Blurb

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Chapter 1- Evelyn

I can keep a secret. And that’s the only reason why I am where I am today.

Ever watched those nature documentaries, the ones where two alpha males go at one another, fighting it out all horns and claws, trying to find out who’s the toughest and strongest so he can settle down and enjoy all the territory?

Well, I hate those documentaries.

I always thought, why is it the males who are called “alpha”? Why don’t they tell you all about the females those dumb male animals are fighting for, or say how they’re really the top dogs, when you think about it? I’ll tell you why – because those documentaries are made by men.

Not that I care much, honestly. The more big-ego, hot-shit alpha males there are to keep one another distracted, the easier it is for me to get what I want, quietly, behind the scenes. The trouble with being a woman is that you can’t play these big boy games. But then again, the good thing about being a woman is that you don’t have to.

The man on the other end of the line was possibly one of the biggest big shots in this whole city. The entire organization jokingly called him “Mrs. Robinson” because except for an elite few, nobody actually knew who the hell he was.

I knew who he was, though. A smart man, smart enough to stay out of the lime light, Angelo Valenti was one of those old-school mafia types you just don’t get anymore. He was cold. He played the long game, and completely obliterated his enemies, but I could respect him. And he wouldn’t have placed me in the upper ranks I currently dominated unless he didn’t have a little respect for me, too.

“You sure they’re not just bluffing?” I asked. I didn’t want to question his judgment, but we had been tricked before, and I was wary of letting it happen again.

“I want you to go down there, Evie,” he said. “Take Jack with you just in case.”

I knew that I would be sent down to the warehouse for Jack’s safety as much as he was sent for mine. Fine. I guess I could give up my Saturday evening to scare off some low-level street goons and, maybe, there’d be a little side bonus in it for me.

“Sure thing,” I said.

If he trusted his sources, I trusted them too. If there’s one thing I knew about this organization, it was that it was riddled with snitches and spies.

He hung up.

I had never actually seen Mrs. Robinson before. But that’s OK. Like I said, the most powerful people are always the most well-hidden. I flicked on my bedroom light and scanned around for my jacket. As I tucked my .22 into the waist band of my tights, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Not bad.

Good Italian genes give you a leeway of around 5 years or so when it comes to aging, I swear, but even still, I was getting on in years. A month ago I had found a tiny crinkle lines at the corner of my eye when I smiled. But then, I don’t smile all that much, so, problem solved I guess.

I never liked drug deals. In my experience, they were always about scared kids holding things up or some random cowboy trying to make a point when we all had business to tend to. Our business works so beautifully because we know how to manage and contain shit like that. We dabble in a bit of everything – drugs, women, weapons – but our strength is that we’re built on a system of compartments. Each compartment has a sub-manager. And when you put the hot-shit guys in positions like that, they get to feel like they’re running the show… the people who are really running the show aren’t distracted by any petty street-level drama, and everyone gets what they want.

Or at least, that’s how it’s worked all this time. Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe things really are different these days, but I don’t like the way the business is headed. Angelo Valenti’s son was a real piece of work, for starters. And managing his compartment for him was starting to take up more of my life than I was happy with. But that was OK, too. After more than ten years, I was on my way out. Sometimes, the only way to get out of a game is to play by the rules right till the end.

I yanked out my phone and gave Jack a call.

“Mrs. Robinson wants us at the warehouse,” I said as soon as he picked up. “He thinks there might be trouble with the kid’s new shipment. He doesn’t want the deal to get nasty.”

Jack took his time with a slow sigh.

“OK, stay put. I’ll be over in ten,” he said, and hung up.

I looked at my reflection again. It was a shame, what was going to happen to Jack, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the opportunity while I had it. I quickly grabbed a lipstick on my dresser counter and swiped on a layer of cherry red. I cracked my neck on either side, did one last scan of my untidy apartment and then waited patiently for Jack to pitch up.

Women can rise in this “industry” if they’re persistent and have the stomach for it. To succeed in this business, you need unflinching focus, smarts, and just a little bloodthirstiness. I think most women, whether they know it or not, are already deeply blessed in those areas.

Women are tough.

My grandmother birthed four of her nine children in a Sicilian spinach field during the war. She survived three husbands and the countless young bucks who came in there with their polished shoes and their hair triggers. I came from a long line of women who were tough as burnt nails. I was no exception.

Stupid men with king complexes would always be the norm. But women like me would always find new ways to work around that. In any case, this is a long way of saying: I never liked drug deals.

By the time I heard Jack’s car idling outside the front of the house, I felt mildly irritated at having to give up my Saturday evening. Again. Little Joey Valenti was making a mess again and big daddy needed me to swoop in and clean it up. The more things change, huh?

I grabbed my keys, zipped up my black leather jacket and pressed my lips together. I locked up, walked over to the car and took my time getting in. I wanted him to really have a good look before we had to head off to the warehouse and focus on whatever crap we had to when we got there. My jacket creaked as I settled into the passenger seat and looked over with a faint smile. He smiled back, then swung around, whipped the car into reverse and had the tires screeching as we pulled off and headed over.

Jack was …hot enough. Most importantly, he was there. Quiet guy, company-man, the kind that are thick on the ground in an organization like this. He had a broad jaw, a small mouth, and eyes that seemed like they were always focusing on something happening a few hundred yards off. He didn’t say much, ever, but turns out, I was in a stage of my life where what I needed from a man wasn’t exactly his conversation skills.

“Nice night,” I said to nobody in particular.

I had been trying to get this guy into bed for weeks now, and the only progress I had made so far was to get him to actually answer me occasionally.

“Yeah,” he said, and kept driving, steely eyes glued to the road ahead.

I adjusted my weight to ease the butt of the gun jabbing into my hips.

“Hey, do you know a lot about this new stuff? The stuff on the shipment?” I asked. Like blood from a stone, I swear.

He briefly flicked his gaze over to me but then back at the road again. I knew that in that split second he had noticed my tightly fitting jacket. He knew. I knew that he knew. But I was getting impatient.

“Nah. They say new stuff, but it’s all the same shit to me.”

There was something really sexy about how quietly you could speak in a car on the road late at night, and still be heard. Or maybe I was just really horny.

“Oh come on, really? You’re not even a little bit curious?”

“Nope.”

“They say it’s an aphrodisiac, though,” I said. “That it makes sex super intense. Like, you almost get to read the other person’s min.”

“Sex should be like that anyway,” he said quickly, and readjusted his hands on the steering wheel. I smiled. At least this Jack could be a little unpredictable.

I leaned back into my seat and watched the street lights race past my vision.

“You spoke to Mrs. Robinson?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“He told you to call me?”

“Uh huh.”

I could make out his strong hands tightening and loosening around the steering wheel. It was a fun power play, seeing all these thugs and hitmen slowly realize that in this nasty little web, I had superiority over them, and that yes, I spoke to the illusive Mrs. Robinson. Quite often, actually.

“What’s he like?”

“Excuse me?”

“What does he sound like?” His eyes never shifted from the road.

I gave a dry little laugh.

“Well, that’s a secret, isn’t it?” I said, and pressed my crimson lips together again.

And that’s the only reason why I am where I am today.

I can keep a secret.

Chapter 2 - Jack

It wasn’t that she was an older woman. I mean, that had something to do with it, but it was more than that. It’s not that she intimidated me, either. She was a hair over five feet and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.

But she still felt dangerous somehow. It still felt like a tease, when she came at me with her cutesy small talk and climbed into my car wearing those tights that looked like they were painted onto her legs.

I didn’t have time for drama. Fucking one of the key ladies in the organization seemed almost suspiciously easy – so I hung back. It might sound strange to hear a hired hitman talk about principles, but even I have my limits. Mixing business and pleasure is just one of those don’t-shit-where-you-eat type fundamentals that I didn’t have the guts to mess with.

Still. She looked fucking hot.

We drove in silence, her leather jacket squeaking every time I made a turn. I had been to this warehouse a few times before, but never like this. Never with just that lone street lamp on the corner and that ominous blackness wrapped all around it. I took a moment to scope out the front entrance – it didn’t look like anyone had been through here recently.

We exchanged looks.

The shipment was most likely still inside. But then, they were probably still on site too. These ass-clowns weren’t exactly known in the industry for their devotion to squeaky clean ethics. We had worked with them only once before, and, from what I can gather, they were a bunch of slime balls who were always looking for a juicy corner to cut. Little Joey wanted to open up new lines, but from what I could see, he was the only one who thought it was a good idea.

We sat in silence together, in the darkness, listening to one another breathe.

“Our job is to quickly find the threat, neutralize it, and make sure we have the shipment. We might even have to transport it back ourselves,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the huge corrugated door that led into the main body of the building.

I had heard rumors of how ruthless Evie could be, even a little crazy, but I had yet to see any proof for myself. It was all well and good to prance around in leather and pink lipstick, but I wasn’t sure how all of this would play out on the ground, where it counted.

When you have loads as big as ours coming in and out of this city, there are bound to be small fish nibbling around, trying to get a bite. And it was our job to make sure those little fish never got to be big fish. With a bit of luck, this would be over in ten minutes and I could get out of here.

I could hear my heart beating.

Crack.

I flinched as the sound of gunfire rang out. We sprang out of the car, slammed the doors and raced inside, weapons drawn. I was impressed that that tiny hundred-pound frame of hers easily unbolted and threw open the solid iron door. I make my living killing people. I’m good at what I do. But I had never seen anyone – a woman or otherwise – storm into a situation with that much clarity and focus.

In a split second she had singled out a shifty looking asshole and marched over to him, gun outstretched, while she scanned the room. Her knee flew down onto his chest and he collapsed, her gun barrel following down closely on his neck as she pinned him to the ground and spun around to survey the rest of the interior.

I cocked the trigger and aimed at a young guy reaching for his belt, till he put his hands up in the air and gawped at Evie, eyes wide. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I hissed at the young guy, and he obediently lifted his hands higher and away from his weapon.

There was a body collapsed on the floor, a growing puddle of black liquid spreading out from its center, and the neck twisted at some impossible angle. I recognized our two guys standing off to the side, in front of a dusty blue container with no markings, relief plastered all over their faces.

For the briefest moment, the air whined with silence as the echoes of shouting and gunfire reverberated and disappeared inside that cold metallic warehouse. The whole scene suddenly felt like a work of art. In the tiniest moment, in nothing bigger than that space between breaths, I looked over and saw her, standing like some kind of triumphant war goddess above her opponent, knee in his neck and her chest thrust haughtily up while she jammed her gun into his neck. For that brief moment I only saw her, and the distractingly red daub of her full lips in the near-darkness.

I was spellbound.

When the blow came to the back of my head, I instantly realized what an idiot I had been. My gun slipped from my hands as I staggered forward and the assailant sprung away and behind me, throwing his wiry arm around my neck and dropping his weight to yank down and choke me. Shouting rang out through the warehouse as my vision blacked out and I listed backwards, hands clutching at my throat to claw myself loose of that death grip.

I tumbled down to the ground with him and tried through slit eyes to find my gun again. One ferocious kick to the back of my legs followed another, and waves of pain radiated out from my lower back.

This was one feisty motherfucker.

In my tumbled haze, I heard a panicked shout and scuffle and then a bang so loud I only heard the silence resonating after it. I squeezed my eyes shut at the boom and then felt those sinewy limbs grow heavy and flop off of me. I shrugged my attacker off and looked down to see him, curled up and clutching at a wet, red spot on his shoulder blade, a venomous look on his face.

I leapt back, scooped up my weapon and lifted my gaze to see Evie walking towards me, arms still stiff and outstretched, pointing right at the red spot on the thug. It was almost as red as her lips were. Behind her I could make out our two guys wrestling down the other one. She took a few cautious steps towards me, peered down at her kill and then up at me. I felt fine beads of sweat prickle through my skin like needles.

“You say they hired you as a hitman?” she said, and cocked her eyebrow high as she looked me up and down, a look of disgust playing on her lips.

I leapt to my feet.

Fair enough. Fucking fair enough. But she really didn’t need to waltz in here with those fuck-me boots and lipstick for Christ sake. I mean, she had pitched up to a drug deal wearing heels and tights. Who does that?

I cracked my shoulders, shook the adrenaline off and walked past her, making sure I grazed her arm as I walked past to examine our hostage. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of acting surprised at how she had handled herself. And I could gush over how grateful I was she saved my life some other time.

“You guys are fucking late… what, you have to do your fucking makeup before you come out here?”

A bald, pudgy guy with too many tattoos was holding down our trouble-maker as he writhed and winced, another one of our men wedging his boot down onto his chest.

I had seen this guy around but didn’t know him personally. Just some mid-level hoodlum who came out here to collect and transfer, a guy who should have known better than to speak to Evie like that. I found myself watching her to see what she’d say to this blatant disrespect. She simply walked over, ignoring the bald idiot completely, and looked down at the captive with cold eyes.

“Is there anyone else?” she said plainly.

“Nah, just these two.”

She bent down, tilted her head to look him over, then stood tall again. She looked around the warehouse like she was thinking about something, then crossed her hands over her chest and looked down again at him with contempt all over her face.

“Amateurs,” she said.

Fuck she was hot.

“He’s on something, too,” said the bald guy. She continued to ignore him. With all the grace of a murderous ballerina, she pulled back her boot and brought it swinging forward into his ribcage, hard. He recoiled and whimpered.

“You on something? Answer me!” she hissed.

The guy on floor writhed and scowled up at her. He was looking worse by the second.

It wasn’t unusual for little ambushes like this to go down when a big shipment was on the line. Low-level rivals wouldn’t be what they were without constantly trying to muscle in on our deals. But what was strange was the relative lack of skill we were looking at. Just two men? For a shipment this big? And one of those men was rolling so hard he could barely string a sentence together? I knew this shit was supposed to be pretty strong, but what drug makes people do this?

“Yeah, so what if I am? The new stuff, you bitch, that’s what I’m on. And you’d better just let me go if you don’t want trouble…”

Her laugh was like shards of glass tinkling onto the floor. It wasn’t that it suited her so well to play the evil villainess for a moment. It was how easily she took it all in her stride. She was almost casual about it, like slaying her enemies was just one of the many things she needed to get done that day.

She took a few strides, thinking, looking down at our captive with something like pity.

“He’s overdosing,” she said, calm as an ER doctor. “I don’t know how much he’s taken but you can just leave him here. He won’t last another hour.”

“Leave him? Are you fucking kidding me?” The bald guy still had him pinned, and didn’t look as though he was prepared to loosen his grip anytime soon.

She shot him a dark look. He wilted and bit his tongue, then loosened his grip on the junkie.

I knew a little about this “Pink Kisses” shit the organization was now pedaling. I didn’t agree with any of it, but business was business. I’d been told this new stock was manufactured in Pakistan, and was something like Adderall mixed with MDMA …or something. I had seen all the news reports. Depending on what channel you were on, it was either a super drug that gave you magical emotional and intuitive powers and the hyper awareness of Neo in The Matrix… or it was a nasty, majorly addictive upper that caused hallucinations and seizures. Or, it made fucking feel really good, if Evie was to be believed. But, then again, she did have an ulterior motive.

The bald guy let go and our strung-out fiend flopped down hard to the ground.

“Get rid of both of them,” she said, stuffing the barrel of her gun back into those laughably tight tights.

Our two guys exchanged glances and then looked at her. They knew as well as anyone that they would be fools to refuse a direct order from one of the organization’s Queen Bees, but they were old school types, real pieces of shit, and you could just tell it hurt to break their programming and take direction from a woman. She held her gaze on them and they reluctantly nodded and sprang to action. Nobody liked this side of things, of course. Dealing with the gruesome dead body part of the equation was actually something most people in the mafia were squeamish about. That was why they paid vultures like me what they did.

I shrugged and tucked away my own weapon, trying to still my hands. It was inconvenient, having to be sent to look after this girl and then having her save my life instead. But whatever. I could have squeezed my way to the upper ranks too if I’d had a pair of tits like that.

“You two… leave immediately, take care of these guys before sunrise. Jack and I will stay behind and pack up the shipment,” she said decisively. The two goons obeyed and had soon dragged the two bodies off, the junkie already dipping into and out of consciousness. I felt bad for the guy as they carted him off, as good as dead already.

Evie and I scanned the place and checked that it was all clear, then we came back inside and she pulled out a key to unlock the bolts on the container front. It was eerily silent inside the warehouse. She leaned all her weight back to pull open the steel doors so we could both peer into the blackness inside. Vague shadows.

“You wanna take a look? See exactly what these fools are so ready to throw their lives away for?” she said, then she laughed and took a step inside.

Chapter 3 - Evelyn

Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I spread out my hands in front of me and felt around what seemed to be giant cardboard boxes for TV screens or other electronics.

I was never one to be afraid of the dark. In fact, I almost liked that thrill I felt when walking into a darkened room. There’s always that exciting, trembling moment just before the light is switched on where anything could be possible. Anything could be in there, hiding in the darkness…

“We shouldn’t linger. Let’s just get the shit and go,” Jack said, still standing in the bright rectangle of the door behind me.

He was right, of course. But if I had to work on a Saturday evening, and get dressed up and come all the way out here, I didn’t see why I couldn’t have a little fun, too. Teetering high on my boot heels, I walked slowly deeper into the container and then I saw it: an “aquarium kit”.

I tore open the lid and removed a few layers of Styrofoam packaging. And there it was. Not much to look at, in the flesh. But I was intrigued all the same.

I crouched down, took out my phone to shine some light on the overstuffed packages and confirmed that it was the precious cargo we were here to collect. It was a dull, brown powder that reminded me of cinnamon, but with the faintest glint of blue to it, a lot like the oily sheen you see swirling around the surface of a bubble. Pretty, in a strange way.

I reached in deep, pulled up the edges of the plastic bag tucked around the stash and hoisted it up, trying to balance my phone under my chin as I did so. The bag was heavy – a good few pounds of the stuff. I flopped it back down onto the floor and looked for anything else of interest, then looked over to Jack, who was still guarding the entrance. He had fucked up tonight’s little incident, sure, but maybe he’d still be good for the heavy lifting. And a few other things, if I had my way…

“Hey, Jack, come over here.” The echo chamber of the container amplified my voice up to a yell. He looked around nervously and then hopped inside with me.

“Here it is. This is what all the fuss is about. Crazy huh?” I gestured toward the bag. He didn’t seem all that impressed.

“Great. I’ll be glad to be rid of it as soon as possible,” he said, and looked around nervously.

I almost felt bad about what I was about to do to him. But only almost. In those nature documentaries, the alpha males are always shown to be the violent ones, but again, if you want to see some true abject horror, look at what a female in a pride of lions does when she’d pushed to the edge. It was a dog eat dog world, and I was a top bitch for a reason.

All the way on the drive here I had wondered if I could possibly feel something for this guy, but no. I’m not sure what he could have said or done to change my mind, but by the time he stepped inside that container with me, I think I had decided to go ahead with my plan. It was cruel. I know that. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun with him while the opportunity was ripe, did it? In fact, I liked the elegance of it all. I liked feeling so efficient – Jack was going to help me kill two very important birds with one very clever stone.

I could make out the muscles under his shirt even in the darkness. He wasn’t much like the other hitmen we hired. He didn’t seem so …empty. I would have pegged him for a wrestler maybe, or a quarterback. But not a trained killer. He just didn’t have that look about him.

“Wanna take some with me?” I said.

He scoffed loudly and kicked a TV box.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“A little.”

“Look, can we just get out of here?”

“Sure we can. But come on, admit that you’re just a little curious…” I said, and sidled up closer to him. It was difficult, in the low light, to tell exactly how close to him I was standing. But the effect was electric all the same. I was done flirting with this guy. It was time now.

“Did you not see that guy out there? That junkie? You yourself said he was a goner.”

“Oh, he’s definitely a goner, but that’s because he was stupid. See, you only need the tiniest little bit of this stuff. It’s like that with everything in life …you need to know when to pull back …and when to push it,” I said and took a step closer, until I felt his breath on me, until I was pushing against him.

He smelt like soap and skin and leather, and I found myself desperately curious to know what he looked like under that unassuming shirt he was wearing. In the semi-darkness, it was easy to reach out and drag my hand down his torso, straight down and to his crotch, where I stopped, brazen, waiting to see what he’d make of me being so bold. He said nothing, but even he couldn’t hide that his breathing had changed.

“Take a tiny bit with me …and let’s fuck,” I whispered slowly.

The fact that we should have left by now only made the situation more deliciously forbidden. I’m guilty as charged, I admit it: I get it so rarely that when I do, I need it to be super exciting.

He exhaled loudly but kept still.

“This doesn’t feel like a good idea, Evie…” he said, but I knew that he had already half agreed.

“Come on… you know what they say… if you save a person’s life, you’re responsible for it afterwards, right? Maybe you can say thank you by dropping your pants,” I breathed, now close enough to him that I could feel him thinking about it seriously, close enough that only an inch more and it would be a foregone conclusion.

I had wanted to fuck him since I first laid eyes on him. I wanted him to help me forget all the violence for a moment, forget all the scheming and backstabbing and drama and just have fun.

All at once he lurched forward and grabbed me, pulling me into him with a force that made me squeal in surprise. He kissed me hard, a little angrily, then tore his lips away and began to run hurried hands all up and down my body. His hands certainly knew what they were doing.

“What the fuck are you wearing,” he said with amusement.

“Like it?” I smiled.

He mumbled something and threw himself into kissing my neck as his hands worked on furiously to unbutton his jeans.

“Wait!” I said and pulled back for a second, my heart pounding in my ears. I reached down and slit the plastic bag open with the sharp edge of my pinky fingernail, then gently pressed the pad of my finger into the exposed, tightly packed powder and then put it to my nostril and snorted. It was like coke but softer somehow. Like only the memory of something burning, a sensation over before it even started. I went back to pick up more and held it out to him, offering up some of the strange brown powder. He hesitated, one hand still hovering over his crotch. I liked him like this. He didn’t know all the things he was going to do yet, but I did.

“Go on, I won’t tell,” I giggled.

“But what will it do to us?”

“Only one way to find out,” I said, and cocked my hips to the side. He snatched at my hand, grabbed my finger and snorted the powder on the end of it, then continued on to a messy, greedy kiss of my other fingers, my hand, my wrist. Damn, this guy was thirsty. But then again, so was I.

I lunged at him and pinned him hard against a wall of TV boxes, and heard his belt buckle clink to the floor. I pressed up firm against him and sunk into another wild kiss. He was a surprisingly good kisser. His hands were hard, his chest was hard, that thick pole in his boxers was really hard …but his lips were almost supernaturally soft. My own lips worked over his in the darkness, our breath coming in jagged gasps, and I could taste a stinging, metallic edge on his tongue. Pink Kisses, indeed.

His hands fanned out over my ass cheeks and then expertly peeled my tights down, going immediately back to slip inside my panties. I helped him pull those down, too. My clothing fell in a crumpled heap down at my ankles, along with his. With a little flutter of triumph I realized he was pretty well hung. I restrained myself from taking that stiff cock in my hands and instead ground my hips against him, wanting the first feel I got of that monster to be on the inside…

I came up for breath and looked at the vague angles and lines of his face up close in the dark. And then, something strange began to happen. Out of the inky darkness, his already dark eyes seemed to light up from within. The black dot of his eyes …went white. I froze and pulled back. His face suddenly came crawling alive before my very eyes. He was lit up, but not with light. I gulped and tried to understand what I was seeing. Man, this stuff worked quickly.

“You feel that?” I breathed. My arms were trembling on his chest. His hand absentmindedly went to my brow and stroked away a strand of my hair, but lingered there.

“Wow. You look really …beautiful,” he muttered, eyes glued to mine.

A strange, pulsing wave passed over me all at once, starting as a deep lurch in the pit of my stomach and radiating out through my limbs, where it evaporated, leaving me feeling light and buzzing.

I wanted to dance.

I wanted to fuck.

Had he always looked so wonderful?

I laughed and leaned in for another kiss, this time forgetting about his cock for a second. I knew that he felt the same. I can’t explain how, but I just knew that we were linked at that moment, and that what I was feeling, he was feeling too. I don’t know if a second passed or several minutes, but we soon pulled back again and looked at each other in shock.

“Are you…?”

I nodded.

Words were now unnecessary. The boundaries between us seemed to be wavering, puckering in the places where our bodies touched and threatening to collapse in on themselves entirely. And pumping right the way through this strange new sensation was something else. The wild, uncontrollable hunger to be fucked.

As though reading my mind, he leaned into me and lifted my hips up off the floor, effortlessly bringing me back down onto his cock, which went jamming up into me to the hilt. I gasped and shuddered. He held me down through that shudder, and we paused for a moment, us two alone in that container, secretly fucking, curled around this hot, delicious place where all of him felt like it entered all of me.

He drew back his hips and began to pump powerfully, each thrust reaching far up into the core of me, the edges of an easy orgasm already brewing and swelling there. The blackness around us became like a projection screen, one that came crawling alive with strange swirling images, colors, light…

He bent his knees, crouched down into me and held me in his lap, supporting the weight of us both, his head collapsing down onto my chest …and he fucked. With steady, almost machine like thrusts he slid into me, strong, his entire body one solid, determined muscle that had me captured and locked to him. In the dim light, his form continued to blur and swirl at the edges, too serious to be psychedelic, too beautiful to be real.

I melted onto him.

I don’t know how long we were in there like that, in that …state. Our bodies moved together hungrily but with ease, as though we’d know one another forever. The moment was a little loop out of time, a secret tunnel we two had found. But almost as quickly as it began, I felt spat out of our little world. The real world came thudding into awareness all around us and I became aware of the cold metal surrounding our warm bodies. The air got heavier. I caught his eye.

“What the fuck was that?” he said. Or maybe he just thought it, and I thought it too, and so there was no need to say anything.

It was enough to push us both over the edge. He came easily and urgently, shooting a heavy load of his beautiful cum deep up into me.

“Fuck,” he moaned against the skin of my neck.

I gripped handfuls of his hair and twisted in a silent scream as I came, too, jerking a little as easy, full waves of pleasure lapped over me, right from the skin on my scalp through to the my toenails. I realized his face was a little wet.

Then things went even stranger. Like we had just temporarily tuned into a weird, alien TV show but had come back again, and now reality didn’t fit quite the same way as it did when last we were in it.

With a few awkward movements, we disentangled and pulled our clothing back on, thankfully shielded a little by the darkness.

“I didn’t …I didn’t expect that stuff to be that strong,” he said, almost in a tone of apology.

I said nothing.

I had wanted a quick fuck, a bit of casual fun. I certainly hadn’t expected …whatever just happened. I glanced over quickly at him. His face was normal again. No bright light in his eyes. No swirling and sparks. He was just a person again, not a bizarre reflection of my own face, not a long lost friend, like he had felt just a moment ago. I felt a little sad. But I also felt relieved. I hadn’t come out here to trip my head off.

“Yeah, uh, let’s not try that again, huh?” I said and laughed. He seemed a little hurt by my callousness. I pretended that nothing had happened, and he had the good grace to pretend with me. Things rapidly congealed around us again and I remembered what we were here to do.

I picked up the bag and threw it at him. I pulled my clothes straight all around me and watched as he did the same, both of us still trying to process what had just happened.

“Here, you take this,” I said.

He easily hoisted it on his shoulders and we walked out. I locked the container behind us, briefly wondering what the hell it was we were even selling these days. I could understand that the best products were those that numbed. In a way, all drug barons are anesthetists, freelancers in the pain management industry. Crack I could understand. Alcohol even more so. But this stuff… this was something else entirely. I made a note to think about this more intelligently when my head eventually cleared.

For now, I could still feel his breath on me. I could still feel his cum inside me, wet and secret.

“Still, I didn’t think you’d go for it. You do seem kind of straight laced,” I said, trying to lighten the mood as we walked out.

He shrugged again.

“I have no moral objections, Evie, just aesthetic ones.”

“Deep,” I said, but instantly regretted how much of a bitch I must have sounded.

He laughed.

We felt like two college kids, sneaking around trying naughty substances and fucking in the shadows, feeling like such badasses.

“So, what’s a covert philosopher like you doing in a dump like this?” I asked. I suddenly felt very eloquent, like I was stumbling upon whole sentences already formed, and didn’t have to think of anything before I spoke out loud.

“Good question,” he said.

He still seemed a little shaken. It felt like almost a universe away, the fact that only a few moments prior I had been riding him in the dark, coming hard all over his cock while on that strange illegal powder that, for all I knew, only a handful of people in this country had even tried.

We left quickly, silently, the only difference now being the literal bag of strangeness between us on the car seat. We didn’t speak all the way back to my apartment, coming down slowly, forgetting the weird little rip in time we had found in that container and shared together.

I was long past the age where an experience like that would have me falling hard for a guy I barely knew. In any case, getting too attached to him would make what I was about to do even harder. So I tried to just focus on the road. Tried to forget about the bizarre encounter we had just shared.

We pulled up to my place and he turned off the ignition and sat motionless in the seat, looking lost in thought.

“Want to come inside?” I said. “I know it’s late, but…”

He pulled the keys out of the ignition.

I could fuck him again. Of course I could. When he lifted his dark eyes to mine and looked me over, I knew he was thinking the same thing. We walked inside; I flicked on the lights and unzipped my boots, flinging them to the side.

“Where do you even see any of this going, huh, Mr. Jack Holmes?” I said as I scratched around in the cupboard for something to drink.

“Um… hey, not to be rude but what happened back there was just, just--”

“Relax,” I said, and plonked down a glass of whiskey in front of him. “I meant in the organization. Do you plan on being a hired killer all your life? Is there an end game?”

He exhaled and flopped onto the sofa. He looked a little different somehow. Like something in his expression had been loosened. Or maybe it was all in my head.

“We’ll see,” he said and took a too-big sip, scrunched up his nose, peered into his glass and took another one.

“We’ll see? We’ll see? Not the kind of work you just drift into, though, right?”

He swirled the golden liquid in his glass. It seemed surreal that just a moment ago I had really seen into him, right into the nuts and bolts of his soul, and now he was just solid again. Just a man, made of regular flesh and blood. Good looking flesh and blood, sure, but damn did he ever say anything interesting?

“I’m good at it, and it pays well. The less I think about it, the better.”

“So you just do whatever you’re told and you’re satisfied with that? Do you see yourself, I don’t know, moving up one day?”

He flashed me a confused expression.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was a job interview,” he said, and downed the rest of his whiskey.

“It’s not.”

Then, easy as you please, I peeled off my tights, took off my top, and wriggled out of my panties. With a dazed, faraway look on his face, he watched me, but said nothing. I came over to him, took the glass from his hands and set it aside. Then I spread my legs, lowered myself down on top of him, our eyes still locked together, and carefully unzipped him. His cock sprung out easily. He still smelt of sex. Slowly, I spread the silky folds of my body apart and glided my way down onto him again. I was still warm, still slick from the time before. His body immediately sprang to attention again. I lowered down onto the heft of his cock, one inch at a time, and slowly breathed out, watching his jaw tighten and his hands clutch at the sofa beneath him. Surprisingly, I realized I was sore. He must have been quite rough with me.

Little splinters of the chemical memory of that drug reawakened in me and soon I felt some echo of it in my body. Fucking him felt so easy, so delicious. I bounced quickly on his lap, swirling my hips around the base of him and propping myself up on his broad shoulders. He lay back and enjoyed me, and I watched as little ripples of pleasure flitted on his face.

It was a quick, intense, juicy fuck. The kind of thing animals do in the forest. Secret sex. Quiet sex. We came together hard, in silence, my body tightening around him as we both spasmed. He groaned. I collapsed down onto him, his dick still all the way in me. He was hot. He fucked like a champ. But it was a pity he wasn’t more interesting.

Mother nature, being a shrewd woman like myself, made it so that men fall asleep after sex, and a good thing she did. I peeled myself off of him when I noticed he had passed out and was snoring gently. I smiled down at him. Nice sized cock. Sexy little tats all over his bicep. Pity that was all there was to him.

I went to my room, put on a robe and then got to work framing him. I noiselessly took the bags into the kitchen, slit them open, and emptied everything out into a giant pink melamine salad bowl. Hands working quickly, I pulled out a container of crushed white powder and dumped this inside, then found a big serving spoon to mix it all together. Satisfied everything was thoroughly combined, I went to the pantry and pulled out a box of thin plastic wrappers. Using a funnel, I poured the powder into these bags, discarded the old torn bags and sealed everything back up again, replacing the whole lot back into the main bag and returning it to the place at the entrance hall he had left it.

I looked at him. Still sleeping. The sight made me smile a little. His soft cock rested on his leg and his trousers lay in a bunch, still on the floor. His head tilted to the side as he slept.

“Wakey wakey. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” I said laughing and went to shake him awake. The eyes he opened and lifted to me were unguarded for a second, confused, soft. But he soon gathered himself.

“Shit, yeah. Sorry, did I fall asleep? I’ll just be going,” he said and hastily stood and started dressing himself.

It had been a strange night, I’d give him that.

I put out my hand to stop him before he raced out.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. You’ve done well. Your hard work won’t go unnoticed, trust me. In this organization, that kind of thing is always rewarded.” I didn’t want to promise him any kind of promotion outright. But it seemed prudent to at least throw down a few crumbs to that effect.

I watched as he swooped up the bag, tucked it under his shoulder and left. His headlights projected triangle shards of yellow on the wall and ceilings as he drove off, and just like that he was gone and I was alone again. I felt exhausted. But I stood motionless in my sitting room for a second, taking it all in. The hardest step had been done. From here on out, it was Jack who would take the tainted “Pink Kisses” right to where it needed to go.

It was unlike anything the organization had pushed before. All the reports of its superpowers – turns out they were true. It really did give you this otherworldly sense that you could be smack bang in the mind of someone else. It really did help you soar into realms above and beyond simple euphoria. It flew you straight up into some other, new state of mind that it was difficult to even think about now that we had come off our mini-trip.

But, alas, it was also a potent neurotoxin when mixed with any SSRI. The mix I had handed over to Jack tonight would severely fuck up anyone who took it, but more importantly, I knew for a fact that it would deliver a death-blow to just the person I was ready to have removed from my life once and for all. And Jack would take the fall for it.

Now, all I had to do… was to wait.

Chapter 4 - Joseph

I don’t like the way things are going with that crowd,” he said. “I want you to get JJ to step in and take care of the Albanians. We need someone over there who can keep his mouth shut.”

“You trust JJ?”

“I trust him to do that.”

I nodded.

In the wild, everybody knows that the weak overpower the strong, the son overpowers the father and the spoils go to whoever has the balls to fight for it. I don’t know, maybe humans are squeamish or something, but they all like to pretend that this doesn’t apply to us for some reason. That we’re more civilized than that. More progressive. Fuck that noise. My time had come and if I had to forcefully shake off the old to bring in the new, so be it.

I always hated this place. Dingy as fuck. Dirty. Just …a mess. My father had enough money to put everyone up in real hotels, real conference rooms, proper establishments. He could have taken proper care of my mother, too, and he could have shown his cronies some real love and, I don’t know, bought a new fucking pair of pants once in a while. But no. My dad was a miser. Always had been good at the old Scrooge McDuck spiel. Whatever.

In the wild, the real alphas know that it’s not enough to have power – you have to show it, too. Since High School and the first days I started learning about this business, he had tried to drill it into me: Lay low. Think carefully. Plan your moves. But he was too old to admit that the times were a-changin’ and that if he were so intent on staying in the shadows, one day he’d get stuck there and people would overlook him for a leader who actually acted like one.

Like me.

“Ok, enough of talking shop Joey, let’s talk about this other thing for a second, can we?” he said.

He looked like shit.

Having a degenerative disease absolves you from being a beauty queen, I get that, but damn. His eyes were sunken right in. His face was the color of that putty you put on walls to hide the cracks.

“Sure, dad. You out of stuff already? I feel like it was just yesterday I brought you some.”

It was a heartwarming twist, that was true. Big old mafia grandpa wasn’t only in it for the money, you see. “Pink Kisses” looked like it might give him a few more years of life, and at the rate he was going, that was a hell of a lot further than he’d go on his own steam.

“I need more,” he said and shrugged.

“Sure. We got the new shipment.”

He nodded.

“Does it …you know, not to be funny here, but does it…? I heard from the guys that it’s like an aphrodisiac,” I said and sipped my coffee casually. The trouble with front cafeterias like this is that nobody ever took the damn time to make half decent coffee. I swear the Feds could throw us in jail for crimes against these coffee beans alone. I winced and put my cup down again.

“Joey? You gotta be like that? I’m busting my ass here and you ask a question like that?”

“Jeez, sorry, just curious,” I said.

“I mean come on.”

“But really, does it?

He swiveled his hollow eyes at me.

“What, you don’t know your own product? In low doses it does nothing like that. And besides, I got no need for aphrodisiacs or shit like that. Never had, not me,” he said and frowned, then sat back in his seat looking a little wounded.

Talking about your dying father’s sex life wasn’t my idea of a well spent afternoon, but fuck, no business is immune from meetings you’d rather not sit through, right?

“As a matter of fact, I think it’s working.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m feeling strong, Joey. I feel twenty years younger. I’ll have licked this thing in a few months, just you wait and see,” he said and smiled weakly at me.

The notorious Mrs. Robinson making a miraculous comeback was definitely not part of my future plans for this organization. I sipped my coffee, winced, and took another sip.

“Yeah that’s great, dad.”

The new batch would arrive soon, all right, and I would make sure he got first dibs on it before we sent it out. But let’s just say that the poison is the dose, and I was planning to make sure he got the dose I needed him to get. He might have been something special back in the day, but we weren’t back in the day anymore. He was unfit to rule. And I wasn’t the only one to think so.

I looked up as a woman poked her head through the café doors, looked around, cast a nervous glance at me and pops sitting at the far table, then scurried out again. It was embarrassing.

“We need to spruce this place up a bit,” I said and downed the last bitter dregs of my coffee.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Dad, I know you got this thing with your eyes and shit, but come on. The place is a dump.”

“So?”

“So it’s obvious is what I’m saying. Maybe we get some real coffee machines in here. Some pie, I don’t know. Hire someone else so it’s not just Maria sitting around here all day.”

His face darkened and for a second he looked just like that classic mugshot they’d been using of him in the papers since forever.

“Am I hearing you right? We speak all morning about saving money, about clamping down on this bullshit with my suppliers and now you want to come at me about fucking coffee machines? You’re joking right?”

“Dad, forget it, I was just saying.”

“Forget it? You’re Angelo Valenti’s son and you talk like some kid with no brains, it breaks my heart.”

“Dad, come on.”

“Nah, forget it, just get me the stuff, OK?”

“Sure dad.”

“And take care of that thing with JJ, it’s urgent,” he said, and laid both his bony hands on the table to slowly raise himself up out of the booth. I hated his legs. I hated how weak and wobbly they looked. Old people freaked me out, I hated to admit it.

“Yeah, got it.”

It was easier to take this kind of yes sir no sir shit when I knew that in a few days, he’d be going on one long, long perma-trip he’d never come back from. Oh, he’d feel “better” all right. It’d be like buying a deluxe holiday home in Schizophrenia-town, more like. It wouldn’t hurt me to give the dying old coot whatever lip service he wanted these last few days.

I stood up to leave with him and quietly decided for myself that I would manage the Albanians situation just exactly as I damn well pleased. And when I was done with him, I’d drop a bit of cash on making this place look half presentable.

I walked behind him as he shuffled out of Carmilla’s Coffee and out into the bright sunlight. I straightened my lapels and stood tall, scanning the street.

“You all right to walk from here, dad?”

He grunted and waved me off and was already a few yards down the road. I nodded and turned to go my own way. Life was good. Hard, but good. Fair. The old must die and the new must thrive in their place. Such is life. I turned the corner and caught a glimpse of my reflection in a car as I walked on. I wasn’t a pretty boy, but I cleaned up nice.

I straightened my collar and walked on, my feet suddenly changing directions and taking a different route. Sure, the empire had some obvious fault lines and had taken some knocks in the recent past. But it would soon have a new king.

And every king needs a queen.

Chapter 5 - Evelyn

He was an ugly bastard, but at least he cleaned up nice. I peered through the peephole and saw him round and distorted, like he was in a glass bubble. Still, I could recognize that smug face anywhere. I opened the door and looked at him.

“Well if it isn’t little Joey in his Sunday best,” I said and smiled at his suit and gelled back hair.

He returned the smile and pushed his way into my apartment rudely. I knew he hated it when I or anybody else called him “Little Joey.” He hated it even more whenever I brought up the fact that his father had me babysit him once way back in the day. Sometimes, I wonder if the fact that he fucked me two days after his 18^th birthday was his way of putting that little humiliation to bed once and for all. I still teased him about it, though.

“Job interview?” I said and closed the door behind me. I had lots of clout in this organization, but not enough to tell the big boss’s son to go and fuck himself, unfortunately. Didn’t mean I couldn’t rag at the guy a little. Lord knows he needed to be taken down a few pegs.

“No, Evelyn, you know very well that I’ve been with my father this afternoon to discuss important issues concerning the business,” he said and walked around my apartment like he was trying to figure out what part of it he wanted to grace with his presence.

“Take a seat,” I said. “Whiskey?”

He nodded and sat down in the big seat – the same one I had pinned Jack down in only a day or two ago.

Joseph Valenti was smaller than Jack, but denser somehow. Wiry. Like he was wound up tight and ready to uncoil and lash out at the first person who pulled on the wrong thread. I knew he would never be anything like his father. There was just always something so vicious about Joey. So severe.

I poured him a drink, handed it to him and settled into a seat across from him. I tried to look relaxed but something about having Joey in my house always put me on edge. Some little ribbon of tension was always alive in the core of me when he spoke, something that was ready to bolt, or fight if necessary. I didn’t like how he spoke, or the way he combed his hair back like that.

He took the drink and set it aside without taking a sip.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, trying not to make eye contact.

He cracked his knuckles.

The single time we had fucked, it wasn’t exactly what I would have called “pleasure”. Joey wasn’t really like that. I learnt early on that the thing he liked best in the world was to dominate. To control. Everything else was just a vehicle for that, including sex. In a way, men like Joey are profoundly asexual. They get the same excitement from taking a woman that they do pulling off a good deal or realizing they’re annihilated a sworn enemy. In other words, he was a lousy lay.

“Well, you do so much for the business, Evie. It’s time you got the recognition you deserve. I just want to make sure you’re more involved… you’re not like the others who just blow in and try to make a quick buck. You understand the business, and that’s why you’re so valuable.”

He was talking to me like I was some downtrodden secretary at an NGO or something. I said nothing, and waited for him to come out with his point.

“There are so many interesting new avenues opening up these days. The organization is changing. And that’s why I want to make sure that you’re well positioned…” he said, then put the glass to his lips.

The audacity was breathtaking. Everyone in the upper management levels knew that this little pipsqueak had had designs on his father’s role for a long time now, and they certainly weren’t happy about it. That he was so blatantly signaling his intentions was what really got me. He was making his award acceptance speech for a throne he hadn’t inherited yet. Or stolen, for that matter.

“I’m very well positioned, thank you, Joey. And I’m aware of the changes that are coming,” I said calmly. And I don’t need any damn help from you is what I really wanted to add, but said nothing.

“We have a history, Evie. I’ll always have your back, you know.”

I smiled.

The good thing about working around narcissists is how predictable they are. Screwing him was nothing more than a career move for me, and one so buried in the past nobody could even remember a time when I wasn’t one of the most competent people in this business. But for him, that one night in his father’s vacation apartment in Corsica meant I was indebted him for the rest of time.

“We all have each other’s back in this organization,” I said. “That’s why it works so well.”

His forced a strained smile.

“I’m thinking of coke. There are some new opportunities, new supply lines that will be vacant in the new year. Maybe you and I--”

“No thanks.”

He looked stung. Like his eyes might have popped out of his head from sheer rage alone.

“What, you’re too fucking good to even hear me out?” he said, laughing cynically. Another woman might have been petrified at how swiftly his voice could change tone, but I wasn’t an ordinary woman, and I knew him, and I wasn’t scared.

“No. But I know what you’re going to say. You and I know how your father feels about coke, so the only reason you’re mentioning it to me is because you want to go behind his back, and I won’t be involved with that kind of thing,” I said curtly. His face was going a faint shade of red.

He exhaled loudly and flopped back into his seat.

“Well, there you go, that’s what I’m talking about right there…”

“I know loyalty doesn’t mean much to you but--”

“Loyalty? What about loyalty to me?” he spat.

I gave him a slow, careful look. I knew what he was thinking. In his mind, his father was already well out of the equation and he was as good as top dog right now.

“Joey, just because I fucked you once it doesn’t mean I’ll ever do it again,” I said, lowering my voice.

We all knew he wanted to get rid of his father as soon as possible, and we all knew he wasn’t the kind to act with moderation. I knew what he was about, and I wasn’t prepared to stick around under the new reign of Little Joey the Psychopath.

He stood up and walked over to where I sat, and towered over me, looking like that great coil was close to snapping loose. I focused every thread of my will on staring straight ahead, calm, unflustered.

“Well,” he laughed, “I’m glad to see just exactly where your mind is, I can say that much.”

I instantly stood up too, bringing my face just inches away from his and staring straight at him.

“Listen, Joey, don’t bullshit me. That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? Admit it. You’re pathetic. And you’re wasting my time,” I hissed. I could hear the bones in his knuckles crack as he tightened his fists. I stood my ground, watching the veins in his jaw work. There was a time when I found dangerous men like this exciting. There was a time when the thought of being overpowered and dominated was sexy as hell to me. When someone like Joey Valenti seemed dark and powerful and irresistible.

But all I saw now was his weakness.

And it sickened me.

Part of me wished he had enough balls to seduce me right now, properly; that he’d have the skill to fuck me like a real man, and not some thug with an entitlement problem. Being pressed up so close to him like this reminded me just how lonely I was. How neglected some parts of me were, after so many years in this cutthroat business. Still, poison is poison, no matter how hungry you are.

With a quick, brutal movement he brought both his hands to my shoulders and shoved me back hard, so I tumbled back down onto my chair. He placed one shiny shoe on either side of my legs and towered over me, hands at his side. His face remained stony.

“You don’t have any respect for authority, you know that?” he said in a low growl.

“I respect skill, Joey, not authority.”

He laughed.

“That attitude won’t serve you well in the future.”

“In the future? You mean, when you’re running the place?” I said and laughed as well. I tried to squeeze as much derision into that laugh as I could.

“Yes, actually. I’m giving you an opportunity here, Evie. You can get in with me early, if you play your cards right… if I were you I wouldn’t be so ungrateful for the things that you’ve been handed on a platter and--”

“Hey Joey, do you remember that time your dad had to go that gala? And I came over to look after you because the nanny was sick that day? You were so cute back then, so funny and sweet,” I said and flashed him a sarcastic smile.

It took only a split second for the back of his hand to raise up and come whizzing through the air, slapping my cheek hard and jerking my head to the side. My hand came up to the stinging skin but I was already leaping to my feet, propelled by that ribbon of tension inside. Before I myself knew what I was doing, I had lunged towards him and had my hands wrapped around his throat. Like the fastest, scariest movie, images flicked through my mind: there was a gun under the sofa. Knives a few paces away in the kitchen. If it came to it, a cast iron cat sculpture beside my fire place would do…

He staggered back as I threw my weight onto him and stabbed the points of my thumb into his neck. He gargled and twisted out of my grasp, looking at me with a shocked expression, but, of all things, smiling.

I backed off into the corner of the living room, heart pounding, just daring for him to lay another hand on me. He looked amused, but he stood for a while, rubbing the sore spot on his neck. I could tell he was lost in a fantasy of how sorry I’d be once he was in charge and could do what he liked with me. But I already knew, I wouldn’t be sticking around for any of that.

“Well fuck me, do you treat him like that?” he said and gathered himself. I couldn’t show him that I was afraid. He stood between me and the door, me and my phone, me and the cast iron sculpture.

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” I yelled.

He cast me a devilish smile.

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Bit of an underling though, isn’t he?”

“You’re crazy. Get out of my apartment.”

“I don’t get it, you’ll go for some meathead nobody but turn down the offer of a lifetime with me. Why?”

I nearly laughed out loud at the thought that letting him fuck me and then finding a place for me in his burgeoning little empire was the “offer of a lifetime.” Not only was his flimsy plan to take out Angelo a bad one, I had basically already beat him to it.

I set my jaw and stared hard at him. I needed to figure out a way to get him out of here and fast.

“No, I’m serious, I really want to know. There must be something really special about him, huh? Personally, I don’t think I see it…” He took a few menacing steps toward me.

No. This wasn’t happening.

“Joey, just go. Just leave right now, please,” I said. I instantly realized I had made a mistake. How could I appeal to the better nature of a man who didn’t even have one? Showing even just a little fear didn’t get him to back off. In fact, I could see how the thought that I was afraid was actually exciting to him.

“I will. But only once I get what I’ve come for.”

“Your father will hear about it,” I said. He wasn’t above …forcing me. I couldn’t even form the word in my mind. Rape. It was so ugly. So unreal. Not something that happened to a woman like me. But with each step he took towards me that possibility was cementing itself in my mind. I could take him. I could defend myself if I needed to. But I really, really didn’t want to.

“If you like. Tell everyone. In fact, tell your guy how much you loved it, too.”

“Jack has nothing to do with this,” I blurted.

He was standing in front of me again, cornering me like an animal. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to trigger the inevitable chase sequence I felt was just on the verge of erupting. But I didn’t want to simper and cower and try to placate him, either. That’s what everyone else did around him.

He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I slapped it off.

“Joey, don’t do this.” But in a second he had lunged at me again and pinned me against the wall with is full body weight, his hot, horrible mouth pressing hard into mine. I screamed and tried to shove him off, but he blocked my path with his outstretched legs, trapping me there, one hand rapidly snaking under my blouse to paw at my breasts.

For a moment, the world went white and empty, and it took a second for it to dawn on me.

I froze.

It was actually happening. Joey, the little shit I had always had a low-level disdain for, the boss’s boy a good few years my junior, the baby we all had to give special treatment… was forcing himself on me.

I snapped awake. I wasn’t going to let that happen. If it killed me I wouldn’t let him continue. Reaching deep down inside I found the energy to lash out against him and press him off of me, giving me a split second to raise up my leg and bring it square into his groin. He cried out and staggered back, bent in half, letting me dart quickly out of the corner. He grabbed my hair and halted me, but not before I had time to kick over the sculpture with my foot. It came banging to the ground.

We tumbled to the floor as I tried to shake him off. He yanked at my hair, sending tearing pain all through my scalp. My skirt was now tangled around my knees and impeding my movement, but I lurched over and managed to grab the sculpture at its heavy metal base. In the same movement, I brought the sculpture up with all my might and swung it back overhead, landing it hard down onto his skull.

His grip on my lower body instantly loosened and he recoiled back in pain. I wriggled free, stood up and raced off to get my phone. The statue still in my hands, I dialed the police number with shaking hands, not taking my eyes of his crumpled, writhing form on the floor.

“Come at me again and I’ll kill you,” I said quietly. I knew he had heard me, even though he couldn’t lift his gaze to me. He hobbled to his knees, a hand clasping at a spot on the back of his neck. He was test blinking his eyes open and closed. I had knocked the rage out of him, that’s for sure. He was just confused now, just shocked that I could hit him as hard I had.

“Fucking bitch,” he mouthed slowly.

“Hello? There’s an intruder in my house. Seventy-six Washington avenue. He’s trying to kill me. Please send help immediately,” I said in as crisp a voice as I could.

“The police? You have got to be kidding me,” he slurred.

“Get out. Now!” I hissed, this time finding my voice. I was full of adrenaline and almost daring him to come close again so I could try another blow with my newfound weapon. He was on his feet now, but clearly unsteady. I took a step away from him and raised the sculpture a little in threat.

“I saw what you did with him,” he said, sounding defeated.

“What?”

“There are cameras inside the containers too, you know. Dumb bitch.”

I swallowed hard.

The thought that this animal had been part of that night with Jack sickened me to my stomach.

“I mean, I always knew you were a bit wild, but fuck. I’ve never even heard a human being make noises like that before.”

“The police are on their way. I suggest you kindly get the fuck out of here.”

Somehow, the thought that he was jealous gave me a private little thrill. It was a twisted sense of pride that I stood before him now. Good. Let him watch, the little perv. I hope he saw just how good it was that night …and how he could never have been that.

He straightened, cracked his back and made way for the door, his hand still nursing the back of his head.

“Your days are numbered,” he said and opened the door. He didn’t know just how true his words were. After Jack took the fall, I’d be free as a bird. No more drug deals. No more intrigue. No more defending myself with a blunt object like some desperate animal in a cage.

“And that asshole will be following close behind you,” he said and slammed the door behind him.

The room seemed uncomfortably silent and empty without him in it. I collapsed down onto the floor, the sculpture dropping from my hand onto the floor, and cried. My body released and my muscles rapidly let go of all their tension, and I was suddenly and unstoppably wracked with sobs. All at once I became aware of pain all over my body. I felt aches all along my sides, on my scalp, places where my skin felt raw and torn. I hadn’t noticed how much damage he had done when we struggled together. My fingernails stung. I suddenly felt utterly wiped out.

I don’t know how long I sat and cried there for. I knew that when I stood back up, I had to keep going. That once my tears were dry, there wouldn’t be time for any more self-pity and dawdling. There was work to do, plans to make. The organization was on its last legs. Conflict from within was tearing apart the structure Angelo and his ilk had painstakingly put together over the years. And now was my chance to leave it all behind, and I wasn’t going to let that chance pass me by because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. had given the best years of my life to this organization and I was just barely escaping with my soul intake. And if I had to endure shit like this, well, I could do a little damage on my way out, couldn’t I?

It was a pity that it had to be Jack, but tough. By the time everyone figured everything out, I’d have taken the cash I need and will be long gone. No more bullshit. Maybe I’d even get a real job. A quiet life.

I wiped my tears away and lingered on the floor for a moment, gathering my resolve. Then I stood up, straightened my back and carefully placed the sculpture back at its spot beside the fireplace. I decided I would be like this sculpture: steely and hard. but beautiful. Completely unmarred by the violence.

I sighed, downed the drink he hadn’t touched and went to the kitchen to distract myself with something to eat. Could I have actually killed him? I thought about it carefully as I dipped a carrot into some cream cheese. As I felt the cold, creamy texture warm in my mouth and melt away, I toyed with the idea that, yes, I could have. There have been plenty of others, that’s for sure. I don’t like killing. In fact, I hate it. But I wasn’t ever about ending someone’s life – it was about ensuring that I got to continue my own.

I was only halfway down the carrot when my phone rang. It was Mrs. Robinson’s number. My blood went cold to hear his voice. It could only be bad news. But it was a voice I didn’t recognize. One of his nurses? A friend?

“Angelo’s dead,” the voice said simply.

I said nothing, then hung up. I swallowed my mouthful and carefully put everything back in the fridge, one thing at a time, then steadied myself against the kitchen counter. It didn’t quite look like what I had anticipated, but this was it. This was the end of an era.

And the start of a new one.

Chapter 6 - Jack

My reflection still looked like me, at least. No matter how hard I stared into those dark brown irises, I couldn’t see that anything that had changed. And yet, everything was different. Was she feeling this, too? Or was it just me? Was I just supersensitive to the stuff?

I wasn’t exactly what you’d call straight edge, but I didn’t like being intoxicated. I didn’t like feeling out of control. But something about what had happened that night in the container was …haunting me. And now, I woke every morning with a weird hunger that nothing seemed to satisfy. I was horny, but no amount of jacking off brought me any relief. I was coming hard three or four times every morning in the shower, but by the time I had toweled off and dressed for the day I was rock hard again and unable to push thoughts of her out of my mind.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I don’t like being intoxicated, but even more than that, I don’t like being infatuated. Of all the pitiable, out-of-control feelings this life has to offer, being hung up on a female is one of the worst. I didn’t like it.

And yet, my body was on fire.

It had to have been history’s shortest drug trip, yet the effects lingered, right on the edge of my vision, just on the tip of my tongue, just a little out of the reach of all my senses, teasing me. I got thirsty a lot. I slept hard and deeply. It was as though I was hungry for sensation, all sensation. And now I had to sit through a stuffy mafia funeral and pretend that I wasn’t fantasizing about fucking every woman there.

I fixed my tie, took a deep breath and looked at my reflection again. I certainly didn’t seem like a sex crazed drug addict. For now at least. I wanted to try that strange glinting powder again. Just a little. But more worrying than that, I wanted her again. I wanted that melting. That floating, hot, gooey sense of flowing right into her, not just my cock but every part of me, into every part of her…

I cleared my throat, grabbed my keys and left. Funerals were lousy at the best of times, but this was one event I didn’t want to linger at. Mrs. Robinson, the grand kingpin himself had fallen, and I didn’t care much to stick around for the scrabbling that came afterwards to rearrange the hierarchy. As long as there were assholes and the people they wanted to control, there’d be a need for men like me. Who the particular assholes were at any one time seemed like a minor detail at this point in my life. And more than that, I was on a mission: one, get my hands on more “Pink Kisses” and more importantly, two, find a way to shove my cock into Evie again.

The funeral was smaller than I expected. Being the man he was, he had made so much effort to insulate himself, to hide behind layer after layer of decoys. There was nothing about him in the papers, and only a few knew about his death, even then knowing only that the notorious “Mrs. Robinson” had died and not much else.

In a way, we had all seen it coming. I had heard the rumors that he was sick. Even a kooky conspiracy that Pink Kisses wasn’t really a drug operation but a personal one, and that he wanted it for his own use, to fix his rare condition. Whatever. I had delivered the package to him a few days prior, and even then it seemed like his people were eager to get a hold of it. I could see why. They were desperate.

The day was overcast and stuffy, like someone had placed a smoky glass lid over it. I parked my car and got out, then scanned the neatly manicured grass and distant row of expensive vehicles ringing the yard. A few people in black had already congregated under some old twisted trees. I locked the car, straightened my jacket and headed over. I played it cool, but there was only one person I wanted to see.

I didn’t recognize anyone. They were all quietly wealthy people, clearly. The woman were obviously used to going to funerals, and were dressed impeccably, little ornamental veils hanging over their eyes and the corners of their tight little court shoes digging into the soft ground underneath. The coffin itself was too glossy, too elaborate. I wasn’t sure why Joseph Valenti had invited me, but it seemed rude to turn him down. On the ground, though, what had felt like an honor suddenly felt a little like a trap. I couldn’t explain why, but something felt off. I would just pay my respects and get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

I climbed the gentle hill and came to stand among the crowd, nodding my greetings to the unfamiliar faces and then looking over at the coffin and the heavy spray of white lilies that had been laid over the top.

“You got a lot of nerve showing your face around here…”

I turned to find the source of the voice but saw only a wall of severe faces, looking at nothing in particular. Even the priest seemed to have noticed me, and was casually sending glances my way as he paced around his podium and waited for the other guests to arrive.

I had heard from another hitman that the cause of death was still unknown. But he had been sick for a long time. As far as I knew, everyone was more or less waiting for the old man to shuffle off, and it was just a question of whether that took two weeks or two years. But now it was clear that there was likely more to this story than I had been told.

I strained my ears to overhear any talk but people were solemn and silent. Everyone turned to watch a new car wind up the drive. I followed their gaze and watched as the man I knew as Joey Valenti got out of the car with several bodyguards and a miserable looking woman in a skin tight grey dress. Disappointed that it wasn’t Evie, I lost interest.

By the time this posse had made their way over the hill, the priest was gearing to get going with the service. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as Joey positioned himself behind me. As the priest droned on and on, I felt him lean close and whisper into my ear.

“There are a few things we need to discuss, Jack,” he said softly. “Hang back when the funeral’s done.”

Every muscle in my body stiffened but I stood my ground and watched as the polished wood sunk deep down into the earth. My heart was in my throat as the service ended and people began to talk quietly amongst themselves. An elderly woman was sobbing bitterly amongst some tired looking younger women who were trying to soothe her. I knew better than to expect a promotion at a time like this. But then, what did I expect? Evie was nowhere to be found. That right there was all I needed to know that something was up.

The service ended and the crowd dissipated but Joey and his men remained, all of them standing somber in their black suits with carnations poked into the lapel. I didn’t know much about the guy, except that every time I had met him, he seemed badly overdressed. Like he was just a kid playing dress up with dad’s ties. A guy who clearly took himself very, very seriously.

I watched as the women picked over the ground in their heels and climbed back into their cars one by one.

I waited.

Some thugs I didn’t recognized took a few steps towards me, their eyes planted to that spot where their leader had been laid to rest. Maybe they suspected foul play and wanted me to rough someone up. I didn’t know.

I had barely opened my mouth to pay my respects when one of the men came at me, one meaty fist pummeling my side and the other following, delivering a solid blow to my left temple. I crumpled down to the grass, ears ringing, then sprung back up ready to defend myself.

“So this is the little shit that wants to shake things up? Do you have any idea of how much trouble you’re in, asshole?” one of them said in a thick accent.

I raised my hands and took a step away from them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“You pull a stunt like that, you get the shit beat out of you,” said another, and he took a full swing at me, shattering his fist into my jaw and sending me reeling again. This time I fought back, though. In the split second it took him to pull back his fist again I had swung out with two punches of my own, hitting him square in the nose.

The others descended down on me and soon I found myself on the floor again, kicks and punches coming from every direction as I struggled to stand. A hard boot tip flew violently into my ribcage and sent ripples of pain all though me. I tried to speak but the wind had escaped my lungs. I flipped over onto my side but the abuse came raining down onto my exposed spine now, the same kicks landing down on my kidneys. I spluttered and fought back, springing up and getting a few of my own in, but I was badly outnumbered.

A trickle of blood fell into my eye and blurred my vision, so that I couldn’t see one of them tackle me from behind and pull me back down for more. There were at least six of them. Unless I could get away, I was sure I’d be pulverized to death within a minute.

“Cut it out guys,” came a voice from somewhere to my left.

Mercifully, the rain of boots and fists stopped. The ring of thugs around me parted and let some of the sun shine down onto my twisted and mangled body. Peering down over me came his face: Joey Valenti, looking calm and unruffled, his hair slicked right back off his waxy face.

“The fuck is all this about?” I moaned and tried my hardest to roll myself over to my side and get up. My ribs felt like a thousand loose shards of broken pottery rattling around inside me. I felt myself gurgling at the end of each labored breath.

“You fucking betrayed the organization,” came a voice from behind Joey. Joey ignored this and continued to look down at me, not with pity, but like he was just processing the best way to hurt me next.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I never betrayed anybody.” I felt like even my voice had been beaten, and came out of my mouth all bent and wonky.

“Don’t fucking lie, you piece of shit, we know it was you,” came the same disembodied voice.

“That what was me?” I said and managed to come to sitting. I saw the blood on my knuckles.

“You killed him. You killed him and now you have the balls to pitch up here?”

“Kill him? You’re crazy.” I staggered properly to my feet, and stood teetering to see Joey looking right at me, like he took pleasure in seeing me try to balance upright after the beating I took.

“You want some more, buddy?” came the voice from behind.

“Enough.”

Joey raised his hand and smiled at me, and the goons grumbled behind him, hungry for more blood.

“It wasn’t him,” Joey continued, in a perfect businessman voice.

The grumbling behind him intensified.

“Then why’d we have to beat him up?”

“Oh, don’t worry, he deserved every second of that. But he didn’t kill Mrs. Robinson. You’re dismissed.”

“Sir…”

“Dismissed.”

The goons disappeared and went off grumbling to the cars, but I could see out the corner of my eye that they had merely propped themselves against the cars and were watching us keenly, should their fists be needed later on.

“Somebody murdered your father?” I said weakly.

He laughed.

“You’re a little slow on the uptake, huh? I’m beginning to see what she sees in you, at least,” he said and took a look all the way down my body and then up again.

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes. He was murdered, to answer your question. And you were the one that delivered tainted batch to us, the batch you knew my father would use personally. He died of a seizure, Joey. Do you know what that even looks like? Do you have any idea how crazy he went?” It was just him and I now, alone. I began to wonder if Evie was safe.

“I was going to kill you,” he said plainly, “but as it turns out I now have information that you were set up.”

The thought that popped into my mind was so ugly I staggered a little, my vision blurring. He reached out and grabbed my forearm, helping me back up again. If my knuckles weren’t stinging so badly, I might have taken a swipe at that stupid grin on his face.

“We know who was responsible, though, and I think you do too. And if you don’t want another ass-kicking like the one you just got, you’re going to help us put everything right.”

He released his grip on my arm and gave it a friendly pat.

“It’s OK, buddy, you’ve been played. It happens to the best of us. But you’re going to make it right now, aren’t you?”

I said nothing.

“Attaboy. Now go get yourself cleaned up, you look like shit. I’ll send someone over to get that suit replaced, how about that?” he said and sneered at the blood stains all down the white front of my shirt and splattering down onto my trousers.

He smiled, walked off and joined the other goons, who climbed in the car and were soon gone down the drive. I was left with nothing but the sickening thump of my own heart in my ears, and blinding pain coming from every part of my body.

Evie.

She had betrayed me.

I stood alone for a moment, trying to force my shocked mind to stay in one place. I was framed. She had cut the powder with something…

But hadn’t we tried some ourselves? My mind raced. She had to have done it after we were in the container together. My heart sunk. Back at her apartment then. I had passed out. She must have done something then… She had put it in my hands and sent me straight into a set up, knowing full well that I’d take the fall. My jaw tightened. Like the idiot I had sworn I would never be, I had fallen for the cheapest, most embarrassing trick in the book. I had been fooled, and by some ghastly whore in pink lipstick and leather.

Of course she wasn’t a whore. No. She was different. I glanced at the grave then turned on my heel to hobble back down to my car. It was worse than that though. I had seen something in her. I had felt it. Didn’t that mean anything to her? Didn’t that sweet, transcendent moment we shared that night mean to her what it did to me? Had they set her up somehow?

I piled my beaten body into the driver’s seat one wincing limb at a time. No. No… she had used me, the evidence was as obvious as the raw ache all along my spine. I had been an idiot once, but I wouldn’t let it happen again. I would take her out, plain and simple. This was personal now.

And I would make her pay.

Chapter 7 - Evelyn

A middle-aged guy with his two daughters ambled across the park, an ice cream in each hand. I could fuck him, I thought. I could bend over in front of him and just let him have me, right there in broad suburban daylight …he wouldn’t even have to put his ice creams down. There was a pair of young guys with skateboards, too. I could fuck both of them, together, and teach them a thing or two. Or what about him? The guy reading a book on the park bench? I could throw that book straight in the trash, straddle him and have him gushing cum into me within a few minutes flat, I knew I could…

The rhythmic slapping of my feet on the tarmac came to a stop and I bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath. It was like I couldn’t get enough air. I stood there for a moment trying to gather myself, sweat pooling in my running gear and the pads of my feet ringing from the five miles I had already put them through. I paused and tried to make sense of the weird sensations I couldn’t ignore anymore. I sucked in a few gulping breaths and waited for my heart to still. It was like the air was delicious.

Now, I had heard that women could sometimes get a little …frisky when they were pregnant. I knew to expect the effects of extra blood flow pumping to the nether regions, my body ripe and coursing with all the new hormones but, well, I hadn’t expected it to be this intense. I felt a little like an addict. But the things that got me off were tiny: the touch of a breeze against my naked neck, how the blue in the sky started out pale and deepened the higher up you looked, the smell of grass and soil on the air…

I straightened and carried on running. Maybe this is just what it felt like to be alive. To work a job that didn’t eat your soul and with regular, kind people who wanted a quiet life just like you did. As the little one grew in me, I grew on the outside, too. I could be something different. A civilian. A contributing member of society. A mother.

But as I ran something else popped into my head.

Him.

Jack.

The very night I had heard that Angelo died, I packed a small bag and left for good. I hadn’t heard anything from anyone since, and didn’t expect to. I had severed all ties. I was nearly 2000 miles from all that mess and I liked it that way. No more secret phone lines. No more looking over my shoulder. No Mrs. Robinson, no Joey, nothing.

Just me, my neat little admin job and the prospect of the months ahead where I’d work out at the community gym, decorate the nursery, bake sourdough… and relax. They wouldn’t find me even if they knew to look. Besides, half of them wanted Angelo gone anyway; the problem wasn’t that I had killed him; it was that I had taken that opportunity away from his asshole of a son. The money pile I had wedged out of their various accounts was so miniscule, and one I’d been gathering and hiding away for so long that I was sure nobody would even notice it.

I picked up the pace.

I was done with all of that, though. It was a real pity, sure, but whatever. I hadn’t expected to end up liking Jack as much as I did, but sometimes things don’t go to plan. I still dreamt of him, sometimes, and the way I could, just for that moment, stare right up into his eyes like they were two tiny galaxies, like they were endless, dimensionless, just going on and on forever…

I turned the corner and made my way back to my apartment. It was a dump, relatively speaking, but a palace for me. When you’ve been living like I have for so long, the strangest things can feel like luxury. I couldn’t shake his face, though. His eyes. I found myself wondering often what he did when he realized what had happened. Sure, I felt guilty. Really guilty. But what could I do now?

Suddenly a stab through me stopped me in my tracks and I paused again, hand outstretched on my belly and bent forward and grimaced. In my stranger nightmares, I wondered if the baby would somehow be affected. If I’d be in the ER one day, giving birth, having to stare down into its little eyes again and seeing that they went on and on like galaxies too…

I shook my head and decided to go for a brisk walk home. No, it wasn’t pregnancy hormones that were messing me up; it was that goddam stuff we took. I hadn’t been the same since. I was wired. It’s like my body woke every morning with only one imperative: find and fuck him again. Stupid, huh?

I picked up the pace again as I saw my front door but was too exhausted to break out into a full run again. I dug out my keys, quietly let myself in and immediately noticed something different.

The smell.

I couldn’t explain it, but something smelt… wet? Maybe damp. I froze and guided my nose around the entrance hall a little like a jaguar in the forest. Maybe the house had mold or something. I made a mental note to look into it and kicked off my shoes.

I made for the staircase to head up for a shower.

Crack.

I froze. Someone was in here with me. My eyes flew to the kitchen to see two men leaping out at me. With no time to think, I sprang off the first stairs and swung around behind the bannister, skidding out into the hall. Ordinarily, I could fight in a situation like this. But not now. Not with the baby…

I clutched at my belly and tore down the hall, both of them clattering loudly after me. There was only one exit from here: the bathroom window. It was wide enough, if I hurried and could make it. I could run from there. I was tired already, and barefoot, but the back of the house had enough gates and winding paths that I could gain some ground and maybe even hide.

My bare feet squeaked on the tiles as I turned the corner and went for the bathroom. Instantly, a hand closed around my throat and I felt the weight of a man bear down on me, trying to pull me to the ground. I had gone to MMA classes. I had run every day since I moved here. And I was currently sitting on a 170-pound personal squat record. And I would not allow them to pull me to the ground. No way in hell.

I crouched down, dropped my weight and jerked backwards, bringing my elbow into my attacker’s guts and then escaping under his elbow, still clinging to his hands that I now found I could twist. He pulled loose and then the other one was gearing up to grab me. I sprang to action and fled in the other direction. The bathroom escape wouldn’t work anymore.

I’d have to fight.

In a heartbeat, I had skidded into the sitting room and scrambled a Glock from a makeshift panel behind a painting. I spun to point it at them, but the first attacker was already careening into me, and nearly knocked it from my hands. His heavy boot trod down on my naked toes and I yelped out. In the brief moment it took him to glance down and then up at me again, I took my chance and slammed the butt of the gun into his face, sending him back reeling.

I jumped forward and threw every shred off energy into pinning him down hard, my knee square down on the tender part of his throat and the other jamming my heel into his groin. I flicked the barrel of the gun towards the next guy, who now stood frozen in the doorway, hands raised cautiously. I didn’t recognize him. Either of them.

“Move and I’ll shoot you both,” I said.

The look on his face told me he knew to believe me. It felt good to know that even in my strange, semi-retirement, I hadn’t lost it yet. In fact, even with a baby in me, I felt lighter and stronger than I had in years.

Crack.

I spun around the room. There was a third man!

With all my weight I pressed down hard into the guy’s neck and pricked my ears to see someone walk briskly into the living room, gun cocked and aimed. And then there they were. Those bottomless eyes. For a second, my hold on my hostage wavered, but I stood strong.

“Jack.”

“Evelyn.”

Chapter 8 - Jack

She was bent over him, nailing him to the ground somehow even though she was half his size. With a swell of admiration, I realized that I’d forgotten how insanely strong she was. And I’d clearly forgotten how beautiful, too. She had softened somehow. No more leather and dark lipstick. Instead, she was flushed pink, gentle looking, her hair loose and hanging casually around her bare face. It took me by surprise to see her like that, honestly. And by the look on her face, she was just as surprised.

“I thought you…”

“You thought they’d kill me? What?”

The guy under her wriggled and she instantly released a ferocious thrust downwards into his neck. He stopped at once.

“Well, yes I did actually,” she said and stared at me hard, almost challenging me.

I laughed.

“Why did they send you?” she said.

“Does it matter? Besides, they didn’t need to send me, I wanted to come here of my own accord. You set me up.”

She said nothing. But she looked pained.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. But you were the only possibility. You were the one they sent along with me that night. If it had been someone else…”

“Bullshit! You deliberately chose to fuck with me and then have me take the fall.”

“Jack, please, I know you’re mad, but listen…”

“I’m not listening to a damn thing. I’m not leaving here until I’ve put a bullet in your head.”

Panic flashed over her face. In all my fantasies - the ones where I kill her - she was always faceless, evil, and entirely unrepentant. I hadn’t even imagined that she would apologize to me. In fact, I had never imagined that staring at her again would make me feel so …protective over her. I didn’t know if I wanted to jump in there and get that guy away from her, or whether I wanted to pull the trigger and kill her immediately or whether I wanted to …do other things to her.

“Please, Jack. It’s more complicated than that…”

I knew she had it in her to kill the guy she was crouching over. It was nothing for a woman like Evie. And I could not go back to Joey again with one man down. I was already in a tight position and I knew that she had no problem playing dirty with me.

“Let him go,” I said.

“No.”

“You’re making a mistake, Evie. This is the end of the road for you, and you know it. If you run away now, they’ll just send more people to come and find you. And kill you. It’s over.”

“Jack, I’ve wanted to tell you something ever since that day…”

I exchanged incredulous glances with the guy standing in the doorway.

“Well?”

“I made a mistake, Jack. I know that. There was something… I saw something, that night. Not just in you and in me, but I saw something else, something wonderful,” she said, her voice trailing off. It was like she was looking elsewhere, somewhere far off into the distance, way beyond the confines of the walls of this shitty apartment.

“Just stop talking,” I snapped.

“But I mean it… didn’t you feel it too? And I still think of it, every day, I still have dreams,” she began talking quickly, but I instantly took a step towards her and shoved my gun almost to her face.

“You’re a fucking liar,” I hissed under my breath.

She didn’t flinch, but kept staring at me, eyes wide. I had seen this before. It was called “feminine wiles”, if you were being generous, but it was straight up manipulative, and I wasn’t having it. I wouldn’t have been so mad at her just then if I didn’t feel like it was almost working. I hated that she set me up. I hated that she put me in this position. I hated that even now, it was so hard to hate her as much as I needed to.

“Jack… I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

The guy in the doorway snorted. My eyes flew down to her abdomen. She was crouched over, and she didn’t seem to be pregnant.

“Please don’t… I’m pregnant,” she said again.

They were all waiting on me now. Fucking brilliant. Kill the hot pregnant lady… could this day get any more painful? The guy in the doorway was frozen, and the guy on the floor looked like he had checked out. I felt a flash of anger that not only had I been framed, I was now the one in charge of cleaning up the fucking mess.

I clenched my jaw and stared at her panicked face, looped my finger over the trigger and squeezed. A muffled shot rang out in the apartment and the guy under Evie crumpled, his head thudding hard down onto the floor. Her eyes flew wild and she leapt back from the dead body, looking down at him with astonishment.

Knowing exactly what would come next, I spun around and faced the drawn weapon of the guy in the doorway.

“What the fuck are you doing man,” he said, but I cut him off by cocking the trigger and letting him know I’d waste him just as easily.

“She’s messing with you, man. Of course she’s not pregnant, and even if she is, the fuck does that have to with anything? You’re a goddam idiot,” he sputtered and looked down at the now lifeless body laying right in the middle of the living room.

“I’m not lying,” she said from her corner of the room. I couldn’t even look at her.

The guy took a threatening step toward her and waved his gun at her head.

“You shut your mouth. It’s fine by me, killing the both of you,” he said and took aim, probably pleased he’d now get double bounty.

Some animal part of my brain kicked in. I shot him. My shoulder kicked back and a blood red hole appeared instantly on his left cheek, sending him toppling to the floor. His face froze into a permanent expression of disgust, his arms twitched and he folded at the waist, dead. The entire room fell silent and I stood there, and she stood there, and two bodies lay between us, each as dead as the other.

I could see how hard she was thinking as she stared down at those bodies with me, realizing how drastically the situation had changed. She had no more bargaining chips. But then, neither did I. Even now, she looked beautiful. There was something about danger that really suited her. Something about the way her chest was heaving, and the way her arms were spread just a little, as though she was coiled and ready to pounce or flee at any moment. It hadn’t been the Pink Kisses that night. She really was this beautiful, even sober.

She was alone with me now.

Defenseless.

The moment I had played out over and over again in my head was actually happening. But I was paralyzed. I had been given my orders. I was already on thin ice with the organization, already having to save my ass and prove to Joseph Valenti where my loyalties really lay. But none of that seemed to matter now.

I had questions.

A lot of questions.

Chapter 9 - Evelyn

I was so sure that I was about to die that it was like my brain hadn’t actually thought of what would happen if I didn’t. I stood there stunned, mind trying to catch up, to decide if the best or the worst thing had just happened to me.

“You’re lying,” he said at last. It didn’t feel much like a question. I said nothing. He lowered his weapon, glanced down at the two goons and then back up at me.

“I just want to know why. Why did you do it? I trusted you.”

It was the voice I had heard in my head ever since I had stood in the kitchen and carefully folded a sinister white powder into the brown and stirred until it was all invisible. The voice that haunted me when I ran out of distractions for the day and was too exhausted to literally run anymore. The one remaining snag in my new life that was, for the most part, clean and new. I had no defense. I had done it to serve my own selfish needs. That was the truth. I wanted out, and when the opportunity presented itself, I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. Besides, I wasn’t planning on falling for him at all. In a way, I blamed him for ruining my plans. Did he have to go ahead and be so much more interesting than I originally gave him credit for?

“Jack, I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

He looked enraged.

“Do you have any idea of what I’ve been through? They kicked my ass, Evie. I go out of my way to keep my nose clean with those assholes and you just swoop in and serve me up on a platter. I thought you were different.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. I wanted to say that he was right. That I was wrong. I was hardened. It was because that life was damaging me so badly, because it was slowly killing that part of me that was human, that I had to get out. I regretted every single day that I had pulled him into it with me, but at the time I had felt I had no choice.

“Are you really even pregnant? Or is that just another lie?”

I began to seriously wonder what my escape options were. If he had wanted to kill me, he would have done it already.

“It’s yours,” I said. I was too tired to play my cards. I just wanted him to know. I was done with games and manipulation.

He took a step back and flopped against the wall, eyeing me with a look of amusement.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not lying.”

He looked down at my belly. It’s true, I wasn’t showing much yet. But I stood tall and let him ogle my body if he wanted to. I had nothing to hide.

“How are you so sure? It could be anyone’s.”

That stung. I tried not to show any emotion. If he thought I was a heartless slut …well, he wouldn’t be the first. But that was my old life.

“It’s yours,” I said again, simply. His face softened a little. “I wasn’t with anyone else.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know. But it’s true.”

“You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. Why the hell would I trust you? You’re a liar…”

“I haven’t been with anyone else. It was only you. That night at the warehouse… in the container…”

I couldn’t continue. We both knew what had happened, there was no point going into detail. But in the silence I knew he was thinking of it anyway. Thinking of how we fucked, how we hid ourselves away and did exciting, forbidden things to one another, how it felt like we had both held hands and taken a secret peek into paradise together. I don’t know when I had become such a fucking romantic.

“I still don’t believe you. You’re a beautiful woman; you could easily have any guy you wanted…”

I raised my eyebrow at him when I realized he was staring at me again. Staring at my form fitting running tights and tank top.

“Well, I haven’t. But I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, and couldn’t help but lift my eyes to his. Our gazes locked together. My heart was kicking violently in my chest but I didn’t move. He could do anything he wanted to me. Not because I was alone and couldn’t defend myself. But because I wasn’t sure at that moment that I would even want to stop him.

“I was sent here to kill you. Joseph Valenti is on to you and he knows what you did. He was going to kill me, Evie. And fuck, maybe he still will. He seems to think you’re a threat because of some intel you have about the company. That you know some things that could bring down the entire organization….”

“Oh, I could do more than that,” I said quickly. I didn’t know how true that was. I didn’t quite yet know if I could defend myself if pushed, and I had never wanted to hurt the organization, just escape it. But if I could convince Jack that it was stupid to kill me, even just for the moment, then yes, I wanted him to believe that I had vital secret information that could completely change the game.

I could tell it piqued his interest. I held my head a little higher. I was carrying his baby, that was true, but knowing what I know about men, that might not have been enough to save my hide.

“I don’t believe you. But I don’t kill pregnant women,” he said quietly. Though he seemed that he was saddened by this conclusion, I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief and clutch instinctively at my belly. And though I hated to think about what would happen to him when he returned to Joey and told him that I was still alive, it was hard to care at that moment. I had to think about the little one now.

He knitted his brows as he saw me cradling my midriff.

“You’ve put me in a difficult fucking position, you know that? Again.”

I started to realize that he wasn’t quite the thug I had thought he was only a few months ago. In fact, every time we met I had the feeling that I was discovering some new and surprising aspect of him.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

It wasn’t my style, to be a timid damsel, but I was on a role and didn’t want to push my luck and give him a reason to make good on his revenge plans.

“I don’t know. I need to think.”

“I don’t …you don’t have to do anything, about the baby I mean, I have a new life here, I’ll be OK, you can just tell them--”

“Just stop! I’ve heard enough. Just, get out of my sight before I change my mind,” he said and looked at the ground.

“But Jack, please, you have to believe me, I’m sorry…” But he had already turned to leave.

I ran after him but he had flown out the apartment and slammed the door. I opened it again and stood in the doorway, watching him leave. Tears burnt my eyes. I was alone again. Alive, but with two freshly dead strangers slowly bleeding into my brand new carpet. I pressed my shaking hand to the doorknob, shut the door, closed my eyes and tried to gather myself. Tried to think. I couldn’t lose my shit, not now. I couldn’t let the stress affect the baby. I was alive, and that was better than the alternative, and now I just had to calm down and think of what to do next.

They knew it was me. Fine. It was a risk I took. And they knew where to find me. Fine. I ran before, I could run again. Jack was alive. I hadn’t decided what I felt about that just yet. But he’d be on his way right now to …I didn’t even know what. I had no intention of using what I knew about the organization to bring down anyone, but I sure as hell would if they were planning to snuff me out because of it.

I walked slowly back into the living room and looked down at the bodies. All at once, a deep wave of nausea washed over me and I felt myself gag. I ran to the bathroom, dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and instantly threw up. Tears streamed down my face as another wave lurched deep in my gut and came rolling over me. I retched and threw up again, then again. My whole body was repulsed. Morning sickness. But also sickness at the thought that I hadn’t run far away enough. That I was back at square one again.

I flushed the toilet, stood and examined my red face in the mirror. I rinsed my mouth, fixed my hair and told myself to get a grip. And then I went back to the living room and looked it over. I’d have to move, preferably at the crack of dawn tomorrow. I had packing to do. I had enough money. I’d go east, leave behind the daffodils I had planted in the window box, and I’d just vanish. I’d need clean clothes, and to do something different with my hair maybe.

They say pregnant women can have incredible nesting instincts, when required. Well, it was required now. It was time for some serious housekeeping. I’d start with the two bodies spread out on my living room floor.