CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EIZO
“How long are we going to sit out here staring up at this shithole?”
Michael turns towards me in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t like being disturbed when he’s listening to his classical composer bullshit, but I’m in serious need of action. We came here for a hit, not to spend twenty-four hours stuck in this excuse of an automobile sipping on lukewarm coffee you wouldn’t feed to your dog.
Michael’s brown eyes focus on mine in the darkness. “Did you know Schubert was given the nickname ‘Little Mushroom’ because of his height?”
I hate his endless trivia. “I think we covered the whole you’re-taller-than-me thing when we were kids, didn’t we?”
We might be brothers, but in almost every aspect of our life we’re polar opposites. That is, except for the fact we’re DiLuccas, born from a long line of professional hitmen. This was supposed to be a simple gig. We could’ve had this broad when she was with the big footballer guy, but Michael didn’t want it like that. No, he likes things clean, all tied up nicely with a bow—no witnesses. “Enough with the history lesson. What are we doing?” I point out the window up at her apartment. “I ain’t seeing any signs of life up there. This is a lost cause.”
Michael leans over the steering wheel and stares up at the apartment. The streetlight catches his face and I realize he’s really starting to grey out up top. The buzzcut doesn’t help We’re getting old, but we’re still the most reliable hitters in Vegas. Fuck it. Maybe the world.
“If you’re so concerned about it,” says my ever-insightful brother, “why don’t you go up and have a look around?”
He knows I can’t resist a challenge, so I shrug, “Sure thing, asshole.” I pop open the glovebox and take out the kit and a flashlight.
It’s midnight as I step out, but the temperature doesn’t feel like it’s dropped since midday. I mean, we’re from a fucking desert and this is still fucking hot.
I loosen my collar as I cross the road, scanning to make sure everything’s nice and quiet as I come up the stairs to her apartment.
I take out the kit and look at her door number. Lucky number thirteen, hey.
I make quick work of the lock, slowly pressing inside and taking out the flashlight. It soon becomes clear the broad’s gone. She’s gone and she left in a real fucking hurry.
I come down the hall towards the master bedroom, the .22 holstered by my side is itchy, but as I step in I know she won’t be here magically asleep. That would be too easy—pop her in the head. She wouldn’t even know.
I sort through the drawers and kitchen, but there’s nothing to go on. “Where are you, baby?” I question, light between my teeth as I hunt through a strewn pile of lingerie beside the bed.
It’s a pity, really. This girl’s attractive, sort of understated. She’ll be wasted as a corpse. Hell, I could have had some fun with her before putting her to sleep, but that’s not Michael’s MO. He’s all about getting in, getting the job done and getting the fuck out. That’s how we’ve always done it. Michael wouldn’t have it any other way.
Empty-handed, I slide back into the passenger seat. He continues to listen to his fucking medieval drivel.
“Well,” I announce, “do you want to know what I found or not?”
He stares ahead. “What did you find?”
Wise guy. “Fucking nothing. She’s gone. We’ve been wasting our time.”
Michael considers it. “No friends in the area, no cell since a week ago—This one’s going to be tough, brother.”
“You’re telling me.”
I sense Michael isn’t telling me everything. He’s the one who gets the jobs from the Don, and all the details. Unlike me, however, he doesn’t take everything as gospel. He can’t shut up that big brain of his sometimes. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts. You getting soft in your old age?”
He licks his lips, perpetually dry. “I don’t know. You heard the spiel we got from the Feds. If I was a betting man like yourself, I’d say it was the customer she screwed over who put this whole thing into motion.”
Our contact in the FBI managed to slip us the interview recording the broad gave. She says it was a client she refused who’s responsible, but I’m not buying it. I shake my head. “Who fucking cares whether she did this or didn’t do that. The Don wants her dead and he’s paying us very fucking handsomely, as always, to put her in the ground.”
Michael nods to himself, but I can tell he isn’t convinced.
His cell buzzes. He takes it out and scrolls through the message. His eyes become keener, his posture straightening.
“Good news?”
He smiles. “It’s Bobby’s friend from back home, the one who works for that AC company here. It seems he might have a little lead on where our friend is hiding.”
I can’t help but smile back. “A-fucking-men.”
SAM
“Temperatures are expected to soar again today as the third week of this record-breaking heatwave continues to grip the city. Blackouts continue to spread, from Santa Monica to—”
Chance reaches over and takes the remote, switching off the TV. “Tell us something we don’t know.”
We’ve got three fans in the trailer now given the lack of air conditioning. Morgan’s had three techs come to look at it so far this week. I can’t say I appreciated having strangers hanging around the trailer, but then again, another week of this and it’ll be the heat that kills me.
I’m almost disappointed Chance has woken up so early. I love watching him sleep, the tempest calmed, the child caught within that slight smile he always has when he’s dreaming. He said my name last night, softly whispering “Sam” as he slept.
“You’ve got training in an hour,” I remind him.
He rolls over and pulls one of my legs over him, his cock hard and ready. “An hour, you say?”
For a moment we do nothing but watch each other. I study the jade cosmos in his eyes, the light stubble around his chin.
“You still having trouble sleeping?” he asks.
I nod. I barely sleep these days. I can’t stop the stream of thoughts cluttering up the highway of my head. Every time I close my eyes I picture those two men following us, the gun, a bullet cutting through me, through Chance.
He leans in and I’m absolutely powerless. “I can help, you know.”
“By sexing me senseless?”
“If you like.”
Why not? It helps me forget, being with him, helps me to step outside of myself if only for a moment.
We kiss. It starts slowly, like two lovers coming together for the first time, before giving in to our passion.
His lips fall upon my own. They meld together, his hand moving to my leg.
I lean into the kiss, wanting to consume him, to take everything in.
I hold his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
My breathing increases and I’m suddenly, hotly aware of my heart beating, my pulse rising swiftly.
I run my fingers up the back of his head, slowly raking them through his hair as our tongues meet and roll between us. They tumble and move together in the heated ocean of our mouths. All the while his hand continues to climb up my thigh, moving into the hot darkness beyond.
My legs part under the blanket. There’s a distinct pull of excitement at my core, gathering and building. I’m wet as his fingers fall into the crevice of my sex and seek my center. The kiss remains unbroken, but quiet, above, each of us trying to keep noise to a minimum even against the constant hum of the fans.
I’m burning up. It’s suffocating in here, my body building up a steady sweat under the sheets, my arousal rising between us in a tsunami. I want him so badly it hurts, an actual aching.
My pussy pulses, beating in time with my temples.
I pull away just enough to catch my breath. My lips are on fire, my mouth suddenly dry.
My hand runs over his hard abdominals heading south fast.
His lips move up the side of my neck, leaving a moist trail cooling as the tip of his tongue finds the seashell of my ear.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispers, breath hot on my ear, his finger probing into my pussy. It slips in to the second knuckle. I give a small gasp.
A second and third finger follow, folding together and stretching me out, rolling and twisting in the slickened sauna my slit has become.
He whispers into my ear while he fucks me with his fingers. He tells me every microscopic detail of his touch. I follow the clip of the syllables, head lolling against the pillow.
I spread my legs wider as his joined fingers continue to slide in and out of my body. He curls them inside me, adding the pad of his thumb to my clit and moving it in soft circles until I can barely keep my ass on the seat I’m wriggling so much.
A thrum builds inside me, my hand caught against his chest. I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation. He holds my neck, supporting me while my climax nears.
I’m unbelievably wet below, the folds of my sex open and pressing moisture against the sides of my thighs. My clit throbs under his thumb. I lift my hips slightly to meet it, trying to hold back a steady need that threatens to overwhelm me at any moment.
I clamp my teeth together, worried a sudden scream is about to come from my mouth that will wake everyone within a ten-mile radius.
“Come,” he whispers, working faster. “I want you to come all over my fingers.”
The need to release is so strong my body actually shakes against the mattress.
His fingers curl up inside me in a come-hither motion, thumb adding additional pressure. I come, bucking off the bed, biting down as hard as I can and gushing against his fingers. My pussy clenches against him as he moans softly into my ear. Clench, release, clench, release, completely out of my control until the fire that has just crested across my vision fades and his fingers exit from my hole.
I can’t think of a relevant word. My body is numb, bones gone.
I try to hold on to the feeling as long as I can, but it begins to fade, reality returning once more.
We kiss.
We kiss and hold each other until the sun breaks through the trailer window.
It’s going to be a hot one.