Gettin' Dirty (13 page)

Conor grins at me as he extends his hand towards the shaking girl. “You can go first, Lucky, my boy—if you want.”

I stare hard at him for a long moment, and my absolute hatred is about to spill over. I can barely get the word past my teeth. “No.”

“What? You want sloppy seconds? You want your dick in my cum?” he asks with a laugh.

He knows I don’t do the rape shit—or really anything beyond killing women. I don’t like that shit.

“I’ll kill her, there is no reason to torture her or hurt her any more than we have to,” I say as I look at the girl.

“You fucking pussy. Fucking loser pussy,” Conor says loudly to my back as I shove him to the side and put the barrel to the girl’s forehead. “Well, go ahead.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but trust me this is a kindness.”

Her eyes scream in terror at me, and I know she doesn’t understand what I mean about this being easier. If Conor has his way, we would be here for a day just torturing and abusing her.

She suddenly jerks her head back and then her eyes go completely wide as I almost pull the trigger. Something doesn’t feel right to me so I whip around and see Conor standing there with his own pistol aimed at my chest.

I feel the two slams into my chest before I hear the blasts from his gun. It sends me back, and on top of the girl, as I bring my own pistol up and shoot at Conor. I hit him in the shoulder—not the head I was aiming for—as he dives out of the bedroom and into the hall.

Fuck me.

Fuck me,
it hurts so fucking bad, right in the middle of my chest—right where my heart is. My vest saved my life.

I stand up from the girl and try to get out into the hall, but a bullet tears a corner off the door frame. I slam the door shut and take in my surroundings. There is a door leading out to the back balcony. I yank the sobbing girl to her feet and push us out and into the cold air. I see stairs leading down to where the pool is to my right, and I see that the balcony leads off towards the left to a dead end.

I rush us down the stairs. I can hear the door to her bedroom being shot through, and when the shots stop it sounds like he is trying to kick the door down. Running with the girl in tow, she’s too slow to keep up. I half drag her before I give up. I stop just long enough to turn around and sweep her up. Throwing her over my shoulder, I take off.

I run through the trees and out towards the street. Not a fucking soul in sight except for a black car coming down the street. I pull my mask back down, concealing my face.

I step into the middle of the street with the girl over my shoulder and smile as the driver pulls to a stop right in front of me.

I must look like something out of a movie or something because as I walk around the side of the car, I see an old woman staring at me in terror.

I’m still holding my gun so I point it at the window and motion for her to get out. Now this woman must be dumb because my ass would have hit the gas, ducked down and got the
fuck
out of there. Nope, not her—she is shaking as she steps out of the car.

Conor is probably going to be here soon. I really need to get the fuck out of here.

“Thousands of people die every day, ma’am. Don’t make yourself one of them tonight,” I say quietly to her then motion for her to move
the fuck out of the way.
“You should run back home now or wherever you were coming from.”

I drop the girl in front of me and muscle her into the driver’s seat. I push at her ass and she crawls away. Jumping behind the wheel, I step on the gas. I let the motion of the car shut the door as I accelerate down the street.

Five blocks later, I reach over to the girl—who is looking around herself in terror—and grab her seat belt. Pulling the belt over her chest, I buckle her in.

“If you want to continue living, you need to keep quiet and not distract me for the next forty-five minutes.”

This is crazy, everything is fucking crazy! The man who just strapped my seatbelt in, the woman who let him take her car, the asshole who wanted to rape me! They are all fucking crazy! And I am crazy with them…

I don’t understand any of this!
I try to scream out but the words only come out as a sob behind the gag stuffed in my mouth, the duct tape tightly holding it in place. The cloth in my mouth tastes like a t-shirt, and the way it’s pushing against my tongue makes me want to gag. I can’t take much more of this; I just know it. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and snot is running down as I keep breathing deeply through my nose.

I think they killed Mario and my new stepmother, but right now I can’t be sorry for them. I want to be sorry, and I know it makes me a bad person not to be, but I want to live and keep living. This tall, dark-haired man didn’t let that greasy nasty asshole rape me and then kill me. This man who was giving me that blank look as he told me this was a kindness…
A kindness
. How could he think dying was a kindness?

I turn my head to the side and look out the window, trying to see if I recognize where we are, but I don’t. This is a new city for me, and Mario didn’t exactly let me explore.

We are going fast though, really fast. I look over at the man, and he has pulled the mask off of his head, his dark hair is all over the place. His eyes are switching from the road in front to the rearview mirror as he takes a few more turns. Then we are on a highway and he is speeding way faster than I would ever think to drive.

Looking forward again, I try to control my breathing, but the gag is making it harder and harder.
Has anyone ever died from just being gagged?
I wonder, and then wish to goodness I hadn’t. My panic is slowly creeping into my head again, and this time I don’t know how to fight it.

My hands are still bound in front of me, and I guess he was thinking I wouldn’t be able to use the door handle to jump out. He strapped the belt over my hands and I can’t get to this stupid fucking gag. I can’t take it, and I finally turn to him and start yelling against the piece of cloth that is shoved in my mouth.

He looks to me, and from the lights overhead as we fly by them, his eyes are full of anger and annoyance. Oh god, maybe I should have just stayed silent! Now he will want to kill me! Fuck! Shit!

He opens his mouth to say something, and that is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I gag on the cloth and I start to wretch
hard
. My stomach is going to vomit up all that I have inside me, and I will fucking choke to death.

God, I want to live, not die. I want to keep quiet and not distract him, but I can’t help it. I am so scared, and this cloth is hitting me wrong. I heave again and I can just tell the next one is going to be
it
. I want to be a good and not be a distraction to him, but I don’t think that is going to happen.

My head is between my legs when all of a sudden I feel a hand on my shoulder. The hand pushes me back up. When I look over to see if he has his gun ready to shoot me, he pulls the tape from the side of my mouth and quickly tears it completely off. It hurts so bad, but it’s even worse when he pulls the cloth in my mouth out. Because—and I don’t know why I notice the small little flowers on the cloth—I know it’s the dirty panties I put on top of my hamper right before I took a shower.

“I need…” The man says in a deep, rich voice before I talk right over him.

“Oh god, oh god, that… those…”

“I really need to concen…” he starts.

Nope, I can’t shut my mouth now. “Those… those are my dirty panties.”

I look down in my lap, at my hands bound tightly with tape, and I don’t even feel the vomit exiting my mouth. I really don’t.

“Shit,” he curses quietly, and I can feel the car slowing considerably down as he pulls us off the highway.

I hiccup a couple of times and then I do the next, most logical thing for me to do—I break down into tears, sobbing loudly. I can’t help it anymore. I have been living in terror for the last five years, and now it’s even worse. I am riding with an assassin.
My assassin.
And I just fucking puked in my lap.

Mario, that son of a bitch, has put me in this situation. That sick, sadistic fucking madman made me pray for my eighteenth birthday for the last three years. For when I would finally be an adult, and I wouldn’t have to stay under his roof anymore. I didn’t care where I ended up, all I wanted, all I
want
is to finally be away from all the drugs and the killers. Away from the prostitutes and the threats that he would give me what I was supposedly asking for.

His son was even fucking worse, which should have been impossible. Sonny, that mean bastard, beat every girl he had a chance to do it with. He even tried it with me when I was younger, but I tried to stab him one too many times and he finally got the message.

The dark greasy-haired man called this guy Lucky, and Lucky is saying a lot of curse words and muttering to himself while looking about ready to puke himself.

He turns to me and the says, “You couldn’t have chosen a better distraction… Even if you tried to jump out of the damn car.”

I am ashamed to admit I didn’t even consider that, though I doubt I could have done it. I try to take a couple of deep breaths, and it seems to help, as I look over at him with snot drooling down my nose—puke all over me—and my cheeks soaked with tears. I bet my hair is fucking horrible looking to boot.

“I promise to be good, please don’t kill me.”

C
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