InnocenceForSale.com/ Bree, page 73
I grabbed Eliana’s new clothes out of the car and when I reentered our room, I found Eliana wrapped up in the sheet much more modestly than when I had left, huddled up against the headboard. She looked genuinely relieved to see me.
“Everything going according to plan?” she asked.
“Always,” I said. “Get dressed.”
I threw the bag on the bed and unlocked the cuff attached to the headboard, then went to the door, treating myself to only one glance at Eliana’s naked perfection while I watched and listened for where the next problem would come from.
Terry’s hotel was already under-occupied, and this wouldn’t help things for him, but I did see the occasional curtain-twitch, which meant that somebody had almost certainly called the cops by now. What about the Folliero goons? Had the two who came from the parked car sent out an emergency call before trying to take me down?
Either way, it was a good time to check out. Eliana finished dressing and I reattached the loose cuff to her wrist. How could she make even a simple t-shirt and jeans ensemble look so fucking good?
That was a mystery for another day, once we’d escaped this shithole alive and uncaptured. I dragged her across the parking lot to the car, threw her in the passenger side and circled around.
I turned the key and smoke immediately started billowing out from under the hood through the gaps between panels and bullet holes. It was so fast that you might have been forgiven for thinking that was what the ignition was now connected to.
“Son of a fuck!” I said.
“I know, we just bought this car, right?”
The comment caught me off-guard and if I had time, I might have laughed. Her disregard, even disdain, for her own safety was something I’d never really encountered before, even in my line of work.
Twisting around, I grabbed the other bags before getting out of the car. “Out!”
I led Eliana from one corpse to the next, patting them down until the third one yielded the jingle of keys. We weren’t more than two steps towards the front of the hotel and a vehicular upgrade before I heard wailing sirens pulling into the hotel parking lot.
“Fuck!”
“Maybe they’re here about something else,” said Eliana.
This time, I couldn’t help but laugh. I stopped dead in my tracks and Eliana ran into me before I headed back in the opposite direction, past the dead bodies and dead car, then through the bushes at the back of the hotel grounds, as quickly as I could drag the most happy-go-lucky kidnap victim in the world.
Eliana
When I heard the bullets start flying outside our hotel room, I startled awake and began to think that I’d never be woken by a normal alarm clock again. It was absolute chaos out there, and I couldn’t imagine how one man could survive against all that.
Then he was back. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and went with him. How could a man like this be employed by somebody else? I tried to imagine the result if my father barked an order at him, and that put me in a pretty happy mood straight away.
We left the economically-viable hotel behind and Eric did nothing but handle his business like the professional he was. Even pulling a girl in handcuffs behind him, he managed to steal a mid-to-high-end Mercedes from an upscale restaurant, disable the GPS tracking, and get us heading out of town in record time.
He only stopped to steal single license plates from two other Mercedes that we passed along the way, using his knife as a screwdriver.
“Why two different plates? Won’t that just make people suspicious when they see them?” I asked.
“Most people don’t casually look at plates, let alone both of them. I got two different ones because I imagine the police might connect the dots between the hotel and the restaurant, start looking at CCTV footage, checking license plates. They’ll only ever see one at a time and it’ll make us more difficult to track if one or the other people whose license plates we’ve got report it. I chose other Mercedes cars because if a cop does a casual check, they’ll see ‘Mercedes’ and they usually don’t recognize the model for these European cars, they just see the hood ornament or the symbol and it’s good enough.”
“You’ve done this before,” I said.
“Yep.”
I looked at his face, with the various lights of the city passing over it as he went under streetlights, people braked and indicated, and we drove under neon signs. He concentrated on everything like a robot, assessing it for danger, accelerating to the speed limit as quickly as possible without raising suspicion after every traffic light.
Yet, he’d shown me something that I definitely hadn’t expected. Two things, actually. Maybe he didn’t even realize it.
This morning, after we’d screwed like rabbits until I was too tired, climaxed-out, and sore to continue, he stayed with me. He didn’t retire to his couch-bed.
I’d never really thought about it but in my favorite video clips, after sex like that, the guy always left, having taken what he wanted. Not Eric.
I expected him to leave me there, soaked in his cum, all alone. But he stayed. He put his arm around me and let me rest my head on his shoulder, after freeing one of my wrists.
He was already drifting off while I was lying there all confused. What was this? Why did he want to be near me when he’d taken what he wanted? I didn’t understand.
The way he’d done it, so naturally, I felt like it must have been me, my own lack of understanding about the real world, that was the root of my confusion. If this was the real world, of course.
I’d looked up at him as he fell into a peaceful slumber, and looked into the darkness of the room. Even somewhere between half and three-quarters asleep, his arm was strong, the muscles of his torso hard enough to scrub clothes on. No, I had no clue what this was... but I liked it.
Anything could be out there, but in his arms I was safe. Dominated, lusted after, consumed… but protected by a war machine. The darkness faded in importance, and I’d fallen asleep while looking up at his face.
Now I was looking at it again, but I quickly looked away when he glanced over at me. He was all business again now, but he’d laughed at my joke too. A real laugh, not a “That’s funny, Ma’am” from my father’s Yes-Men.
There was a human under the robot, the death machine, the man who blew my hottest fantasies out of the water with ease. I wished I could have known him in another life.
I opened my mouth to ask if, maybe, he could just drive in another direction and we could set up a new life wherever we ran out of gas. Then I closed it with a sinking stomach.
He’d just think I was trying to use the connection we’d made so I could escape. I stole another glance at him as we reached the city limits and the streetlights became few and far between, leaving only the dash to light his features.
He was still on the job. He was still a professional with a task he would see through until the end, no matter what happened this morning. I was probably just a number for him, no matter how much he enjoyed himself. This story, our story, couldn’t have a happy ending.
Everything had changed since yesterday, and yet nothing had. He’d take me to his boss, and his boss would kill me. My future was still pretty much fucked.
So, what choice did I have? My chances of getting away from Eric were slim to none, but even if I did? What then? Go back to my father? The very idea of it made my heart feel heavy.
Strike out on my own? Where? Where could I go that my father wouldn’t find me? I didn’t know anybody. The only people I’d ever heard of who could get me a new identity were employed by my father. I had nowhere to go.
I sighed and leaned over to rest my head on Eric’s shoulder. I wasn’t tired, but it made me feel less alone. All I had was however long it took us to get to his employer. That was it.
Some people got a lifetime, I got this. I’d have to fit my happily ever after into whatever time I had. I didn’t know what that looked like yet, but I’d figure it out. I’d take it over the other options.
“We forgot the pizza,” I said, absent-mindedly lamenting over the leftovers in the Southern Style mini-bar.
“I brought snacks.”
“You have done this before.”
“Yep.”
I retrieved a couple granola bars and a bottle of water, sharing both with Eric, and watched the open road get eaten up in front of us. After a few hours, when we’d reached some arbitrary measure of distance between us and the site of our latest firefight, Eric pulled over and unpacked a cell phone, fucking around with it for a while before getting out of the car to make a call. My best guess was that he needed to make a progress report.
Eric
I could only imagine what Jace must be thinking since, no doubt, having gotten in touch with The Smoke Devils by now. We were back on track to getting this mission completed and he’d want to know that.
When all this shit was over, I’d get another one of those fully-encrypted phones that Dan modified for us, but in a pinch, these pre-paid cells were cheap and common enough to hide in the masses. It meant I had to go through some extra security procedures I would have rather avoided, but it would do.
I dialed the number and waited with a glum expression on my face. I even held the phone a little away from my ear when the woman’s recorded voice answered.
“Welcome to Shit Talk, where my mouth is your toilet. Our operators are standing by for you to use and abuse, to eat your warm, earthy shit. Mmmmm…”
The monologue went on for almost a minute. We used this phone number when we didn’t have the right hardware but still wanted to communicate safely. If anybody was randomly listening in, the idea was that they’d get the fuck out of the call before the shit started flying.
I wasn’t sure if anybody had ever done a demographical study on the cross-section between scat-lovers and people who worked in call-monitoring agencies. Hopefully it wasn’t too high.
However bad it was for me, it must have been a thousand times worse for the poor voice actress they’d hired from Fiverr. Credit where credit was due, she made it sound like she loved shit, and I happily entered my sixteen-digit code after the tone when she asked for my card number.
This was followed by another near-minute of generic porn and gagging sounds, until I heard the click and crackle of the secure line being picked up at the other end. Thank fuck for that.
“You’re alive!” came Jace’s voice.
“Yes sir. Don’t know how, but I am. I’m just outside of-”
“Green Point, I know. I’m glad you called. How is the package?”
“The… package is fine. How did you know where I was?”
“The bike you stole from The Smoke Devils had GPS tracking on it.”
“The fucking bike did? Shit.”
I glared in Eliana’s direction through the roof of the car, though she couldn’t see my face from here. This was the kind of thing I never would have overlooked if she didn’t have her hand on my cock.
“Yeah, they tracked it to an Ex Machina chop shop in Green Point.”
“Oh… shit. What happened there?”
“They burned it to the ground and killed everybody working there. Not necessarily in that order.”
“Fuck… listen, those Smoke Devils... they’re… I don’t know what they’ve been telling you, but I don’t think they’ll… uh… fit well with the organizational culture.”
Jace laughed. “No shit. I agree, but I think that ship has sailed anyway. Let’s hear your version. What happened?”
“Their President decided that he wanted to take a little ‘tribute’ out of the package, if you know what I mean. Things went south pretty quickly when he wouldn’t change his mind back to the original fucking deal.”
“Yeah, makes more sense than you flipping out for no reason and blowing their HQ to high hell for the fun of it in the middle of a job.”
“A little. So, The Smoke Devils brought the Follieros to Green Point?”
“Yeah, that Keith cocksucker told me I was going to pay for everything you did. I think the Folliero soldiers were already with him, seeing if the massive mushroom cloud was in any way related to what happened at the Mondalo house, and he was happy to work with them if it meant revenge on us.”
“Green Point Ex Machina are pissed with us too, I bet,” I said.
“They’re pissed, but not with us. They should have spotted that GPS unit before trouble arrived. I’m funding the retaliation for them. The Smoke Devils are going to be wiped off the map in a hell of a violent way pretty soon and Ex Machina will expand into their former territory.”
“All’s well that ends well.”
“And you were responsible for the mass murder at the Southern Style?” Jace asked.
“Well, four Folliero soldiers. I guess they were just sweeping all the hotels and hoping for the best?”
“That’s my best guess too.”
“OK, good to know. We’ll see you on Tuesday night then.”
“Well, actually, there’s a complication,” said Jace.
I looked from side to side as if the complication might manifest itself right here. The way this job was going, you couldn’t be too sure of anything anymore.
“What… complication?”
“I need you to go back to Green Point.”
“Why?”
“I had arranged to have something picked up in Green Point tomorrow. Something very important. The problem is, the guy dropping it off is dead.”
“That’ll make things difficult. So now what?”
“We got a text message saying the drop is still on schedule. That’s how we know he’s dead, he didn’t work the appropriate code word into the message.”
“Great. So, somebody has hijacked it and wants to kill or capture whoever you’re sending to pick it up? Is that about right?”
“Yeah. Basically, I need you to go back to the one city where the Follieros and The Smoke Devils are looking for you, to meet with somebody who is expecting you and will want to capture and torture you for information.”
“You’re not selling it very well. I really can’t do this, sir. I’ve dragged the… package through more gunfights than we have any business surviving already. This ‘little extra’ is going to put the current contract at risk.”
“When are you going to cave and just accept a salary? You don’t have time to work for anybody else anyway.”
“Is this the time for an annual performance review?” I asked.
“No, but the fact remains, I need you to do this. It is essential, you understand? Consider it a concurrent contract, same fee again as your current job.”
Another five million would be fun, but it wasn’t like I needed the cash. The bonus I received for my work in Highston alone was what most hitmen would have called “The Last Score” kind of money. All the extra money in the world wouldn’t be worth it if I got myself killed.
I sucked air in through my teeth like a mechanic looking at a spluttering motor. “Just how essential is this? Isn’t there somebody else you can send?”
“You’re the one I trust above any others to be capable enough, who isn’t currently occupied with something else and is close enough to pull the job off. It’s obviously not a simple handing over of a briefcase anymore. There’s one more thing, another reason I’m specifically asking you.”
“What’s that?”
“Dan did some digging and found the contract for the hit on our contact. From what we can tell, it was accepted by Joseph Cosgrove.”
“Ugh.”
I ran my hand through my hair when I heard the name. We had history, the two of us. He was ex-military, like me, but he was the kind of guy who enlisted just for the chance to “accidentally” kill civilians. And worse.
He was the one who took the job I refused to do for the Picollis. He was one of many who took the contract the Picollis subsequently put out on me, and the only one who came close to actually killing me.
The guy was psycho. Skilled, but a fucking psycho, and it might be a matter of professional pride for him to have a chance at me even though the Picollis weren’t paying out on contracts anymore. I wasn’t sure whether this piece of news was good or bad.
“I don’t know if the fact that he’s involved is too good an opportunity to miss, or a good reason to stay away under the circumstances, sir.”
“Like I said, it’s essential I get that briefcase. I’m sorry to put this on you too, but you’re the only one who can do it right.”
“Ugh. OK. Where is the drop off, and when exactly is it scheduled for?”
“There’s this little café…”
Eliana
Nobody was more surprised than me when Eric turned the car around and drove us back to Green Point. He definitely took the cake for most disgruntled, though.
We stopped at a gas station with an attached fish bait/tackle store. Along with a fresh tank of gas, he picked up some binoculars and a map that he actually had to wipe dust off of. Clearly the market for street maps had crashed over the last few decades.
“We going bird-watching?” I asked, when he drove us to the top of a hill in the suburbs.
“I wish.”
He parked the car in one of the spaces, all of which were available. We had the area completely to ourselves right now, with the morning sun shining on the dew, but this was probably a popular place for young couples to park their cars at night and look out at the lights, among other things.
Resting the map on the steering wheel, he trained the binoculars on the streets below us, looking down every now and then as if to confirm the location of something. I stretched my legs out as far as the footwell would let me.
“There you are,” he muttered.
“Can I get out and stretch my legs?” I asked, jingling the handcuffs that attached my wrist to the door.
Eric looked down at my legs, then at the clock, and thought about it. “Sure.”
