by Jisa Dean
One day when I was twelve, one of my new 'uncles' came home before my mom got there. Turns out he was watching me. Not in the creepy pedo way, but I wound up on his shortlist of kids who could get shit done when I went after the gang. He was very powerful and very rich and he liked using younger kids because nobody, and I mean nobody, suspects a fucking kid of being a hired gun.
Worked for him for a few years until I got too old for the guy and then I moved on. I still consider him my mentor and more of a father to me than my own dad ever was. He taught me honor and the fine art of killing and he taught me one more thing that has been my most trusted ally, he taught me how to poison.
Most people in my profession like the loud, the flashy, and the big booms. They like the guns and the drama, but sometimes leaving them to die after a handshake is the most satisfying thing to me. When I told the guy I wanted to learn more he actually put me through fucking college. I spent just enough time there to learn better ways to kill people before I moved on. So no, I don't have a backup plan, I don't have a fucking clue what the fuck I'm going to do once I stop killing. I'm not going to retire and be a fucking pharmacist and I can't exactly put any of my talents on a normal resume.
I'm brought back to my present predicament when a small finger pokes me in the chest. I can't believe she had the balls to touch me. I'm a little shocked and a whole lot surprised by it. No one has touched me in months and no one outside the club has come anywhere near me in years.
"Listen here, tall, dark, and broody if you can pull your head out of your ass for just a minute I think we can both find a way to leave here happy." This I have to hear, "Both of us fight our way out of this and then, once we've gotten clear, I'll let you have whatever you want from me as long as you promise to let me go."
My lips curl up at her slip. For an agent, this girl sure sucks at her job. "Anything? You really want to give me anything I ask for?" Memories of her scent drift back to me and I can't hold back a growl. It pulled me in as soon as I smelled her. In fact, I have a little souvenir tucked away in my pocket for later, when I can fully appreciate her sweet aroma. Make no mistake; it isn't perfume or soap I'm smelling, but the sweet scent of her cunt. I know I make her wet and ready for it.
Her beautiful mouth pops open and again I'm left thinking this girl is shit at hiding her true emotions. Either the CIA is getting sloppy or she's just shit at her job. Or maybe that wide-eyed innocent act is her thing. It would certainly put people off their game if she came off all virginal and sweet right before she stabbed them in the back. God knows I've sold the innocent act in my younger days.
I shake myself out of the fog she seems to put me in. I don't have time for this shit. I check my watch, it's late so hopefully, there won't be any witnesses to what's about to happen.
"Sure but we shake on it." I hold out my hand and when I feel her small fingers curl around mine I tighten my grip, pull her into me while I spin her around and have her drugged before she can make another sound out of those beautiful lying lips. She immediately goes limp in my arms and I let her body drop to the bed we've been standing next to. The sensation of her melting into me makes me hard. I never said I wasn't a sick fuck; I just have my own brand of morals.
I really have to rethink my opinion of the CIA if this is the agents it’s sending out. I push her crap back in her bag and go to the door. I make sure not to go anywhere near to the peephole and instead I put my ear up to the door along with my gun, saying a prayer for cheap doors and stupid people. I shoot twice before I open the door to a wide-eyed third guy who didn't even have time to pull his gun. I shoot him and use his momentum to pull him through the door. He falls face down on the floor right in front of the door. I drag the other two further into the hotel room and take out several bags of cocaine that I throw on the shitty desk by the bed.
When the maid comes through it will look like a bad drug deal gone wrong. My second favorite cover-up. I go back for the bag and the woman and head to my car. Or the car I am currently 'borrowing' from one of the lucky people staying at the nearby, fancier hotel just down the road. In the morning they'll wonder why their car changed parking spots and isn't as full as they remember, but other than that, nothing else will be out of place. And if someone saw the car leaving the scene of a crime they can tell the cops they have no fucking idea who would have taken their car just to return it hours later.
I've worn gloves and wiped most of the stuff down already. By the time I pull into the parking garage and switch back to my car I have the girl bound and in the trunk before anyone could see a thing. This is why retiring is going to be so hard. I'm just damned good at my job.
Three
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I wake up with a pounding headache and my stomach revolting. It's cold and damp and there's not a lot of light. What light there is makes the shadows on the walls look like spooky ghosts that lurk right outside the ring of light waiting on the unsuspecting. The cold is the thing that bothers me the most. And the fact that I can't move - anything.
My inability to move brings my mind back into focus enough to realize that I'm tied down to a chair and nearly naked. I wasn't wearing just my underwear the last time I was awake. Fear nearly takes me back under but I fight it and whatever that fuck gave me. The last thing I remember is the guy with really pretty eyes shaking my hand then twirling around so that I was in his arms for a second and for that second I felt...something weird. So many new things that I couldn't sort them all out - being in a man's arms for the first time in my life, the really nice way he smells, feeling almost safe somehow. Until he plunged a needle in my neck. After that, I don't remember anything else.
This is like a nightmare come to life for me. I have no idea where I am, who has me, or what he plans to do with me. I have a deep understanding of what happened to my friend and other women that are sold into the sex trade through interviews with women who have survived and escaped and it is not a pleasant way to find yourself in. Maybe I got too close to the path Noel took when she was abducted. What the fuck am I going to do if this guy sells me to men who do unthinkable things to defenseless women? The thought has me testing the strength of the rope that has me tied down.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement in the shadows. When I turn my head it aches and my vision blurs a little. Out of the dark steps the man who brought me here. He's changed from all black to jeans and a t-shirt. He doesn't look like a killer now, just a guy. A really hot guy but I shut that shit down immediately.
"You're awake. Excellent. Now we can get to know one another a little better." He pulls up a straight back chair and sits backwards so that he's straddling the chair with thighs that are making love to the blue jeans he's wearing. Damn.
"I'm going to ask you questions and you're going to answer them - honestly. If you refuse to answer, or you lie to me, things will go very badly for you."
He waits for me to give him an answer. I give him the only answer he's going to get from me. "Go to hell!" I spit at him after I give him his answer.
"That's what I thought you would say." He stands up and reaches into his pocket for a little notebook looking thing but when he opens it I can see what's inside. He has needles and vials of shit in there. He carries the shit around with him. This time he holds the vial up for me to watch as he fills it with clear liquid from a little bottle.
My shaking just got a whole lot worse and fear causes my mouth go dry. He walks towards me with the needle raised up in the air so I can watch as he gets closer and closer. I yank on the ropes again but there is no damn give in them at all. In fact, they're biting into my skin everywhere I strain to loosen them. As he gets closer to me I start screaming, hoping someone can hear me even though I don't have much hope that is going to happen.
"Don't! Stop! Please, don't!" It's pointless. Even begging him not to doesn't slow him down. The needle slides under my skin with a pinch and heat shoots into my arm from whatever he's putting into me. I have to work twice as hard to keep the t
ears that well up from brimming over. I absolutely do not want this guy to see me cry.
The bastard takes his seat again and waits. After a little while, my world starts to tilt and everything goes a little fuzzy. I fight to keep my eyes open and to make my head stop spinning. In the end, I have to close my eyes to keep from getting sick. I am in real danger of throwing the fuck up. Out of nowhere water is thrown on me making my shaking worse and my bra and panties might as well not even be on since they are now see-through.
"I'm going to be sick." My voice doesn't even sound like my own.
"You'll be fine. Your world will settle down in a minute and then we'll talk." So sure of himself. He's so...stupid. I can't think of a better word right now.
"Why did you throw water on me? Jerk." Everything I think seems to be coming out of my mouth. This cannot be good.
"To keep you awake and alert. And because I like seeing you wet in nothing but your underwear." His eyes rake over me and I shiver for a very different reason than being cold.
"Are you going to rape me?" As soon as the words leave my mouth I have to take a second to think about why I asked. It is one of my biggest fears and probably how all of this will end up but I don't want to know.
"No." his lip curls in a sneer. "Men who are good at their jobs don't have to rape to inspire fear."
"That's awesome!" what the hell did I just say? I mean I'm fully relieved that he's not going to rape me but I really shouldn't have said what I just did. "How about sell me? Are you going to sell me to people who want to?" Why can't I keep my mouth shut?
"Well, it's good to see the meds working. No, I have no intention of selling you either. As long as you are with me, you'll be kept safe," his eyes bore into me, "If you aren't a danger to my brothers and their wives."
"What now?" how the hell do I know who his brothers, let alone their wives, are?
"Me and my brothers were hired to do a job. The job being you and your friends." Holy fuck he's an assassin. Not one of the good guys. "My brothers already have both women and I suspect, if I know them the way that I do, both women are already well on their way to being married to them."
"My God! You sold them. You sick fuck!" of course they would hurt the people I care about and leave me to live with the pain of knowing two more people are out there somewhere being hurt and used.
"No one got sold. Married. They married them." His face wavers in my vision for a moment making it hard to focus on what he's saying. "They fell in love with them."
"Oh, well that's nice." As long as no one is being sold I guess all is okay. "Kinda wish they would have invited me but I can understand how that might not be a good thing right at this moment. People want to kill me."
"Yes they do and I want to know why. When you were on the roof during the gunfight a couple of days ago were you shooting at Poppie?"
"Fuck you," The word just comes flying out of my mouth before I can stop it. The speed and violence kind of surprises me but I continue on, "I would never hurt her. She's my favorite student and my friend." I don't have many friends. Maybe Poppie and Sally are my only friends right this second.
"Who do you work for?" That's a fucking odd question.
"North State University." It comes out almost like a question and slightly slurred.
"No! I want your real job, where do you really work?" Why the hell does he want my work history? Guy looking to hire me?
"The science department." I nod. That was a good answer.
He doesn't look happy though. "You're a CIA agent aren't you?"
"No. Maybe." I laugh because his thinking I'm a badass agent chick is hilarious. "I don't know, you tell me?"
"Who trained you to shoot like you did?"
Oh, this is an easy one, "Call of Duty: Black Ops"
"What the hell?" again my answer doesn't seem to make him happy. He leans forward and stares at me. "You're telling me that you shot at me with no more training than a god damned video game."
I listen really close to see if he's trying to trick me. He seems tricky. But I think what he says is what I just said so I give him a nod and a little smile.
"You..." he seems a little stunned about something, "You shot at me and killed a guy. You shot a guy in the head."
"Yeah, I know. I was aiming for his hand but the thing did a weird bouncy thing and I had my eyes closed when I fired."
He seems really pissed now. He jerks out of his chair and picks it up and throws it into the darker part of the building. He starts pacing back and forth and I can't understand why he's so irritated.
"I saved you, didn't I? So what are you so mad about?"
He leaves but comes back quickly. He has his chair with him and this time he pulls right up to the one I'm tied to. He's so close his thighs bracket mine and the rough scratch of his jeans on my bare legs has me noticing things I shouldn't.
"You work for the CIA as an Intelligence Analyst, don't you?"
I give him another nod.
"I got the job so I could poke around and be in a better position to find Noel." I giggle because I have a secret I've not told anyone. "I lied to them. I told them I was older so they'd hire me and they haven't found out yet. Some agents, am I right?"
"How fucking old are you?" I really wish I knew how to make this guy happy because nothing I have said so far seems like something he wants to listen to.
"Twenty three." I think he might have mumbled son of a bitch but I can't be for sure.
"You're hot. So sexy, but really scary too." I lean forward as far as my ropes will let me and whisper to him, "I would totally let you have my cherry if I hadn't promised to not lose it before I find Noel."
He's sitting with his mouth open and his head pulled away so he has to look at me from the side.
"There's no fucking way." I've lost our conversation again because I have no idea what he's talking about. "No fucking way you're a fucking virgin and you work for the CIA."
"Oh, well, I'm not an agent or anything. I crunch numbers and analyze data. Most of the men in my department are so old I don't think they can get it up anymore. And I take my vow to Noel seriously. No sex until I find her."
The thought of Noel hits me hard. I forgot. To start with I was feeling really good and warm and fuzzy but remembering her brings my shivers back. For the first time since this happened, I forgot about her for a minute. My eyes well back up with tears and this time I can't seem to make them stay in my eyes.
"I'm going to make this right. I'm going to make sure Poppie and Sally are safe." The need to tell him so someone will know rides me hard. He looks up from his mumbling and gives me a searching look. He's going to find out sooner than later, might as well tell him all of it. "I'm going to take the blame for all of this and then the Senator will have no other option but to come after me and only me."
"You're going to sacrifice yourself?" his voice sounds funny but I can't make myself understand why. He sounds a little pissy.
"What do I have to live for? I’ve known since I started out that this is how my story ends. And I can save my friends this way." The warehouse is exceptionally quiet. I have plenty of time to think about the last time I saw Noel.
We were both seventeen and I was consumed with classes and colleges and the hot new science teacher. Noel was consumed with staying alive and getting enough food to make it through the next day. I had no way of knowing, because she never let me close enough to see, but she had gotten hooked on something one of her boyfriends gave her. She hid it well until she couldn't anymore. She ran away from home and stayed on friends couches off and on for more than a year. By the time I realized something was bad wrong she was already turning tricks on the street to help her feed herself and her addiction. When I found out, I went to drag her back home, to knock some sense into her and tell her how much I love her.
I got to the street corner she was working and our eyes met. So much was said in that one look. Guilt, shame, sorrow, love. Then, the van pulled up and someone jerked her into it a
nd even though I tried to follow on foot I couldn't. I ran until I made myself sick. I called the cops but no one wanted to spend any time looking for a prostitute junkie that may or may not be in trouble. But I knew Noel was in trouble. I had seen the look of fear and terror in her eyes when the man grabbed her.
I threw myself into my education. I finished college at twenty and started work as a freelancer for the CIA. I lied my ass off on my resume telling them I was older and had more experience than I really did. And by some divine grace, no one found out. I spent years digging for information and taking time off to look for money trails and the houses that they stored the girls in before they moved them to a container and shipped them across seas.
They would take them to either Asia or Africa and from there who knew where the girls would be taken, sold and traded all over the world. The weight of all those years crashes down on me and Iay my head back on the chair.
"I'm tired. I've been at this for six years; it's time to end it." His eyes turn flinty and a chill goes down my spine. If he kills me and the last thing I see before I die are those intense eyes it wouldn't be so bad, maybe.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It's time for all of this to be over. I'm so tired and I can't keep going like I am. The best thing to do is let the Senator know it was all me and that I have what he wants so he only comes after me."
He jumps up and starts pacing again. It gives me more time to think of things I try not to think about. Dark things that haunt me. Things like what happened to all of those girls when they get to where ever it is they're going and what happens when they're sold like cattle to men that treat them as nothing more than meat to be bartered with.
"She's dead," he stops and looks at me, "isn't she?"
His footsteps are heavy when he comes back over to me. He sits down and leans so close to me I have no choice but to look him in the eye.
"We'll find out what happened to her." I can't even look at him now. He's making promises he can't keep. He shouldn't be making anything to me, promises or otherwise. He's the guy that's going to kill me. He takes my chin and moves me so our faces are fucking close. "We will find out."