Beautiful, Naked & Dead (Moses McGuire) (19 page)

“I know you want me,” she said.

“No question about it, but…”

“You still don’t get it. I could have any man I want, and I choose you.” Whatever else I had to say was lost in her kisses. Logic lost the battle against hunger. In the dark I explored her body like a blind man. My hands felt rough on her supple flesh as I ran my fingers down her back, feeling every ridge and valley of her finely toned muscles. I tapped my fingertips down her vertebrae until I came to the tip of her tail bone. Cupping her succulent tush, pulling her tighter into me, the blood rushed out of my brain in a steady exodus down south. Licking small strokes around her areola, I sucked her nipple into my mouth and felt her swelling with desire. Sitting up, she straddled me, her thigh hit my wounded leg. Hot pain roared up.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” she said with real concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, never.” I clenched my jaw and let the pain subside. Rising up onto her knees, she wrapped her fingers around my penis and led me inside her. Lowering herself slowly down onto me she let out a small gasp, paused and then took in a little more.

Gently rocking back and forth she settled all the way down on me. Gripping her hips I found she was light enough for me to lift her up off the bed, then pull her back down onto me. Wildly she pressed down in a quickening rhythm. “Come on Baby,” she called out, willing me to come. She pressed her wondrous body against mine until I could hold back no more. In a rush of release I roared and whimpered, filling the room with my strangled animal sounds.

Leaning down she brushed tears from my face. Tears I didn’t even know I’d cried. “Now you’re mine,” she said, kissing my tears. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, pulling my head into her chest she stroked my hair and let me cry. The weight of my life rushed through me, all that I had lost, all that I had never had. I lay in the darkness, unprotected and safe.

CHAPTER 13

“Y
ou’re a pig,” Piper said. I was dressed and drinking a cup of coffee in her breakfast nook with Angel curled up at my feet when she came in. From the back of the house I could hear Cass in the shower. “You fucked that little girl. In my bed. Don’t you have any shame?”

“I guess not,” I shrugged, not able to meet her eyes.

“God damn it, Moses, she’s a baby. She can’t even legally drink yet. What the fuck are you thinking?” Her eyes bore into me, killing the glow of the morning.

“I wasn’t, it just happened.” She was correct, I had broken a cardinal rule; don’t eat the young.

“No, flat tires, runs in my stocking, those are things that happen. This you did. So you finally got to fuck Kelly, or at least her proxy. So how was it? Everything you dreamed of or just another lay?”

“Come on, Piper.”

“Does little miss fine ass know you like to dry hump me when you’re horny?”

“I need a ride to my car,” I said.

“Fine.” She shook her head and picked up her keys off the table. We left without another word, what could I say. I was sorry I hadn’t lived up to some picture Piper had of me? I was just another guy like all the others?

In Highland Park Piper dropped me off around the block from my house. “I want her and that dog out of my place by the time I get off tonight,” she said.

“Done.” Somehow I’d stumbled over a line she had drawn in the sand. She drove off without looking back. Limping around the corner of my street I spotted a Lincoln Town parked in front of my house. No goons leaned on the hood with tommy guns waiting for me, they were probably in my house frying eggs and playing Frank Sinatra on my stereo. Keeping low I slid into the passenger side of the Crown Vic. Purring it to life I drove off like just another neighbor going off to work, thankful that out of a paranoid habit I always parked two doors down. I drove over to York Boulevard to a small clinic. Dr. Pikia, a compact older woman with a thick Indian accent, ran it. She accepted cash, and never asked too many questions. I was sitting on the table with my pants down around my ankles as Dr Pikia unceremoniously ripped off the blood soaked gauze bandage Piper had put on my thigh, taking the fresh scab and a patch of hair with it. The gash from the wood spike was angry and oozing blood. She swabbed it out with iodine, then cleaned the wound left by the drill bit. I closed my eyes fighting to think of anything else. Cass’ fine body filled my head.

“You will be needing stitches,” the doctor told me, injecting a syringe full of Novocain into my leg. With numb detachment I watched the needle thread my flesh wondering how many times I had sat here or in another room getting myself patched back together. Rolling on my side, she spiked my rump with a tetanus shot and told me to keep the wounds clean and come back in two weeks. We both knew I wouldn’t be back unless I got ripped up again, I knew how to take out my own stitches.

Cass and Angel greeted me at Piper’s door. Cass started to give me a big kiss but I pulled away. Crouching down I let Angel lick my face and ears.

“I came out of the shower and you were gone,” Cass said, trying to get a read on my mood.

“I had to get stitched up.”

“Do we have to have that awkward moment where we pretend we didn’t make love?”

I couldn’t answer her. My mind and groin had very different opinions on what my next move should be.

“Piper told me to watch my step with you, said I could trust you with my life but not my heart.”

“She could be right.”

“She’s jealous.”

“No, she’s looking out for you. Now get your things and let’s roll.” When she left the room I called Helen and told her I needed a favor.

“You want me to watch Angel? Bruiser missed her at the park this morning. That fat slob laid around pining for her.”

“It’s bigger than that, can I come over?” She gave me her address in Silverlake. I started to leave Piper a note but could think of nothing worth saying. I loaded my strange little crew into the Crown Vic and purred across town. Cass slid across the seat, slipping her head under my arm. Angel wanted to be in the middle of the affection, she crawled onto Cass’ lap and put her head on mine.

“I have to go back to San Francisco, take the war to them.”

“Good, it’s time we made them pay.”

“Baby girl, this whole deal is about to go sideways. And I don’t want you on board when the wheels come off.”

“You’re dumping me again?” she said quietly. “Is this about this morning, didn’t you like me?”

“It sure as hell isn’t that. I have to put you in a safe place, I told you I can’t do what I have to and worry about you at the same time.”

“I can take care of myself. I can help you.”

“No, look, you’re the only hold card I got. They find you, and I’m screwed.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” she said, setting her jaw.

“You don’t have a choice. I’m not taking you.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“Look, bitch, you have got us both on the fucking chopping block,” I spat out. Angel crawled onto the floor to get away from my rage.

“You love me, I know it.” Cass searched my eyes, seeking the truth beneath my words.

“I don’t know what I feel. Right now, I’m going to make this shit right. Then we’ll see what we see.”

“And if you don’t come back?”

“Then pack your bags and hit the border.”

“I’m your girl. Tell me I’m your girl.” Her eyes pleaded, “Tell me.”

“You’re my girl,” I said and I might have meant it.

“Then I’ll do what you say. But if you die on me I’ll haunt your ass into the next life. I’ll go to New Orleans and have the chicken man turn you into a zombie. So you better not die.”

“That’s one hell of a threat,” I said with a laugh.

“Laugh if you want, but I’ll do it.”

“I bet you would.” Nuzzling her head into my chest we drove on. She was an amazing girl, a mixture of contradictions. Hard and soft, old and young, hot and cold. She touched me deep down inside, maybe I could live up to the man she thought I was, maybe when this was over I could take her down to old Mexico, rent a house on the beach and find out who we were without the threat of death hanging over us.

Helen lived in a terraced house in the steep hills overlooking the reservoir, it was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright with classic flat roof lines, clean boxes stacked into the hillside. When Helen opened the door, Bruiser bounded past her and me, dropping to his forepaws he barked at Angel, egging her into a game of chase. Helen let out a high whistle and Bruiser bounced into the house followed by Angel. When I introduced her to Cass Helen stared at her face.

“She’s Kelly’s sister,” I told her.

“No, really? You look more like Kelly, than Kelly did. We were good friends, I miss her too much for words.”

“She wrote me about you, she loved talking to you,” Cass said, I knew she was lying but it lit Helen’s face up, so I let it pass.

“Can I get you two some coffee, the goddess caffeine is my one true love.”

“No, listen, some really bad men are after Cass. I need a safe house for her until I can straighten it out. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“What sort of bad men? Moses?”

“Bad enough.”

“The less I know, the better, is that it? What the heck, is this one of my screenplays come to life?”

“I won’t be any bother, I promise,” Cass said, with a coy smile that almost sent Helen giggling.

“Of course you won’t. I have a guest room I never use and I’m on hiatus so I can use the distraction. But it’s all so mysterious, you sure you don’t want to tell me more, Moses, so I don’t have to drag it out of this sweet girl?”

“Let it lay, and when it’s all over, I’ll tell you about it,” I said.

“Every gory detail.”

“You got it.” Cass followed me out to the car for her suitcase. Wrapping her arms around my waist she hugged her head to my chest. I could feel her trembling in my arms. Leaning down, my lips met hers, we stood there kissing, as the sun sparkled on the water below us. Pulling myself away from her I kissed her forehead, got in and drove away. In the rearview mirror I could see her standing in the street, shoulders slumped, she stood there until I rounded the corner. I had to shake her from my head. No room for soft memories where I was going.

On Hillcrest I pulled into a liquor store and bought a pint of Seagram’s and a bottle of ginger ale. In the car I mixed a drink and pulled my whites stash out from under the seat. I needed the jangle and the edge, I needed to wash Cass from my mind. I wanted to run back to her, fall into her arms, make love until dawn and then drink rich coffee while we watched the dogs play. But that was a dream. And I had work to do.

I hit the Pony Express gun shop just before closing. They were out in the sweaty end of the valley, it was a large shop with stuffed dead animals hung across the ceiling. They supplied most of the black powder shooters and re-enactors, folks who liked to dress up as cowboys and play shoot ‘em up. I bought a box of frangible slugs for my .45. They were designed to act like a hollow point while still loading smoothly into an automatic. Under the soft copper casing were four steel balls that split out at impact leaving a deep and wide ugly entry wound. Air marshals and city cops used them because they didn’t over-penetrate, they hit like a fist but didn’t come out the back to kill the innocent. I also bought a length of cannon fuse. From my trunk I took a red highway flare and jammed the fuse into its end. Acme couldn’t have made a better fake stick of dynamite. Crawling back on the freeway I headed for Glendale.

I found the same ugly brown apartment building, pausing at the door I could hear the thump of rap music. I knocked and waited. After a moment the big Armenian opened the door, he didn’t fight me this time, he stepped back and let me enter. The skinny boy in the cast was sitting on his sofa watching rap videos. “What the hell do you want now?” he squeaked. I dismissed him with a glance and focused on the big guy.

“You want some work?” I said, the big boy shrugged, noncommittal. “I need back up, pays a hundred. You interested?”

“Gregor does what I say,” the skinny boy said.

“That true?” I said to the big boy, still not even looking at the punk on the sofa. Gregor shook his head. Grabbing his coat off the back of a chair he followed me out.

“You’re a real chatterbox, aren’t you?” I said, as we drove down Colorado. He shrugged looking out the window impassively. A layer of baby fat surrounded his face giving him a sweet look, his thick black hair was buzzed to a fine fur. The only thing really scary about him was his size and the dull look in his eyes that told you he just didn’t care how things turned out.

“You packing?” I asked, he looked at me like that was the stupidest question he had heard in years. From under his shirt he pulled a matte black 9 mm with a squared trigger guard and a lanyard ring at the base of the grip. It looked more like a tool than the pimped out penis extensions most baby gangsters carry. “What’s that, Russian?”

He shook his head like I was an idiot and handed me the piece. It was Czech, a CZ75. The kid knew his guns I’d give him that even if he wasn’t a sparkling conversationalist. In Highland Park my street was quiet. The Lincoln was still parked down the block. Moving in the shadows I checked out their car, it was empty. Crawling along the hedge I slipped onto my porch. A dim light glowed behind the curtains. Slowly I slipped my key into the lock aware of every click. Striking a match I lit the fuse, it burst into sparks. Popping the door open I tossed the red flare into the room, and pulled the door closed. I waited for a second then burst in sweeping the room with my .45. On the living room floor two mob boys were diving for the flare. They looked up at me stunned. From the kitchen I heard the deep thud of a fist on flesh. The older well dressed thug tumbled into the room and went down. Gregor followed him in, leveling his CZ at the man’s face. Moving between the other two I stepped on the fuse, crushing it out.

“Are you fucking nuts?” Jogging suit said.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Guns on the floor boys, before I have to make a mess I won’t be able to explain to my maid.”

“Do you have any idea who we are?” the sweater boy said, standing up into my face. A backhand sent him back down. “Oh, you’re a dead man. I’m talking to a dead man.”

“Shut up.” The older well dressed man said, wiping a spot of blood off his lip onto a monogrammed handkerchief. The younger man closed his mouth, shooting me daggers with his eyes. “Now, let’s see if there is a way we can all walk out of here with our heads held high. What do you say, Mr. McGuire?”

“That, or I kill you all and call it a day well spent.”

“Obviously that remains a viable option, however, it will only lead to more destruction down the road. So let’s say we put that option to the side for the moment, you can always pick it back up, but for the moment let’s look down other avenues,” he said as cool as a banker working out a loan.

“Do you like scotch?” I said.

“Single malt?”

“Of course.” As an afterthought I bent to pull the sweater boy up, he smiled like I was finally showing him his due respect. Pistoning my arms I propelled him across the room backward. Stumbling over the coffee table he fell sideways onto the floor again. “Kill him first,” I said to Gregor and left him covering the two young thugs, leading the suit man into the kitchen. “Ice?” I said, pulling down my McCallans.