by Tiana Laveen
Savage sat down on a white iron chair on the balcony, propped his bare feet up on the railing, and crossed his ankles, getting comfortable so he could read through several files he’d saved in his specially created dark web email account accessed by TOR and his Orbot account.
D. Miguel. 1.0 – 652 Sector – 64123
A. Smith. 2.6 – 48671 Mt. Freesia – 37012
He had several hits piling up. Kansas City, Tennessee, and more… The names and locations were typed in code, but he knew how to decipher the info. Rubbing his hands together, he stood back up and took in the scenery.
I love it out here, but shit, I’m ready to get back to California. I guess I should’ve called Mom while here… Nah, I’ll just call her later.
It’s my luck that Zaire lives there in California, too. Maybe that means something?
Suddenly, his cellphone buzzed. He picked it up and read the text message that had just come through.
Harlem: Savage, you’ve got clearance to leave tonight at 8:30 P.M. Your house in California has been cleaned but is still under surveillance by us for the next 48 hours.
Savage: Thank You.
He placed his phone down on a small nearby table. Becoming antsy, he approached Zaire to wake her up so he could drown in her pussy, but he paused when he heard some noise from below. Leaning over the railing, he looked across the street, narrowing his eyes.
A woman was screaming on the street and a small crowd was gathering around her. Interest sparked, he quickly made his way back inside the hotel room, grabbed his binoculars, and returned to the balcony.
What the hell is going on here?
He focused on a man dressed in dark clothing fleeing the scene with what appeared to be a purse in his hand. He returned his attention to the woman and zoomed in.
Shit. I know her. That’s Cindy, one of the bartenders in the Blackjack room. Sweet girl. He’s on foot. By the time the cops get wind of the incident, he’ll be long gone, especially if he knows his way around here. Damn.
Savage’s lips curled in a smile and in less than a minute, his shoes and jacket were on. He jammed his gun in his coat pocket, his hotel key and wallet in a front pocket, and headed out the door. Phone in hand, he sent a text message to Zaire using the diction feature.
Hello, Sleeping Beauty. Just running a quick errand. I’ll be back soon, baby.
Order yourself something to eat. Charge it to my room.
You’ll need the fuel. Be ready to be ripped to pieces when I return.
Sliding the phone back in his pocket, he bypassed the elevator and raced down the stairs, moving as fast as his damn feet would carry him. Once he got to the front lobby, practically dripping with sweat, he slapped the desk hard, startling the people in line checking in and out.
“I need my motorcycle.” He slid his sunglasses on from atop his head and glared at the woman standing behind the counter in her cute little uniform, seemingly lost in thought. “NOW, PRINCESS.”
“I’ll take care of this, Sarah.” The hotel front desk manager, a thin, younger man with a slightly receding hairline, came forward. “Hello, Mr. Savage.”
“Hi, Seth.”
“We’ll make sure it is pulled out in front of the hotel within ten minutes.”
“I don’t have time for that. Where is it parked?” The manager began to type into the computer while a guy wearing a Hawaiian print shirt bristled up, spouting off at the mouth.
“Awww, for cryin’ out loud. Come on! We were here first! This Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’ wannabe busts in the line like he’s the gotdamn President of the United States and demands for someone to bring his big wheel around front. Brat! Get in tha back of the line like the rest of us.”
“Be quiet.” Savage tossed him a cautionary glance then turned back towards the manager.
“Make me, you son of a bitch!” Red in the face, the squatty buffoon marched over to him, his arms like huge sausages and jammed his short, stubby finger in his face. Savage casually removed his sunglasses from his face and smiled.
BAM!
AHHHHH! People yelled, some screamed and scurried, others cursed, backing up as Savage headbutted the man one good time, knocking the idiot out cold. Someone dropped down to their knees, gently slapping the guy’s face, trying to wake him.
“Hey! Hey! Are you okay?!” the guy said, shaking the slumbering bastard to no avail.
“It’s parked on C73.” The manager swallowed, his complexion growing ashen.
“Thank you.” Savage snatched the keys from the manager’s grasp, stepped over the poor sap who’d tried him and lost, made his way to the parking lot, slipped on a pair of black leather gloves, and within minutes, was riding down South Las Vegas Blvd.
Once outside the main lobby hotel doors, he looked from left and right, his adrenaline pumping, in desperate need of a damn good bloody time.
“All that wasted time! He could be anywhere by now!” He zoomed about, in between cars, revving his engine, bullying people out of his way. Finally, he spotted an older black car speeding through a red light and people yelling and pointing at it.
Jackpot!
He got on its tail. I bet that’s you… that’s the direction you were running and people are on their fucking phones, pointing and yelling. Must’ve jumped in a car to take off with your loot. Son of a bitch. Nobody robs Cindy in front of me. She’s too important. Do ya know why? She doesn’t water down my fucking drinks!
He revved his motorcycle and soon neared the car as they approached another light. Tilting from side to side, he saw a purse strap lying on the passenger seat.
I doubt that belongs to you, ya fuckin’ piece of shit! How about a little mood music to send off your little ass in style?
Savage turned on his stereo and the notes of ‘Kashmir’, by Led Zeppelin, blasted through the state-of-the-art speakers on his candy apple red and midnight black Harley with a huge chrome skull and orange flames on the front. The traffic began to move again. He turned his music up as loud as possible and got on the side of the car. It didn’t take long for the driver, a scruffy looking tweaker, to notice him. Savage grinned at the guy and waved.
“Cool purse! Real leather, huh? Niiice!” He showed all his teeth, pointing to the damn thing lying there.
“Fuck off!”
Savage opened his jacket ever so slightly, exposing Mr. Chopper.
The man’s eyes bucked in horror. He shifted in his seat and attempted to switch lanes and make a clean escape, to no avail. Savage grabbed a switchblade from his back pocket and waited until they were past the surveillance cameras he knew were present in that area. The guy went in the opposite direction of traffic, causing an explosion of frantic honking and swerving cars. A couple even crashed into each other. Savage stayed hot on his trail, but leaving a slight gap, blending back into traffic. With a steady hand, he tossed his blade at the rear driver’s side tire, slid out his gun with the silencer already attached then aimed it towards the back window and shot, shattering the glass.
Within seconds he was back in the far-right lane, his speed normal. He counted in his head, timing it just right.
10. He’s not gonna make that turn…
9.
8. Oops! Ya side swiped someone, buddy ol’ pal…
7. Ahhh, ya got back control of the wheel but I’m certain you’re losing a shitload of blood by now…
6. That tire is losing air and fast…
5.
4. Watch out up ahead…
3.
2.
1.
BOOM!
The car veered back and forth in traffic, zigzagging and fishtailing until the guy ran into a telephone pole at full speed. The sound was so loud it seemed to ripple the airwaves with a cosmic explosion. The splitting of metal was music to Savage’s ears as the damn car ripped open like a sardine can on the passenger’s side. The front was squashed on contact, resembling an old accordion that had seen better days.
There ya go, sport. Fuck me? Huh? Nah…
fuck you, motherfucker. This is MY town. The police will be here soon. They’ll get Cindy’s purse back to ’er and after you’re sent to the hospital instead of the morgue because I decided to be benevolent and shoot ya in the shoulder instead of the back of your empty fuckin’ head, you can reflect on all of this shit. I guess I’m feeling a little nicer today after getting some magnificent pussy. You got lucky…
Savage glanced at his watch, then quickly turned around, his rear wheel skidding as he raced away, going back in the direction from which he’d come.
The sirens of police cars and an ambulance could be heard through the honking of cars and screams. The ruckus got fainter as he headed to the hotel. The moment he walked off the stairway from the garage and arrived inside the lobby, his cellphone buzzed.
“Did you do this shit, Savage?!”
“Yup.” He got ready to disconnect before the officer yelled into the phone.
“For God’s sake! You can’t roll up on people in the middle of the afternoon and shoot them in the gotdamn shoulder! I knew this was your handiwork! You did something similar two years ago!”
“How’d jah know it was me? Did the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ knife in the tire tip you off?” Savage taunted, a big grin on his face.
“Why do you do this crap?”
Savage shrugged and laughed, while the man sounded downright exhausted.
“What’s the problem? You fuckers would’ve let him get away. You’re too slow and someone stealing a purse with probably no more than twenty dollars in it is not exactly at the top of your priorities. Just be happy I didn’t leave my calling card. You should be thanking me. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve let someone live. The coroner would’ve been called, but where’s your gratitude?” He walked briskly, eager to get back to his sleeping beauty.
“We’ve told you about this sort of shit before, Savage! Let us do our jobs! Do I need to call the governor about you again?”
“First of all, fuck the governor and you too, if you decide to go ’nd snitch, especially with the info I have on you and your little pals. Two can play that pussy ass tattletale lame game. And as far as doing your job, I did let you. You’re doing it now, right?” He made his way to the elevator, then slowed when he spotted Zaire’s friend Kim sitting at the bar, her back hunched over, staring down into a glass of something that made promises swimming in watery lies. “Hey, make sure that lady gets her purse back. Her name is Cindy Perkins.”
“We already contacted her. She’s meeting us at the precinct. Wait a minute! How’d you know that? Never mind! Look, Savage, can you at least save me some paperwork and tell me what gun you used?! Don’t make us run the damn tests. We have to process this shit. Save the taxpayers some money this time, okay?”
“What did I use? Your mama.”
He was met with a frustrated huff.
“You’re a real asshole.”
“All right.” He cleared his throat. “I feel in a generous mood. Beretta M9A3. It’s slated for destruction. You’re welcome.” He disconnected the call and headed into the dimly lit bar.
Sliding on a stool next to the attractive woman, he tapped his fingers against the bar. She didn’t seem to notice as she stayed focused on her drink, as if a little television show was playing in the glass that only she could see. A bartender approached, looking sharp in his black jacket and crisp white shirt.
“What can I get for you, boss?”
“Just some water. I’m playing it cool right now.” The bartender headed back to the other side of the long counter.
Just then, Kim looked up from her drink and finally noticed him. Her mouth split in a grin.
“I know you.” She shook her finger in his direction. “Lavish!”
“Savage… it’s Savage.” He gave her a gentle pat on the back. “I like Lavish though, too.” He grinned. “Thank you.” The bartender handed him a tall glass of water, chock full of ice.
“Yes, that’s right. Sorry…”
The woman wasn’t fully drunk, but definitely tipsy.
“That’s all right. No harm, no foul.” Running his hand over his beard, he stopped himself from saying the first things that popped into his head. “So, uh, what are you doing here so early? Why aren’t you taking in the sights, playing the slots, or shopping before you have to head back to California?”
“I just wanted to sit here and think.” She looked away, tucked her long, poker straight black hair behind one ear and stared into her glass once more. “This is gin. I’m trying to get shit-faced.”
“Hmm, I see…” He glanced up at the television where they were running live coverage of the ‘little tweaker misfortune’ that had taken place earlier. They showed the area, now swarming with cops, and closeups of the fucker being taken out of the car, his bloodied body placed on a gurney and his eyes wild and crazy as he mumbled incoherently.
“You know, Allison and I were surprised that Zaire went out with you.”
“Shit, me too.”
She chuckled at that.
“I’m glad she did though. She’s been under a lot of stress lately. You seem like a lot of fun.” The woman circled her glass with her fingertip, smiled at him sadly, then looked back down at the drink. “Allison likes you too, says you’re funny and nice looking. And rich. She stressed the rich part.”
He laughed at that and glanced around at the almost empty bar, then took a sip of his water.
“Yeah? Allison is funny, too. I’m glad she’s been having a good time while here. It’s always nice to get away every now and again, meet new people.” She nodded in agreement. “So, what about you? Are you having fun?” The woman smirked but remained quiet. “You’re just going to keep sitting here alone?”
“I won’t be solo for long. Allison will be here in a bit.” She yawned. “She had to make a phone call and then wanted to play a bit of Pokeno.”
“Pokeno? I never took her as a Pokeno player. That’s pretty funny, actually.”
“Yeah, she loves it. Uh, I actually had a great time and I’m sad to see it end.” She tapped her glass with her nails. “Usually though, the three of us come here and do everything together but it seems that Zaire took a detour. A much needed detour, I understand…” Her eyes hooded then she burst out laughing.
“Is that what they call it now? Detours? These kids nowadays and this slang,” he teased.
“It’s great here… a playground. It wasn’t enough time though.” She sighed. “But we’ll be back. I was able to stretch a bit, you know, relax.”
“Good. Zaire stated you were in real estate I believe, right?” He readjusted his watch. “She said you were high in the food chain. Celebrity properties. I bet that can be pretty stressful in Southern Cali. Los Angeles, that is.”
“Yes, so true. I love it but yes, it keeps me really busy!”
“That means you’re successful at it and good at what you do. Nobody stays busy in real estate unless they’re kickin’ ass.”
“So they say!” She winked before taking another sip of her drink.
Savage got to his feet.
“Well, I’m about to go back to my room but just in case I don’t see you again, it was really nice meeting you, Kim.” He extended his hand for a shake.
“It was nice meeting you, too, Savage.” He noticed her hand trembled ever so slightly as she grasped his palm.
“My first name is Maximus. Some people call me Max.” He wrapped his other hand around her fingers, sandwiching her hand between his. The woman was filled with what felt like worry, anxiety. It seemed that Zaire and her two closest girlfriends were all going through something, in one way or another. Such was life.
“Maximus… very nice name.”
“Thanks. Goodbye, Kim.” He slowly released his grasp and turned to leave. When he took a few steps, she called out to him.
“Mad Max!”
“Yeah.” He turned back in her direction, amused by her choice of words. “What’s up?”
“I wasn’t going to
say anything… and it’s really not my place… but… don’t… don’t hurt her, okay?” He cocked his head to the side, feeling a bit confused. “I know Zaire can take a lot and she is the bounce-back queen, so to speak.” She dramatically rolled her eyes. “She and I have that in common, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to see just how elastic she can be. Look, I can tell she really likes you. I spoke to her briefly a little while ago. Don’t say anything about it.” Her brows bunched. “And if this is just a fling, that’s fine, as long you both feel the same way. But I didn’t get that impression.”
“Just say what you need to say, Kim. No need to pussyfoot around this shit. What is it you really want me to know?”
The woman visibly swallowed and regarded him sternly.
“If you don’t want anything more than sex with her, just let her know, okay? I know you two just met, and you’re probably scared out of your mind thinking, ‘Damn! Her friend is pressuring me now and I just met the lady!’ But you have to understand… I don’t want to see her screwed over again, Savage. The last time was rough.”
The woman slid off the bar stool and disappeared towards the ladies’ room, leaving him there, in wonderment. He cracked his knuckles then made his way to the elevator. As he rode up to his floor, he thought about Kim’s words.
The gorgeous Hispanic woman spoke with authority, compassion, and empathy for a woman she obviously cared a great deal for. He was happy that Zaire had people around her who cared and loved her so. When the elevator doors opened, he marched down the hall towards his private suite. He hesitated at the door when he heard music playing. It sounded like Herb Alpert’s ‘Rise.’ His lips kinked in a smile as he slid out his hotel door key and prepared to enter. Once it clicked, he opened it and saw the woman swaying back and forth, butt naked as the day she was born, snapping her fingers to the music, her back to him… oblivious of his presence.