Mr. Beast

by Nicole Elliot

  “Truth is, Andrew, I’m good. I’m really fucking good. That’s why I’m expensive, right?” I took another gulp of whiskey.

  Jesus, this is nice stuff. If this is what he keeps in his office to offer to muscled scarred thugs, I wonder what he keeps in his private collection? Probably fucking gold plated bottles, I thought.

  I leaned forward on my elbows, my t-shirt barely managing to contain my bulging biceps and chest muscles. I raised my left eyebrow, knowing it would accentuate the scar running along it. I knew I looked mean and hard as fucking nails. “I know the heat you been gettin’. I know the type of hardcore criminals who want in on what you develop. And these guys don’t fuck around. Good thing is, neither do I. I shoot first and ask questions later. And I ain’t bad in a fistfight either. And when I say I ain’t bad, I mean I ain’t never found no one who can beat me.”

  I drained my whiskey and Andrew poured me another, his gaze not lifting from my face. I had his full attention and knew he was either impressed, intimidated, or slightly jealous. Probably all three.

  “Thanks,” I said, raising the glass. “Last one for me. If I drink more than three, bad shit seems to happen, even if I ain’t looking for it!”

  I took a smaller gulp and continued my sales pitch, not that it was needed. I just enjoyed attention— especially the kind this guy’s dolled-up secretary with the nice butt and tight top had given me in the waiting room. I wasn’t looking at her, but I knew she kept looking at me.

  “So, let me backtrack some,” I continued. “I took the liberty of doing some research and called in some favors. I’m a step ahead of these bad guys. And let me tell you, nine out of ten of them won’t even come close ‘cause I still got favors I ain’t called in yet. I helped a lot of people out in the past, see?” I winked. “And I’ve done this shit before, tangled with the sort of bad dudes breathing down your neck. And I won.”

  Andrew averted his gaze, composing himself. “Very impressive,” he muttered.

  Yet, my charm hadn’t worked for long. He sat back up straight, resuming his businesslike demeanor more quickly than I’d expected; he was tougher than he looked. But then again, you’d have to be to sit in an office all day, year after year.

  “Like I said earlier,” he continued, “I did my research too. Not, uh, in the same way as you, but still. I thought you were good before you walked in here. Now I know you’re the man for the job.”

  He stood slowly and held his arm out, his palm slightly facing upward. Passive, but not to be ignored.

  I stood with one fluid and graceful motion, particularly for a big man who’d had three whiskeys. As I towered over the businessman, his eyes widened, clearly impressed. I grabbed his hand firmly, but not in a bone-breaking way. “All right,” I said. “Consider me hired. Now, you probably don’t have me down as the type of guy, but I’m legit these days. So I’m gonna need a contract and 10% upfront. Expenses, right. Ain’t putting that shit on plastic!”

  I gave him what likely appeared to be a smile, grimace, and smirk all in one, trying to break the ice, but probably looking like I had indigestion. Smiling didn’t come easy for me since, well…since my wife ran out with the fucking Fed-Ex guy. Or milkman. The details didn’t matter too much. Last I heard, he didn’t walk too good these days, whoever the fuck he was.

  Again, I forced the thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t time to dwell on the past. Plus, I wasn’t a fool these days.

  “I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon to get the contract,” I said. “I don’t do snail mail, email, or fucking text messages, for that matter. Like to stay under the radar. Makes my job a damn sight easier an’ all. I trust that’ll be enough time for your pretty secretary to type something up?” I jerked my thumb behind me, gesturing to the door.

  Andrew laughed. “Her? I pay her to answer the phones, look pretty, and flirt with any old businessman I think might be trouble. Works as well as you’d imagine. So, no, I’ll do this one myself.”

  I barked a short laugh. “Fair enough. ‘Least you know it’s done right the first time, eh? I know exactly what you mean. Don’t get far in my line of work unless you trust number one, and those handful who have proved they ain’t corrupt as fuck or morons. Or both. Those are the worst.”

  He half turned on the way back to his desk, pausing to pass me a parting gaze. “You know what? I think our jobs might be more similar than you think. You just described high level corporate bullshit in one sentence! I’ll have to remember that line…” He sat back down in his plush leather armchair and nodded my way. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  I nodded, guessing that meant, ‘Fuck off now, we’re done here.’

  I left quietly, feeling the secretary’s gaze on me as I passed through the outer office. Probably a sight for sore eyes, all the stiff, sleazy old business types that come through here. I gave her something to look at, walking slowly past her, brushing my slick, greased hair back with my left arm and flexing my bicep as I did so. The sleeve of my tight black t-shirt ripped. I paused at the door on the way out, bending down to re-tie a shoelace which didn’t need retying.

  I’d be rude not to give her something to fantasize about later, I thought with a smirk.

  Chapter Three

  Alexandra

  Since the reluctant deal I’d come to with my dad a few days earlier, I’d been frantically trying to organize my trip. With money no longer being an issue, I didn’t really have to plan the whole four months travel out in one go. So I decided to just get to Europe, and then Daddy’s Amex Black card would handle the rest.

  The first thing I did was have a frantic search for any of my friends who weren’t still studying, knocked-up, or working full-time. Surprisingly, even with the promise of a no-expense spared luxury trip, only a few showed interest.

  Then again, I thought to myself, I do sometimes forget I went to a damn expensive school and Ivy League College. Some of those girls are probably richer than my dad already…

  Luckily, I’d managed to find two who were at least somewhat interested in joining me on my epic adventure. I’d managed to persuade them by promising it would be more of a sex-venture, sampling the finest Europe had to offer—and maybe beyond if we weren’t quite satisfied.

  Olivia and Lucy were the kind of girls I knew would be down for this kind of trip.

  In reality though, if I met a guy, then sure, I planned on enjoying myself. But truthfully, I wanted to experience new cultures, see the sights, and try the food.

  I had to admit though, I found myself warming to the white lie I’d used to reel in the more promiscuous duo. They were shallow and selfish, but good fun nonetheless. Still, they also bored easily, and I knew there was a chance they would likely lose interest after the first couple flights or so. I wasn’t too bothered by this though, because with my big scary bodyguard protecting me, I suspected I’d be able to travel on alone if necessary.

  “Shit!” I shouted angrily at my huge suitcase. I slumped down on my bed in defeat, wearing nothing but some small white panties with my chin in my hands and elbows on my knees. I had been absentmindedly arranging my clothes while daydreaming, and somehow, the suitcase was already stuffed despite there still being a pile of clothes on the bed that I simply couldn’t bear to leave behind.

  But then my frown lifted. “I’ll just buy another suitcase,” I said out loud. “I won’t be carrying them anyway, right?”

  Feeling better, I jumped up, punching the air as if I’d just had a major breakthrough and made a life-changing decision. I felt my boobs bounce as I jumped, catching sight of myself in the full-length mirror opposite the foot of my bed.

  Damn, when did they get so big? I’m gonna be beating these Euro guys away with a stick!

  I stood there, pouting with my hands on my hips, my long blonde hair cascading down my shoulders, testing what I imagined were a few different sexy poses. I was halfway through my second pose when the doorbell rang.

  Shit, great timing.

  I figured it was probably so
meone delivering one of the expensive accessories I’d ordered for the trip, knowing it had to be someone trusted or wearing a uniform in order to get past the guards on the gate.

  Could be those bikinis, I thought excitedly.

  I put on a large fluffy pink dressing gown, leaving it a bit looser than necessary just in case the delivery guy was hot, even though that sort of thing only happened in pornos or crappy movies.

  I ran down the large spiral staircase, lightly gripping the handrail along the way. I reached the front door in what was probably record time, spurred on by the anticipation of unwrapping an expensive item or four.

  When I opened the door, I found myself staring chest-level at a hulking figure that almost filled the whole doorway, muscles bulging visibly beneath a black t-shirt that was clearly too tight. I raised my gaze, passing well-muscled arms and shoulders on the way up. My visitor was standing with his arms politely held behind his back in an almost military-like pose. I wasn’t too short at 5’6”, but this guy was a good foot taller than me.

  My girlish glee evaporated in an instant and I froze like a wide-eyed deer in the headlights.

  Slowly, my brain unfroze.

  Ah…so this must be the bodyguard, I thought. But then it occurred to me that the guards at the gate wouldn’t have had a chance against this guy, so there was really no telling who he was.

  Well, I thought absurdly, if I’m being kidnapped, at least he’s hot. Massive and slightly scary, but super hot…

  “Ma’am,” the figure nodded, his calm and softly spoken deep voice oddly hypnotic. “You must be Alexandra. Sorry if I, ah, got you at a bad time. Your father… Well, he said you’d be in. So, here I am.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and I could tell by his posture that he was favoring his left knee. I then noticed a scar running down one side of his face as he frowned. “Shit. Sorry,” he continued. “I’m going to be your bodyguard. Guess I should have started with that.” His frown softened. “Ain’t too good at this bit. The protecting part, though—that’s the part I excel at, ma’am.”

  No shit. You look like you could shrug off bullets.

  I did my best to regain my composure, remembering that this guy was going to be working for me effectively. I looked at his arms again, thinking about him carrying my suitcases…

  “First of all, stop calling me ma’am,” I said, putting on a face and crossing my arms, the gesture slightly parting my dressing gown and partially exposing my cleavage. “My name’s Alexandra, as you well know. I’m not sure why my dad sent you here already. I’m not nearly ready. I haven’t even booked a flight yet.”

  His hand was suddenly in front of me, held out in greeting. How such a big man moved so quickly was astounding.

  “Pleased to meet you, Alexandra. I’m Cruz. Cruz Miller.” I shook his huge hand briefly, the exchange slightly awkward due to the size difference. “And that’s fine. I’m on retainer, fixed fee. I’m ready whenever you are. Need anything done, just ask. Or you need me to fuck off into the shadows, same goes. Any sign of trouble though, you won’t need to shout. It’ll be over before you even know it.”

  I looked again at the figure standing awkwardly in front of me. A brief moment before the handshake, I’d thought I’d seen a flash of softness in his eyes—a glimpse behind his well-rehearsed ‘I’m a fucking badass’ facade. But now it was completely gone, leaving me to assume I might have imagined it. Still, I suspected there was a normal guy in there somewhere.

  Besides, I couldn’t blame him for looking, seeing that I wasn’t wearing much.

  Well, if the trip went to shit, I’d have my own personal project to work on.

  Cruz

  I shifted awkwardly again, the decade old bullet-wound in my right knee causing me grief. I could never fucking tell when it was going to hurt. The pain may have been related to the fucking weather, for all I knew.

  Christ, I’m getting old. Only 37 and I know when it’s going to fucking rain before CNN, I thought, annoyed. At least the sneaky Russian who shot me is swimming with the fishes. Well, a guy ain’t got much choice with concrete boots on…

  I suppressed a smile. The mere memory seemed to have alleviated the gnawing pain somewhat.

  Fucking hell, she was beautiful. Not like a dolled-up bar girl or stripper. This girl had almost nothing on except a dressing gown. Not even a speck of makeup, and she was still stunning. From what my eyes had briefly seen on their foray down her body, I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Big boobs, big hips. Slim waist. Not too short, not too tall. Long blonde hair…

  Fuck, keep it together, Cruz, I inwardly chastised myself.

  Shaking these thoughts away, I reverted back to my military pose. “You got it, Lex.”

  She frowned at the shortening of her name. It would probably piss her off, but I bet she was even fucking hotter when she was angry. Not to mention it would be funny, to boot. “Tell you what? How about I come back here in a couple days? I got shit to do, favors to call in, and whiskey to drink. You know, the usual. I’ll bring a car and we can arrange a plan, okay?”

  Her eyebrows raised. “How about I just call you?” she said.

  How about your phone is probably fucking tapped, beautiful? I smirked. “Okay. But look, just do me a favor. No names on the phone. No locations. Just tell me what time to bring a car to get you and your pretty friends to meet you here, all right? Now, I’m guessing you’ll need a big car. Yeah?”

  She giggled. “You got that right. And by the looks of you, you won’t struggle getting my suitcases.” She raised her hand in a mock salute, her expression slightly patronizing as she pretended to look serious. “I just need your phone number.”

  “Oh, right. Sure.” I handed her my card, which simply read ‘C. MILLER’ with a cell number written beneath it in blue ink.

  Alexandra didn’t look impressed.

  “Say someone taps that number,” I said. “I break the phone, throw the SIM, and fuck off. Damn well ain’t payin’ for new business cards. So I just write the new number on the next card. Genius, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah…” she responded, her expression deadpan. “Genius.”

  All of a sudden, excitement gleamed in her eyes and a slight smile spread across her pretty face. “Okay, I’ll call you. But now, I need to get ready. Oh, and your shoulders are blocking the doorway. I’m expecting a delivery or two.”

  I nodded, guessing that what she really meant was, “Get the fuck off my doorstep and scram.”

  Like father, like daughter.

  I left and strolled along the large driveway to the mansion’s gates. I had known Alexandra wouldn’t be ready, and I wasn’t dumb or old-fashioned enough to think I could just turn up in a couple days’ time and we’d be off on the grand tour.

  No, I’d come here to case the joint. Check security, access, sight lines—that sort of thing. And I wanted to see how this guy lived. Someone who was sending his daughter on a no-expense spared, four-month luxury trip with an expensive bodyguard—an expensive bodyguard who’d had his usual rate almost doubled, no less—was worth checking out a little closer.

  I turned around as I walked, taking in the long winding driveway, as well as the immaculate lawns, large pond, and tennis court. I imagined there was probably a swimming pool out back. And the big fucking mansion in the middle of it all.

  It wouldn’t surprise me if someone ever tried to go after his daughter just for his money.

  The security looked good at face value. There were two guards at the gate, one in a little office which likely had CCTV monitors for the perimeter fence, and probably one each at the front and back door as well. If these guards were worth their salt, the place would be hard to get into, detected or undetected. If not, however, it wouldn’t take much to sneak past or simply take them out one-by-one.

  Leaving Little Miss Beautiful all on her own, wearing nothing but a fluffy pink dressing gown…

  I had to shake myself to clear the image that had started to form
in my head of Alexandra slowly opening the gown and letting it drop to the floor.

  I decided it would be best to keep an eye on the place over the next few days, mainly at night when the guards would be half asleep and not paying as much attention. I didn’t want to fail the job before it had even fucking started.

  “Damn, I need a drink,” I said out loud. Even though it was a bit early, I was sure I’d be able to find some seedy bar that would sell me a coarse whiskey in a dirty glass. But first, I had some errands to run and a few logistical issues to iron out.

  I had no fucking clue where the first destination was, which meant I couldn’t plan anything. Besides, you couldn’t get away with strolling on a plane with a gun these days; I had to take one with me in my checkin or arrange for one or two to be ‘deposited’ at the intended destination. I had some old contacts in America, Europe, a few in Russia, some in Asia and a couple in the Middle East. Most of them owed me favors.

  It’s surprising how many people run to America, thinking they might be safe here. Well, thing is, they ain’t safe. Not when someone’s hired me to find them…

  As soon as I knew a couple details, I’d stroll on down to the nearest payphone and make some calls. When I knew the destination, I could use the same contacts to check who was operating in the area, and which gangs might be sniffing around. And I could use those same contacts again to scare the living shit out of most of them, which would just leave a few hard bastards remaining.

  It was a good thing that I was harder.

  Chapter Four

  Alexandra

  A few days after Cruz had visited unannounced, I’d managed to finalize the last few details of the trip. I figured we’d start with a first-class flight to somewhere luxurious in Europe for some sightseeing, shopping, good food, and hopefully some partying. Although it was a bit cliché, after hours of internet sleuthing, I’d decided Paris had a bit of everything and would be a great first destination. We’d be there for three nights and would then take an overnight luxury train to Prague.