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Kissing the Killer(4)

By:B. B. Hamel


“No,” I said, stepping toward him.

“What do you mean? We can’t leave any fucking witnesses. You know that.”

I didn’t know what I was doing. If Abram hadn’t come upstairs, we could have just left and I never would have had to hurt the girl. She could have gone on living, finally able to escape from her piece-of-shit father.

Instead, I was digging myself further and further into a hole, all for this girl I didn’t know. All because of her defiant look, her black eye, her beautiful body and lips.

“Abram,” I said, putting my hand on his gun, “this one is mine. I’m taking her with me.”

“Shit, Brooks,” he said. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I said I was fucking taking her with me. The bitch is mine.”

He looked at me and slowly lowered his weapon. It wasn’t completely unheard of for one of us to take a little prize home, but only the sickest, most sadistic bastards ever did.

Because once you were done using your prize, you had to get rid of it.

“Shit, man,” he said. “I didn’t know you were like that.”

“Guess you thought wrong,” I said.

“You know you have to ice her eventually, right?”

“I fucking know that.”

“Well then.” He grinned at me. “You have some fun with her.”

I turned back toward the girl and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out. “Come on,” I said to her.

“Where are you taking me?”

Abram was staring at me. I shoved her down onto the bed and loomed over her, pinning her down. She stared back at me, fear fresh in her eyes again. I fucking hated doing this, but I had to play my role. Otherwise Abram would get suspicious.

“Listen to me,” I said softly. “You’re fucking mine now. You understand? You want to keep breathing for however long you have left, you’ll do exactly as I say. Understand?”

She stared at me, anger in her eyes, mixing with the fear. “I understand.”

“I’m taking you with me,” I said, pressing my lips against her ear. “Unless you want to die here.”

“Okay,” she answered.

“Good.” I moved back and dragged her off the bed. “Come on.”

Abram grinned at me as I marched her back down the hall. I practically dragged her down the steps, Abram following close behind. I didn’t know what he was thinking or how he felt about this sort of thing, but I couldn’t bother asking. We got to the bottom and I shoved her at the door.

“Walk,” I said.

She didn’t even glance back at me. She just stepped out the front door.

Abram came up behind me. “Damn, man,” he said. “If I had gotten a better look, I might have taken this one myself.”

I glared at him. “Careful.”

He grinned, holding his hands up. “She’s all yours, my man.”

I walked out and grabbed her by the arm. We moved down the street quickly, and I shoved her into the backseat. Abram got into the driver’s seat and I sat shotgun.

We drove in silence, heading back toward the club. The city streets flashed by, and I felt a lump of uncertainty in my chest.

What the fuck was I doing?

I couldn’t take this girl and kill her. I’d already decided that back in her bedroom. But the longer I let this go on, the worse it was going to be.

“Drop me at my place,” I said.

“You sure? Boss said to come back when we were done.”

“I know,” I said, “but the girl has no fucking pants on. I’ll secure her and then meet you there.”

“Damn. Brutal.” He laughed. “I like your style, man.”

“Just fucking do it.”

“You got it.”

We drove for a few minutes longer. I glanced back at the girl and she was staring at me, fire in her eyes, all defiance and anger and fear. She looked like a beautiful caged animal, ready to lash out at any moment.

Finally Abram pulled up outside my place. “See you in a few,” he said.

“Yeah. See you.”

I climbed out of the car and then opened the back door. I reached in and dragged the girl out. She wasn’t cooperating, but she wasn’t exactly fighting me either. She simply moved, deadened, a sullen look on her face.

As I pushed her up the stoop, quickly hustling her into my apartment before anyone could see her, I realized that I had no game plan.

I’d never taken a woman like this before. Frankly, I hated killing women and avoided it when at all possible. I might have been a killer, but I had a fucking conscience at least.

There was no way this was going to end well. I cursed at myself, angry that I hadn’t killed Abram back in that car when I’d had the chance.