."

  "I remember that," she sighed. "He made me come."

  "That's what made it hot."

  "You're a pervert,"
she teased.

  "And you're a slut," I teased back.

  "Yeah. Who knew?"

  Another pause.

  Then she filled it. "What about you guys?"

  "We have a plan."

  "Is it a good plan?"

  "I dunno. I guess we'll see tomorrow."

  "That doesn't sound good."

  I shrugged, though I realized she couldn't see it. "It's no crazier than what you're up to."

  "Stay safe," she replied simply.

  "You too, baby. And enjoy the ride and the scenery."

  "See you soon."

  "You too. Goodnight."

  I hung up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I was back at the bar in Harborside, on the outdoor terrace. I had a pair of binoculars by my side, a book on Sea Birds of North America on the table. It was a little past the lunch rush, such as it was this time of year, so they didn't seem to mind me taking up a piece of prime real estate, especially since the chill in the air meant only a couple of us were out there.

  I scanned my surroundings. Below me was a parking lot adjacent to a renovated pier with shops and restaurants. Across the parking lot, I spied Damon in a small park. He was dressed in sweats and doing chin-ups on a set of kids swings. I continued to swing my binocular to the right, until I came upon the Sheraton Harborside. I counted up three floors, scanned from left to right until I spotted Jessi standing in the fourth set of windows peering out into the parking lot.

  "Hey guys," I said.

  "Yo," replied Damon.

  "See anything?" asked Jessi.

  I was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece. Jessi and Damon had similar devices and we were all conferenced-in together.

  "Not yet," I replied. "We chose a good time to do this. Not a lot of traffic."

  "Stay alert," Damon said quickly. "Lots of things can go wrong."

  As he spoke, I noticed a black BMW crossing the bridge. Darkly tinted windows. It immediately attracted my attention.

  "We may have something," I said.

  Through my binoculars, I followed the car into the parking lot. The driver drove cautiously. He pulled into a spot in the far corner, close by where Damon was stationed.

  "See it?" I asked.

  "Yeah," replied Damon. "Jessi, is that his car?"

  "No idea," she replied. "Could be. He's usually in a flashier ride, but might be trying to be low-key."

  I laughed. "Only a drug dealer would consider a blacked out Beamer low key."

  "Keep an eye out for lookouts or tails," Damon advised.

  I scanned the bridge and the lot for activity. There was a UPS truck, an elderly couple heading toward the pier, and a handful of joggers. There was a meter maid slowly waddling around the parking lot, periodically writing out tickets. There were a dozen cars in the lot, but all of them had been there for a while.

  "Show time," Damon announced suddenly.

  "It's him," Jessi confirmed.

  I trained my binoculars on the BMW in time to see DeMac shut the driver's side door behind him. He looked around cautiously. He was in sweatpants and a oversized North Face jacket. I observed him closely, looking for evidence of a weapon, but he could have it hidden anywhere in his bulky outerwear.

  He slowly made his way over to the fried dough stand. He ordered a funnel cake and ate it by the railing overlooking the bay. I pulled out my camera with telephoto lens. I got a number of good shots of DeMac, both close ups and wide shots to establish location. At the very least, we had him on violating terms of bail. But we still wanted to bring him in. We couldn't risk him going to ground.

  "Anyone else in that car?" Damon asked.

  "I dunno," I replied. "Can't see inside."

  "So should I call him?" Jessi asked.

  "Wait a few minutes," Damon replied. "Dan, keep scanning for anything suspicious."

  Nothing jumped out at me. There were shops, cars, tourists, but nothing and no one that seemed out of place. The only person in the parking lot itself other than DeMac was the meter maid making yet another lap of the dozen or so widely-spaced cars. There was no one who seemed to be watching over DeMac.

  "I think he might be alone," I said.

  "I told you we might be giving him too much credit," Damon replied.

  We'd planned all of this on the assumption that DeMac would be looking to construct an alibi before moving on Jessi. But maybe he planned to take her out of the picture himself. I shivered. What the fuck was I doing mixed up with potential killers?

  "Either that or he really misses Jessi," I replied optimistically.

  She snorted. "Don't count on that. He probably just thinks no one will much care about a dead hooker in a waterfront hotel."

  "Alright. I'll head over to you Jess," Damon said. "Give me a couple of minutes, then call him. Dan, keep an eye out. Let us know if he calls anyone after Jess talks to him or if you notice anyone trailing him."

  We'd gotten Jessi a second phone to call him so that she could stay connected with both of us. She dialed him.

  "Fuck," she snapped. "Says his phone won't accept blocked numbers."

  "How are people supposed to reach him? What the fuck kind of drug dealer is he?" I asked.

  "One who’s out on bail and needs to be careful," Damon replied. "Alright, Jess, you'll need to call him on your phone. We'll add you back on the call after."

  "Okay," she replied.

  She disconnected from the conference call. A minute later, I saw DeMac reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. As he spoke, he looked around, obviously trying to figure out where she was. They spoke for a couple of minutes, and then he turned toward the Sheraton. I could see him scanning the windows, but she'd drawn her curtains and was, at most, peering at him through a crack.

  He continued to look around and then began to stalk toward the hotel. I searched the parking lot and the area around with my binoculars. I kept checking his car to see if anyone else might be hidden in there.

  "You see anything?" Damon asked. I could hear him climbing stairs.

  "No. Looks like he's alone."

  "Okay, I'll wait in the room with Jessi. Looks like he's gonna make it easy on us."

  "Maybe," I replied.

  "I'll call her and let her know I'm on my way."

  He hung up on me. I saw him walk through the side door to the hotel. DeMac heading toward the main entrance.

  I didn't know why, but I had a weird sense of unease. He was apparently making it easy on us. Too easy. He'd already tried to have Jessi killed once. He had to suspect a trap. And yet, here he was, violating his bail terms, on his own. He was either overconfident or maybe he was being honest when he claimed that Tyrell and Boog had gone rogue. Something wasn't adding up, but I wasn't sure what.

  And then it struck me. We were out of season. Parking was free this time of year. I searched for the meter maid. I spotted her moving briskly toward the hotel... and as I looked closer, I realized it wasn't a she. It was Tyrell. He was on the phone. Not to DeMac who was still walking, hands in pocket. There was someone else nearby.

  I fumbled with my phone, dialed Damon's number. No answer. Had he muted it? Had he lost reception in the building? Had someone jumped him?

  I leapt up and ran out of the bar. I began moving toward the hotel. I felt in my pocket for my gun. My heart was racing. I started to call Jessi, but in my anxiety I misdialed. Fuck. No time to try again.

  I was through the front door. I looked around the lobby for DeMac or anyone else suspicious. No one. Just a bored looking clerk behind the front desk, engrossed in her Smartphone.

  I looked at the elevator. Saw it stop on three. I found the stairs, took them three at a time. My heart was pounding. I could feel sweat running down my face.

  I pushed open the door to the third floor. Half way down the corridor I heard a woman scream. A door slammed. I ran toward Jessi's room.

  At the other end of the hall I spotted a large mass crumpled by the emergency exist. It was a man. He lifted his head. Damon. His face
d covered in blood from a gash on his forehead. He forced himself up onto his arms. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed again.

  No time to check on him. I reached into my pocket for my gun, yanked at it, but it snagged on the fabric. With my other hand I was already pushing open the door to her room. I burst through the door before freeing my weapon.

  Jessi looked up at me from her knees, tears in her eyes. Standing behind her was Boogs, his gun pressed into a pillow against the back of her head. I didn't have time to think. I launched myself at him.

  He lifted his arm instinctively. As I sprinted into the room, I caught a movement in my peripheral vision. I ducked my head to avoid a fist. I was off my feet. There was a gunshot, deafeningly loud by my ear. I choked on a cloud of shredded foam as the bullet exploded the pillow. From behind me I heard a thud, a wet splash.

  My momentum carried me into Boogs. We both collapsed onto the floor in a pile. I was laying on his arm, the same arm Damon had injured in the other motel room. I brought my fist down hard on his wrist. He howled in pain, released the gun. He tried to grab it again, but instead knocked it under the bed. I spun around.

  We were face to face. I brought my forehead down on his already flattened nose, a spurt of his warm blood splashed on my face. He recoiled, slammed his own head against the floor knocking himself out.

  My head ached. There was a ringing in my ears. Through it all I heard a scream.

  "Danny, watch out!"

  Too late. My ribs exploded in pain, I flew into the air, landed on my back. I looked up to see DeMac standing over me, a handgun in my face. I could see into the barrel. A tunnel with no light at the end of it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jessi racing toward him. He wasn't taken by surprise. He launched his fist at her, caught her flush on the cheek. She crumpled across me, my ribs exploding again in agony. Her head lolled from side to side.

  That was it. I couldn't lift her off me. I could barely breath. DeMac reached for the pillow. He put it down on my face. I felt him press his gun against the other side.

  I thought of Kris. And our kids. God how I'd miss them. We'd gone off-road, just for a few weeks, and now I was dead.