by RJ Lawrence
Chills climbed her spine as she watched him drink, his throat bulging grotesquely as it consumed the rust colored liquor. When he'd drained the glass dry, he set it on the table and wiped the slick from his mouth with the back of his left hand. He turned and smiled, his bold eyes hungry and showing obvious signs of intoxication.
"Where were we?" He said, as he palmed the back of her head and gathered up a bunch of her hair once more.
He forced her down again, and this time she offered no resistance, her cheek landing flush against the firmness inside his pants, the warmth of it obvious even through his clothing. She opened his pants and pulled them down, and he wiggled his hips to oblige. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand inside his underwear and took his member by the shaft. He lolled his head back as she stroked it, his grip firming, her scalp stinging, as if the hair might yank free at any moment. Finally, he took it from her with his other hand and tried to force it between her lips, the head pushing its way through, despite the strength of her will.
Without thinking, she lowered her hand and took his testicles, bringing a carnal moan from his gaping mouth. With this, he began thrusting his hips, jamming his dick deeper inside her mouth. She felt his body tighten as he prepared to release, but before he could reach his climax, she collapsed her hand around his balls and squeezed them together with all her strength.
Wails of agony escaped his throat, and he released her hair to try to pry her hand free from the screaming pain between his legs. But, as he lunged forward, she withdrew the corkscrew from her panties using her off hand and plunged it into the side of his neck, the shiny metal sinking effortlessly into the fleshy tissue, a string of dark purple blood bowing upward and splashing against the white tile floor.
He put both hands to his throat to stop up the bleeding, but it boiled out between his fingers and washed out over his arms. Hannah scrambled to her feet and froze, the corkscrew still dangling from her hand, the coils congested with gore. Dominic staggered to his feet and stumbled toward her, his eyes flaring wildly, face painted with a medley of fear, blood and rage.
He came at her full bore and put his fingers around her neck, but the moment his hands left the wound, an oozing, dark red waterfall escaped, and he dropped to the ground, his handsome face pallid and lifeless, his bold eyes cloudy and vacant.
Hannah looked down at his lifeless body, half expecting him to spring back up to his feet. She kicked at him, the toe of her high heel shoe digging into his ribs without conjuring any sort of response. When she was finally convinced, she turned her attention toward the door, approaching it cautiously, her body trembling and heaving with great exasperated breaths.
In the corner, a security monitor showed the goings on in the exterior hallway lobby. She watched the one guard pacing around outside, his hand in his pocket, a drowsy look on his face. Without hesitation, she turned the locks on the door and opened it. The guard turned abruptly, his body straightening to prepare for the sight of his boss; but, instead, he saw only a beautiful, petite woman, her dress and skin saturated in blood.
"Please," she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "There's been an accident."
The guard hurried forward and looked inside the apartment, his face taking on shock at the sight of Dominic's lifeless body. He reached into his jacket to remove his pistol, but before he could grasp the butt of the gun, Hannah drove the corkscrew into the back of his neck. This time, her aim was especially auspicious, and the guard collapsed to the ground, as if his soul had been plucked free instantaneously, the corkscrew handle sticking out the back of his spine, making him look like a giant wind-up toy.
Hannah removed her shoes and scampered to the elevator. She pressed the button and waited, her heart thumping against her chest, like something that wanted out. Within seconds the door opened, and the bearded elevator operator greeted her with a look of great worry.
"Please," she said, her palms turned upward. "Dominic needs your help."
Without thinking, the operator fled the elevator and sprinted for the apartment. As he did, Hannah took his place and furiously tapped the ground floor button. As if beckoned by some noiseless tone, the operator stopped and turned.
"Hey!" he said, the depth of his voice rugged and frightening. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Hannah frantically pressed the button several times more, as the thud of his boot heels grew louder and louder.
"Get out of there you fucking bitch!"
At last the doors flashed out of their hiding places and raced toward one another; but before they met, the burly operator thrust his hand between. The doors met his arm and relented, the entryway opening enough for him to squeeze between, his big body swelling before her, eyes red with rage.
A rush of fear washed over her, as the furious man moved forward and took her by the arms, his massive hands enveloping them whole, so his fingers touched on the other side. Without thinking, she let out a soft little cry and brought her knee upward in a sharp forward angle, the hard bony kneecap striking true enough to draw a slobbering cry that filled the elevator and hurt her ears.
As if all the oxygen had disappeared from the room, the operator collapsed onto the ground and clutched at his genitals, his face contorted, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. The elevator doors flared out again, this time stopping around the man's legs and withdrawing once more. In a panic, Hannah stomped her heel into his shins, until he finally pulled them toward his chest and made room for the doors.
Immediately, she pressed the button to summon the doors back again, but they remained in their hiding place, while the operator crawled to his knees.
"You fucking bitch," he gasped. "I’ll kill you!"
Finally, the doors appeared again, and when the operator saw this, he staggered to his feet and limped forward, one hand stretched out, fingers clutching the air.
Hannah held her hands to her mouth as the man encroached, his image growing slender between the closing elevator doors. Convinced he would interrupt them once more, she positioned herself to offer whatever best defense she could muster, but just before his hand could slip between, the elevator sealed itself shut and began its descent.
As she drew closer to the lobby floor, Hannah looked at her dress. Dominic's blood had congealed into a thick, wine-colored splatter that made her look as if she'd stepped out of a horror movie. When the elevator opened, a well-dressed old couple stood before her, their jaws agape at the sight of her predicament. As she stepped out into the lobby, almost everyone looked up, and gasps spread through the room like a virus.
Through the hush, a suited man rushed forward and took her by the arm.
"You're coming with me," he said, as he held his off hand to an earpiece that barked instructions in low tones.
"Help me!" Hannah yelled to the people in the lobby, but all seemed too shocked to move. "Please, help me, for God's sake!"
Finally, a large man wearing a cowboy hat stepped forward and blocked the suited man's path.
"Hold it right there," he said. "Where are you taking this woman?"
The man stopped and looked his opponent over.
"This is none of your concern," he said. "Now, I advise you to stand aside before you get hurt."
A fire took life in the large man's eyes, and he cocked his hat back and then pointed a thick finger at the other man.
"I'm warning you once more," he said. "Turn her loose. You ain't takin her nowhere til we figure out what in the hell's going on."
A crowd began to form around the three, and this seemed to make the suited man nervous. He looked from side-to-side and then released Hannah's arm. The large man held out a hand, but before she could take it, the suited man drove his empty palm into the front of his neck, knocking his hat backward and choking the breath from his throat.
The crowd let out a collective gasp, as the large man fell to his knees. Without hesitation, Hannah turned and made a run for the exit, but just before she could grab the door handle, the suited man had her a
rm again, this time squeezing it tight enough to make her cry out.
"You're not going anywhere," he whispered into her ear. "You're going to pay for what you've done."
With that, he turned to face the lobby, but before he could focus his eyes, a large fist collided with his nose, and a crunching noise racketed through the room. Instantly, the suited man lost consciousness and fell forward, his face landing hard against the unforgiving floor.
Teeth fragments shot out and skipped across the tile, settling just in front of the old couple from the elevator, their faces painted with horror and disgust. The large man hovered over his fallen adversary, his left hand still clutching his throat; whistling, wheezing breaths passing in and out of his purple lips.
"Are you all right?" A woman asked.
"I'm fine," he whispered. "Someone call the police."
As people gathered around him, he looked for the girl.
"Where's that woman?" He asked to no one in particular.
Everyone looked around, but no one had an answer, and no one knew what to say, when the police finally arrived.
Chapter 6
Courtney sat inside her apartment, a cup of coffee cradled gently atop her lap.
"Listen," the detective said, his voice raspy and gruff. "It's in everyone's best interest if you tell me where she's gone."
She took a sip and assessed the man before her, his stomach hanging over his ill-fitted belt, his balding head giving back the lamp light.
"I don't have any idea."
The detective looked at his partner: a younger man who looked like he exercised regularly.
"Ma'am," the second man said. "I don't think you understand what's going on here. We're not looking to hurt your sister; we want to help her."
Courtney tapped her foot impatiently.
"Now, try to understand," he continued. "This man that she's killed is a very important figure in a very powerful group of organized criminals. Now, these people, they aren't just going to let this go. They're going to look for her, and they will find her, because that's what they do. They find people and they hurt them. Do you understand?"
Courtney drank her coffee and looked away, as if he'd said nothing of significance at all.
"Listen," the first man said. "We don't give a shit if she killed the motherfucker in self-defense or cold blood; we just want to find her, so we can protect her is all."
Courtney set her coffee on the table and looked at the two men, her bold, beautiful eyes throwing daggers.
]"Bullshit," she said. "I'm not some doe-eyed girl who just got to this city. You want to use her for anything and everything she can tell you. You want to see if you can play her against whomever it is you have designs on. You don't give a fuck about her, and even if you did, you couldn't really protect her at all.
The young detective stood up and dusted his slacks.
"Alright then," he said. "You call us when you change your mind."
As the older detective left the apartment, the younger one lingered.
"I will tell you this," he said. "If there's one person that should be most worried, it’s you. These people, they're going to come for you, and when they ask where she's at, they won't be as nice as us."
Courtney looked up and told him to go to hell using just her brilliant eyes. The young detective shook his head and stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Immediately, she took to her feet and peered through her window shades until she saw the two men make their way down the apartment stairs, get inside their vehicle and drive away. Then, she ran back to her bedroom and collected two suitcases, packed tightly with only the most crucial of assets: some clothing, some pictures and a few rolls of cash she'd stowed away over the years.
She hauled the suitcases through her little apartment and stopped at the door. For a moment, she allowed herself to look back if only to take a mental snapshot of the little home she was leaving behind. Then, she was down the stairs and inside her car and driving toward a little hotel just outside the desert.
When she got there, she idled just out front. Soon, Hannah crept outside, her head darting back and forth, eyes asquint, like something coming out into the light for the first time in a very long while.
"Hurry up," Courtney yelled from out her lowered window, and this brought Hannah scampering across the parking lot.
"Do you have everything we'll need?" Hannah asked, as she took a seat beside her sister.
"Enough to last us until we can figure it all out."
Tears gathered in the corners of Hannah's eyes.
"I'm so sorry Courtney. I'm so sorry for getting you into this."
Courtney put a tender hand to Hannah's cheek.
"Listen," she said. "In my life, I've let love go I wish I still had. I won't do that again, not with you. We are sisters and that makes us soul mates for life."
Hannah smiled and the two embraced.
"I'm scared," she said. "I hope this is the right decision."
Courtney squeezed her tight.
"There is no right decision until you make it the right decision."
She let go of her sister and started the car.
"Where will we go?" Hannah asked, her voice little and soft.
"It doesn't matter," Courtney said. "Fun isn't very good at hiding from us."
With that, she put the car in drive, and they took out toward something uncertain, the warm summer breeze licking dryly their bare arms, the red sun falling fast toward the barren soil before them. After a while, the radio played a song about hope, freedom and self, and they drove all night until it came true.
THE END
If you enjoyed this book and are interested in reading PART TWO and PART THREE of the “YES” series, please visit the author’s Facebook page. All followers will be notified the moment the sequel is released.
http://www.facebook.com/rsj.lawrence.14
Table of Contents
Copyright © 2012 by RJ Lawrence
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6