by B. B. Hamel
“Mona,” I heard.
I looked around, dazed, blinking. “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Mona, get the fuck down.” Vince swam into my vision. He unclipped my seatbelt and shoved me toward the floor. “Get the fuck down.”
“What’s going on?” I asked but dove down, curling up into a ball.
I watched as he reached behind his back and pulled out a gun.
13
Vince
It took me half a heartbeat to throw Mona down to the floor. She was dazed, cut by glass, but otherwise seemed fine. I made sure she was down and as safe as she could be before I pulled my Glock and pulled the slide back, chambering a round.
I could see the airbags had deployed in the van that smashed into our car. It was a white windowless van, the kind painters and laborers drive around, with rust around the bottom and one cracked headlight. The thing looked like it barely worked, and I guessed that’s why they chose it.
The guys inside had dark skin, and they struggled to get free of the airbags. If those bags hadn’t deployed, they’d be out already, and I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop them.
Fucking lucky.
I struggled past my own seatbelt, kicked the door open. Good thing these old cars barely gave a shit about safety. I got outside just as the one door popped open and the passenger side guy hopped out, a small submachine gun in his hands, blood tricking down his forehead.
The morons were going way too fast and weren’t halfway prepared when they slammed into my car.
My fucking beautiful car.
I put two bullets in his chest. He staggered back and I popped him one more time, firing into his skull. His head snapped back and he dropped, blood pooling on the ground. I ran to his side of the car, keeping low, as the driver jumped out.
The dead guy was definitely Latino, wide dark jeans, light brown t-shirt. The submachine gun meant they were serious players, not some dime-store gangsters that wanted to get a little score. These were no joke muscle.
The driver opened fire, bullets scattering over my head. I moved toward the back of the car as glass shattered. I didn’t know if there was anyone inside, and I couldn’t take the risk. The back door remained shut, and I grabbed the handle, yanking it open.
Two more guys with guns stared out at me.
“Fuck,” I said as I threw myself to the side. They opened fire, blasting holes in the doors. I rolled, got up, ran to the line of cars. The driver came around the van and walked toward me, firing his gun. I dove behind a red SUV and fired back, keeping his attention on me. I had to make sure they didn’t go after Mona, I had to make sure she was okay.
I poked my head up, fired a few more shots. I saw the two guys in the back jump out and shoot at me. I was pinned down and they had way too much firepower. I cursed again as bullets ricocheted off the pavement around me.
I ran again, diving behind a beige sedan, and fired a few more shots. I got lucky and nailed the driver in the leg as he tried to come around my BMW. He staggered and dropped to one knee, and I was about to finish him off when more gunfire from the other two forced me back into hiding.
“Don’t make this hard, man,” one of the guys yelled, I couldn’t tell which one. His English was accented, and I was definitely sure these were cartel boys.
And I was pretty sure I knew which cartel.
The fucking Jalisco.
I popped up, shot at the closest one, forced them back behind the van. I fired at the driver again as he fell to the ground and rolled to the side.
But the two guys got ballsy and came out as I tried to kill the driver again. They lit me up, ripped bullets into the car, and I had to hide. They were coming closer, firing as they walked, and I knew I was fucked.
Until I heard more gunshots, but off to the side, from down the street. I heard a scream and one of the Jalisco went down, clutching his gut. I jumped up and fired, slamming my bullets into the last guy’s chest. He staggered, got hit by a few more shots from down the street, and dropped.
Steven came running toward us, rifle held up, eye sighted down its length. He motioned at me and I pointed toward the wounded driver. I came out of hiding and joined him, and together we went around the car.
The driver tried to drag himself away. Steven walked up to the guy and stomped down on the bullet wound. He screamed in pain and I pressed the warm muzzle of my gun against his head.
“Who sent you?” I asked.
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Tell me who sent you and I’ll make it quick,” I said, then lowered my gun to point at his gut. “Or keep your mouth shut and I’ll make it slow.”
He groaned, shook his head. “Mercy,” he said.
“Who. Sent. You?”
“Jalisco,” he whispered. “We’re fucking Jalisco, man, and we’re going to burn your whole—”
I shot him in the skull. His head snapped back, blood spurted all over the concrete, and he didn’t finish his sentence.
“You okay?” Steven asked.
I nodded. “They’re all down now.”
“Fuck,” he said. “Fucking fuck. I can’t believe they’d do this.”
“Mona.” I ran to the car and threw the door open. She was huddled on the floor still, her body trembling, her hands over her head. “Mona, Mona, it’s okay,” I said, coaxing her out.
She threw herself at me. I grabbed her and lifted her out, up into my arms. I held her tight against me.
“You have to go,” Steven said. “I’ve got a car near here. Come on.”
I followed Steven, Mona in my arms. I kept her close against me, and I could feel her breathing hard, trembling like a leaf.
I knew she’d be fucked up from this.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. I knew the Jalisco didn’t fuck around, but I never once imagined they’d try to kill me in broad daylight, not to mention so fast. They barely gave us any notice, and they’re already trying to pull shit like that.
Rage shook through me. Rage, white and hot.
They hurt Mona. Those motherfuckers. She wasn’t a part of this. She was just a journalist, just a girl looking for a halfway decent story, and I dragged her into my world. I thought it would be fun to bring her around, thought it would be a good time to show some innocent girl the life of a real gangster.
I never meant for shit to get this real.
Steven took us down the block and stopped outside of a black SUV.
Of course it was some fucking black SUV.
He unlocked it. “Get in,” he said.
I put Mona in the back seat and went around. Steven tossed me the keys.
“You good?” I asked him.
“I’m good,” he said. “I own this area, don’t worry about me. You get the hell out of here before the cops show up and start asking questions.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah, well, you better go talk to your father about this shit.”
I grunted, got into the car, and started the engine. I drove fast, swerved around the wreckage of my beautiful car, around the corpses left in the hot afternoon sun, and hurried back toward my house as Mona curled up into a little ball on the back seat and cried.
14
Vince
I parked in my normal spot and carried Mona inside. I shut the door, locked it, and took her to the couch. Her crying had stopped a couple blocks ago, and she stared up at me with bleary eyes as I sat down next to her.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Physically, I mean.”
She hesitated, touched herself, and let out a breath. “I think so.”
“Stay here.” I ran upstairs, hurried into her bathroom, and found a first aid kit under the sink. I may be a mobster, but I’m not so stupid that I don’t have a first aid kit just lying around. Too many rough nights taught me the importance of a well-stocked medicine cabinet.
I stomped back downstairs and knelt down in front of h
er. She looked at me, her pouty lips parted, her breath coming fast.
“This’ll hurt a little,” I said as I took out some antiseptic and a cotton ball.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning your cuts.” I doused the cotton ball in the antiseptic then dabbed it over a particularly deep cut on her cheek.
She winced. “Ow. Fuck.”
“Sorry,” I said. “But I don’t think it’ll need stitches at least. Probably won’t scar, either.”
“Good,” she said, but her voice sounded flat and distant. “Right, yeah, don’t want to scar.”
“Mona,” I said, grabbing another cotton ball and cleaning more of her cuts. “I know what just happened was scary.”
“Scary?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
“I know you’ve never gone through something like that before, but—”
“We just got shot at,” she said, pulling away. “They rammed our car and tried to kill us. Then you… you… you killed them. I saw the bodies.”
I stared into her eyes, held her gaze for a few beats.
“It’s going to be hard to calm down,” I said, my voice slow and steady. “What you just went through, it wasn’t a small thing.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, her voice getting shrill.
“Your adrenaline’s pumping,” he said. “You have to try to calm down.”
“I can’t calm down,” she said and grabbed at my face. She clawed at me like she wanted to tear me apart. “They tried to kill me.”
I grabbed her wrists and pushed her back against the couch. Her eyes were wide and wild as she stared at me, but slowly she began to breathe in deep, gulping gasps, and stopped struggling against me. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, then opened them again.
“Are you okay?” I asked, voice soft.
“I think so.”
“Something like that, it leaves a mark,” I said. “It’s going to be hard to shake for a while.”
“Why did they do it?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I said. “You were never supposed to see something like that. I never thought…” I trailed off.
She stared into my eyes and her wrists went limp. I pressed her back against the couch, moving closer. Her breasts heaved as she took deep breaths and bit down on her lip hard. I moved closer, my eyes roaming her body, unable to help myself.
She tilted her head and opened her mouth. I thought she might say something, but she stopped herself.
So I leaned closer and kissed her.
Gently at first, just my lips brushing against hers. She sucked in a breath, let out a soft moan. I pinned her harder against the couch, kissed her deeper. She threw herself at me, mouth open, tongue against mine. We kissed slow and hard, a little rough, a little desperate. I felt my own heart racing and knew I was going through the same thing she was, that adrenaline survivors feel.
I released her wrists and reached down to her jeans. I unbuttoned her fly, unzipped it, tugged at them. She let out a soft gasp as I pulled them off, revealing light blue lacy panties barely covering her smooth, bare pussy. I kissed her harder and she gripped my hair, gripped it hard as I ran my fingers over those panties, over her pussy. She moaned, rolled her hips, and I pressed against her clit.
She was wet and I felt my cock growing harder as she moaned into my kiss.
I couldn’t help myself. But I knew this would help her, even if she didn’t realize it just yet. I pulled away and dropped between her legs, forcing them open nice and wide as I kissed up her thighs then licked over her panties, kissing her wet little pussy, the lacy underwear already drenched from her need.
“This is fucked up,” she whispered. “Oh my god. You’re just… and we just… you killed those men.”
She grabbed my hair and pulled me up. I kissed her then pulled off her panties. She moaned into my kiss as I ran a finger along her bare slit, rolling her wet up to her clit then teasing her.
“I killed those men,” I said and kissed her neck. “I’d kill more men if they came for you.”
“Oh, god,” she moaned as I plunged my fingers inside of her.
I went back down, ran my tongue along her delicious spot. She moaned and rolled her hips as she grabbed my hair. I could tell she was losing herself, just like I was, and I couldn’t stop. I licked her, rolling my tongue up and down, tasting her folds, tasting her delicious spot. I sucked her clit, nibbled on it, licked her faster, moving my tongue in tight little circles. She pushed me down harder, moving her hips, and I gripped her ass tight.
“You taste good,” I said, a deep, vicious growl. “You taste like what I need. I want to make you feel good, little Mona. I want to make you forget.”
“Oh, god,” she gasped. “I can’t forget.”
I licked her faster then slid my fingers deep inside. I fucked her tight little pussy with my fingers then reached up and grabbed her hair. I kissed her, made her taste her own pussy on my tongue.
“You’ll forget all about them,” I whispered. “Once I taste you come.”
She moaned as I went back down. I did my job, did my delicious work. I licked her fast, fucked her with my fingers. Her tight body writhed, her hips pressed against my mouth, moving along my fingers as they slid in and out. We moved like that, both of us lost in the moment, still stuck back there in the intersection, still full of adrenaline, still shocked we both survived.
And it felt so fucking good to make her feel good. This was what I wanted from the moment we met, her incredible little cunt on my tongue, but this wasn’t how I wanted it to go down. Still, she needed it, she needed me right now, and I owed her this much, owed her so much more.
And I’d deliver, oh, god, yes, I’d give her everything.
I kept going faster, in time with her hips, with her moans.
She was everything in that moment. Her body, her taste, her sounds. Sweat beaded on her skin as she grabbed my hair harder, rolled her hips harder. She wanted to tense her legs, to close them to the pleasure she felt, but I kept them nice and wide open. Her back arched as her lips parted, more unintelligible moans escaping her mouth, and I knew she was close. I kept going, faster, faster, tongue and lips and fingertips working her tight spot. I fucked her, licked her, and growled my pleasure as she threw back her head and said my name.
“Oh, fuck, Vince,” she moaned, her fingers tight in my hair, her back arched hard.
I tasted her come, I felt it on my fingers. I moved her through it, licking around her clit in quick circles as my fingers plunged in and out. She gasped and I licked her up, my fingers sliding out. I stared up at her, met her glassy gaze, and licked my fingers clean before licking her pussy top to bottom.
She collapsed back onto the couch, breathing hard. I moved up, kissed her, let her tongue lap against my tongue and lips. She moaned, sucked in a breath, and relaxed again.
“Fuck,” she said.
“Yeah.” I got up on the couch next to her and pulled her against me. She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Fuck.”
We sat like that for a while, not talking. She snuggled harder against me and I knew she was barely processing what had happened. I didn’t want to push her, didn’t want to freak her out any more than she already was, so I let her be. I just held her close, let the orgasm settle her down a little bit, let it even her out.
Finally, she pulled away with a sharp breath.
“I should, uh, put on my clothes.”
“Sure.”
She stood, picked up her panties. I stared at her tight ass. She bent over and pulled them on, and I couldn’t help but watch her long, lean legs. She shimmied into her jeans, buttoned them, then looked down at me and ran a hand through her messy hair.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I think so anyway.”
“Why don’t you go lie down for a little bit,” I said. “I can bring you something to eat if you want?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, I think, I
think that’d be good.”
I stood and hesitated. I wanted to kiss her, hold her, do something to try and take the pain of what had happened away. She was a civilian, a goddamned journalist, and she almost got murdered by a bunch of fucking psycho cartel assholes.
Those bastards. Those fucking bastards. Rage ran through me again and I knew that they made a fucking mistake.
“Go ahead,” I said, turning toward the kitchen. I slipped past her, let my hand trail across her hips. “I’ll make some tea first. How’s that sound?”
“Yeah, tea, sure.” She laughed, a little dizzy, a little goofy. “Add some whiskey into it, please.”
I smiled and nodded. “Sure thing.”
She took a few steps to the stairs then stopped. She lingered there for a second and hugged her arms around herself.
“Are we safe here?” she asked.
I nodded. “We’re safe.”
“Are you sure? They found you, Vince, they knew where you were.”
I let out a breath. “Like you said before the shit went down, I’m not exactly hiding,” I said.
“But are you hiding here?”
“Nobody knows where I live,” I said. “That’s one thing I made sure of. Go on, go upstairs, I’ll bring you some tea. I have to make some calls.”
“Yeah.” She sucked in a breath. “Yeah, okay.”
“We’re safe. I promise.”
She nodded then walked up the steps holding onto the railing.
I watched her go then walked into the kitchen.
I stared at the counter then smashed my fists down onto it. Pain lanced up my arms, but damn, it felt good.
I was going to burn them to the ground. Every single Jalisco fuck that was involved in that botched hit, I was going to make them all pay, all their captains, their generals, they were all dead. I’d cut their throats and make them eat their own guts.