Betrayed 2(226)

I sat cross-legged on the bed next to her and traced circles around her knees with my fingertips. “Yeah, you mentioned that before,” I said as if I was just making conversation between bouts of sex. Dottie wasn’t done with me yet. Not by a long shot. She always wanted to be fucked several times when we stole away together as if she was storing up orgasms until next time.

I asked, “So, he’s like a broker for other stores?”

She puffed on the cigarette and nodded with her head against the pillow. “Something like that. He gets shipments of loose diamonds from some contact in South Africa somewhere, then he fills orders for other jewelers up and down the coast.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’d never know it by looking at the place, but he keeps a couple million dollars in diamonds in the safe built into the floor under his desk at any given time.”

“Who would have ever thought,” I said, shaking my head. “So, he ships the diamonds out on Friday? Every week?”

She nodded again. “Yes. An armored car delivers them on Monday morning and picks them up on Friday afternoon. They take the packaged diamonds and ship them to Mr. Crown’s customers.”

“That’s just crazy,” I said, rolling my eyes. My fingers had drifted up from her knees and were now walking their way up her meaty thighs toward her cunt.

She closed her eyes and hummed.

My fingers settled in her thick curls. I gave them a little scratch. I said, “Hey, I’ve been thinking. What if we got away next weekend?”

She opened her eyes to frown at me through the smoke. “Get away?”

“Yeah. Just you and me, alone, out of town. Do you think you could take off work one Friday so we could head to Vegas for a long weekend?”

“Ooh, I’d like that,” she said, wiggling her cunt against my fingers. She tugged the soiled towel from her cunt and tossed it aside. She stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and started massaging her breasts again. She spread her legs and cooed at me.

She asked, “When could we go? Where?”

“Next week or two maybe?” I shrugged, like I was just coming up with the idea. “I’ll be back in town Thursday. We could leave Thursday night, be in Vegas in a few hours, spend the weekend drinking, eating, gambling, and fucking.”

“That sounds awesome,” she said, sucking in a deep breath as my fingers slid into her. I pushed in three fingers to the knuckle, then pulled them out slowly. Her soaked cunt closed around my fingers.

I asked, “Think you can get off? Work, I mean?”

“Yessss, I can get off…” she sighed, her hands assaulting her big tits again. “I’ll ask on Monday.”

“Awesome,” I said, pushing my hand inside her with my thumb rubbing against her clit. She reached down to find my cock rock hard between my legs.

It wasn’t because of her.

The thought of a big score always made my cock hard.



SANDY



My plan to exact revenge on Rick Wright and his gang started two months ago, even though at that moment I didn’t even know who he was.

Brent was dead in my arms.

The police came.

An ambulance.

A forensics team.

The coroner.

More cops.

A female detective who said her name was Cochran pulled me away from Brent’s lifeless body so a photographer could take pictures of the scene and the forensics guy could gather evidence.

I was in shock, she said, covered in Brent’s blood.

An EMT wrapped a blanket around me and sat me on the back of his van and shined a light in my eyes. I’m fine, I muttered. Help Brent. Help Brent.

Detective Cochran was taking notes. She asked me to tell her everything I could remember.

Did I see their faces?

No, they wore masks.

Did they say anything to me?

No, nothing.

Would I recognize them again if I saw them?

Probably not.

Could I pick them out of a lineup?

No, I told you, they wore masks.

Did they have any distinguishing marks that might help identify them?

I thought of the silver tooth but said no.

She asked if she could call someone to come get me.

I asked her to call my dad.

He came immediately to take me home.

Mom and April were waiting at the door for me.

They were horrified by what had happened.

When mom saw my blood-soaked clothes and hands, she looked like she was going to puke.

I took a shower and went to bed, where I stayed for six straight days and nights.

I was totally numb, barely aware of what was going on around me. My mom brought me food that I didn’t touch and offered words of comfort that I didn’t hear.

I cried until there wasn’t a single drop of moisture left in my body.



We buried Brent seven days after he was killed. It was a small service at his dad’s church. His parents made all the decisions. I had no legal claim on him. I sat on the first church pew next to his parents, staring at the walnut coffin they had chosen for him. I watch them lower him into the ground in their family plot.