Trixsters Anonymous

by Ahren Sanders

  This explains the mercurial mood swing from earlier. I was right; his mind is in chaos.

  “After tomorrow night, Maren and I will only do minimal Trixsters business until you return.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, I need you to be completely honest with me. Are you in danger?”

  He lowers his eyes to mine, and the expression on his face knocks the breath out of me.

  “Not yet.”

  “But you could be?” The words sear my throat, which is closing.

  “I could be,” he confirms.

  My heart, head, and stomach all spasm at the same time. The weight of his job crashes into me. He sees the panic ensuing and curls his hand around my face, kissing my forehead lightly.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m trained for this.”

  “You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

  “I’m going to marry you, Emerson Leigh. You’re going to give me a family, and I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. There’s no way I’d jeopardize that.”

  Now, my eyes and nose start to prickle, and I swallow hard to force back the emotions. There’s so much he’s not telling me, so much he can’t. There’s more than danger on his mind, and I want to beg on my knees for him to stay with me, not leave. But I can’t do that to him.

  “I’d say yes, too.” He reads my mind.

  “I’d never ask. This is the man you are.”

  “But if it meant losing you, I’d leave the team, forget the drugs, the takedown, the entire operations, and go back to being a cop.”

  I suck in a sob, knowing this is too much. This strong, dedicated, fiercely determined man is saying he’d give up his career for me. My heart shatters from overwhelming love.

  Instead of bursting into tears, I channel my inner sass. “You know, I’d walk out the door and find another incredibly hot town detective.”

  He sees right through my act and grips my face a little firmer, his lips tipping in a small smile. “That will never happen.”

  Everything’s in place. The suite we rented for Maren looks like she’s been living in it for a while. Clothes are scattered, the bathroom is littered with her essentials, and the stage is set. More importantly, the remote VPNs are established. All she has to do is get ‘Robert’, who is actually Ricky, here so we can execute this and kick him the hell out.

  I listen into my earpiece and hear them leaving the restaurant across the street. We planted a listening device in her necklace, so I knew exactly what was happening. Maren has invited him up for a drink, and he’s taken the bait. This is my cue to get into my hiding place in the oversized closet. The transmission is replaced with static in the elevator and then returns when they exit.

  I crouch in a corner where my phones are stashed and wait. The door to the suite opens, and they walk in, Maren apologizing again for the fact they are in a hotel. She lays it on thick, explaining that, until her lawyer can get the divorce finalized, she can’t buy a home. Ricky sympathizes with her, walking around to take in the surroundings.

  She fixes them a drink, him closing in on her, taking the glass, and wrapping an arm around her waist. From my position, I can see them clearly. It’s unfortunate he’s a lying, douchelord, asshole, because he really is handsome.

  Then he opens his mouth, and I’m reminded exactly why we’re here.

  “Two weeks, Hanna… For two weeks, you’ve taunted me with the idea of having you. Every night after I sign off that computer, I stroke my cock to the thought of you sucking my dick and forcing you to swallow my cum deep in your throat.”

  Eww… doesn’t this asshole know it’s a choice?

  Maren’s only response is a girly giggle, which encourages him to go on. He clumsily moves his hand from her waist to the back of her head, urging her to look at him.

  “Have you ever been with a PPE before Hanna?”

  She shakes her head slowly, sucking her bottom lip in her mouth and looking as innocent as she can.

  “Do you know what a PPE is?”

  She repeats the motion, this time widening her eyes with curiosity.

  “Professional Pussy Eater. I’m going to treat you to a night of pure bliss and ecstasy.” His voice drops to a growl, his confidence growing. “All night long.”

  I roll my eyes and gag. Does this really work on women?

  “Robert, I think we may be moving a little fast. This is our first date.” Her voice is laced with a sugary sweetness meant to encourage him further.

  “Don’t think, Hanna, just feel. Feel what you do to me.” He bucks his hips into her thigh, where he’s undoubtedly sporting an erection.

  She does the annoying giggle again until he shuts her up by kissing her. He’s aggressive in his approach, not soothing his way at all. It’s painful to watch as he slops over her lips, still holding his drink in the other hand. He doesn’t even have the decency to put his glass down and properly kiss her. The sound of slurping and sucking fills the space until she whimpers. He mistakes her protest for passion and slants his head to go deeper.

  I cringe in sympathy for Maren, and any other woman who has had to endure this. Watching him in action is painful. In my experience with Walker, the way a man kisses is indicative of how he performs in other areas. There is no way Robert-slash-Ricky is a PPE.

  Maren doesn’t waver, continuing to kiss him and sliding her hands to his belt. He finally breaks away, and I can see her face is swollen from her top lip to her chin where he has left his marks.

  She takes his drink and sets it down, then starts to unbutton his shirt. “I’m usually not into sex on the first date. I’m known as a good girl,” she tells him, sliding the shirt off his shoulders.

  “I’ll take it as a challenge to change your mind. I’m crazy about you, Hanna. You’ve consumed my thoughts since the first night we talked. I’m done with online dating. I want you and only you. Let me prove that to you tonight and show you that your husband was an idiot for letting you go.”

  Here comes the sweet talking.

  He toes off his shoes and rips off his socks when her hands go to his belt. Slowly, she undoes his belt and pants until they fall into a pile on the floor and he steps out of them, revealing the snuggest pair of black nut-huggers I’ve ever seen. I swallow my laughter, unsure how she’s keeping a straight face.

  Then I start to worry. It’s been at least almost two hours since they met for drinks and dinner. She slipped the laxative in his cocktail before they even sat down. It should be kicking in by now.

  He leans in to kiss her again right when it happens. His stomach gurgles loudly, and he doubles over in pain, holding his side.

  “Robert!” she cries, bending to help him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he chokes out, clutching himself. “Stomach cramp.”

  “Let me help you sit.”

  Once she gets him to the small sofa, she rushes to get him a bottle of water. While he’s not watching, she bumps her computer, bringing it to life. I type a few things into my phone then wait.

  “Here, drink this.”

  He takes the water, chugging the bottle. “Thank you.”

  His stomach rumbles again violently, and his face pales. “I need to use your restroom.”

  Concern fills her face as she helps him to the vast bathroom across the suite. “Let me know if I can do anything,” she tells him before shutting the door.

  It takes only a few seconds before the most grotesque sounds come from behind the door. Then she’s on the move, yanking his keys and phone from his pants on the floor. In a flash, she has his phone connected to her computer, and my phone starts blinking with incoming messages. I do exactly as she taught me, and in under six minutes, we have everything we need: the videos, the false identity profiles, and his passwords. She snaps in the air, signaling for me to send the virus to her, which she uploads from her TA phone to his online dating profile.

  To any unsuspecting person, it looks like an incoming email, but it’s deadly to his oper
ating system. I find it almost scary how smart Maren is.

  The toilet flushes over and over with a few moans in between. She runs to the edge of the closet with her eyes trained on the bathroom door.

  “Got it?”

  “I’ve got it,” I whisper.

  Then she hurries back to the computer, unplugging his phone and placing it back in his pants. I’m surprised to see her unlatch something from his keys until I realize it’s a thumb drive. She skillfully uploads all its contents and replaces that as well.

  Calmly, she walks to the door and knocks. “Robert, are you okay?”

  “Not really, something didn’t agree with me at dinner. I need a few more minutes. Then I’ll be out, baby.”

  Baby? Is he truly that arrogant to think someone would have sex with him after hearing this?

  “Of course, there’s some medicine under the cabinet if you need it.”

  He mumbles thanks right before the god-awful sounds start up again.

  Maren uses this time to search through his wallet and takes out his ID and a few credit cards, laying them on the desk and taking pictures. When everything is back in place, she fluffs her jet-black wig and starts pacing.

  Another five minutes passes before he emerges from the bathroom, white as a sheet and glistening with sweat.

  “Oh, Robert, you look awful.” She rushes to him, placing a hand to his forehead. “And you’re so clammy.”

  “I’ll feel better in a bit. Let’s lie down. I bet you know a few ways to help heal me.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

  Maren gives a nervous laugh, stepping away and reaching for his pants. “Maybe we should postpone our night. You’re sick, and I really don’t want to catch a bug.”

  Right as she speaks, his stomach gurgles again. He rips his pants from her and races back to the bathroom. We’re forced to sit through another torturous listening experience until Maren finally turns on the TV to drown out what’s happening.

  When he emerges again, he hobbles to the bed and takes his shirt she laid there a few minutes ago. “I think you’re right. I may need to go home.”

  “It’s for the best. Maybe you’ll feel better by tomorrow.” Her voice drips with sincerity.

  Halfway through buttoning his shirt, his head flies up, and he pins Maren with laser focus. “Why aren’t you sick?”

  “What?”

  “We ate the same things, drank the same wine. You should be sick, too.”

  She thinks quick, her hand cradling her stomach. “Actually, I do feel a little off.”

  His head twists around, eyes surveying the room and then landing back on her. From my spot, I can see the suspicion in his features.

  My own stomach rolls when he stands up and pats his pockets, then stalks to her. “What did you do?” he demands to know.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My wallet, why were you in my wallet?”

  “I wasn’t.” She winces, trying to wiggle free of his hold. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Are you trying to rob me? Is this a set up?”

  “NO!” She struggles more.

  “My wallet goes in my left pocket, always. But somehow, now, it’s in my right? What were you doing in my wallet?”

  “I wasn’t, it fell out when I picked up your pants,” she tries to tell him.

  “Bullshit!”

  His rage starts to grow, and I know we’re in trouble. Maren stomps on his foot, but he doesn’t let her go.

  “You think you can play me?”

  “No, get out, you lunatic!” she screams, still battling to get out of his hold.

  “I’ll get out when I’m done with you. Tell me, what were you doing in my wallet?”

  “Nothing!” she repeats frantically.

  “You’re lying!”

  “I’m not the liar!”

  I weigh my options, ready to pop out when he jerks her hard and throws her against the wall, looking around again. It takes a split second to type my text.

  Me- SOS SOS! 911! Room 824!

  Walker- Stay put. DO NOT do anything stupid.

  Ricky storms through the room, stopping at her desk and punching a few keys into her keyboard.

  “What’s your password?”

  “Like I’d tell you. Get out or I’ll call security!” Maren runs to the door.

  He pounces, catching her around the middle and smacking her face so hard she yells in pain. My instant reaction is to protect her. I leap up, ready to reveal myself and beat the hell out of him, when there’s a banging on the door.

  “What the fuck?” Ricky makes the mistake of loosening his grip enough for Maren to knee him in the balls. He howls in pain, letting go, and she races to the door, throwing it open. From my position, I can’t see exactly what is happening, but as soon as Walker speaks, his anger booms through the room.

  “What the fuck is happening in here?” he roars, my skin pricking at his rage.

  “Who are you?” Ricky demands to know.

  “I’m Detective Walker Scott. Who the FUCK are you?”

  This is where Ricky makes a colossal mistake, rising up and puffing out his chest. “What the hell do you want?”

  Walker walks further into the room, followed by Marcus who looks like he’s about to lose his mind. His hands clench at his side as he stares at Ricky with such hatred, I’m afraid for the guy.

  “I ask the questions.”

  “You can’t barge in here—”

  “You the occupant of this room?” Walker cuts him off.

  “No, I am,” Maren offers.

  “We’re gonna need your permission to search this room.”

  “For what?” Ricky keeps going.

  “Drugs,” Walker deadpans.

  “You’re a fucking drug dealer?” Ricky directs his question to Maren. “Not only are you a tease and a thief, you’re a druggie?”

  Maren’s actually speechless, her eyes bulging. “I’m not any of those things!”

  “You bitch!” Ricky finally stands straight and goes to the door, but Walker catches him by the arm.

  “You think you’re going somewhere?”

  “Hell yes, I’m outta here.”

  “Not until I see your wallet and ID.”

  “Not happening.” His confidence starts to waver when his stomach goes crazy again and he hurls over in pain.

  “Jesus Christ, what’s that smell?” Marcus scowls and Ricky pales.

  “My date blew out his ass tonight,” Maren tell them with a straight face.

  “Fuck me.” Walker drops his head to hide his smile.

  Ricky doesn’t reply because he’s hobbling back to the bathroom.

  “Are you okay?” Walker goes to Maren, gently tilting her face to get a good look.

  “Yes, but I’ve never been struck by a man before.”

  “You never will be again, if I have a say so.” Marcus joins them with a bar towel filled with ice. He places it against her cheek.

  Walker comes to the closet and finds me cramped in the corner. “Stay here until I get this guy out of here.”

  I’m trembling too hard to respond.

  Walker plants his feet, crosses his arms, and glowers at the bathroom door until it opens. Ricky emerges looking better; he’s straightened his clothes, splashed water on his face, and restyled his hair. Most of his color has returned. That is, until he catches Walker’s death glare.

  “You make it a habit to hit women?” Walker’s voice is sharp and hard, full of hatred.

  “I don’t know what she told you, but—”

  “There’s a handprint on her cheek. She didn’t have to say anything. I should haul your ass in for assault.”

  “This woman tried to steal from me.”

  Walker makes a show of looking at Maren for confirmation, and she violently shakes her head in denial.

  “Hand me your wallet, now.” Walker holds out his hand.

  “Don’t you have drugs to look for?” Ricky smarts back.

  “Now.�
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  Ricky reluctantly takes it out of his pocket and hands it over. Walker goes through it, taking out his ID and taking a picture with his phone. Then he looks at Maren again.

  “Ma’am, do you want to press charges again Ricky Sharpe for assault?”

  Maren plays right into the game, her jaw dropping and eyes bulging again. “Ricky Sharpe? He told me his name was Robert!”

  “Is that true?” Walker looks at him for clarification.

  “What do you care? She’s a lying, conniving bitch that—”

  “That has a handprint on her cheek and a swelling lip. So, I suggest you watch your words.”

  “No, I don’t want to press charges. I just want him gone.” Maren fakes a sob.

  Walker blows out a breath and hands his wallet back. “Ricky, looks like the lady is giving you a pass. I’m not feeling so generous. Get your ass out of here, but don’t be surprised if you receive a visit tomorrow.”

  Ricky snatches his wallet back and shoots Maren an evil glare before hauling ass out the door. As soon as it slams, I’m on my feet and in front of Maren.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. He got a cheap shot on me.”

  I take the cloth that Marcus is holding and survey the damage. The area’s still red, but there is no visible bruising.

  “I want to kill him,” I announce, not caring Walker’s in law enforcement.

  “Me too,” Marcus adds.

  “Truly, I’m fine,” she reassures us.

  “Emi, get over here,” Walker orders, and I comply, throwing my arms around his shoulders and resting my head in the crook of his neck.

  “Thank you.”

  “I swore to myself I wasn’t going to interfere. I SWORE I was going to let you live your life, but I’m changing my mind. No more, do you hear me? No more of these half-cocked schemes. If you were in Maren’s place, and a man struck you, he’d be laid out on the ground right now, fighting to live.”

  I want to argue, but now is not the time. I know what he said is true, and tonight could have gotten out of hand if he didn’t save us. “All right.”

  “Maren, you too.”

  “Okay,” she wisely agrees.

  He hugs me close, placing his mouth to my ear. “I’m not kidding, Emi. If that would have been you, I’d have lost my shit.”