Dangerous (12 page)

Ryan

Ten minutes later and I’d told Amy I was popping out to the store. I knew it wouldn’t take long—when I worked for Max, we’d always met at a salvage yard under the bridge. It was only ten minutes’ walk from my apartment building. We’d done it that way for years. It wasn’t nostalgia that kept us low-tech; no, it had more to do with the risk of using cell phones.

I knew from watching associates’ mistakes that a picture message could be retrieved from my cell even if I’d deleted the message. I couldn’t take that risk, for obvious reasons, even if I was reasonably sure the cops weren’t onto me. Nor did I see the point in throwing away my cell after every job. Max saw things the same way.

I found myself humming as I walked along; smiling at the memory of Amy in my arms just moments before. We were practically living together now, I realized, an idea that didn’t feel as uncomfortable to me as it should have. She was just…

I shook my head. If Max had seen me then, humming and smiling and daydreaming about some chick—well, he might have had his explanation for my hesitation about this job. But infatuated as I was, I knew then that that had been foolish. I wasn’t getting out of the business. How could I? What would I do at the age of thirty-three; go work at a gas station? I’d like to see the look on Amy’s face when she met me after work in my uniform. Maybe I could give her my greasy uniform baseball cap to wear.

Wasn’t. Happening.

I stopped at the chain-link fence at the back of the lot. We’d chosen this place for its separate entries as well as its isolation. We’d never been followed or marked before, and I knew that had a lot to do with our caution. I was ex-military—it came naturally, even though. I just thought of threats that other guys didn’t.

That was another thing that had rankled me about this new client of his. I’d never met the guy, but his approach was enough to make me suspicious. Spending hundreds of thousands on jobs he could have done for half that money? It just wasn’t savvy. I didn’t want to be linked to somebody like that. I might be one of the best operatives in the city’s murky underground, but I could almost guarantee only a handful of people knew I existed. And even fewer than that knew where to find me. I preferred to keep it that way.

But this guy... I pursed my lips, the feeling of hesitation returning.

I lost my train of thought when I saw a movement to my side. I pivoted immediately, reaching for my holster. It wasn’t like this was City Station—nobody came here; at least not in daylight. That was why we did.

I squinted, reasoning that it could be a hobo who slept late in one of the discarded concrete pipes at the edge of the lot. My heart was pumping. I’d never seen a hobo move that fast, though. I stepped backward, glancing behind for cover. I cursed to myself as I realized the closest pile of old metal was several feet away. Had I really just walked in there, daydreaming, without paying any attention to where I was going?

Seconds later, I relaxed. I even forgot my self-doubt. The weather cleared and I realized that I recognized the figure who’d stepped out of the cover of the disused shipping container.

Max walked out from behind a disused shipping container, shielding his eyes from the low winter sun. With his sleek tailored suit and blond hair, he could easily be mistaken for some wholesome Hollywood hero. If you didn’t know him like I did, that is. What can I say? Looks can be deceptive.

“You called?” I said, walking toward him slowly.

***

Max’s voice reverberated round and round in my mind, long after the sound of his shoes had died down and the only thing I could hear was the rumble of traffic over the bridge.

I didn’t know how long I’d been there, just silently staring at the water as the weak sun rose higher in the sky. I was dimly aware of the need to leave—not through any risk to my safety, but because of the documents I was carrying. I patted the envelope in my pocket and then froze.

I’d done it so often that it had become like a procedure. But this time it was different. I shook my head and glanced around. That picture of her, in this context—I felt like it was burning a hole in my soul. But there was no thinking to be done.

Do it clean.

I heard him, over and over. And he was right. We weren’t talking about a normal client here. There was no option to call back and tell him sorry. No. This guy was big league. He wouldn’t stand for it.

He wants to meet you first.

I glanced at the crumpled post-it in my hand, soggy already from sweat and angst. Crazy thoughts ran through my mind like I had a fever? I glanced dumbly at my hand. If I scrunched that piece of paper up and threw it in the freezing murky water, then… I stared numbly at the water, knowing the answer. The answer was the same, no matter how far-fetched my ideas.

The answer was always the same.

If I didn’t do it, somebody else would.

Ryan

Amy quivered. Her pupils were so dilated that her eyes looked inky black in the dim light.

My hand closed around her throat.

Why? Why him?
I asked her silently in my mind.
Not you.

Oh, Max had said it wasn’t a domestic, but I wasn’t an idiot. Amy wasn’t a criminal. Or a junkie. There was only one possible explanation. And it made me want to hunt him down and…

She smiled down at me and rode my cock even harder. I closed my eyes and groaned. My hand tightened.

Could I?

I cursed her for ever getting involved; cursed myself for letting myself fall for her. It would have been so easy to just walk away when I had the chance. Now? I was fucking screwed, every which way.

Amy gasped; giggled. I opened my eyes and loosened my grip on her throat.

“You like that, baby?” I whispered.

She nodded.

Could I do it? I tightened my hand again. It was either her or me, now. If I didn’t kill her, they’d come after me. And I could do without that shit-storm. And who was she anyway?

I felt tears prick at my eyes for the first time in a long, long time. I hadn’t cried in years. But the thought of taking her life was having a strange effect on me. I didn’t care about anyone or anything anymore. That was what my reputation was built on.

Why was I reacting like this, then? I hadn’t even hurt her, yet I was consumed by guilt and sadness.

I looked up at her objectively. I’d known her for barely a month. It was lust. That was all.

She twisted her head, pulling away from my grasp. And I let her—for now. I watched. I was just thinking with my dick, was all. Because, fuck—she was a good lay. But she wasn’t the only one. I’d survived thirty-three years without her, and I’d survive another thirty-three. If I let her live, that was a different story.

But was that it? Survival? Was that enough? A month ago, I would have shrugged. What did I care? Wake, eat, kill, drink, sleep. That was my life. A never-changing rota with no room for spontaneity.

What had changed?

She looked down at me, still bouncing on my cock. Her eyes were wide. Innocent. But the fire that burned inside them was not. She burned with desire for me, so strong I could see it written all over her face. She smiled and bit her lip.

It was her. She’d come into my life.

She’d knocked on my door one night and refused to be kept out by the walls I’d put up around myself. That was what she’d done. Not only that, but she’d brought her quirky, cute unpredictability. Let’s go for a walk at one in the morning, she’d suggest when we couldn’t sleep. A month before I would have asked why. Now, though, I was shuffling out of bed before she’d even finished suggesting it. Because it was what she wanted to do.

I thrust my hand between us, finding her swollen clit with my fingers. She cried out as I stroked and teased her, not losing her rhythm even when her cunt clenched around me.

Fucking hell, it was enough to tip me over the edge. No, not tip—throw. I grabbed her hips and pulled her tight to me, thrusting as deep into her as I could. She squeezed herself around me as I came, sending me to a place I don’t think I’ve ever been before.

I threw my head back and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing we could stay like that. It was so simple. If only life was the same.

But it wasn’t. I had a choice to make, and neither option was pleasant. But only one path would lead to my survival. Which made it a no-brainer—no matter how much I hated the idea of harming her.

It was time to stop thinking about it and just accept it. I had no choice.

Amy

“Ben! No! Don’t!” I woke with a start, my hands held out in front of me. Blinking in the darkness, I fought to hold onto the memory; fought as hard as I could. But it just trickled away like sand through my fingers; gone before I had a chance to unlock its secrets. For all I knew it was just a meaningless dream.

I sat up, hugging the comforter to my naked body. The dream was gone now, but its feelings still remained. I glanced behind me. Ryan was asleep, turned to face me like he always did in the night. Why was I dreaming about Ben when I had Ryan in my life? I didn’t know.

Dread and gloom hung over me. I didn’t know why. I was happy with Ryan. Happier than I’d ever been with Ben. And I knew that wasn’t just me trying to distance myself from Ben in hindsight.

He’d left me alone in the hospital and had never even visited to tell me it was over. But was I surprised? We’d only lived together for a few months, and it hadn’t exactly been a wonderful honeymoon period. He worked late nights in the brokerage. Often I found myself at home alone with nothing to do. We’d moved to the other side of the city, away from Julia. I’d lost count of the number of nights I’d spent in front of the TV, alone with a microwave meal for one.

I’d go to bed and he’d come home while I slept, crawling in beside me stinking of smoke and alcohol from whatever bar he’d gone to that night for client drinks. At least when I’d lived alone in my studio, I’d been close to my best friend.

So I knew that even if the home invasion hadn’t happened, we probably wouldn’t have been together for long.

That was why I was confused by my dreams. Even awake, whenever I thought of Ben, I felt this enormous dread. I guessed it was grief at the way we’d broken up, because it sure as hell couldn’t have been grief for our relationship.

I glanced back at Ryan. He was nothing like Ben. He made me feel good. He made me want to pounce on him every time he walked in the damn door. Why then was I still dreaming about Ben? I shook my head. The crazy thing was I was starting to feel guilty, like I was somehow betraying Ryan by dreaming about somebody else.

I sighed and lay back down, listening to the regular sound of his shallow sleeping breath. I knew it would take hours for me to drift off.

Ryan

I kept my eyes closed even though the first
beep
of her alarm had woken me. I was a light sleeper—always had been ever since they trained me to be that way. I’d wake at the slightest noise in my apartment or near it. Sometimes it bugged me, like when a neighbor’s dog barked, or somebody upstairs slammed a door too hard when I’d just managed to switch my mind off after an intense job.

Or I had to face my girlfriend, whose jerk fuck of an ex-boyfriend had hired me to kill her.

I tried to concentrate on my breathing, keeping it light and steady as she tiptoed around the room collecting her clothes for the day. In. Pause. Out.

Anything but think about what I needed to do.

I couldn’t put it off any longer; that was the truth. And I needed to accept that—for both our sakes. I thought of the scrunched up paper in the nightstand, irrationally hoping that all of the times I’d screwed it up might have made the ink fade. No such luck—petty accidents like that didn’t matter to guys like him.

No—it had been too long. I needed to call him before he lost patience and decided to track me down himself. Sure, only a handful of people knew of my existence and where to find me, but I had no doubt that if he didn’t know where I was, he had the resources to figure it out.

Amy padded back into the room after her shower. Even with my eyes closed I could picture what she was doing, a towel wrapped around her and doing little to restrain her round tits. I was one step ahead of her, her footsteps confirming my knowledge of her routine.

A quick towel dry of her hair in front of the tiny mirror on the dresser. Then she pulled open one of the creaking drawers and took out the mascara and powder she’d stashed in there.

I smiled at the memory—she’d seen the look on my face and told me that she was taking a damn drawer and not to get all pissy and precious about it because it didn’t mean she desperately wanted to get married. She just needed some damn storage space because of the amount of time she spent here. The funny thing was I hadn’t been freaked out at all.

Remembering that ruined my train of thought; so much so that it took me by surprise when she brushed her lips against mine—just like she always did if she was leaving when I was still asleep.

I must have jerked in surprise.

“You awake?”

“Mmm,” I muttered, pretending I was still half asleep.

“Okay lazy,” she said, and I felt a flutter in my chest as I heard the smile in her voice. I loved it when she teased me like that. “I’m going to the library. Back in a while, okay?”

“Mmm,” I said again.

I wanted nothing more than to reach up and pull her back into bed beside me. That I had more than enough money to take care of us both, despite what she thought about my taste in furnishings.

But it was too late for that.

I didn’t regret taking the call from Max; if anything I was grateful. If I’d turned down that job, then she wouldn’t have just gently closed my bedroom door to keep from disturbing me. I wouldn’t be able to smell the subtle scent of her perfume in my room.

No, if he’d hired someone else, my life would have been as empty and as pointless as it had always been.

I opened my eyes when I heard the front door slam, relief and guilt flooding through me. I couldn’t look at her now without feeling a stab of pain with the usual lust and need.

It was too late for money now—I couldn’t buy myself out of this. Oh sure, I could have run for the Caribbean or some other far-flung island. But you think he wouldn’t find me there?

The way I saw it, I had two options.

Do the job.

Or get killed and she’d die anyway.

Whatever I did, it’d work out the same in the end. I closed my eyes, delaying the inevitable for as much longer as I could, even if I could only put it off for minutes more. I wished for the millionth time that I’d never gone to Tully’s that night.