I almost fall off the balcony. And that fucker just walks out.
That’s it. Something in me has finally fucking snapped, and I’m fucking done.
It’s going to be him. Or me.
I pull out my phone and look through my contacts. There’s only one person I call in situations like this.
“Grainger,” I say into the phone. “I need a pacification team to meet me on the roof.”
He tells me it’s going to take fifteen minutes.
There’s no sense in having a private security force if you’re not going to use it. I get out into the hallway, nursing my jaw, and wait for the elevator. I take it to the top floor and then climb the stairs that head to the roof.
There’s no way I’m going to let Jason get away.
I’m going to kill him.
That’s when the helicopter appears on the horizon. I raise my hands and wave in case the pilot is looking for me.
I watch as the small speck becomes larger and then finally as it approaches the building. I back away as the helicopter descends and five men jump out.
“Hand me the sniper rifle,” I command, and the lead man, dressed in a dark suit, reaches into the chopper and pulls out a wicked-looking gun. He hands it to me, and I feel its weight and heft.
It’s good. I can get a good fucking shot here. I nod.
“Let’s go,” I tell them. I get in the chopper and put on my headphones and mic and explain exactly what I want to do.
I want to swoop down into the city and take aim at Jason.
Then I want to shoot him in the leg so he can’t walk. Then I’m going to jump down and personally stab him in the throat in front of Kat.
Then I’m going to take Kat. And I’m going to fuck her.
And she’s going to enjoy it. Because the strongest of us will have won her.
See, I know women like Kat. All she cares is who the most alpha of the alpha males is. She’s the kind of woman that will fucking gravitate to power.
So it’s basically kill or fucking be killed with her.
The helicopter starts to ascend before banking left and descending again, going through the buildings. I can see people on the street turn their heads to look at us. It’s not every day that a helicopter flies so low to the ground.
Fuck it. I don’t care.
They think I’m a fucking effete fucking playboy? Well, let’s see what they think after I get done with this.
I line up my scope to my eye and take aim, searching for Jason.
I find him. He’s just fucking walking down the street with Kat.
I take aim as the helicopter descends. They haven’t seen me yet. They’re in their own little fucking world.
Wait till they realize that I’ve just invaded that world and I’m going to nuke it.
I pull the trigger.
The bullet tears through Jason’s leg, and I see him fall to the ground.
Kat
“Jason!”
The scream rips through my throat, raw and anguished.
No. Not this.
Not after everything we’ve done to get to this point. It’s like the end was finally in sight. And now that fucker Will is going to steal everything that’s ever mattered right out from under me.
Again.
I drop to my knees next to Jason, carefully checking the wound that’s gushing blood like a fucking fire hydrant.
Fuck. It’s the femoral artery.
“Jason, please,” I beg, my voice desperate as I shake him, trying to get him to hang on to the consciousness that I can see is fading fast. “Don’t leave me. Not again.”
He smiles faintly. “You’re the one who never showed up.”
It’s a joke. Yeah, a fucking poor attempt at one, but Jason never was one to take impending death seriously.
It still hits me like a fucking sucker-punch. He has to know, right? He knows I didn’t just leave him. Or rather, send him to our safe house alone, then never follow. He can’t just die now. Not when we finally have our chance we’ve waited seven fucking years for.
First things first, though.
I pull out my phone and dial 9-1-1.
But just as I’m about to hit send, I hear the beat of propellers behind me. I turn around and gasp.
No fucking way.
There’s fucking Will, hanging from the ladder of a helicopter like he’s fucking Jason Bourne or some shit.
Rage boils up inside of me. He won’t get away with this. I won’t let him.
He’s the one who caused all our problems to begin with, a fucking mole in Daddy’s organization. It was a long time before I sniffed out the truth.
He turned Daddy against Jason, and Jason’s been in fucking hiding for years. The knowledge of all that time we could have had risen to the surface, and fury like I’ve never known takes over my body, fueling me with adrenaline.
I hit the call button on the phone, then lean down to press a hard kiss to Jason’s lips.
“Hang in there, baby. Don’t give up on us now.” I wrap his fingers around my phone and push it toward his face before grabbing the gun from his belt and one from his body holster.
Then I have to hope for the best.
I stand and turn just as Will jumps the last few feet to the ground, a fucking sniper rifle trained on us.
Everything that matters hinges on the next few seconds. Heaven or hell. Life or death.
Jason or Will.
It’s going to be fucking Will.
I unleash years of pent-up rage as I unload both pistols at the same time, walking straight toward Will with my eyes glued to his evil grin.
It’s like time slows down, everything transpiring in a Matrix-like slow-motion feed.
I see the minute the first bullet hits Will, square in the chest. I mean, Daddy didn’t train his little girl to be anything less than a crack shot.
Then that twisted smirk is frozen in place as his beady eyes go wide with shock and I riddle his body with every last fucking bullet in both guns. It’s a gratifying sight, one I won’t soon forget. Or want to.
Finally, fucking finally, all of this is over.
Will falls to the ground in a lifeless heap as the chopper still hovers above us, its light shining down on us, illuminating the bloody scene like we’re performing for a fucking audience.
I stare up at the pilot. Is he one of Will’s goons that’s ready to kill me on the spot?
Just then, I hear the sound of sirens in the distance, and it sounds like fucking bells to my ringing ears.
I race back to Jason’s side to find him pale and shivering.
“Hang on just another minute, baby. It’s over. It’s fucking over.”
I drop to my knees and cradle his head in my hands. His lips are blue, his eyes dim.
No! He will make it through this.
My face is wet, and I realize I’m sobbing, my tears falling down my cheeks to Jason’s nearly lifeless body.
The sirens become a muted sound as everything in my world narrows down to a laser focus on Jason. I feel like I’m watching our future slip between my fingers. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. We were supposed to get the files, clear Jason’s name, then live out the rest of our lives in a little cottage outside Tulum.
Jason’s eyes droop shut, and I find myself shaking him, begging him not to leave me.
Then I’m being pulled off him, and paramedics are loading him onto a gurney.
I hear mutters and curses and fragments of their words. The ones I do catch make my heart stop.
“Didn’t get here in time…”
Then everything goes black.
Jason
Riding off into the fucking sunset.
Right.
That shit’s only for the movies.
Because right now I’m in the back of an ambulance in the middle of the fucking night, and I don’t even have my girl beside me.
How the fuck did I not plan for this? I plan for fucking everything. Down to the last detail. I mean,
all I had to do was send Kat one message—now or never—and everything happened just as it was supposed to.
Almost. I wasn’t supposed to get fucking shot and almost bleed out on the ground outside of fucking Will’s.
“Where is she?” I demand, fighting against the restraints the paramedics had to use on me.
Said I had to keep still. It was for my own good. Fuck that.
I need my girl. That’s the only thing that will make this better.
“She’s following behind us. Bruce has her in his patrol car.”
Who the fuck is Bruce?
Wait, how did they…?
The question must be written on my face because the acne-scarred guy checking my IV drip starts talking.
“We got a tip from some girl named Kristen. Said we might need to check out what was going down at that place tonight.”
Kristen? Kat’s Kristen?
I shake my head, grinning despite the fact that I feel like my whole fucking body is on fire right now. Are these motherfuckers holding out on the good stuff? Can’t they see I need more than some fucking Tylenol or whatever useless shit they’re pumping into my veins?
Kristen must have known all along. Kat was working with her. Hoping against hope that even after all this time I’d somehow make my plan work.
It took fucking long enough. Seven years is a long goddamn time to wait on someone. Yet she did. She came.
And despite all the insanity of the past twenty-four hours, we might actually make it through this.
They must decide it’s time for the good stuff because suddenly my body feels relaxed and I drift into blackness.
When I wake up I’m in a hospital room. The glaring lights make me blink, temporarily blinded. But when my eyesight adjusts, I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven, even though for a guy like me, that’s a fucking lot to hope for.
But she’s like a fucking angel standing there beside my bed, her soft hands gripping mine.
“Kat.”
She smiles, that fucking gorgeous smile that’s the only thing that got me through the past seven years of living off the grid, hoping my day would come.
It finally has.
“God, Jason,” she says, a smirk on her face. “You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
I manage a small chuckle. “Don’t you know that by now, baby?”
Then she’s serious again, leaning down close, her eyes penetrating my very soul.
“I love you, Jason. You have to know, all of this was part of the plan. Everything that happened.”
I stop her with one hard stare. “It was my fucking plan, Kat. Don’t you think I know that?”
I still can’t believe it worked. Well, I think it did.
“What about the pen drive? Do you have it?” I add quickly.
She nods her head. “I grabbed it right after I killed Will.”
“You killed him?” I can’t keep the shock out of my voice.
She nods. Looks like little Kat has grown up a bit after all. I mean, yeah, she grew up around this shit, but her father shielded her from it. For the most part.
He didn’t manage to shield her from me.
Then her words finally sink in.
“Say that again.”
She frowns. “I killed Will?”
“Before that.”
She smiles slowly, looking fucking perfect. Then after drawing it out for what feels like fucking ever, she finally tells me what I want to hear.
“I love you.”
“Fuck, Kat, do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”
“Seven years?” she says with a smirk.
“I love you too, baby. I fucking love you so fucking much.”
“Then why don’t you fucking show me?” Now her eyes are glinting with mischief. “Or don’t you think the nurses would approve?”
Fuck that. I don’t care what strict orders I’ve been giving. Will is fucking dead, I’ve got my life back, and I have Kat here beside me.
You better believe I’m about to fuck her brains out.
I don’t even have to tell her. She just climbs right on top of me, careful of my bandaged leg. And for once I’m not totally despising the fucking hospital gown I woke up in. Because it sure as fuck makes fucking my girl a lot more convenient.
Kat sinks down onto my already rock-hard cock in one smooth motion, and fuck, she’s so fucking wet and so fucking tight that it takes everything I have not to fill her up with my cum right the fuck now, to claim her as mine once and for all.
She starts out slowly, rolling her hips as she rides my cock, doing all the work, and I find yet one more benefit to being stuck in a hospital bed. Who fucking knew?
But then I can’t wait any longer. I grip her hips, digging my fingers in hard enough to bruise, and the moan she lets out shows me just how much she likes it.
We fuck hard and fast, and before I know it, she’s coming hard, all over my cock, clenching and gripping and convulsing around me while she cries out in ecstasy.
“That’s right, baby. Tell me I’m the only one.”
“Always, Jason,” she pants as I continue to drive into her through what feels like a never-ending orgasm. “It’s always been you. I love you.”
“I fucking love you, too,” I growl again. Then I unload my cum into her sweet pussy, feeling more at ease than I’ve felt in a long damn time.
I’ve got my girl, my name is about to be cleared, and we have our whole lives ahead of us. Finally, there’s nothing stopping us from being together.
Nothing could be better.
Double Feature
By Daphne Dawn
Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Kayla
I squeeze my stress ball in total frustration. What has happened to the day? About an hour ago, after my usual morning jog, I felt like I could take on the world.
I was ready to put fingers to keyboard and watch the words fly onto the screen, but now I’m sit-ting in my office, and nothing is happening.
My gaze travels, and I contemplate the elaborate certificate displaying my name and its various meanings, a present from my mother some years ago—one she bought during her travels to Cairo. It used to be at home, but when I took this job, with my own office and view, I decided to hang it up at work.
According to the elaborate gold-lettered writing, Kayla has several different meanings, depending on what country you look to. To some, it means “wise one.”
I have to say…I don’t feel particularly wise this morning. Time’s ticking, and I’m not producing.
With a sigh, I randomly hit some keys on my keyboard so my screen no longer looks so white and empty.
As I bring my coffee to my lips, I cringe. Can the day get any worse? I hate cold coffee.
I bite my bottom lip.
I haven’t produced anything this morning, and I cannot justify a coffee break already. My eyes look at the little clock in the top right-hand corner of my computer. Maybe if I write for thirty minutes, I can reward myself with a break and get a fresh, strong, and hot coffee.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I don’t know how long they stay there without moving. With a sigh, I rummage around the top drawer of my desk, looking for a notepad.
Sometimes words seem to flow faster and better if I use the old-fashioned writing tools: pen and paper.
Slowly I unscrew the top of my gold nib fountain pen. I draw a few swirly lines to make sure there is still ink in it. Good, no further excuses.
Part of me had hoped that lack of ink would mean I’d have to duck out and bu
y some more. But alas, I really have run out of stalling tactics.
And so I let the pen do the work. Suddenly, a few scenes come to mind, and I make random notes.
“Good to see you working, baby cakes.”
I cringe and look up, my pen stopping midword. The last word now looks more like a drunken spider walked across my page, and I curse Ed quietly.
“Don’t call me that,” I say and look up.
“They still make pens, huh?” Ed ignores my comment and comes up to my desk, sitting on the edge of it. He takes the pen out of my hand and pretends to examine it.
“Or is this one a relic from the last century?”
Instead of a reply, I pull the pen out of his hand and screw the top back on.
“Only people who’ve been taught the craft of writing know how to use one of these,” I pause before I continue. “Oh, I forgot, you weren’t taught the craft of writing.”
Ed is the one reason my job is harder than it should be. Ed is the bane of my existence at the moment.
He ignores my comment and throws some papers onto my desk.
“Some notes for you for the second half of the season. I thought I better give you a hand, since you are new to this gig.”
If I could, I’d like to wipe that smug look off his milky face. Ed, as far as I’m concerned, is the opposite of sex appeal. His skin’s so pasty, I wonder if he ever goes outdoors.
The expensive designer suits do nothing for his short stature and thin body. Exercise isn’t high on Ed’s agenda as well. Even the mere thought of seeing Ed in shorts and a T-shirt makes me want to throw up.
Knowing Ed expects me to look at what he has given me, I randomly scan the pages.
I read a paragraph here and there, and then I feel the world turn up side down. Is he serious?
“You want me to do what?” I know my voice is no longer cool, calm, and collected; it probably rose an octave or two despite my best endeavor to sound perfectly in control.
“What’s the matter, baby cakes? Not up to the challenge?”
Ed has picked up my stress ball and looks at it.
4 Men Of The House with correct Also By page Page 87