I come to on the ground, slowly opening my eyes and trying to get the stars to stop swirling about like I’m looking through a kaleidoscope. Once I can see clearly, I assess my current situation and what has happened since I blacked out.
I never black out.
What. The. Fuck?!
A car has been reversed up, approximately ten yards from where I lie, and there’s one guy carrying my revenge kill, dropping her into the trunk of his car.
I don’t think so. That’s my body he thinks he’s walking away with. Why is he so interested in my slut?
I quietly get to my feet while he’s busy with the body, and I get ready for another fistfight, because the cocksucker has stripped me of my weapons. Then I see the second guy standing by a tree, puffing on a cigar, dressed up like a 1950’s gangster, full pinstriped suit and fedora with a hankie, who’s holding a flashlight.
What a fucking clown.
I’m not quite with it because of that blow to my head, but it now makes sense why I was taken unaware the second time. Why has my old whore garnered this much attention? What’s the busy bitch been up to? Ripping somebody else off, no doubt. Call me curious, because I know these fools could have killed me. I would have killed me, but they left me alive for a reason.
I should just walk away.
But fuck, now I want to lay my eyes on her and see what all the body snatching is about.
I come up behind the guy who’s about to pull the trunk down. He’s more a run of the mill thug. Jeans, boots, jacket, nothing that stands out in a crowd…not like Bugsy. Naturally, he hears my approach, because I’m not doing a great job of being quiet, probably something to do with nearly having my brains smashed out of my head.
I’m a little off kilter. It happens.
Bugsy Malone isn’t at all perturbed by my advancing on them, so he just keeps right on smoking his cigar.
Trunk guy turns around cool as a cucumber, a handgun with a silencer attached pointed at my head. “Ah-ah-aahhh. Whatever you were thinking, buddy, I wouldn’t.” It comes out all nasally, because he’s copped a broken nose from the whore. He’s even uglier now. Looks like the only job he could sign up for was thug, because he ain’t got anything else going for him. You would have to be blind to want to fuck him. “We know you are a Soulless Bastard. We aren’t going to mess with one of theirs, so make our life easy and play nice.”
What the fuck? They’ve been following me?
“We’ve been following her. Not you.” Then he shrugs at me. “Well, we’ve been tracking you. We knew where you were going when you left Albuquerque; we just used one as a precaution in case we lost you. We slapped one on your bike before you left. We had to make sure you got the letter and then headed on out. We don’t want any trouble, so we’ll take it from here. Think yourself fortunate; she’s now out of your hands.”
Who is this dickhead, and what the fuck is he yabbering on about?
I rub the back of my head, which is hurting like a family of flash grenades have gone off in it, and my fingers come away a sticky, dirt-clogged mess, and that just makes my patience non-existent. “What the fucking hell are you talking about?” I growl out to these motherfuckers, who are trying to walk off with my kill.
He just keeps on talking. “You were the one who was aiming to snuff the chick out.” He shrugs casually again. “My boss wants her alive. William Dupré owes him…big. You would do well to keep your nose out of this and just walk away, my friend. We got no beef with you. We’re just the delivery boys, and we want no trouble. We’ve got a job to do, same as you do.”
I move slowly to the trunk, holding up my palms to show I’m not going to try anything. I want to know who he’s fucking talking about, because my brain is off on its own merry-go-round at the moment and nothing’s making any goddamn sense. “I just want to see why my father decided she was worth his time.”
The gun’s still pointed at my head, but I know he won’t shoot me. His orders aren’t to kill me.
“You fucked her, so you should know why. Did you just say father?” Then he starts laughing. “Hey, Benny boy, this is William’s son. This keeps getting better and better. We got ourselves some father and son action.” Bugsy Malone decides to come around and join our little shindig.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” How did they not know I’m the son of William Dupré, if they made sure the letter was in my possession? They are just the delivery boys, as they stated, so their boss must not deem them high enough to know all the details. That means there may be another party involved issuing orders.
I tamp down my rage. I have to stay calm. If this guy sees me as too dangerous, then he won’t hesitate to kill me if he knows it’s either him or me—fuck his orders.
Bugsy’s pretty confident his accomplice can handle me. He’s standing watching us with his arms crossed, smiling at me with a very confident grin. He’s dark-skinned, and he has extremely white teeth that are going all neon in the moonlight.
“Relax, delivery boys. I just want to see what she looks like.”
Ivory’s looking at me like I got hit way too hard, and that’s gonna have to work for me. “You were the one fucking her in the parking lot earlier, which, by the way, I have told Boss Man she’s everything he could ask for.”
I’m not hearing him correctly.
“What are you talking about?”
“The beauty you were fucking on your bike. William Dupré owes my boss, and he’s now collectin’. You’ve already damaged the package, and he’ll be none too pleased, but if you walk away, there will be no hard feelings.”
I pretend to sway a little.
Bugsy pipes up. “Deano, I think you hit him too hard. He’s lost some of his memory. I sure wouldn’t forget sticking my dick inside this little bitch. That was quite some show you both put on. I could have done with some popcorn.” He actually grabs his crotch and starts gyrating his hips. “I nearly came in my pants watching her performance. Boss Man is sure gonna be pleased with the merchandise.” Then he gives a low dirty laugh as he grabs hold of his dick again.
Yeah, Bugsy, you’ve got balls…for the meantime anyway. I hope he isn’t too attached to them.
Now I’m getting beyond pissed off with all this blathering.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Ebony and Ivory underestimate my attitude towards them. The upper hand, remember? I play a role to get what I need.
I have to see for my own eyes. “Let me just have one last look.” I give Ivory a little sneer. “She was a great fuck.” This couldn’t be Sara. “Don’t do anything stupid because the Soulless Bastards don’t forgive. My president knows where I am, and he won’t give a shit who your fucking boss is.” I give him a warning so I don’t wind up in the trunk when I bend over to take a closer look.
“Keep your panties on. Just take it nice and slow, and we’ll all leave here tonight in one piece,” Ivory says, watching me carefully. He’s the smarter one out of the two, because Benny Boy is really misjudging me. I think that gangster outfit makes him believe he’s bulletproof, but last I knew, Superman was no gangster.
My odds aren’t too good at the moment of taking this guy and Bugsy out. I have no bones with these guys, or with my father’s dealings. I came to exact retribution, and now everything has gone to shit.
Nothing is black and white anymore, except for these two morons.
Ivory shines a flashlight on her face. I rest my left hand on the trunk while the other pulls the hoodie back off her head, revealing her pale face to me.
Motherfucker.
It’s Sara. She’s got a bruise forming on her face and her eye is starting to swell shut. Her shirt has lifted up and there’s a nasty bruise appearing on her right side. She’s out cold. Her chest is moving, so she’s still alive. Her hands are zip-tied together, and there’s fresh blood staining her chest, which means she hasn’t stopped bleeding from my gunshot, and they’ve obviously fucked her up more.
This really gets under my skin, and I don’t know why I’m feeling this strong emotion. If I had a gun, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it on either of them.
Shit, I knew she was lying about her name, but it never crossed my mind my father would hook up with a girl so young.
What the hell is going on here? I need time to process, and my head’s pounding like a bitch in heat. I just want to have a good look at her and see if there’s anymore damage, but I won’t get that time. I’m lucky he’s even letting me do this.
My father was an evil bastard, but something isn’t right here with Sara being Whisper. She’s too young for my father, and she has an innocence about her that was hard to deny. Not unless she’s a fucking award winning actress? You couldn’t fake her sexual purity on my bike. She’s no whore; I would bet my money on that.
So who the ever loving fuck is she, and what did she truly mean to him?
I slowly turn my head and look over my shoulder, putting on my hunter’s face, the deadly one. “Why didn’t you let me kill her? Why does your boss want her alive? To me, she’s worth more dead.” He’s no longer shining the light in the trunk. I hope my questions will distract him while I casually pull my cell phone out from the left front pocket of my riding leathers. I pretend to lean heavily on the car, the movement allowing me the freedom I need to get the phone hidden inside the trunk.
I just hope like fuck she finds it and I can get to my Prez to let him know that nobody is to call that number. I need it to track this car with the GPS in it, not taken off her because it’s ringing away in their trunk. They would have already searched her prior to dumping her in the back. That’s just Kidnapping 101. I should be able to find where she’s being taken.
“Consider her erased from your life. Whatever your beef with her, you got your cock wet, you got to mouth fuck her, and now she’s got a one-way ticket. Boss Man will take it from here.”
This cocksucker is so sure of himself and that I’m just gonna walk away, which puts me in another realm of pissed-me-the-fuck-offs.
Soulless Bastards have a reputation far and wide, but I still can’t wrap my mind around Sara being Whisper and meaning something to my father. She’s living at the bar. She told me that much when we were talking. She hesitated just a split second outside a room, which at a quick glance was feminine, but then she changed her mind before I finger-fucked her in the back room.
Previously, the name Whisper meant a money grubbing old whore, but now...I got no fucking clue what it means.
What am I condemning her to?
Earlier, this was my show, but now I’ve been bought out by another station. Something is seriously fucked up here, my gut is screaming at me. I need to be done with it all, just walk away, and burn the place down, but...something isn’t ringing true.
Why is one of the best fucks I’ve ever had, lying unconscious in the trunk of their getaway car, bleeding from a gunshot wound I’d inflicted? This woman my father had shacked up with should not be a young female, and her real name shouldn’t be Whisper, and she shouldn’t have her name embedded on my father’s last will and testament. She’s supposed to be some old whore, not Sara from the bar, but repeating these facts to myself doesn’t change anything.
I need more answers and information. For now, she’s safe until she reaches their destination while my phone takes a road trip with her. They want her alive, and they are travelling by car, so they won’t be going that far, and they need to keep her alive. My bullet would have gone straight through her shoulder. I was aiming to kill her with my second bullet once I’d talked to her. I’m not sure why I feel relief that I didn’t get that far. If she’s my father’s whore, then she deserves what she gets from me.
But is she?
Jesus Christ, what have I stepped into? Even in death, he’s causing trouble.
My phone is the only lead to finding out who is behind all this and why Whisper is involved.
“Move away and mind your own fuckin’ business.” Ivory’s losing his patience with me. He’s on a schedule, and I’m fucking that up. I can’t win against a gun at close range pointed at my head. I move away and he slams the trunk down. “Don’t even try to follow us.” Then he shoots me in the foot. “Sorry about that. No hard feelings, just doing my job.”
“Mo...ther... fuuuck...iiiing... ass...hole,” I let out a deep groan as I go down on one knee. I had been toeing the line, playing the part, because it was as easy as him pulling the trigger to blow my brains out, and that silencer on the end of his gun would ensure nobody heard my death, but the fucker still shot me.
I know the cocksucker isn’t going to let me watch them drive off. Just to add insult to injury, I have to let him knock me out. Such a predictable son of a bitch as he pistol-whips me across the head.
Just as I’m blacking out, I remind myself to find these two guys. They have just been added to my retribution list.
Yeah, no hard feelings, Ebony and Ivory.
***
When I come to, lying flat on my back, my foot’s throbbing and my head’s pounding, and I find I’m having an inner battle with myself, knowing I should just walk away.
None of this shit is anything I need to include myself in. So she was a good fuck? I can still burn the house down now and be done with it all. So what if my phone is in the trunk with her? I can buy another one.
No, conscience isn’t part of the Soulless Bastards fucking code. Whisper won’t last long under the guy who wants her. She will pay whatever debt my father owed him, and then she will be done for. My world will continue the way it was revolving.
I roll to my side and pound my fist into the dirt.
Fuck!
There’s too much blamelessness surrounding this woman that I can’t ignore. I don’t hurt innocent people.
My foot hurts like a thousand razor blades have been embedded in it as I stand up and hobble over to the house, when I’m distracted by a phone going off. I head towards the sound and find her phone lit up, lying a few yards into the trees. I scoop it up and check the caller ID. ‘Miss Catherine’ is showing up on the screen. I ignore it and let it ring out. I use the phone to first text my president with a code word to let him know I’m going to be calling on an unknown number, and then I call him and organize for nothing to be sent through to my phone. Hazard wants to know how it’s all going because he knows if I don’t have my own phone, something has gone down. I tell him everything just turned complicated, but it will get sorted. He wants to send a brother to help me out, but I decline.
I use the flashlight app to search for her bike keys, but I can’t find them with a quick inspection of the area, and I don’t have the time to search for them properly. They may even have kept them.
I head back to the house. There’s gotta be something I can find out about her inside it.
Blood’s dripping everywhere as I make my way into the house. The front door was left unlocked because apparently she has issues with locking doors behind her.
I had watched and waited patiently for her to come back outside from that house so I could end her life, and my mission would have been completed, but something felt off to me, watching her staring at the garden patch like it meant a great deal to her.
I still didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
If she was associated with my father, then she couldn’t have been good, was my last thought before I laid her out on the ground and the night turned into a free-for-all dust-up.
The house is dark, only barely lit in front of me by the flashlight app. It’s enough to draw my attention to an envelope propped up on the dining table. I hobble closer to see a key sitting next to it.
The envelope is addressed to Dallas Dupré.
A red flag went up when I received my letter from the lawyer, because it was addressed to my new family surname, the one I was given to hide my identity from my father. The check was also made out to Dallas Masson.
Christ, what game is my father playing?
Something was off about the will and I didn’t take the time to follow it through. I flew out of Albuquerque all hot-headed, instead of taking the time to think. That’s a rookie’s error.
I open the envelope and start reading. I can’t read fast enough.
Motherfucking cocksucker asshole!
I shove the letter into my jacket pocket and also pocket the key. I have to get out of this house and get to a computer, but first I have to clean up the blood spilling from my foot, where I had trailed it into the house. I find some dish towels in a cupboard and I take the fucking time to clean up any evidence I have been here.
It takes too long.
Now, I can’t get out the house quick enough as I try to work out where I can find a computer this late at night, so I can track where Whisper is being taken. I didn’t want to let Hazard know about this clusterfuck. I can handle this shit myself. There’s nothing I can’t handle.
My bike’s hidden in the thick trees surrounding the property. I had walked a distance to get here, and that was gonna come back to piss me right off.
I push Whisper’s bike into the trees and then head off on foot to get to my bike.
Time is wasting away. My foot’s exploding with pain as I jog as best as I can all the way back through the forest to my bike where it’s hidden, and get back on the road and ride towards town. I’ve lost blood, and I’m having trouble seeing through the blinding pain from when the second prick knocked me out. Feels like the fucker used a rock on my head.
I’m speeding along the dirt road when my bike’s light picks up a shadow on the side of the road, and then the shadow decides to step out into the path of my bike.
It’s an old lady.
What the fucking hell?
I swerve to miss her at the last minute, which sends me careening off the road into a painful slide.
Jesus Christ, this night just keeps getting better.
I know how to let my body fall so the damage will be less, but it’s still gonna do some damage. My helmet saves my head, and the leather jacket and pants I’m wearing save me from the impact of the ground sliding harshly underneath me. When I’ve finally come to a stop, I groan from the pain in my foot. It’s wedged underneath the bike, which is lying sideways and partially on top of me.
An old face appears in my vision. “I’m Miss Catherine, and I’ll be needin’ your help, young man. I need to find a girl; it’s an emergency.”
“Christ, lady, I’ve just missed killing you and you want to have a chat?” Un-fucking-believable.
Then her name registers to me, it’s the lady who was trying to call Whisper. I struggle to get up and see if the bike is still roadworthy. My response is muffled. “Lady, you should not be out here at this time of night. What the hell are you thinking?”
I take my helmet off, which is wet with blood, and assess the damage, ignoring the little old woman standing beside me, hovering. I stand the bike up and notice the tiny blinking red light of the tracker that has come loose and is lying in front of me. I’d forgotten about it. I pick it up, smothering a curse under my breath. As long as they think I’m not following them, this will work in my favor.
Miss Catherine puts her wrinkly hand on my arm, getting my attention as I look up at her. “It’s Whisper. I know she’s in danger. I was coming to find her. She didn’t answer my call.” I can see she’s agitated. She holds up her phone then dials a number and Whisper’s phone implicates me by ringing in my jacket pocket. It obviously survived the fall. Then she starts hitting me with her little fist. “Where is Whisper?” She takes a really good look at me now, taking in my face and the blood matting my hair, making all sorts of assumptions in her head. She’s also noticed I was hobbling when I got out from underneath the bike and knows I’m hurt. She probably doesn’t know I’ve been shot, but she doesn’t hesitate to step on my foot as hard as her slight body will let her.
“AH! Shit, lady, I’m trying to find out. And don’t do that again.” Fucking hell, she might be old, but she sure is feisty.
She stares me down through the glow of the headlight. “Why do you have her phone?”
“She has my phone,” is the only explanation I’m gonna give this crazy bat. Time is ticking away. “Do you have a computer at home?”
She eyes me up again then answers, “Whisper does. I got no use for one of dem things.”
I can see she wants to ask a whole pile of questions, but we have no time for a get-to-know-each-other chat. I pay closer attention to the little old lady and notice she’s only wearing a nightgown, slippers, and a robe. “Fuck’s sake, lady, you shouldn’t be out here dressed like this.” Whisper must mean a lot to her to have left her home, searching for her without a second thought.
She stomps back down on my foot. “Mind your language, boy.”
Jesus! “Enough!” I roar back at her. This gives her pause to reconsider her behavior with me. She’s now dialling a number on her phone. I snatch the phone away from her and disconnect it before putting it in my pocket. I don’t need this turning into a three-ringed circus.
I can see she’s distraught about Whisper. “Look, lady...you are gonna have to trust me if you want to see Whisper again. Shit went down tonight and she’s been taken by some bad guys, so we’re gonna have to do this my way.” I let what I’ve said sink in. “If I’m going to be able to find her, I need a computer, pronto.” My patience is wearing thin with this woman. Whisper was my enemy, but now I’m not so sure.
“My phone’s in the trunk she’s laying in at the moment, being driven away by bad guys. If I can get a read on where they are now, then we have a chance of getting her back.” If I know a thug’s modus operandi, then they won’t stop until they get her to their destination. They can’t afford for her to die on them, so time’s running out for me to find her. If they find my phone, they will ditch it, and then I will lose all means of tracking her whereabouts.
She grabs hold of my jacket. “Is she hurt?”
Christ!
“Yes. She’s been shot, so I can’t stand around shooting the breeze with you. I can either leave you here to make your way back where you came from, or we’re going to your place. It’s your call.” I should just fucking walk away...but something is grounding me. I think I have grown a fucking conscience. My brain is needling me about this whole Whisper and my father’s will situation. It now feels very orchestrated.
I get on my bike and hiss out a couple more expletives from the pain shooting from my foot when I start it up.
“Lady, do you think you can get on behind me and hang on so we can get to your place without any further shit going up against me?” I need her computer, and I need some answers from this woman. She knows Whisper, and she will make my mind up whether I let her rot and pay my father’s debt, or if she’s an innocent caught in the crossfire and I need my foot looked at as well.
“She could die?” Her voice has turned to steel.
“Fuck, lady, what bit of ‘there’s no time to explain now’ are you not getting? If you’re coming, then get on.” She hikes up her clothing and deftly swings her leg over the bike. Christ, what more can happen tonight? I hand her my helmet, blood-soaked and all.
“Put that on.”