by RT Lucas
“Don’t be so sexist, Sweetcheeks, no such fucking thing as a male’s drink or a female’s drink,” he scoffed as he took a drink then continued shaving. “Heaven? Dunno if it was that or not but it’s probably just as you would imagine.” He shrugged a shoulder, in an attempt to look nonchalant, but his eyes gave him away. They were decidedly shifty. This was not a conversation he was wanting to have right here, right now.
“Excuse me ‘Mr my eyes are deep green’, which by the way…means you’re lying,” Alicia smirked as she patted the bed, “Come sit with me once you’re finished your landscaping.”
“Manscaping, not fucking landscaping.” Checking himself out in the mirror before grabbing the scotch and launching himself on the bed, nearly sending Alicia into orbit. Sitting with his back against the leather headboard, he brought his knees up and playfully pushed Alicia with his bare feet. “And for the record, I don’t lie. I might be constructive with the truth though,” he said waggling his brows as he drank straight from the bottle.
“Oi! You fucking prick, you hurt me!” Alicia rubbed her arm playfully, they both knew only too well she couldn’t feel pain. Crawling up the bed on her hands and knees, she sat beside Xavier, her own back resting against the headboard as she kicked her boots off. “Did you go to hell then?”
She wasn’t letting the subject go – and he didn’t want to lie to her outright, so taking another swig of scotch he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, belched and then nudged Alicia with his shoulder. “Guess you could call it a type of hell...in the end.” He held the bottle in both hands between his knees as he hit his head back off of the headboard. “Why the interest anyway?” He was trying to steer the conversation away from himself and back onto her.
“You flat lined four times, I just wondered if you had one of those inner body episodes and saw the blue lights, I’m just curious, I often wonder if there is a place for mortals to go when they are dead.” Alicia took a long drink of the fizzy liquid in her own bottle, suddenly finding her toes fascinating.
Xavier wondered if there was some sort of online course he could get for Alicia to brush up on her modern culture phrases. “Outer body, not inner…” he smiled to himself. She had no idea how fucking cute she was when she said things round the wrong way. “Thing is, Sweetcheeks, yeah...I thought I was there for eternity. Didn’t think I was going to see you again – so I …” Yeah, how the fuck to phrase ‘I made friendly with the local virginal angels and had pretty much every single one in every single way – and each time I was imagining it was you’. Instead he let his sentence trail off and resumed hitting his head off the headboard in a slow monotonous rhythm. Neither of them were looking at each other as they sat side by side on his bed.
Alicia fingers went for the dog tags around her neck as she moved them between her fingers. “You’re trying to tell me that you had sex. Xavier, we weren’t together when you ordered your own death so I don’t see what the issue is.” Alicia was though thinking of ways possible to enter the heavenly realm and de-wing the Angels that dared to touch her High and Mighty.
Thinking that she was taking it better than he had expected, he stopped banging his head to look over at Alicia. “Thank fuck for that...and you’re right, Sweetcheeks.” He suddenly felt much better about it, and was glad she’d brought the subject up in the end so it was out in the open. “We weren’t together then. We are now, yeah?” He kept his eyes trained on her to see her reaction.
A smirk was over Alicia’s lips as she sat envisions the slaughtering of all angels of Heaven, how would the sound of their screams sound as she put a bullet through their temples. “Well we are sitting on your bed. You want to be my high and mighty and I’ll be your short and sweet?” Alicia’s head was against the headboard but her face had turned to look at Xavier.
“Sounds like a plan.” Xavier put the bottle of scotch down then, gripped Alicia’s chin between his thumb and finger. “Fuck handsome High’n’Mighty, understand?” he grinned before leaning down to kiss her tenderly, moving his hand to smooth down the thin column of her neck as his mouth moved against her soft full lips. “Now, this is what I call fucking heaven...” he mumbled in-between kisses.
“Commander Prick,” Alicia laughed against Xavier’s lips they slid down the headboard and onto the bed, her hands had reached up as the pad of her thumbs gently ran under his eyes. “I love green.”
Xavier gathered Alicia to him, resting his head on top of hers, his huge arms forming a cage around her. “I love…” he hesitated before going on, “...the green too – one of my best fucking features.” He gave a short laugh, but kept a tight hold of Alicia. Her body was so soft and smooth against his.
She heard him say…he had told her it before she shot him but to hear him say again? Well didn’t inner Alicia do a happy dance internally! “You never heard my last words to you did you?” Alicia’s other hand was trailing slow circles on his bicep she had never felt so safe and secure with anyone since the day she was dragged to her immortality.
“Last words? No…tell me, Sweetcheeks.” Xavier’s voice was curious but quiet. Just as he heard Alicia about to answer a blast of ‘Braveheart’ shrilled in the air. It was his cell and it was alerting him that Shuggie was looking for him. “Cockblocking hairy son of a fucking bitch – swear to fuck he needs his own brand of contraceptive, yeah? Safe Sex – shove on a Shuggie.” His laugh was harsh as he kissed Alicia’s forehead. “We’ll talk later, Sweetcheeks, I need to kick a Scotsman’s balls.” Groaning at having to leave her, he rolled off the bed and grabbed a black muscle vest. “I’ll be as quick as I can, yeah?” His tone was uncharacteristically apologetic.
“Always the soldier first Commander,” Alicia gave Xavier a playful wink as she dived under his covers. “I’ll just stay here and chillax.” She didn’t want to return to the only room in the compound that wasn’t decorated – it was cold and bare. She felt safe here and she wanted to finally asleep with strong arms around her. The arms of Xavier Raige.
Before he left, he lifted up the end of the covers that she had pulled over herself, and kissed a trail up Alicia’s inner calves. “You’d better fucking be here when I get back.” Giving another groan, he reluctantly left the bedroom. “This better be life or death Shug or I swear to fuck you’ll be singing soprano for the rest of your immortality.” Xavier stomped through the corridors in search of his Lieutenant.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Martinez stretched and got up from his chair where he had been slumped, then picked up the empty syringe that had fallen on the floor. Checking his cell, he frowned. He had twenty missed calls and texts. Then his eyes fixed on the date and time. He had lost an entire day! As he picked up the box and letter from his mysterious Benefactor, he smiled wryly. The drug ‘euphoria’ that he had been sent and sampled was the best motherfucking thing he’d ever had and already he was craving another hit. That meant only one thing...his competitors would be at a distinct disadvantage once he flooded the market with it – and his client list would grow rapidly, easing his way into the empty Belcastro seat.
After he had gone to his room to shower and change, Martinez changed the dressings to his slow – healing wounds and then made his way back to his office. Time and tide waited for no man, and he was keen to get the ball rolling on his succession to Belcastro’s empire.
The first call was placed to his pharmacists to halt work on their current chemical concoctions. His second call was to his henchmen to clean the laboratories of all equipment and personnel. He wouldn’t be needing them anymore, thanks to his Benefactor. It was his third call that was the most important – and the one he was dreading.
Martinez had only spoken to Valentin Baranovsky once before when his old Boss, Snr Belcastro, had been setting up the people trafficking operation. He doubted whether the Russian tycoon and mobster would even remember him, but his was the most lucrative and successful of the old man’s contracts, and if Martinez wanted to gain respect from the other families, he needed to
keep it for himself.
Before the people trafficking enterprise, the Russian had been a good customer for the Belcastro’s pharmaceutical division. Although Martinez didn’t have any qualms about the slave–trade per se, it was a lot of administration work and had more potential downsides to benefits. What he really wanted was to bring the Russian back into the drugs side – and with ‘euphoria’ he knew that if he could convince him to revert back to their original contract, he would be onto a winner.
After five rings, the Russian’s phone was answered by an exotic and sultry sounding woman.
“Speak to me, Darlink. You desire something?”
Martinez cleared his throat and fixed the collar of his shirt as he answered. “I wish to speak to Baranovsky. This is Martinez, vice-president of Belcastro Enterprises. Is he available?” Wondering if the woman was Baranovsky’s wife or mistress, and if the line was still a secure one. When she answered, it was as though she was reading his mind.
“Why be so pedestrian, Martinez, do we really need labels?” She gave a high pitched laugh that seemed to border on being a cackle then continued, “...and rest your worries, this line is very private.”
Before Martinez could answer, the phone was taken from the woman and the heavily accented voice of Baranovsky replaced hers. “I have been expecting your call, Martinez. Sympathies for your Boss, we heard about the ‘trouble’...”
Martinez knew that the Russian had absolutely no sympathy whatsoever – it was his way of letting him know that ‘trouble’ was never tolerated and he was wanting assurances that there would be no comeback on him or his men. Putting on his most confident and authoritative voice, Martinez spoke. “Thank you, but it was an unfortunate incident – faulty gas work at the mansion. As you will already know, no operations have been disrupted while the change in management has been taking place. I am now running the Belcastro Enterprise and wanted to speak with you personally, as a courtesy to our most valued client.” He was taking a gamble, lying to Baranovsky, but it was consistency rather than authenticity that mattered to these ‘business’ people. As soon as Belcastro had been assassinated and his mansion blown up, Martinez had issued orders from his hospital bed that the rumour about a gas explosion go out rather than that a hit had caused the devastation. Perception was everything.
“Ah, yes, I had heard something about a gas explosion.” Baranovsky almost openly mocked Martinez. “So tell me, this courtesy call…what is it intended for, exactly?”
As Baranovsky toyed with Martinez over the phone, his female companion was standing at his side, pawing over him – and listening to every breath Martinez took. She whispered something into Baranovsky’s ear and his eyes glazed over suddenly. “In fact, that is not important. It is business as usual – we have a container ready to export to you, but our fee has now doubled. Think of it as our extra insurance against ‘unfortunate incidents’.”
Martinez cursed internally, but he knew the Russian had him between a rock and a hard place. He had to stump up the extra money because he couldn’t lose the prestige of such an important contact. “Of course, Baranovsky – payment on delivery, as per usual. There is a more interesting proposition that I wanted to speak to you about, however. We have developed a new recreational drug which I think will excite you. It is far superior to anything else on the market and as you were Belcastro’s main customer for his specialised narcotics, I wanted to offer you the opportunity to be my sole customer – which would give you a monopoly on the market.” Martinez leaned back in his leather chair, smirking to himself at how well the conversation was going.
“In addition to, or instead of the people trafficking, Martinez?” Baranovsky asked guardedly.
Martinez sat up straight, noting the hesitation in Baranovsky’s voice. “It is an ever changing market, Baranovsky, and with the economic downturn people want quick fixes to forget their problems. The girls were distractions, but still considered luxury items. Now, the drugs, they have mass appeal and are good for repeat and regular business. Also, factor in that the distribution, import and export are far simpler to administer and I think you will agree that it makes good business sense to invest all efforts into the pharmacy side.” Martinez listened intently to see if Baranovsky took the bait.
“This new drug – what is it?”
He had him, hook line and sinker – all he had to do was reel him in. “It is a new chemical formulation called ‘euphoria’. I can have samples sent to you of course, before you commit to anything.” He just hoped that his Benefactor would not delay in sending more of the product to him.
Baranovsky weighed the pros and cons in his head as his companion continued speaking softly to him. “Send the samples and I will give you an answer.” As Martinez was about to take his leave, Baranovsky stopped him. “I have another matter that I wish to discuss with you, seeing as you have now taken over Belcastro’s business”
Martinez brow creased and he pressed the phone closer to his ear. “And how may I be of help, Baranovsky?”
“I believe you had in your employ a mercenary, known as ‘The Greek’ working for you. Commander Xavier Raige? I was also informed that you parted company shortly before the ‘unfortunate incident’. I wish to contact him.” Baranovsky had moved away from his companion. He found that he couldn’t think when he was near her, and he was becoming desperate for information on his beloved daughter.
What would Baranovsky want with The Greek? Martinez started to worry. “He was merely hired to install some security equipment, unfortunately I don’t know where he went after his contract expired.” Why was he bringing that damned Commander up?
Baranovsky knew Martinez was lying, but didn’t know why. It had been a simple enough request – hadn’t it?
“Endeavour to find out, Martinez. I have work to offer him and it is of the utmost urgency. My daughter, Petra, is missing and I fear for her safety. The Greek has been recommended to me by others as being the best. I trust you understand what I am asking?” Baranovsky hadn’t wanted to give so much detail to the man that he had never even met, but he was being left little choice.
Relieved that Baranovsky wasn’t hiring Commander Raige to go after him, Martinez relaxed.
And then tensed up again.
Petra? Baranovsky’s daughter was called Petra? It would be a common enough name in Russia, he thought quickly. It couldn’t be the same girl that both he and Belcastro had taken, used and abused and then tortured and killed in Mexico. It couldn’t be – could it?
This wasn’t good. Gulping, Martinez gave a nervous laugh. “I cannot help you, Baranovsky. As I say, Commander Raige left no forwarding details. I doubt he would be able to assist you anyway, he was most unreliable and untrustworthy. Let me have my men look into this matter for you – as a mark of respect to you.”
Baranovsky’s suspicions were growing. He did not appreciate the way the conversation was going and he was not in the mood for game-playing. Deciding to play this tactically, he replied, “Very good. Call me if you receive any information,” then hung up the call abruptly.
Martinez’ paranoia was fully engaged. How the fuck was he going to get out of this mess?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Shuggie was sitting in his office, in the dark, alone. Earlier, he had a meeting with Hawkeye who had been updating him on a meeting he had had with some Russians named Yury and Pavel. They had been making enquiries extensively throughout Europe on the whereabouts of Commander Raige on behalf of their employer, a Valentin Baranovsky.
It was a run of the mill request. Some rich bastard whose daughter had been kidnapped, and daddy dearest wanted her brought back. Nine times out of ten, the ‘kidnapped’ daughter hadn’t been kidnapped at all – instead rebelling against her father, and running off to have an illicit affair with the family gardener or some local schmuck in a biker gang. Instead of bothering Xavier with it he was about to just pass it onto one of their soldiers to deal with. That was until he was shown a photograph of the missing girl
and told her name.
When Hawkeye passed him the file, Shuggie’s demeanour and mood changed drastically.
Petra Baranovsky, Schoolteacher, twenty one years of age.
It was her – the girl he had seen enslaved by Belcastro and forced into prostitution. The girl whose mutilated body he had witnessed being autopsied. The girl he could have saved…and didn’t. The guilt and shame had descended upon him like a tonne of bricks.
As he sat there, in the darkness, the door to his office flew open and the light from the corridor illuminated the huge form of his Commander and best friend, Xavier, who stood with his arms crossed and leaning against the jamb of the door. “You’re the worst fucking player of hide and seek, Highlander, yeah?” snorting a laugh as he looked over at him. When Xavier got no response, he knew something was wrong. “Do I need to sit down for this?”
“Close the door wull ye, Commander?” Shuggie was tense and on edge.
Arching a brow, Xavier strode into the office, slamming the door shut behind him and sat opposite Shuggie. “It’s not like you to be the surly bastard, Shug – that’s my job.”
Shuggie sat in silence and slid the file over the desk towards Xavier. “Hawkeye got word of a new job. I was going to pass it on, but then…” he didn’t finish the sentence as he watched Xavier read it.
“Shit – is that the female from the containers? The one Belcastro had in that club?” Xavier looked up at Shuggie, still not comprehending why his Lieutenant was taking this so personally. “Just have Hawkeye get back to the Russians and tell them she’s in Mexico. What’s the problem?”