43. Chapter 43
It takes a couple of minutes for me to get enough feeling in my legs to stand. I help X up. “You’re perfect.”
She grins like she already knows. “So are you.”
“Let me wash your hair.” I scoop up the shampoo and squirt out a handful.
“Mmm,” she moans as I massage her head. “That feels so good.”
Her hair is amazing, long, dark, sleek. Sexy. So is her walk, the way she swaggers, her cockiness, her fearless attitude. Nothing hidden. Nothing fake. She’s exactly what I needed to shock me out of my inertia. Any other woman I’ve been with changes to suit me. But not X. She says she’ll wipe up the milk as soon as she spills it, but I know better. I think of our future. Think of how we’ll clash. Fight. Fuck. So much passion. I can’t wait.
She gropes around for the bar of soap and I hand it to her, then she runs it over my chest, outlining my muscles, then my abs, then further down. I grab her hand and take the soap. “We don’t have time for this. Your pop’s waiting.”
The satisfied glow disappears as guilt appears in her eyes. “I forgot,” she whispers.
I kiss her quickly. “It’s okay. He’s fine.”
She nods. “You’re right. Finish my hair.”
I laugh as I rinse it off. “You could finish it yourself.”
“I don’t want to.”
We soap her up first, then once she’s clean, I shove her out of the shower. I’m hard again, so fucking hard my balls hurt. I wait for the door to shut behind her, then start jerking myself. I close my eyes and picture her tight little body, perfect tits, the way she struts. Her pillowy lips around my dick sucking, blowing. In my mind, I take her deep, force myself down her throat, stay there until she starts to struggle. Me fisting her hair, shoving hard again and again, then coming in her mouth, forcing her to swallow. Cum spurts out of me and my knees buckle. Fuckin’ best hand job of my life.
X is sitting on the bed when I walk into the bedroom, dressed in jeans, and a long-sleeved tee. She’s combing out her wet hair with her fingers and when I approach, her eyes roam over me. My groin tightens again as she zeros in.
“Stop,” I say, tapping her cheek as I walk by. “I don’t got three in me.”
“Three?” she exclaims. “How d’you figure that?”
I wink at her. “Had to jack off in the shower.”
She purses her lips. “You’re using yourself up and that’s not fair to me.”
I drop the towel and slide on a pair of underwear. “Couldn’t be helped. Was thinking of you on your knees sucking me off.”
She covers her ears. “Stop! God hears everything you say.”
I yank on clean jeans and zip them up, then stride to her and haul her to feet. Gripping her arms I pull her into me and whisper, “I made you swallow my cock, then when I came, I made you swallow that too.”
She pushes off my chest and steps back, her face flushed. “Jesus. Stop talking like that.”
I slide my hand between her thighs and grip her crotch. “Or what?”
“I’ll come.” She grins impishly.
I can’t help but return it. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in my life.
She bounces on the bed then pulls me down on top of her. This time, she takes the initiative, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me hard. Then peppering small kisses over my face, my neck.
Her hands start to roam and I grab them. “Stop. We gotta go.”
“I know. Get off me,” she says like it’s my fault we were on the bed.
I shove on a long-sleeved tee, my holster, gun and cut. “Let’s go.”
“To the bakery first. Gotta get some food for Pops.”
I think of the calzones that no one’s eating because the cafe is closed. “And us. We gotta eat too.”
When we get to the bakery, X fills a bag with assorted pastries, some sandwiches, and of course, calzones, then we head to the hospital.
We’re almost at the doors when we hear a sharp bark.
“What the fuck?” Spot’s sitting next to the entrance, his tail wagging, his tongue lolling.
“Spot!” X yells, running to him. “You’re here!” She drops the bag of food at the same time she drops to her knees.
Spot seems more interested in the goodies inside the bag than the hug X is giving him.
“How’d he get here?” I say as I snatch the bag off the ground before Spot can nose his way inside it. “I thought you lost him in Reno.”
“I did,” she replies bewildered. “Last I saw him, he was on a bus.” Then she says to Spot, “How did you get here?” As if he’s going to explain himself.
No big surprise when he doesn’t.
I sigh as I look at my bike. What the fuck am I going to do with the dog?
X reads my mind as she gets to her feet and swipes the dust off her knees. “He’ll wait outside. He knows we’re here so he won’t leave.”
“Yeah,” I nod as I open the door. Spot slithers by me.
“Oops,” X says as she darts after him.
I rub my forehead. This is my life now. “Fuckin’ dog,”.
A security guard is already barreling towards us and the front desk nurse looks up in dismay. “You can’t bring that dog inside.”
The security guard stops abruptly when he sees my cut. “How can I help you?” he says politely.
I like it when they don’t try to be heroes. Saves me from bruising my knuckles.
I nod at him, then turn to the charge nurse. “Paul Belmonte’s room number.”
Unlike the security guard, the nurse is less accommodating. She raises her voice. “I said you can’t bring that dog in here!”
I watch as Spot’s tail disappears around a corner. “What fuckin’ dog?” I growl as I lean on the desk. “I asked for Belmonte’s room number. Now!”
“But…” The nurse looks uncertainly between me and the guard. I watch as X strides down the hall and disappears around the same corner Spot did.
I sigh. “Forget it.”
I follow X and the dog around the corner.
Spot woofs when I catch up to them, then heads inside a room. “Pops?” X says as she barrels in after Spot.
Paulie’s up, sitting in a chair, hospital garb on him. But he looks good, color in his face, eyes lighting up when he sees X.
“Ximina,” he says, catching her in his arms as she hurtles herself at him. “I was so worried about you.” He looks past her to me. The hostility’s gone. “Thank you,” he mouths.
I walk over and sit on the edge of the mattress next to Spot who’s already laying on the top of the bed, his tongue lolling, his tail thumping as he fixates on the bag I’m holding.
“Jesus fuck,” I say as I open it and hand him a calzone.
“Language!” Paulie snaps.
X draws his attention back to her. “Are you okay? Say it honest. I’m not a little girl. I can take it.” She pulls up a chair and squeezes his hand.
“I’m fine. Gotta start eating better and exercising more.” His eyes fixate on the bag I’m holding. “What’s in there?”
“Nothing!” X exclaims.
“Give it over,” Paulie says gruffly.
“Reaper!” X scolds as I hand it off.
“Stop it, Ximina,” Paulie says gruffly as he roots through the bag and comes up with a corned beef sandwich. “I’ll start the diet tomorrow.”
My stomach growls, but it’s gonna have to wait. I got some fuckers to kill. I stand. “I gotta go. This ain’t over, Paulie. Needs finishing.”
Paulie nods. “Yeah. It does.”
X stands and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her head against my chest. “Be careful.”
“I promise,” I reply as I untangle myself and give her a lingering kiss.
“Hey!” Paulie interrupts. “Get going!”
I look at both of them. “I might be a while.”
“It’s okay. I’ll stay here with Pops and Spot.”
I grin. I have every confidence in the world that X and Spot will be here when I get back.
The security guard is talking to the charge nurse when I get to the lobby. “Spot’s a therapy dog,” I tell them.
The nurse opens her mouth, but the guard gets out in front of her. “No worries. He can stay as long as he wants.”
“Respect, brother,” I say as I fist pump him on my way past.
In the parking lot, I call Hangman.
“Where the fuck are you?” he bellows, more belligerently than usual.
“At the hospital,” I say in a reasonable voice. “You track down Moliter yet?”
“No thanks to you, asshole. We’ve been waiting on you before we move in!”
Fucking Hangman. He could start an argument in an empty room.
“Where?”
“We’re at the warehouse that Moliter’s stooges took the mouthpiece. Good fucking thing you left one alive. I got him to call Moliter and tell him the exchange went through, then we gave him a proper send-off.”
“On my way. Half-hour,” I say grimly, then hang up, get on my bike and speed towards Reno.
Red and Eight are leaning on their bikes. “About fucking time,” Red says.
As soon as I’m parked, Hangman storms over to me. “You got the biggest stake in this, so you get first dibs. I don’t give a fuck who you take down but keep your hands off Moliter. He’s gonna meet his maker in the chamber.”
“I got no problem with that. Where’s everyone else?”
“Keepin’ an eye on the farm.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I say thinking it’s a new code everyone forgot to tell me about.
Hangman stares at me like I’m an idiot. “It’s a fucking place where they keep horses and shit.”
“Oh,” I reply. I really gotta think up some better comebacks.
We ride out in typical formation, Hangman leading, Eight on the tail, me and Red in the middle, side by side. It’s a twenty-minute ride that seems longer because my blood lust grows with each mile.
Hangman throttles down first, then we follow suit. A glimpse of chrome in a stand of trees gets my attention. Hangman heads towards it. When we pull up, Joker’s leaning on his bike, arms crossed, shades on. Lookin’ too fuckin’ relaxed for what’s on the menu.
“Where’s everyone?” Hangman asks as he gets off his bike. He never wears a helmet, jokes that it messes up his hair.
“Spread out. Mothman’s out back with the scope. Hash is with him and ready to move in. Two of Moliter’s men are guarding the back door.”
“Dead men,” I mutter.
“Rider and Trigger are covering the right side.” Joker jerks his head towards a derelict barn. “They’re inside. Nothin’ but stink, they say.”
“No sheep then,” Red remarks. “So Trigger won’t be distracted.”
Eight’s lips quiver.
“King and Rocky are covering the left, in the trees.”
“And Blood?”
Joker sighs. “Still at the brothel. Cheetah tripped on her stilettos and fell into a wall. Nosebleed.”
“Therapy. Fuckin’ waste of money,” Hangman mutters.
“How many inside?” I ask.
“Coyote says four. Can’t be sure any of them are Moliter or the wife,” Joker says.
“Why the fuck not?” Hangman snarls.
“The drone picks up heat signatures, not faces,” Eight says.
“Useless.” Hangman walks up to the edge of the grove, looks at the house then walks back. “Two men out there, keeping guard from the front.”
Joker nods.
“So counting the stooges at the back, eight in total,” Red says then grins at me. “Math, in case you weren’t sure.”
Hangman ignores him. “Reaper and I’ll go through the front door.”
Joker tosses me the coke. “Gotta look legit.”
“Eight, Red, you cover us until we’re inside.” Hangman says. “Give us a minute, then shoot the fucks outside. Joker, get Mothman to take out the fucks in the back, same timing. Then everyone moves in. Anyone get in the way, shoot them or stomp them. I don’t give a fuck which. I want Moliter and the wife alive.”
Joker nods. “I’ll line it up.”
“Let’s go,” Hangman says to me.
Hangman and I announce our arrival, bikes full throttle, braking hard, spewing gravel. The assholes on guard pull their guns and aim at us.
Hangman’s expression could wither a wheat field. “We got your boss’s fucking coke. And you know we didn’t come alone, so put your fuckin’ pieces away and let us get on with it.”
They lower their weapons. One of them, cigarette in mouth, motions towards the door with his head. “You mess with the boss, I’ll shoot you in your fuckin’ back.”
Dead man walking.
We stalk inside like we own the place.
Moliter’s in a chair, legs crossed, looking like he’s about to head out on a holiday. Two of his men are standing behind him, holding weapons on us. That’s three. If Coyote is right about how many are in the house, there’s still a fourth guy somewhere.
“We got your coke,” Hangman says as I hurl it at one of the assholes behind Moliter, sending him off-balance as he catches it.
“Why are you personally delivering it?” Moliter says coolly. “That wasn’t the plan.”
Gotta hand it to the cocksucker. He has balls.
“Girl’s still missin’,” Hangman lies.
“And my men?” Beads of sweat break out on his forehead.
“Left them where we found them. Not much use to us if they don’t have the girl.”
Moliter stares at Hangman with distrust in his eyes. “I don’t have the girl.”
Weapons crack outside, a man screams, a thud out front. Moliter and his men are momentarily distracted.
It’s enough for me to shoot the two bastards behind Moliter. One I catch between the eyes, the other gets a hole in his heart. They don’t call me Reaper for nothing.
While I’m ridding the earth of vermin, Hangman pulls his gun and presses it against Moliter’s forehand. “Why don’t you got the girl?”
“Look,” Moliter says with a quiver. “None of yours were killed, so why do you give a fuck?”
Hangman’s volatile, doesn’t like being fucked around. I can see it in his eyes. If Moliter opens his mouth again, Hangman will kill him. Not the plan, not what I want.
“Hangman,” I say. “Back the fuck off.”
He stares at me like he’s thinking about shooting me too, then takes a step back and cocks his weapon. “Right.”
“Anyone else here?” I say to Moliter as I relieve him of his piece.
Moliter shakes his head.
Hangman punches him in the head. “Don’t fuckin’ lie, you prick.”
“I’m here,” a soft voice says from behind us. We whirl around, guns aimed in Lorraine’s direction.
“Don’t hurt her,” Moliter says. “She wasn’t involved.”
Hangman decides this is the time for a life lesson. “See,” he says to me. “This is exactly what I mean. Fuckin’ women make you weak.”
“Focus, Hangman. You can give your dad lecture back at the clubhouse.” I walk over to Lorraine, twist her around, then shove her against the wall and search her. No weapons.
Eight and Red barrel in the front door like stampeding buffalo, guns waving in the air. “We’re here!” Eight announces in case we missed their entrance.
I shake my head at him. “Red’s makin’ you stupid.”
We all turn to look at Moliter and I see any last hope he had left die.
Good.