25
After stopping off again to change vehicles for the second time , we’re in a silver station wagon with two surfboards fixed to the roof, and my nerves wound up tightly as we drive closer to our destination. This is a small beach town on the coast and on the way to my childhood home and where my parents still live. Many of the houses in this town are worth well over a million dollars, including the ones without direct views of the Pacific Ocean.
“I’m going to drive past the house casually. I’ll point out the house several yards away, but when we pass directly by, I want you to gaze out at the ocean, so if any of the neighbors see us, they’ll assume we’re heading to the beach. Got it, Rae?”
“Got it,” I reply, inhaling to ease my anxiety. I was less nervous when I worked alone because I didn’t know what to expect and was walking into the murder of Lyons blind.
“I have ski masks in the bag in the back seat, but I’ll tell you when to put one on. First, we’re acting normally, like a couple going down to the beach to surf. Pay the house no attention,” he explains smoothly as he turns down a road lined with modern houses with large front windows looking out onto the ocean.
“Okay,” I bite my lip to steer away the nerves, hoping Blake can’t tell how shaky I am.
“Their street is just up here. The house is white on your right, and the house number is forty-seven. Understand?” he speaks clearly and patiently.
“Yes,” I reply, as the sun is heating up and shining on my face, which already feels burned from the fire. I find my sunglasses in my bag and slot them on my face to shield out the sun's sharp rays and give me something to hide behind.
He turns right, closer to the ocean, and mumbles, “This is the street. Number forty-seven. Look away when we pass by.”
The street has houses on both sides of the road. The houses on the left sit right on the beach, whereas the homes on the opposite side are built higher to give them a view over the rooves of the beachfront houses.
Obsessively, I searched for each letter box until I saw our house, number 47, and as Blake demanded, I turned away just as we drove by. What I noticed, though, is that there are two people: a large man with a snugly fit T-shirt and thick tattooed arms and the other is a brunette woman. They’re sitting on the balcony, drinking and enjoying the sun while gazing at the view.
“That’s him,” I gasp, and my breath hitches, and I start coughing.
“Now is not the time to freak out, Rae,” he says sternly, and I quickly pull myself together.
“That’s him. The Crow. That’s definitely him. The tattoo on his arm – the Crows football team symbol. That’s him.” I compose myself as he drives down a sandy road to the beach and finds a spot under a tree to park.
He switches the engine off, and I wait for Blake to give instructions. Instead, he watches the tide coming in as the sun dances across the water, making it sparkle.
“What now?” I break the silence.
“You’ve got two options for a shot,” he explains flatly. “You can either jump out of the car, place the rifle on the roof, and shoot from there, or try and take the shot out of the window while we’re moving. The problem is that the angle is not great.” He turns to look at me. “What’s your thoughts?”
I swallowed over my raspy throat, but that’s still not right since yesterday's fire. Gabe’s cough medicine isn’t working. “Park the car opposite, and I’ll get out and shoot.”
“You sure?” he asks in a relaxed manner.
“Yeah,” I reply, feigning confidence. “I think I can do it.”
“Alright,” he says, starting up the engine again. “The sooner it’s done, the better. Once you take the shot, you get ass back in the car, cos I’ll be driving faster than a roadrunner running in mating season.”
“Do roadrunners run in mating season?” I ask curiously.
“I have no idea,” he says as he drives off the sandy shore and back onto the road. There are not many people about it, probably because it is a weekday, but the people I have seen are of retirement age, so hopefully, their faculties aren’t so good when they hear the gunshot.
“Run toward their mate, maybe,” I’m trying to take my mind off the nerves causing havoc in my stomach by talking about birds, but as we drive closer to the destination, my mind switches from fear to steely focus on the task at hand.
He pulls up on the side of the road around the corner from where the Crow sits on the balcony and reaches into the back for the bag. He opens it, removes the black ski masks, and then reaches for the rifle bags. He checks that both rifles are loaded and in working order before handing one to me.
“Keep calm and just remember, we’ve got money on your ass to hit,” he grins before pulling the ski mask over his head, prompting me to do the same. “And I don’t want to lose my bet because I’m a sore loser.”
“I’m so pleased that you care more about the bet than my feelings,” I say sarcastically, going along with the joke.
“If you miss, Rae,” he says, starting the wagon again, “I’ll hit. Just remember that. I’ve got your back.”
“Yep,” I reply, exhaling deeply.
“Alright,” the car’s brake is on, but the engine is running. “This is what we’re doing. I’m going to stop the car, and you’re going to get out, place your rifle on the roof, and shoot while I’ll be aiming from here. If you miss, I’ll hit.”
“Okay,” I breathe through my nerves.
“If you’ve changed your mind and lost your nerve, say it now. I won’t blame you if you think you can’t do it,” his voice sterner than before, which is adding to anxiety. I should’ve swallowed a chill pill before leaving Gabe’s house to take the edge off.
“I can do it,” I repeat to assert that I’m confident I can hit my target, even though I’m not sure. I don’t want to let Blake down, but I also don’t want to fuck this jaunt up by missing or hitting the wrong person.
“Okay, I believe in you, Rae,” he says before checking his phone and typing in a message. Then, he puts the car into gear and drives towards our destination.
It takes only a few minutes before we descend on the house, and I can see the Crow sitting on the balcony in a deck chair, chilled out in a singlet and shorts. My stomach turns as I fight away the horrible memories of what he did to me. He was too strong for me and easily pinned me down and raped me hard while the others watched on, waiting for their turn. I vowed at that moment while sweat poured from his face that I would kill him and then dance on his grave.
But I know that it’s not just about me anymore. There are other victims, other girls they lured, manipulated, and raped, then used threats to keep their mouths shut.
With that thought fresh in my mind, I peer through the scope on this long-range rifle and have him in my sights. He’s not looking this way, but as his head turns toward us, I pull down the ski mask over my face. Blake slams on the brakes, and I jump out with the rifle, place it on the roof of the car, and find his head in the scope.
His mouth is open, shocked, frozen in time, as he stares down at us as if seeing ghosts. I squeeze the trigger, and the bullet hits the acrylic glass parapet, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
“Hurry up, Rae,” Blake’s voice is urgent, but I keep my hands steady, and my objective narrowed onto the rapist.
The Crow stumbles backward in fear as I squeeze the trigger again. This time, his head explodes while the window that he’s standing in front of smashes, and I assume that the bullet went straight through his head into the window.
“Done,” I bellow, climbing back into the car, and Blake screams down the road, driving at great speed as I try to catch my breath. I throw the rifle into the back seat as my skin under the ski mask itches and burns from the summer heat, combined with my skin being burnt from the fire.
“Don’t take it off,” Blake warns, “Not until I tell you.”
“I did it,” I gasp, tugging at the mask. “I did it.”
“Well done, babe, you did fucking amazing,” he champions me, and his hands wrap firmly around the steering wheel, heading directly toward where the red sedan is parked in a garage on the outskirts of this sleepy beach town.
My hands are trembling, my heart is racing, and I desperately want to remove the ski mask as sweat pours down my neck. “Yeah, I still prefer my costumes, though. A crow mask and big curly yellow clown wig were set aside specifically for the Crow assignment.”
Blake snorts. “Problem there, though, babe, is if we’re trying to make this murder look like Blackadder’s cronies committed it, they’re unlikely to dress like a clown. Keeping it simple is the best way.”
“Fair enough,” I wave my hand in front of my masked face to cool it down as sirens bleed out in the distance, coming from the neighboring town.
It takes only ten minutes to arrive at the garage, where we pull our ski masks off, jump out of the silver wagon, and climb inside the red sedan with all our gear. In my peripheral vision, a black figure appears from behind the garage, and I blurt, “Watch out,” to Blake before I get a decent look.
Blake cocks his eyebrows at the figure, and when I look again, the imposing figure, dressed all in black, takes his ski mask off to find that it’s Cormac underneath, and he’s carrying a long-range rifle in his right hand.
I open my mouth to speak to ask him where he’s been, but Blake puts his foot down on the accelerator, and we drive away more relaxed than before.
“He’s picking up the silver wagon and will dump it in a field and set it alight,” Blake explains as he drives out onto the open road toward Torres.
“Why was he carrying the rifle and dressed in combat gear?” I enquire, looking at Blake’s face to give me clues.
“Well…” he puffs his cheeks out like a blowfish as that mischievous expression that I’ve come to love washes across his face.
“What? What just happened, Blake?” I demand, knowing there’s something they’re not telling me.
“Don’t get angry, but…he took the shot,” he explains smoothly.
“Cormac?” I question if we’re talking about someone else in this weird reality. “I didn’t know he could shoot.” Then it hits me. “Wait. What shot? My shot? He took my shot?”
“Do you think we would let you assassinate that prick when you’ve only held a rifle for three point four hours,” he explains, half laughing at my huffing and puffing.
“You let me believe I took the shot,” I growl, although I’m not unhappy about it. I’m pleased it was a team effort.
“You were firing blanks,” he smirks with that dimple.
“Oh, fuck. Thanks for that,” I feign irritation when I’m actually relieved because I was not experienced enough.
“He was lying on the roof of the house opposite for the last twenty minutes and had that fat cunt in view, ready to blow his head off,” Blake reaches for the glove compartment and takes out two chocolate bars. Dropping one on my lap. “Eat up, sweetheart. You need sustenance after exerting yourself just now.”
“Ha, funny,” I hiss sarcastically, stifling my smile and avoiding his eye. At the same time, I remain focused on staring out the window at the blue sky as Blake switches the sound system on, and I relax into the seat with a wonderful sense of contentment. Objective achieved. Three out of four are dead, and only one more to go.
I let my eyes close under the sun's glare, a breeze blowing across my hot cheeks. With every deep breath, I fall into a slumber to the sound of the old country tunes that Blake seems to enjoy.
Something wet and bristly strikes my neck, and I snap awake, realizing it’s Blake’s kiss. “We’re here,” he says as he parks the red sedan behind the barn to swap with his old truck. “You’re alright, Rae?”
I nod, biting my lip as he cups my chin and runs his thumb along my plump bottom lip before claiming my mouth. “You did good, Rae,” he whispers into my mouth.
I snort with humor. “It looks as if I didn’t do anything but fire blanks,” I reply, taking his bottom lip between my teeth and biting down hard, releasing a hiss from his mouth.
“Oh, baby girl, you get me hard,” he charms me while those eyes are filled with dirty thoughts. “You oughta give me a helping hand.”
His other hand is tugging at his bulging crotch, pushing against the zip of his jeans.
“Huh,” I snip, batting my eyelashes while biting my lip flirtatiously. I feed him a hungry stare before opening the passenger door and climbing out while he watches me expectantly.
I stride to the hood of the red sedan as those eyes rejoice in me being so slutty, and flirty. As he watches me from the driver’s seat, I slowly, tauntingly, remove my T-shirt to reveal a black lacy bra and move my hands down my flat stomach to the dome of my shorts.
He groans, “Baby girl,” as I teasingly drop my shorts down my thighs and bite my bottom lip before sliding my hand down my panties and sighing as soon as my fingers touch my clit.
I can see over the steering wheel his arm going up and down as he strokes his cock, snarling and grunting as I squeeze my breast with my spare hand, revealing a nipple and circling it with my finger as I dig my fingers further into my sodden core, soaking and horny from the death of the Crow.
I pull my bra down to reveal bother breasts in full and bounce on my fingers, making my tits jiggle, and Blake groans. The sun beats down on my golden hair and bronzed skin as the distant sound of traffic and cattle mooing serenades us. I can smell motor gas and sweetgrass, and Crow's head exploding from the bullet Cormac shot fuels my orgasm—the blood. When the acrylic panel shattered, the look on Crow's face was as if he knew the day had come that the devil had arrived to collect payment for his sins.
Blake can’t stay away from me, too, and I know this. As I push my fingers inside me and gyrate against them, he climbs out of the car, cock straight in from of him, hard and the wet tip pointing towards me.
“Dirty girls need to be punished,” he growls, pushing me down on the hood and plunging his cock inside in one brutal thrust. “Dirty, fucking girl. Dirty killer.” He starts pounding me from behind as my bare breast press against the hot hood, adding to my horniness as the car sways under each rough thrust.
“Fuck me harder, thief,” I flirt as I watch him in the reflection of the windscreen, hands on the hood on each side of my body, going at it like a rabbit in springtime.
As his teeth nibble at my neck, one hand lifts from the hood and clasps around my ponytail, pulling my head swiftly back and arching my back as he digs his cock downward into my body.
He continues to pump me as I play with my clit, and the surge of the orgasm is enormous. My mouth gapes, erupting a silent scream as my body trembles from the orgasmic wave and heaves and sighs.
One last thrust and Blake cums inside of me and wraps his arms around my body, cradling me under the hot sun, kissing my neck, and stroking my cheek with the back of his fist.