Love and War: Part One – Chapter 24

I catch the 9mm he tosses at me, staring at it. He requires all runners to wear one and he changes them out regularly, even though I’ve never had to use it. “I need you to take care of it. No runner steals from me and gets away with it. His three days to bring me my fucking cut is gone. I’m done.”

I pull back the slide to see if it’s already loaded. It is. I run my hand along the barrel, letting my fingers caress the metal, the pattern causing me to close my eyes, to memorize it just like I do with each one.

Since I moved up to his personal distributor from small time selling on the streets, I’ve dreamed almost every night of putting a bullet between her eyes. I want so bad to watch the blood drain from her body, beat by beat. I’ve thought up so many different ways to do it. How I would dispose of her body.

Patience. The state worker sticks her nose in too often to do it right now. I have to wait. Wait until I’m out of the fucking system. My day is coming, and when it does, I’m sending that bitch to Hell and then I’m going to play in her blood.

“Kross, did you hear me?”

I glance at Damien sitting comfortable in his large leather chair, his suit pressed and clean. The smoke from the Cuban cigar billows around his tan cheeks and silky black hair. “You want his head?”

An evil grin spreads along his face. He puts down his cigar in the ashtray and stands, one hand twisting the gold ring on the other. He walks forward, resting his hand on my shoulder. I flinch. He retracts instantly. “We’ll save that for your second kill. This time, just bring me those gold teeth my money paid for. That’s proof enough. I trust that you don’t want to betray me and take his place. Do you want to know why I chose you, Kross?”

I holster the gun in the waistband of my jeans and pull my shirt over it. “Why?”

“When he brought you along to pick up his supply, you had that crazy look in your eyes for something darker. I knew you were better than running dime bags on the streets. You belong at the top. Why let others control you when you can control everyone else? Look at this,” he says, holding out his hands to everything around him. “You could have all this. All you have to do is put in your time with me. When the day comes for you to leave, it’s up to me whether I let you go. If you do right by me, learn what I’m willing to teach, then you’ll walk away a king. You may be just a kid, but I think you were meant for this. Some walk in the light. Others rule the shadows.”

My soul is blazing. My skin is crawling in ways I’ve never experienced. My mouth is watering at the thought of stealing a final breath, stopping a beating heart. “He’s running. How do you want me to find him?”

He turns and walks to his desk, placing his cigar between his lips. He grabs a folder from a drawer and drops it on his desk. “My PI has enclosed all of the details on where you can find him. I don’t care how you do it. I just want it done. I have a reputation to uphold.”

I stare at the folder. “Okay.”

His grin returns as I step forward to pick it up. “If you make it slow and painful, there will be a hefty bonus waiting on you when you bring what I asked for.”

I grab it and start for the door when his voice halts me. “I’ll only warn you once, boy. Don’t get caught. And if you do, I don’t exist. Name, face, location, information—it’s forgotten. You know nothing. Second chances aren’t given. And I choose people that won’t be missed.”

My teeth clench together. I nod once and leave the room. My moment for revenge has come. And I’m going to enjoy every brutal second.

It took me three days to decide how I wanted to do it. I mapped out where he was at what time. I watched him, and I waited. His stupid ass is at the drop house. The one place I wouldn’t be caught dead if there was a hit out on my head.

I peek through the window. He looks around, before pulling a duffel bag through the floor, returning the floorboards to their place. He unzips it, pulling a stack of cash wrapped in a rubber band out, and then puts it back. I slip through the window. His head snaps up, a flashlight shining on me. “Fuck, Kross. You know better than to sneak up on someone in the dark. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Look, man, I’m relocating. You’re going to have to find another supplier.”

He grabs the duffel bag as he stands, turning his back on me. I blink, letting his shoulder become her face as I pull out my knife. I focus like I’ve done a thousand times, targeting the place I want. As he arrives at the door I throw, the blade of my knife slicing through his shoulder. His knees buckle, but he stands back up before hitting the ground.

My eyes become transfixed on him as the blood runs in lines down his back, staining his shirt in red, his arm immobile. I’m pulled back to the present when he turns, the end of the barrel staring at me. “What the fuck?”

My adrenaline spikes when most people would likely fear. I’m not scared of dying. Dying would probably be a peaceful alternative to the life I live. But I sure as fuck am not going down by a smalltime dealer that can’t even aim a gun at a kid without it shaking uncontrollably.

I withdraw mine and pull the trigger before giving him an answer, the bullet blowing through the front of his working shoulder, sending his gun flying out of his hand. “I’ve already found another supplier—the same one we’ve been using this entire time—and it looks like you’ve pissed him off.”

His eyes go wide. “Damien sent you? He doesn’t deal directly with runners.”

I shrug. “I guess it’s good to know who you’re stealing from.”

He turns and tries to run, but I storm forward and rip the knife from his shoulder, grabbing his shirt and jerking him back. “Look, kid, let me go and we’ll split what’s in the bag. He never has to know. I was just going to borrow it for someone and put it back. I wasn’t stealing.”

I spin him around and push him against the wooden door, stabbing my knife through his shoulder and the wood, holding him to it. He screams out. “If you didn’t borrow it with his permission then it’s stealing, motherfucker.”

I grab my backup knife from my boot and stab it through the other shoulder, pinning him to the door. “Fuck! Please! Let me go.”

I laugh, seething through every word as rage takes over. “It’s too bad for you I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” I pull the pliers from my back pocket, looking at them. “If people were smart they would think about shit before they do it. Everything has a consequence.”

He looks down at them. “What are you going to do with those?”

“A few things have been requested.” I shove open his mouth, my hand gripped on the handles of the pliers, the teeth clamped down on the correct one. Without hesitation I pull, ripping the gold tooth out by the root. He screams through it, calming the constant hatred that suckles from my soul. One by one, I remove the ones of value, feeling a little more relieved with each. Blood pools in his mouth, spilling over like a waterfall.

His head slumps over from the constant groans of pain. He begins to cry as the stench of shit burns my nose. “Just do it. I can’t take any more. To just be a kid you’re a fucking demon.”

I grab my gun and shove the barrel against his cheek. “Is this what you want?”

He nods, but instead of giving him what he asked for I remove one knife from his body and slice down his front, ripping him open. “Guns are noisy, and messy. A bit impersonal for me. I prefer to watch you die.”

I rear back and drive the knife through his gut. A once breathing body becomes lifeless. I watch his eyes change as it does. It’s something I’ll never forget. I pull the knife out and stare at it under the dim light of the flashlight on the floor. For the first time in my life I feel powerful, relieved, and all of the control is finally mine. I’m not the one in pain, but the one inflicting it. It’s intoxicating.

I collect my knives and wipe them on his shirt, sheathing them on my body. I secure the payment and grab the duffel bag, along with the flashlight. I squat before him after pulling the lighter from my pocket and strike it, holding the flame to the hem of his shirt.

I watch it slowly burn up his front, picking up with every breath of oxygen it takes, the heat blanketing my face. I memorize the way he looks burning, the smells wafting through my nose, and with every second that passes I know this may be my first kill, but it won’t be my last.

With the rise of the flame up the door, I know that I can’t stay anymore, so I stand, slowly backing away, before hightailing it out of the house quietly.

As I walk through the field a smile pulls from each corner of my mouth, and for a moment everything within me is at peace. There is no pain, no fear, no loneliness, and no memories haunting me. Everything is silent. And even if it doesn’t last, the temporary break from madness makes it all worth it.

I open my eyes to an empty bed. I sit up, looking around my room for her. The sound of water splashing filters into the room from the bathroom. My hands wipe down my face, trying to pull me from the grogginess.

The clock reads 6AM but it feels later. My head is pounding. My body is tired. My mouth feels as if it’s been swabbed with a cotton ball. I feel like I have a hangover without drinking a drop of alcohol. The bitch sucked me dry at the shop. I’m positive I’ve never had sex more than once in a given week until her, let alone day.

I’ve never been a big drinker of anything, but at the moment I feel like I need to consume a gallon of water. The need to hydrate has never been so strong.

Last night. Fuck, I don’t know what last night was. I’ve never been as fucking horny in my life as I was last night. Watching my dick disappear in her mouth drove me wild. Every time my head hit against the back of her throat I wanted to nut. The way her tongue swept along the bottom while she sucked me hard was my undoing. But what made me snap was her moaning around my dick while she masturbated. I’ve never witnessed anything like that and I’ve been on this earth for a long time.

My hand runs through my hair while my feet hit the ground. Right now, my head wants no part of sex, but the hard member attached to my pelvis says that’s a lie. I make my way across the room and open the door to the bathroom. It’s not locked.

I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. She’s staring at me from the bathtub, bubbles covering everything but her head. “What are you doing?”

She smirks, one brow rising. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Get out. I have something to show you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Kross, I just got in. I physically need to soak. Can it wait?”

“No.”

She glances at my dick, the corner of her lip slipping between her teeth. I push it down, my boxer briefs doing little to keep it hidden. I’m pissed it’s still hard. “Jesus. It’s not sex. Last night never happens. I need to refuel. And I wouldn’t have changed the schedule for that anyway. I don’t work like that.”

She makes no movement to get out, my irritation growing. “We have shit to do. Come on.”

“Are you going to shut the door so I can get out?”

“So you can lay there? Not a chance in Hell.”

“Oh, my god, you’re ridiculous,” she says, before standing in the tub, water sloshing around the inside. Her body is covered in bubbles, but before she steps out, she rakes her hands down her breasts, baring her nipples, eyes locked with mine. I clamp my jaw shut, physically forcing myself not to look but able to see anyway.

She grabs the towel in her hand and steps onto the rug, wiping her face as she makes her way toward me, body bare and glistening from being wet. She turns to the side and steps through the door, her hard nipples brushing against my arm, one by one.

Before she gets too far I grab her arm and pull her back, slamming my lips against hers. Breaths heavy, hearts pounding, thoughts racing, I force her back to the bed, pushing her down. She works my briefs down as I roughly fall on top of her, her legs instantly wrapping around me. I push inside of her. “I fucking hate what you’re doing to me.”

I pound into her, letting my aggression out. I can’t deal with bottled-up anger. It makes me want to kill, like I once did so often. Since I started working for myself, I don’t allow myself to take a life unless someone fucks me over. Bodies turning up are an unnecessary risk I’m not going to take without a cause. I have too much to lose.

Her head rolls back against the mattress, her fingers pulling at my hair. “Well, I fucking love what you’re doing to me,” she says, and as my eyes meet hers, my heart slows and my thoughts die down. My movements become deeper and more controlled, my abs slowly contracting with each roll, everything becoming less erratic. Everything inside of me feels foreign, unpredictable. I’m not sure what that means.

My thumb traces along her bottom lip as I grind against her, massaging deep inside of her. Her palms are shelved on my tense shoulder blades, her feet propped against the back of my thighs, holding me close. “Hell, yeah,” she whispers. “Don’t stop.”

“My control is slipping. That’s not good for you. I need it.”

She pulls my lips close to hers, brushing her bottom one up both of mine. “What do you need from me?”

I blink, trying to clear the haze from my head. The way she looks at me is too much. It causes me physical pain. Every scar is burning, feeling like they’re slowly being ripped open. Anger, control, hatred—all those I can sort through. But this . . . This intimacy. This constant fucking need to be in her. This obsession with wanting her in my sight nonstop. All of those things I’m having trouble grasping. It’s slowly destroying my sanity.

I grip her ankles, pushing her legs back to angle her toward me, and then I finish what I started. She arches into me, and the second she clamps that tight pussy around me I blow, my chest heaving.

I pull out, trying to get up, but she meets me on her knees, holding my face in her hands. I don’t flinch at her touch anymore, but I’m still not used to it or to the point that I welcome it. Touch is something I’ve only ever had in pain. It’s reflex to stay away from it. Since I’m grown I’m not sure I’ll ever want it. “Kross,” she says in a short tone. “Tell me what you need. I want to understand.”

My eyes scan hers. My fists pump within my palms. Everything screaming at me is to close off, to shut up, and to keep her out. She’s an outsider. I begin to pull back, but she follows me, her voice softening. “Please.”

And then something happens that never does. I want to let her in. And I have no idea how. “I need to take a job. I’ve cut back since you freak out at each drop. I haven’t taken any new clients. I’ve postponed meetings. You act like I don’t notice, but I notice everything. No detail slips by me. Study, silence, it’s what I’ve done my entire life. I need to work. It’s a part of me. It keeps me balanced. But I can’t—”

My mouth shuts. “You can’t what?”

“I can’t leave you behind,” I admit; a confession that is going to fuck me over at some point. I know it.

She closes her eyes. I stare at her, unsure of what exactly she’s doing. I don’t understand women. People fear me. I know this. I have the reputation that I do because I’m thorough, never back down, and keep to myself. I also serve as my own justice system when needed. I don’t hire people like Kaston to do my dirty work. I dirty my own hands. But learning how to interact with people is something I’ve never done. I have reflexes and instincts. I don’t have emotional understanding. Body language is a language I don’t speak, and I speak many.

She opens them and stares into my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Then take me with you. I’m ready. I know you won’t let anyone hurt me. I trust you.”

Every muscle in my body relaxes. The back of my hand runs down her chest, my fingertips brushing over her erect nipple. “Do you still want these pierced?”

Her breathing becomes labored. “Yes.”

“Tonight, after work. Right now, I have something to show you. Follow me.”

Then, I turn and walk out of the room, underwear in hand, leaving her there, on my bed, naked and flushed. I need space. Because I’m about to do something I’ve never done with anyone else. I’m going to teach her everything I know . . . starting with a gift.