Finishing The Job

by Harley Fox

  With my eyes closed I reach down and find his back, his head. My fingers thread through his hair as he pulls my nipple up into his mouth.

  “Ooh,” I moan, clenching around him, pulling him in deeper. We move with grace, in synchronicity. I can feel his hot breath on my chest. His rough hands find my neck, my hair. He grabs onto it, holding me as he begins to pound faster. I gasp.

  “Oh, Lance!”

  “Mm,” he responds.

  His cock is driving into me, filling me up entirely. It’s sending me up farther, bringing me towards that edge of bliss.

  “Oh fuck, Lance!”

  I cry out as I come, my fingers grabbing his hair and the skin of his back. He lets out a long moan of appreciation, still fucking me, drawing my pleasure out longer and longer.

  When my orgasm subsides Lance lifts his head to mine and we kiss again. But then a surge of energy and recklessness hits me and I roll us over, landing on top of him. He lets out a sound of surprise as it’s my turn to drop my head down to his, my turn to kiss him how I want.

  My pussy grinds back and forth as I straddle him, feeling him move inside of me. He’s laying back, his eyes on me, watching me tower over top of him.

  “Fuck, I love you,” he says.

  “Mmm,” I smile. “Good boy.”

  His hands are on my body and I grab onto his wrists, bringing them up and over his head, pinning them to the bed. Lance lets out another sound of surprise.

  “Katie,” he says, but I shut him up with a kiss. My knees brace themselves on either side of him, and then I begin to move. Really move. I can feel his body tense under mine, hear the hot choking sounds he makes as I fuck him hard.

  “Oh, fuck,” he says against my lips. He tries moving his arms but I’m stronger than I was when we first met. I keep them down.

  “Oh fuck, Katie.”

  I keep moving, keep fucking him. My pussy is taking his cock in, letting it out, moving forward and back, bringing him all the way into me and out again. Feeling him pinned down against me makes me hot and horny. He’s struggling now, but he can’t get up. And all the while he’s making sounds.

  “Oh God, Katie,” he gasps. “Oh fuck … fuck …”

  I move faster, grind into him harder. My clit is igniting against his body and I push myself down, gasping myself when I feel him reach parts of me he never has before.

  “Oh, Lance.”

  “Oh fuck, Katie. Katie, I’m gonna … Katie, I’m gonna …”

  But I slam my lips down onto his and stifle his final words as he grunts, moans into me, his hips struggling to find freedom.

  And then it happens. He explodes into me, his moans rising into a final cry as I come a second time, screaming out his name as I grind against him, pulling him into me, feeling him pulse and spasm and shudder and moan.

  We finally relax, and I feel his body go limp under mine as I roll myself off of him. His cock is a shiny, stiff pole covered in latex. His arm reaches out and he cradles me next to him, his body warm and strong and inviting. I could slip off to sleep right now. I feel him breathing deeply next to me. My Lance. I put a hand on his chest, snuggling up next to him. His fingers give me a squeeze.

  I don’t fall asleep. Instead we lie together, listening to the sounds of traffic outside the window. My mind starts to wander, to earlier today, to when we parted ways. How he met up with Trista. How they went to kill Will Silver.

  “Hey,” I say, and he gives a sudden intake of breath, smacking his lips, giving me another squeeze. “Tell me what happened with Will Silver.”

  He yawns and stretches, relaxes back down. His finger traces lines on my arm.

  “There were a bunch of people there,” he says. “Me and Trista. Jake and some other gang members. Other Bullets, although they seemed drunk. And then Will and Jake’s girlfriend, Merryn. Will was talking, saying how someone was going to die but he didn’t know who. And then Jake’s sister showed up, Will shot her, and that started everything going.”

  “Do you think he meant to kill her?” I ask.

  “Well, if he didn’t then he’s a hell of a shot,” he says. “The bullet hit the camera she had with her. One of those big ones, you know? If she didn’t have that …”

  Silence for a minute. I’m thinking.

  “You said you were yelling about Danny and Nathan Willow?”

  I feel Lance nod. “I can hardly remember it, though. I just remember Will pissing me off. Acting like he didn’t even know who Danny was.”

  I don’t want to point out that Will might not, in fact, have known who Danny was, if Danny was just some kid and this happened twenty years ago.

  “But you know …” Lance says. “I remember Will did act kind of strange when I mentioned Nathan Willow.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of strange?”

  “Kind of like … he was remembering something.”

  And then, just as it clicks into place in my head, I feel Lance tense up and he lifts himself to sitting. I do the same.

  “Wait a minute,” he says. My mind is starting to rush. His eyes move back and forth as his brain works. “Gil hired me to kill Nathan. Back, before, when he was still alive. Which means that Will hired me to kill Nathan.”

  “And if you mentioned Nathan today …”

  “Then he knows I didn’t do it.”

  We look at each other.

  “Do you know why he wanted Nathan dead?”

  Lance shakes his head. “I don’t get involved in the details. At least, I try not to.”

  “I wonder if he still … you don’t think he’d try to do something now, do you?” I ask. “I mean, this just happened a few hours ago.”

  “Jeannette Willow said she was going to leave soon, do you remember that? When we went to her house.”

  “That’s right, Trista told her to.”

  “If she’s already left …”

  “But if she hasn’t …”

  We look at each other a second longer before we both get off the bed in unison. Without speaking our clothes get thrown on, the two of us hurriedly dressing, putting on our boots, grabbing our guns and keys and then leaving the apartment.

  We move quickly through the hallway, down to the parking lot. Unlock Lance’s car, and in we get. He starts it up.

  “It’s probably fine,” I try saying. Lance pops the car into Drive and pulls out of the lot and onto the street.

  “I hope so,” he says.

  We drive fast. Not as fast as we were on our way back to the apartment, but still fast. Over and down, to the Willow house. We turn onto her street and Lance drops his speed, coming up slowly. Jeannette’s house comes into view. Her car is in the driveway, the doors and trunk open. Her front door is open. We pull silently into our usual stakeout spot.

  Nothing. For ten long seconds, nothing. And then we see Jeannette come out of the house carrying two large bags of diapers. I can almost feel the tension in our car releasing.

  “Ah, good,” I say. “It looks like she’s getting ready to leave.”

  “I’m sure Will’s look didn’t mean anything,” Lance says, although I can tell from his tone that even he doesn’t believe that. “And if she’s leaving now, then it’s fine either way.”

  We watch her struggle to stuff the diapers into the back seat of the car, which seems to be filled with other things too.

  “How long do you suppose she’s planning on leaving?”

  “I don’t know, but it looks like she’s not coming back for a while.”

  She finally gets them both in and tries shutting the back door, only just getting it to catch. Then she goes back into the house.

  “Should we offer to help?”

  Lance considers this, but then puts the car into Drive instead.

  “No. I think she’ll be fine.”

  But just as he’s about to pull the car back into the street, a dark van speeds by us, almost cutting Lance off. He slams on the brakes. The van pulls over to the side of the street … right across from the Willow
house.

  Lance and I both stare at it. It’s idling, its tinted windows giving no indication about its inhabitants or their intentions. The seconds pass. Lance still has the brake pedal depressed. The car is still in Drive.

  And then the van turns off. The front door opens and a large man steps out, dressed in dark clothing, wearing a dark jacket. He closes his door, looks around. He’s joined by another man, who tucks a gun into his pants. My heart skips a beat. They converse a moment, both glancing over at the Willow house. Then the driver nods, and they both head in that direction.

  Lance and I react immediately. He puts the car in Park and we get out, keeping our doors silent. Moving quickly, we cross the street just as the two men reach the front lawn of Jeannette’s house. They move together, their steps in sync. Lance and I come up behind them. By the time they reach the front door Lance and I are close behind. They have no idea we’re here.

  We hear Jeannette’s voice through the screen door: “Nathan, don’t climb in there! Ugh, I’ll get you in a second.”

  She appears from around the corner, carrying a duffel bag with her. She stops at the sight of the two men at her door, and probably at the sight of us behind them. The men don’t say anything. Instead they reach into their jackets at the same time, pulling out their guns.

  Lance and I attack, grabbing the men around their throats while pushing their arms with the guns away. They grunt, struggle, make noise as Jeannette screams and drops the duffel bag.

  The guy I’m on is strong, but I hold on as he tries spinning around to get me off of him. Lance hooks his foot around his guy’s ankle and knocks him forward, through the screen door, causing it to crash inwards. Jeannette screams again. Lance and his guy are on the ground in Jeannette’s foyer as I still wrestle my guy away from his gun. He tries bringing the thing up and I grab onto his wrist, pushing it against the frame of the door, knocking it out of his hand.

  That gotten rid of, I slide my arm across on the guy’s throat so that my forearm covers the front of his neck. He lets out a gagging sound, forgetting all about fighting me off and instead just scrambling to breathe. I pull hard, crushing his windpipe. Down in the foyer Lance and the other guy are wrestling around. The guy’s still got a hold of his gun. My guy is freaking out, moving fast. I pull harder, making him choke harder. The noise is terrible. Finally I feel his knees give way as he drops to the ground, and I keep my hold on him tight as his body shudders, relaxes, and falls forward, halfway across the threshold.

  I stand up and push through the ripped door screen to where Lance and his guy are still wrestling.

  “Lance, pin him!” I shout.

  Lance grunts and flings his body up, on top of the other guy, holding him down like a huge blanket. I drop down and punch the guy in the side of the head, knocking him out. All fight leaves him immediately, his limbs flopping onto the floor like a marionette who’s had its strings cut. Lance stays on him a moment later, and then gets himself up.

  We’re both breathing hard, but at least we’re standing. Jeannette is gone. Inside the house we don’t hear anything, not even Nathan.

  “Jeannette?” I call out.

  Silence for a moment. And then, “Stay away! Get out of here, I mean it! I have a knife!”

  “Jeannette, it’s Lance and Katie. From yesterday morning.”

  Silence again, and then her trembling head appears around the corner. She surveys her front hall: the unconscious bodies, the broken screen door, the two panting people.

  She comes out from around the corner, holding Nathan. He’s got a pacifier in his mouth, and she’s holding his head close to her chest. She stops only after a few steps.

  “What happened?” she asks. “Who are they? Why are they here?”

  “It’s okay,” I say to her. “It’s all right. It’s over.” I look down at the two men. I don’t recognize them, and Lance hasn’t said anything about them. “We don’t know who these men are. But we’re pretty certain they were sent here to try to kill you.”

  She looks scared. Her eyes are brimming with tears.

  “But … but I was leaving! I was about to leave!”

  “I know,” I tell her. “And they might know too. If they came here, there’s no telling who else might. They may even know where you’re going.”

  “But … I didn’t tell anybody!”

  “Maybe they tapped your phones. Maybe they’ve been following you. I don’t know.”

  Just then a cell phone starts ringing, vibrating on the floor. It’s not one I recognize. It must’ve fallen from one of the guys when Lance and I were fighting. The screen is up. On the display is says Will Silver. I look at Lance, who’s also looking at the phone.

  “What?” Jeannette asks when we don’t reach down for the phone. “Who’s calling?”

  The ringing and buzzing stops. The screen changes. One missed call. And then it goes dark.

  “It was Will Silver,” I tell her, and her eyes widen.

  “W-Will … Silver?”

  I look at Lance again. “We might not have long. If Will was the one who sent these guys …”

  Lance looks at me and nods. Then he goes to the man draped halfway into the foyer, pulling him inside. I approach Jeannette and Nathan.

  “I don’t think you’re going to be able to go anymore,” I tell her. “If Will Silver sent these guys, then you know he’s after you. He might already know where you’re headed.”

  “But … but …” She’s crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even Nathan looks upset, although he keeps sucking on his pacifier.

  “Don’t worry.” I put a hand on Jeanette’s shoulder to calm her down. I look behind me at Lance, bending down to tie up the hands of the two men now in the foyer. I look back at Jeannette. “We have somewhere safe we can both take you.”

  Merryn

  I’m lying on my side on a bed. Trista’s bed. I came in here as soon as Lance dropped us off and I haven’t left since. Cries and moans and intermittent sobs leave my mouth as tears stream down my face, down towards my temple, surely soaking the pillowcase underneath me.

  My heavy belly rests in front of me, pulling down, forcing me to twist my back. I know I could put a pillow under my baby, supporting him or her, but I don’t have the strength. I don’t have the energy. I close my eyes and sob, trying to stay quiet. The bedroom door is closed.

  I feel so badly for what I did. For betraying Jake. I didn’t know this would happen. If I had any idea I would never have done it. Would never have even considered talking to Will! And now he’s broken up with me. And I’m putting Trista out. She offered her bedroom but I know I’m just an inconvenience. An inconvenience to everybody’s lives. It would be better if I were dead. Everyone would be better off without me.

  Tears still find their way out from between my closed eyelids. They streak my skin with salt, making it painful, sensitive to touch. I can’t stop it. I sniff back wet snot, thinking about how ugly I must look right now. Nobody would love me. Nobody loves me. Jake kicked me out. All I tried to do was help! But would he see it that way? No, of course not. He doesn’t think about me. He doesn’t love me. He only kept me around because I’m pregnant with his baby. But even that didn’t stop him, in the end.

  Oh God, my whole body feels like shit. I just want this baby out of me. I want it all to end. My hand scoops up the pillow under me and I bury my face into it, crying out loud, muffling my painful screams into the cotton and stuffing. But when I’m done I don’t feel any better. My face and hand collapse back down. I keep sobbing. Everything is shit. I am shit.

  My body rests. I can feel our — my — baby kick, moving around. It comforts me, feeling this living thing inside of me. My limbs become heavy, and I start to slip off to sleep.

  I’m standing in the middle of a long alley. There are houses all down one side, garage doors lining the other. I can see Jake. I try yelling to him, but my voice makes no sound. He sees me, turns and walks away. I try running to him, but I can’t move. It’s like
I’m running through water. My belly feels so heavy, and I look down. It’s huge, a monstrosity growing out of my middle. I trip, the thing is so heavy, and start to fall, slowly, down down down …

  I wake up with a start, just as I hit the ground. I blink. The unfamiliar wall makes me scared.. Where am I? I don’t know where I am. And then I look around and my brain catches up with my vision and I remember that I’m at Trista’s, in her bedroom. The door is still closed. I relax my head, remember Jake at the hospital, Jake yelling at me, Jake telling me he doesn’t want me living with him anymore. And I start crying again.

  It’s a vicious cycle. I cry myself to sleep, and then shock myself awake. Dreams and wakefulness blend together. I don’t know where one ends and the other begins. Every time I awaken I see the light through the window has shifted. Moving. My stomach rumbles but I ignore it, opting to cry instead. My eyes burn and they’re filled with dried, salty residue that I either wipe away, irritating the sensitive skin, or cry back into solution. I feel so weak.

  I fall asleep again, wake up. The light has changed now. It’s a deeper color. More orange to it. Cry, back to sleep. Wake up and the light is darker. Tinged with red now. Close my eyes. When I open them it’s violet. The room is getting darker. The door is still closed. This time when I cry no tears come out. I close my eyes again. My body feels so heavy. Wake up and it’s dark now. I sniff. A dry sound. Plugged up. A coughing sob. No more tears. A few more sobs, but it’s not necessary. The baby’s moving. My stomach hurts, it’s so empty. Finally I get up.

  All of my joints hurt. Once I’m up to sitting I have to wait to stop my head from spinning. I know it’ll be the same thing when I stand, so I give myself some time. I blink, rubbing gently at my eyes now, getting the last of the tear residue out of them. My mouth tastes terrible. I look around. Trista’s bedroom. It looks bare. Hardly lived in. There’s a police uniform hanging from the door to the closet. I stare at it, imagine Trista wearing it. She would look good. But I can’t envision her being a cop.