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“Yes, Daddy. I’m done.” It’s the truth. That last orgasm nearly had me needing CPR.
“Okay then. Daddy has to go. You be good. Be safe. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. Bye for now, my Babybear. Daddy loves you.”
“Bye Daddy. I love you too.”
With that he clicks off. I reach over and replace my glasses, let out a long exhale as I wait to be sure my legs are going to be able to get me back downstairs.
5
Stas
The silence in the basement room of the abandoned warehouse makes every drip an avalanche, every cough an echo that bounces off every wall.
Brown water leaks from cracks in the crumbling cinderblock, while the hanging lightbulb casts long shadows across the face of the client sitting across from me, the musty odor of mildew mixing with the gallon of cheap cologne he must have showered in before arriving.
The meeting place is near the defunct Rouge Steel Plant in downtown Detroit. Not a vacation destination, but safe for our needs and a location we’ve used before.
Once my last details were secured, the information about the meeting point was delivered to the client who we’d instructed to wait in a rental car about an hour away for the final instructions. He took his sweet fucking time getting here after that though, which did not get us off on the right foot.
I don’t know all the details of what he’s done to require my services. I treat everyone the same. Knowing too much puts me in more danger and it could influence my decision making.
Malcolm gives me the information I need and no more. He’s in this, same as me. Make our money and keep us as safe as humanly possibly given our profession.
And more so than ever, I want to get in, get this job done and get out.
We’ve been sitting here about five minutes in silence. The details of his new life spread on the table in front of us. He looked through the packet after I handed it to him and now he’s just staring at me.
I won’t speak first. Whoever talks first loses.
Patience is something I learned a long time ago, and I can do silence better than most. I fold my hands on the table and stare him down, breathing slowly and evenly like I’m watching a ballet instead of the pock-marked face of a man who needs a new life.
I can read people, and sitting across from me is a man straight out of a ‘how to become a sociopath’ instruction manual. Even with all my talents, I’m having a hard as fuck time concentrating.
All I can think about is getting back home. That never fucking happened to me before. I’d be gone weeks, sometimes a month or more, and never think twice about ‘home’.
That place was a house, a place to lay my head and store my shit.
Now? It’s fucking home to me. And all I want to do is get back there.
I want to fill the seven bedrooms with kids, to plan Christmas and Thanksgiving and all that shit. And, fuck, I know that leaves me vulnerable, but I don’t see a way out. Not yet.
I’ve dealt with the dark side of humanity before in my line of work. But never have I felt this level of arrogant evil coming from anyone. It’s a dangerous combination.
“You and your boss have over-promised and under-delivered.” He picks at his fingernails for a moment while keeping his dead shark eyes on my face. His gray suit matches his hair and the blood red tie matches the ruby pinky ring he twists and taps on the table. He also has this annoying habit of humming after he speaks.
I do not waver. I do not look away. And I do not miss even the slightest twitch of a muscle or shift in his body language.
It’s not fear, it’s survival, and never have my survival instincts been this heightened. Not just because he feels like the most dangerous son of a bitch I’ve ever encountered. No, I could handle that.
It’s that I have so much more to protect now. I never gave a shit about myself before. That worked to my advantage.
Now?
Fuck. I have everything to lose. Everything I never thought I would have. And keeping myself safe is part of that package.
Not for me.
But for her.
Always for her.
“I’m delivering your ass back to you. That’s what we promised. The wrapping paper around it isn’t to your liking? Tough shit.”
I keep my answers simple because I’m not fucking here to argue. Take the package or leave it.
“I told your boss my needs. You’ve met nearly zero of those.” He takes a white handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit and blows his nose like a trumpet. It takes a hella effort not to roll my eyes, but this asshole is unpredictable and I’m calculating my every breath around him.
