by Mia Ford
And I did. In a great flourish of bundled nerves and curled toes and gritted teeth and gusts of breath, we came together. We jerked and writhed and pressed our gooey selves together until there was nothing left to give.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly as I collapsed onto the bed beside him.
He held up his arm so I could roll into him.
I put my head on his chest and my hand on his flat stomach.
He pulled me close. I heard him sigh.
It didn’t take long for both of us to fall asleep.
The last thought that ran through my drunken mind was: Sandy, what the fuck have you done.
SANDY
Rick was still sleeping peacefully when I opened my eyes and realized what I’d done. What we’d done; me and the man I was determined to kill.
He was on his side, facing me, with the left side of his face pressed to the pillow. His eyes were closed. He was breathing slowly in and out through his mouth.
I lay perfectly still, my breathing matching his, and let my eyes go around his handsome face. I wondered if he was dreaming, and if so, what about. He looked so content, so at peace, so unlike the man I expected to meet, going by what I’d learned from his police dossier.
I expected Rick Wright to be a cold, foulmouthed, heartless brute; capable of all manner of crimes and atrocities. I expected him to be callous, uncaring, unemotional, selfish. But in the short time I’d known him, he had been nothing but a perfect gentleman, in and out of bed.
His brother, Eddie, was exactly what I expected him to be. He was mean, angry, threatening, dangerous; and capable of horrible acts. My blood ran cold when he looked at me. I knew that given the chance, he would have dragged me into a room or a back alley and raped me, beat me, and left me for dead. My intentions against Rick Wright might have softened, but my determination to see Eddie Wright dead had not.
I glanced up to find Rick smiling at me. He put a finger to my cheek, then tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
Softly, he said, “Good morning.”
* * *
I set the cup of coffee on the table in front of Rick and sat down across from him. I poured a little milk into my coffee and scooped in two heaping spoons of sugar.
“Would you like a little coffee with your milk and sugar?” Rick asked with a smile that was no less mesmerizing than the night before. He picked up his cup of black coffee and blew a cooling breath into it.
“I like milk and sugar,” I said, stirring the coffee slowly. “Are you sure I can’t fix you some eggs?”
“I think you have done enough,” he said. He took a careful sip and pursed out his lips. “Thanks for letting me spend the night.”
I gave him a sincere smile. “It was my pleasure.” I tapped the spoon to the rim of my cup and set it aside. I watched him for a minute. He had pulled on his jeans to come for coffee, but his muscled torso and feet were bare. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he held the cup between his hands.
“Can I ask you something?” He didn’t wait for permission. “Why did you come into my bar last night?”
“I just came in for a drink,” I said with a shrug. “It is a bar, isn’t it?”
He gave me the smile again. I swear, he used it like a weapon. I felt every nerve in my body tingle.
He took a sip of coffee and bobbed his head. “It is a bar, but it’s not a bar that people like you come to.”
I blinked at him. “People like me? What does that mean?”
He narrowed his eyes and dipped his chin. “You look the part of the bad biker bitch, with your black hair and tats and heavy boots, but as I look around this place,” he nodded around the room with his eyebrows arched, “I see a girl trying to make a drastic change. And I can’t help but wonder why.”
I glanced around the open space that included the apartment’s living room, small breakfast nook, and kitchen. The apartment was spotless, but that wasn’t what he was talking about. He was talking about the photos of my family that hung on the wall and sat about the room. The old me, the happy one, loved family photos. The new me would probably never take another one.
The one thing I had done was to remove photos of Brent because I couldn’t stand to look at them. They were in a box in the bottom of my bedroom closet.
“This one, for example,” he said, getting out of the chair and carefully taking a framed photo off the living room wall. He came back with the photo of me, my sister April, and our parents. The photo was one of those hokey studio shots like you get taken at the Wal-Mart Portrait Center. It had been taken the year I graduated high school, six years ago. I had long blond hair pulled back and clipped on the sides, and was wearing just a hint of makeup. I was wearing a baggy sweater to hide my boobs. He set the photo on the table between us and pointed at it.
“You were very cute in your natural state,” he said, smiling with his eyes. “So, who is the girl sitting across from me now?”
“Are you saying that I’m not cute now?” I asked. I was just wearing a t-shirt and a pair of panties. I pulled up the front of the shirt and flashed my tits in an attempt to distract him. “Are you saying that these aren’t cute?”
“Oh, those are beyond cute,” he said, eyebrows twitching. “I’m just curious, is all. What made the cute blond in this photo transform into the woman sitting across from me now?”
I thought about the question and how best to answer it so he wouldn’t suspect that I was doing anything other than slumming when I came into his bar. I decided to give him a bit of truth and a bit of bullshit.
“I lost someone very close to me,” I said quietly. I held the coffee cup between my hands and stared into it to avoid his eyes. “He was killed. We were going to be married. I decided I needed a change.”
His features softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. When did he die?”
“A while ago.”
“How did he die?”
I hesitated for just a second. “Cancer.”
“I thought you said he was killed.”
I blinked at him. “Cancer killed him.”
“Ah. How old was he?”
“Twenty-eight.”
He gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Sandy. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I’m just always curious why people do the things they do.”
“That’s okay,” I said, brushing a knuckle beneath my eyes. “So why do you do the things you do?”
His forehead wrinkled at the question. “What do you mean?”
I gave him a knowing look. “I’ve heard of The Wright Brothers. Everybody has. You guys are like a modern-day James Gang. What makes you do the things you do?”
He stared deeply into my eyes as if he were trying to read my mind. “Things like what?”
I raised my eyebrows and let my shoulders go up and down. “Oh, let’s see, suspected of robbing banks and armored cars, hijacking truckloads of cigarettes and alcohol, jaywalking, loitering, pulling the wings off butterflies. That sort of thing.”
He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “Let me guess, you Googled me while I was asleep.”
“Something like that,” I said. I brought the cup to my lips and held it there for a moment. “I like to know who I’m sleeping with.”
“Well, don’t believe everything you read online,” he said seriously. “I’ve never pulled the wings off a single butterfly.”
“What about all that other stuff?” I asked the question playfully, but he could tell that I was serious.
He gave me a serious look. “What about it?”
“Is it true? Are you a criminal?” I could feel the color draining from my face as he stared at me. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or amused.
“Would you have a problem being with me if I was a criminal?” he asked.
I thought about the question for a moment but didn’t answer it because I knew I would be ashamed of the words that left my lips.
I stood up and held out my hand.
He
wrapped his fingers around mine.
I pulled him out of the chair and led him into the bedroom.
I’d answer the question there.
RICK
I had never been with a woman like Sandy. It wasn’t just that she was smoking hot and had the attitude to match, or that she would do anything and everything in the bedroom.
No, I’m talking about the way she made me feel. I had never been in love. Hell, I didn’t even know what love felt like. I didn’t think I was in love with Sandy, at least not yet, but when I was around her my heart beat a little faster. The air in my lungs felt a little lighter.
When I was with her, I wanted to be a better man.
Maybe that was it.
She made me want to be a better man.
She had been tending bar at the club for a few nights now. Carl was glad to have the help. He was nearing seventy. I had been trying to get him to retire for years, but he said if he retired he would die of boredom. Still, he was not averse to sitting in the room playing cards with the crew while Sandy did his job.
The plans to hit Crown Jewelers were all set. We would hit the place in two days, on Friday afternoon, while old man Crown was getting the shipment of diamonds ready for the armored car, which typically came at five. I had spent less and less time with Dottie, which she complained about when I pretended to call her from the road. I assured her that I would pick her up on Thursday evening for our weekend getaway.
I had absolutely no interest in ever fucking Dottie again now that I had Sandy. In fact, I had decided against driving the three hours to Vegas, just to slip her a rufie and drive home. I would take her as far as Barstow to a roadside motel and knock her out there. My contact would keep her sleeping peacefully until I gave them the all clear.
If everything went according to plan, we’d hit Crown Jewelers on Friday, I’d sell the diamonds to my fence on Saturday, and I would drop off the face of the earth by Sunday, and Dottie would come home heartbroken, but none the worse for wear on Monday.
I had a “go bag” all packed with a fake passport and ID, a hundred grand in cash, three burner phones, and a few changes of clothes.
My cut from the sale of the diamonds would be deposited in an offshore bank account I had set up weeks before. The rest of the crew wanted their cut in cash, which I knew would eventually get them caught. Even Eddie, who was a sloppy crook and a big spender. He’d spread money around like butter and people would notice. That would be his problem then. By that time, I’d be long gone.
All I had to decide was where I wanted to go.
And whether I wanted to take Sandy with me.
* * *
I came out of the back room and slid onto a bar stool. Sandy was tending bar for the third night in a row and seemed to be enjoying it. The regulars loved her. They especially liked looking at her big tits and the cleavage that spilled out over the top of her bra. I loved it, too. I buried my nose and mouth and cock into it every chance I got.
The only person that didn’t like Sandy was Eddie, who said there was something about her that set off red flags in his head, whatever the fuck that meant. He asked about her background, where she had come from all of a sudden, and what made me think she wasn’t a cop.
“I can smell a cop from a mile away,” I told him. “Trust me, I’ve been over every inch of her body and her apartment. If she was a cop, I’d know it.
“You can’t smell with your dick,” he said, giving me a hard look to let me know he was serious. He gritted his teeth at me. “You let this girl get under your skin fast as fuck, brother. I’m not convinced she is who she says she is. There’s something familiar about her. And when I figure it out…”
“You will do nothing, little brother,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a hard squeeze to remind him of the pecking order. “I’ve got this. You just focus on the job and try not to fuck anything up in the meantime.”
“You’d better be right,” he said, unamused. He jerked his shoulder from beneath my hand and looked me in the eye. “If she becomes a problem, you’d better take care of it or I will.”
* * *
“We need to talk,” I said, sliding onto a bar stool with my go-bag in my hand. I set the bag on the stool next to me and folded my arms on the bar.
Sandy gave me and the bag an apprehensive look. “Okay, that doesn’t sound good. Do you want a drink?”
“No, and it’s nothing bad,” I said, giving her the smile that she said curled her toes. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What would you say to getting away for a while?”
“You mean away from this place or the city?”
“I mean get away as in you and I getting on a plane and never looking back. We go somewhere sunny and warm, Belize maybe, or Tahiti, and we start again.”
She blinked at me for a moment. “I… I don’t know. I mean, what’s brought this one?” She nodded at the bag. “And what’s in the bag?”
I dragged the bag onto the bar and unzipped it so she could see inside. “Money, a new passport and ID, clothes.” I zipped it up. “It’s my go-bag.”
“Go-bag?”
“The bag I grab when I have to go. Quickly.”
A look of fear washed over her eyes. She put a hand to her lips and lowered her voice. “Why would you have to go?” she asked.
I glanced around the bar. It was late and the place was empty except for a couple of bikers and one old biker whore shooting pool. Eddie and the crew were out somewhere doing God knows what. I just hoped they didn’t get caught. The Crown job was in two days. I needed them sharp if we were going to pull this off.
“I want to start a new life,” I said, leaning over my elbows on the bar and lowering my voice so only she could hear me. “And I want you to come with me.”
“Okay. When would we go?”
I took a deep breath. I trusted her as much as I had ever trusted anyone in my life. I prayed Eddie wasn’t right, that my cock was not doing the thinking for my brain.
I said, “I am about to make a big score, one that will set me for life. It happens Friday. I’ll wrap up the details Saturday and be ready to go on Sunday. I want you to come with me.”
“You’re scaring me,” she said. “What kind of score?”
“I can’t tell you that. You just have to trust me.”
She looked deeply into my eyes. “Will anyone get hurt?”
“What? No, of course not. I don’t hurt people, you know that.”
“But your brother does.” She said the words and clenched her teeth.
I frowned at the look of fear in her eyes. “Why would you say that?”
“I’ve heard him talk about hurting people,” she said. “He brags about it.”
I tried to muster a reassuring smile for her. “Nobody gets hurt when I’m in charge,” I said. “You have my promise.”
She stared at the bag. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Stow it in the trunk of your car. Pack one of your own. I will call you Friday after the job and have you meet me. We’ll take your car and get out of town, then figure out where we want to go and fly away.”
She held out her hand and I wrapped my fingers around it.
“This is so sudden,” she said. “Can I think about it?”
“Yes,” I said, squeezing her hand. “You have until Friday.”
SANDY
I was sitting at my kitchen table staring into a cup of lukewarm coffee, replaying in my head the conversation I’d had with Rick the night before when the doorbell rang.
He was going to make a big score on Friday, he said, one that would set him up for life. He wanted to leave the city and never return. He wanted to start a new life. And he wanted me to go with him.
I took a sip of the coffee and wondered how things had happened so fast. And gotten so far out of hand.
A week ago, I was Sandy Duval, an innocent girl who was grieving over her dead fiancé and plotting revenge on the men who had killed him.
Now
, I was a criminal’s girlfriend who was thinking about running away with him after he committed his next crime. Funny, how things can change so quickly, how morals can loosen and logic can wane; all because Eddie Wright put a bullet in Brent’s head and Rick Wright put his cock in me.
The doorbell rang again. I ignored it long enough to finish my coffee and set the cup in the sink. It was just after eight in the morning. I knew it wasn’t Rick at the door because he was out of town on business (god, that almost sounds legit) and wouldn’t be back until Friday. I wondered if Eddie was with him…
The doorbell rang again, this time making me jump. I was wearing a bathrobe with nothing on underneath, just as Rick had left me an hour before. I tightened the sash around my waist and pulled the lapels over my breasts as I went to answer the door.
I checked the peephole. It wasn’t Rick or Eddie. It was a tall, thin woman whose distorted features through the peephole looked vaguely familiar. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Yes?”
“Miss Duval?” The woman at the door looked me up and down as if she didn’t recognize me. I didn’t recognize her either until she held up a detective’s badge.
“I’m Detective Cochran,” she said, tucking the badge inside her gray jacket. “I was the detective that spoke with you after your fiancé’s murder.”
I lifted my chin and tried to swallow the piece of my heart that had wedged in my throat. Having a cop show up at my door wouldn’t have unnerved me a week ago. Now, I had to fight the urge to slam the door and run out the back. I wasn’t guilty of anything other than plotting revenge, but it sure felt like it.
“Yes. I remember. Please. Come in.” I put my hands in the robe’s pockets to keep them from shaking, then stepped aside to let her pass.
She followed me to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. She refused my offer of coffee. She took out a small notepad and pen as she waited for me to sit down.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” I asked.
Her eyes went around my face again. She glanced at my hair and the diamond stud in my nose. I had never felt more self-conscious. Thank God, the robe covered my tattoos.