Life in Shadows (12 page)

The
cat wandered up to her as if nothing was wrong or out of place. He leapt up
into her arms. Molly held him tight. “Oh, kitty, I was so worried!”

A
light shone on them from up the stairs. Molly and Onyx looked up into it out of
reflex, then found themselves squinting at the bright source. “Who are you?”
asked a deep but feminine voice.

“I’m
Molly Murray,” came the answer. “My uncle lives here. Who are you?”

“Oh.
Hah!” the woman laughed. She pointed her flashlight to the ceiling. The couple
at the entrance saw her short, dark hair, her bare shoulder, and the gun in her
other hand, now pointed safely at the floor. “Are you two the ones who stole
all of Murray’s clothes?”

“Who
are you?” Molly blinked.

“Sorry,
I’m Claudia. I work with Kevin. Kind of. Not in the same precinct. Anyway, he’s
cool. He’s up here. But he’s in the bathtub right now. Oh, hey, did you bring
Kevin’s clothes back?”

“…yeah?”
Onyx ventured. “They’re still in the car.” In truth, they had never been
offloaded to begin with.

Claudia
paused, looked over her shoulder, then back down at them and hissed, “Can you
bring ‘em back tomorrow, maybe? Or Sunday? We’re kind of both on two days’
leave now ‘cause of what went down today with work. Mandatory psych thing.”

“I…”
Molly faltered. “I think we can do that.”

“Awesome.
I’ll tell him you came by and I sent you away. It’ll drive him nuts. Thanks!”
With that, she slipped back into the bedroom and turned the flashlight off. The
townhouse was completely dark again.

Onyx
stared up the steps into the shadows. “What was that?” she asked.

Attila
meowed. Molly scratched his head. “Probably another crazy woman. Kitty says
they all are.”

Onyx
gave him a few pets for good measure. “Guess we should go, then?”

“Yeah,”
Molly huffed. “I do not wanna hear the sound of whatever’s goin’ on upstairs.”

The shower
wasn’t enough. He should have slept more last night. He should have put Serena
off. Most guys would think it crazy to turn such hot sex down for any reason,
and Jack would generally be inclined to agree, but things had been like this
for the last few nights.

Jack almost
fell asleep while shaving in the bathroom mirror. He cut himself twice. He
hardly even noticed the second cut until the blood dribbled down his thick
wrist and marred his “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” tattoo. Jack stared down at
it with red, blurry eyes and wiped the blood away.

He kept
shaving. He had to make this meeting. Even now, he hadn’t decided what he would
tell those assholes from the State Department. Maybe he’d tell them the truth.
He already had immunity. But then again, maybe he’d decide,
fuck those guys,
we didn’t do anything wrong
. Lethal force was always part of the tool bag.
Uncle Sam knew that when he hired Jack’s company. Hell, once upon a time, the
government approved.
The brats probably would’ve grown up to blow up some
bus stop in Israel or something, anyway,
 
he
thought.

Fuck their
investigation. His company was paid to do a job and they did it. They kept
their client secure and safe—maybe pissing his pants, but safe. What more did
they want?

Jack kept
shaving away his blond stubble. His eyes drifted to the “Big Red 1” tattooed on
his muscular left shoulder, leading his thoughts back to the Army and days when
he’d seen the world in brighter colors. Once more, Jack reconsidered. He had
immunity. People just wanted closure. The guys from State didn’t make it
personal. Maybe he should spill and let them close this whole case? He didn’t
owe anything more to his former employers.

They
couldn’t get him on shooting the Arabs. Couldn’t get any of his fellow
contractors. Could they get him on anything else? Maybe he should talk?

He was
tired. Really tired, though in a good way. He certainly couldn’t complain.

Finished
with shaving, Jack washed his face one more time and stepped out into his
bedroom wearing only a towel, his battle scars and his tattoos. His suit was
laid out on the bed.

So was
Serena.

“Baby, do
you have to go yet?” she asked. The black bed sheet only covered her crotch and
the moving hand between her slender, inviting legs. Jack’s eyes drifted up to
her full, enticing breasts and the brown hair that cascaded down her naked
shoulders. Serena grinned like she already knew she would win this round.

“Christ,
there’s something wrong with you,” Jack huffed, shaking his head. He looked
down at his suit. Everything was there except his boxers. Where were his
boxers?

“Yeah,
there’s something wrong with me,” replied Serena in a voice that could make a
porn star blush. “It’s this emptiness inside. Only you can fill it, lover.”

Once again,
Jack went to war, only this time it was entirely internal. Turning her down
seemed insane. It should also be reasonable at this point. Hadn’t they fucked
all night already? He had no idea when they’d finally stopped, but he sure
didn’t get nearly enough sleep. She clearly liked his money and his luxury
apartment. She knew how he made his money. He’d already explained to her how
important this meeting was in ensuring he could make more.

He looked
her up and down again: the legs, that sweet spot between them, those tits, those
eyes. She felt so good. Making her come felt so good.

“You don’t
wanna leave me,” the beauty smiled. She lifted one leg and pointed with her
toes at the tent formed in the towel around his waist. She could get him up
like nobody else he’d ever been with. It was a talent. Like magic.

Now that he
was up and ready, and wasting it seemed foolish. “Serena, I gotta go do this,”
Jack reminded her, trying to be assertive. She liked it when he was assertive.
Liked it when he pulled her hair. Made her moan. All that...
 
Wait. No. Stop thinking that shit,
 
he told himself. “I don’t show up to
this meeting, they’ll subpoena my ass.”

“So let
‘em,” Serena pouted. “Won’t change what you have to say. Or not say. Fuck ‘em,
right?” Her lopsided grin returned. “Or better yet, fuck me.”

He took a
deep breath. She knew all too well how he loved it when she talked dirty. “When
I get back.”

“C’mon,
baby.” She beckoned with one hand while the other continued to toy with her
flesh under the sheet. “You don’t even need to warm me up.” Her voice dropped
and her words slowed enticingly. “We can be quick. Just for fun. You can fuck
me, and when you’re at your meeting with all those assholes, you can think
about how you’re the only guy there who’s gotten laid before lunch, or if any of
them have someone like me waiting for them at home.”

She knew
how to make him forget his fatigue. Hot sex, no lengthy foreplay, just get in
and get off and bail until later.
 
Serena
pointed at his groin with her foot again. “Somebody looks ready to me,” she
taunted him. “If you don’t, you know you’ll be sorry.”

Jack
snatched up her foot to pull her toward him on the bed. “Guess that’s a good
point,” he said. He took up her other leg, too, spreading them around his hips
as his towel fell to the floor. The pleasure of penetration banished his
concerns of fatigue.
 
God, she
really is ready.

“That’s my
man,” she said, her lip curling with animal lust. “My big, strong killer. Take
me, baby. Take—nnh! Yeah!” Serena grunted as thrust into her, taking every
advantage of her readiness. She played her role to the hilt, displaying her
naked beauty for him while he pushed into her again and again. Her breath grew
audible, hitting notes of passion and surrender.

She knew
how he liked it and how to keep him from going anywhere. She knew how to get
him off, and how to keep his full attention, and how to wear him down.

Jack would
never make his meeting, or any other, ever again.

* *
*

“It’s not
that I enjoy falling down the stairs, you know. It’s just that I like to see
you nice young people. The fall gets me down to the ground floor faster.”

Shannon
allowed a brief smile at the old man’s joke as the blood pressure pump on his
arm came to full inflation. She slipped the diaphragm of her stethoscope under
the inflated pad and listened. The ambulance leaned left and then right,
zooming its way through streets that were just open enough to allow them
constant movement. Its siren wailed.

“How can
you even hear anything in all this racket?” asked the old man’s grandson. He
looked a bit cramped sitting beside the gurney. Today, Paul wore a simple polo
shirt and slacks. He had come from the golf course. The last time Shannon’s
ambulance had to come for George, Paul came from work in a tailored suit.

“I’ve had
lots of practice,” Shannon answered. She wanted to tell him off, but this was
obviously neither the time nor the place. All she could do now was swallow her
irritation and ignore him as much as possible. She had given up on calling him
‘sir’ after the second encounter, where he complained about his father getting
an ambulance from a “private EMT company” rather than “real paramedics” as if
he understood the differences.

On one
hand, Shannon appreciated the obvious concern Paul had for his aging
grandfather. On the other, she didn’t care for his tone when he spoke to her or
her partner. He was too quick to act like he had some supervisory authority
over her.

“I know
what that’s like,” smiled George. “I used to drive a tank, back in the war.
Everyone would ask how I could hear things over the engine, but I could. The
lieutenant... he liked to say I could tell what might be wrong with the engine
just by listening to it.”

“You should
listen to the staff at the home, Mr. Upton,” Shannon told him. “No more walking
near the stairs when you feel dizzy. You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Yes,”
George nodded. “Only a little dizzy sometimes.” He fell silent, looking at her
for a long moment as she listened for his pulse, and watched the dial, and
counted. “You have hair like his wife.”

“Hm?”

“The lieutenant’s
wife. French girl he met in Paris. She was a librarian. Married her right in
the middle of the war. Redhead, like you. Kept it tied back tight, like yours.
Skinny, but it was Paris in the war and there wasn’t a lot of food to go around
for a good while there, you see. And she wasn’t carting old men out of
retirement homes or anything. But oh, she was so pretty...”

The
ambulance rattled again. “How’d that work out for them?” Shannon asked. “The
marriage?”

George
didn’t answer right away. Shannon noticed his eyes stopped tracking for a
moment, but then he closed them again. “He died,” George said. “Took a bullet
for me outside the tank. Right at the end of the war.” His voice diminished.
“All this time I’ve had... all these years, because of him.”

This wasn’t
right. Shannon watched him, listened, and quickly realized what bothered her.

“I’m sure
he’d be glad to know how things turned out for you, grampa,” assured Paul.
“Don’t worry about that now.”

Shannon no
longer paid attention to the conversation. She couldn’t hear the thump of his
pulse in the stethoscope anymore.
 
Oh
no,
 
she thought. “George?”
Shannon dropped the stethoscope. “George, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“What’s
wrong?” asked Paul.

“I need
that,” she grunted, pointing at an equipment bag behind him. “Move. Ian!” she
called to the driver. “Ian, he’s gone cardiac! Right here in the wagon!”

“Aw, you’re
kidding me!” her driver snapped.

“What’s
that—wait, right now?” Paul demanded.

Shannon had
the defibrillator out of the bag already. She suspected it wouldn’t do any
good. George was old and infirm. Shannon had done this job long enough to know
a done deal when she saw one. Still, he was a fighter, and so was she. Shannon
wouldn’t give him up without a struggle.

“Ian, haul
ass!”

* * *

Serena
loved her life. She loved the glamour, the adulation, the intrigue, the wicked
pleasures. She loved playing different roles for different partners, and loved
to reveal her naughty, dirty girl core. She loved the raw power invested within
her in all its facets. She absolutely loved to be lusted after.

She also
loved the sex.

Her current
partner, Jack, was a good one. He had a strong, animal lust and responded
beautifully to the right strokes to his ego. Jack fucked her selfishly, which
spoke to his nature. It worked out perfectly for Serena. She didn’t mind his
selfishness at all, and in fact did all she could to encourage it. To his
credit, Jack also liked to get Serena off—mostly for the ego boost he derived
from hearing and feeling her climax, but it still meant more pleasure for her.

His
motivations mattered little to her. Her partner delivered in bed, and that
meant everything.

Jack took
her from behind, pulling back again and again with one hand on her hip and the
other clutching a fistful of her hair. He didn’t hurt her. He
couldn’t
hurt her, not with all his considerable strength, but Jack didn’t know that.

He had been
back there for a long time, relentlessly pounding her in search of
satisfaction. Serena made sure Jack knew she loved every minute of it. She
didn’t want him to quit. The longer this sort of thing took, the more
satisfaction and happiness she received in the end.

His
endurance had finally reached its limits, though. His thrusts slowed and his
breath grew ragged. The only thing about him that refused to weaken was his
cock, and he was too out of sorts to think critically about that, or about how
many times he’d gotten off without a rest. He never stopped to consider how
unnatural it was.

Yet he
couldn’t give up. Couldn’t stop. She felt too good to stop, and she knew it.
She had him fully enthralled. Serena felt his pace ease up, and smiled, and
gave a small, taunting whine. “So close,” she said. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Jack
rallied. It wasn’t much, but his hips crashed forward into her again, still
slow but at least with more force. She knew how to keep this cycle going. He
didn’t want to get her off out of consideration for his partner so much as out
of his own sense of pride. Serena gasped, “Yes! Oh yes more!” in time with his
hips, until his body trembled to a final release.

It was
every bit as good for her, too. She couldn’t deny that—not honestly, anyway,
and there was no need to lie. Serena’s eyes rolled back and her voice rang out
in moans of genuine pleasure.

He all but
hung by that hand in her hair, using it to keep himself up. She could support
him easily like that. She was far stronger than she looked.

“I gotta
stop,” he wheezed. Jack’s eyes drifted around lazily. Were it not for the hand
in her hair and the irresistible pleasure of remaining coupled with her, he’d
have collapsed. “Baby, I gotta... I gotta stop...”