Gettin' Dirty (12 page)

Moving quickly out of the room to see all the collateral damage, it doesn’t slow me much as I run first to the passenger door. I put her in the vehicle then move to the driver’s side door. Hopping in, I lock us up. Slamming the vehicle into reverse, the wheel’s screech and the metal of the roof and sides squeal loudly as the hulking vault on wheels rips itself from the apartment.

We move quickly backwards as we drive through the yard and over the curbs. A couple of rounds hit the windshield and engine hood but don’t do anything but mar the paint. I laugh as I give them the finger. Stupid fucking cunts can all die.

I slam the gears into drive and rip down the road. My hand goes to console as I grab my phone, pushing the number I had left up on the screen.

“Seamus, done so soon?”

“Where can I drop the armored car off? I need an extraction with Rose. One wounded.”

He tells me where and I quickly look over at Aaliyah. She is so broken looking right now my heart is falling through the floor of the car. She is only sitting in her seat because of the belt wrapped across her chest and waist. She is slumped over and I’m guessing has passed out because of all the pain. Her chest rises and falls normally, thankfully.

“Frank, I need you to pick up two extras. One a child, age one and a half, the other elderly. Tell her I sent your guys. Bring them to the safe house.”

“Got it.”

We disconnect and I drive as fast as I can to the drop point for the vehicle. I don’t see a tail but I don’t want to take any chances. I circle around the area and try to make my path there as random as possible.

R
ose comes
out of the bedroom Aaliyah is resting in, wiping her hands on a towel. She was in there a long time with my girl. She smiles as she squats down in front of Mina and I. We have been playing dolls and dragons for a long while now, since Mrs. Robins went to lay down and rest in a spare room.

“Everything is going to be okay, Seamus. She looks like hell right now, but besides a couple of stitches here and there things are okay with her face…” She play tickles at Mina which thankfully elicits a good response from my little monster. Mina giggles and skooches away.

“What about her body?” I have to ask because I saw the bruises all over her chest and ribs.

“Couple of cracked ribs, that’s it. Nothing else that I can tell. We could always get some imaging done, but I don’t think it’s needed right now.”

Nodding my head, I look from her face and out the window. It’s dark out there but thankfully peaceful.

Looking back to her I ask, “Good, anything else we can do for her right now?”

Shaking her head, “No, I got fluids going in her, and I have a good pain med in the IV. She will be out for a while. It should help her rest and recover.”

I smile as I stand, swooping up Mina into my arms. It’s a good thing Frank knows how to stock a safe house. I smile at Rose with my most winning smile and ask, “Mind watching over Mina for a couple minutes while I go see Aaliyah?”

For all of Rose’s confidence, she blanches. “Um… I’m not really that good with kids. I can tickle but that’s about it.”

Laughing, I say, “That’s not a bad thing at all. All this one likes to do is growl.”

Helping a smiling Mina into Roses arms, I ask, “You ever cooked spaghetti? That’s mine and Mina’s favorite food.”

Rose’s eyes go wide at me. I laugh loudly before heading into the bedroom.

There, I freeze for only a moment—it hurts to see her like this. But I am positive she is going to be okay. I would fucking kill god and the devil himself if I had to. She is not leaving my side again. I kiss her lightly on her cheek then her forehead. I stand up and turn to help with dinner.

A small moan has me turning back quickly to Aaliyah. Her eyes are open and her lips are in a small smile.

I kneel down beside her, “You okay, baby?”

She moves her head slowly in a nod. “Yes.”

I lift her hand and kiss it with all my heart.

“You need to rest,” I say quietly.

“I…” she says even quieter than I had spoken.

“Baby…”

“I…” she starts again, this time her voice is stronger, but still so weak. “I knew you would come for me.”

A tear trickles down my cheek as I think of how long she had to suffer because of me. Because I couldn’t be fast enough to get her out of that hell.

She raises her hand and wipes it away. “I love you, Seamus.”

“I love you.” And with all my heart I mean it.

Fuck, I hate emotions. I hate being all lovey-dovey. But Aaliyah is dragging it out of me.

She closes her eyes, the medicine taking her back to sleepy land. She mumbles, “And my bed doesn’t suck.”

I laugh quietly as I release her hand and head out to help Rose with dinner.

T
he pain was pretty
bad for the first few days. The swelling all over my face freaked Mina out pretty good. But the cracked ribs were the worst of the problems. Every time she would climb on me or I would bend down to pick her up, the pain would make me gasp and just about collapse.

I didn’t like having to rely on Seamus so heavily, but I did. Mrs. Robins was a godsend though when it came to helping me out while Seamus would leave to take care of all the stuff caused by Michael.

Where to even start with all the drama Michael created by being so stupid and selfish? He screwed up so bad with the gangs around here that his body was found in front of a police station, barely alive. I think whoever left him there thought he would die before he was found. He got real lucky. Real fucking lucky. Because if I found him myself, I would have killed him. He put me and my family in jeopardy. His stupid, brainless head got me tortured, almost murdered. I can’t simply ever forgive that. I called his hospital room and told him I was leaving. When he asked where I said I was moving on with my family, then I hung up.

I’m done with Michael. Seamus told me something that has stuck with me pretty damn well. We aren’t stuck with family; we don’t have to suffer because we share blood. He doesn’t give a shit about blood with Mina, and I sure don’t give a fuck about blood with Michael.

Rose… The doctor worried the heck out of me when she came back to check on me when I was lucid enough to be awake. She is so pretty, and I mean it. She’s trophy wife beautiful. She would smile at Seamus, but it was completely friendly, nothing untoward at all. But shit, looking at my man I couldn’t blame any woman from chasing him if they could. He is so handsome and masculine. Even now, thinking of the way his eyes twinkle at me gets my panties wet. I shouldn’t be thinking that right now, especially in the middle of an airplane, but I sure as hell am.

Rose, though, was something else. She shooed Seamus out of the room while she checked me over, calling him ol’ mother hen. He grumped but left.

“That man worries over you like a momma bear, Aaliyah,” she said.

Her eyes took in the uneasiness I had painted all over my face. “Don’t worry, Aaliyah. I can see what you’re thinking, he would be a fine husband for anyone. But the way he looks at you, he would never be happy with anyone but you.”

I let out a slow breath and gave her a smile. “I see how much he cares for me when he looks at me, I just don’t want to be in his way… I’m not the greatest catch…”

Rose laughed at me again. “Aaliyah, you have absolutely no clue what you do to that man. He thinks you are the most beautiful woman on the planet, and Mina is the light of his life. He calls her his daughter… Did you know that?”

I didn’t, at least he hadn’t said it in front of me. “No I didn’t.”

Patting my hand, she smiled and shook her head. “Do you know who did surgery on his shoulder?”

I shook my head, but I had a feeling all of a sudden.

“It was me, and I was tempted to hit on him… But he had his heart all mushy about some beautiful woman back home. That would be you.”

The inside of my body started getting warm as I thought of the way he smiles at me and the words Rose said. It was words I truly needed to hear.

I guess in my head I was worried I would be baggage to such a man. A single mom… But no, I’m not that anymore. The passports prove it. I am Mrs. Hannagan.

I look over to my bride and see her with that hungry look in her eye again. She is staring at me with this intense heat she gets in her eyes every time she gets horny. Fuck. My cock instantly springs to life. It’s like Pavlov’s dog with her—she gives me this entirely too smoldering of a look and my cock starts sticking his head up.

I shake my head at her over the sleeping heads of Mrs. Robin’s and our sleeping little monster. Aaliyah smirks at me and pointedly looks down at my cock. Shit. She has me so wrapped around her finger. But fuck, it’s a finger of a goddess, if you ask me.

I’m a pretty damn happy guy though, and I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

Those first few days were as upsetting for me; I just couldn’t get over the fear of losing Aaliyah. It was a long couple of nights with me and Mina worrying. But it was all for naught. Rose was right, Aaliyah was just perfectly fine.

Michael is in a world of trouble with both the police and the gangs. That stupid fuck is going to be in prison for a nice long time. Fucker deserves the time.

Aaliyah keeps making eyes at me, and I am so in trouble because she got rid of her birth control the same night we got married. It was a very small ceremony with just Rose as the bridesmaid, Mina as the ring girl and Mrs. Robins gave Aaliyah away. She was so damn beautiful when she walked down the small church aisle to me.

Fuck, it was her fault I had to hide my erection up between my pants and stomach, but thankfully I was wearing a suit jacket at the time. Right before we fell asleep the night before, she told me to just think of how naked she was under her dress, wearing only a garter belt. She’s evil, I swear, sometimes.

I don’t think either Mrs. Robins or Aaliyah were ready that night when I told them about moving to Ireland. I pulled out the passports and all new identities for us. Even Mrs. Robins. I didn’t trust that shit heel of a life, Michael, to not use her to get to Aaliyah if he needed something.

The passports and birth certificates have us as Mr. & Mrs. Seamus Hannagan, and Mina is now officially my daughter as well. She was anyways in my heart though so it’s not like the papers did much more for us than make it official.

Now all we have to do is make it to Ireland before Aaliyah talks me into the bathroom and joining the mile high club with her. Little sexy britches will probably win out if she has her way though.

T
he Pounding Hearts Series

Banging Reaper

Slamming Demon

G
ettin’ Lucky

“
T
he little cunt
is gonna be a good fuck before I put a bullet in her head,” Conor growls out.

Conor wouldn’t shut the fuck up if I paid him a million dollars to, and he loves to tell me what he is going to do to the people we have to take out.
I’m going to eat this steak like a fucking bum sucking a prostitute’s tit.
Or—
Bitch loved me shoving my cock down her throat. Puking is all part of the show.
He’s a disgusting fuck, and I only go near him when we are forced to work together on a hit.

He’s also a fat fucking greasy piece of shit who is really, really good at his job. He has no qualms about getting his hands dirty, and if he gets told to rape a victim—male or female—before he kills them, he does it. Fucker is rumored to have shot his uncle in the back, and then in the head
execution style
for fifty bucks. He’s not a nice guy, and he sure as fuck doesn’t have any fucking ethics in killing. They send him in for a message.

Daniel O’Riley, the boss of our outfit, sends me in when he wants to send a message as well. I’m the one who gets in and gets out without there ever being a spec of evidence. I’m the quiet killer, and I sure as fuck don’t rape—and I don’t do kids—ever. Both of those are strictly off my list of services. Daniel pushed that line once, and when my father pushed back, it was quickly dropped. Dad’s gone now though. A year ago he had a heart attack that took him down to the dirty fucking potato farms of hell.

“You get the son and his girlyfriend. I’ll tie up the daughter three minutes after you enter, and then we will deal with Mario and his sloppy cunt together,” Conor rasps to me. His fucking voice is the shit of nightmares.

“Just kill the fucking girl, asshole. Daniel didn’t say dick about fucking raping her,” I say back to him

We are parked about a block and a half from the house we need to enter. This is personal
and
business for Daniel. This dego fucking wap from the fucking vinelands of Italy has stepped on Daniel’s toes too many times. First it was working under our fucking noses in the skin trade, and then he started hitting our business up for protection money. Mario Carcinelly is as slimy as they fucking come. He uses his ties to the Italians up north as a business card. Fucker is trying to expand down here to the midwest, and that means it’s time to put up the ol’green, white and orange.

“Conor, no more talking. If I smell your breath one more fucking time I’ll put a bullet through your neck and out the side, snapping the fucking spinal cord and paralyzing your shit breath once and for all.”

I
really
don’t like Conor.

Grinning at me that nasty fucking rotted teeth smile. “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky, the patron saint of death. You even try it and I’ll send you down to see your father nice and quick like. Then I’ll fuck your cunt of an ex-girlfriend nice and slow as I slice her pretty throat.”

I slide my pistol from the harness on my chest and point it directly at his forehead. “This is the last time I work with you, fucking unintelligent raping pig.”

Shaking his head with a ghoulish grin, Conor leans forward, pressing his forehead right against the barrel. “You will do what the fuck Daniel tells you to do.”

He motions for me to get going as he leans back and reaches down into the bag sitting between his feet. Pulling out a black ski mask, he begins rolling it down, over the top of his ugly head.

I want to say something else but the fuck is only going to piss me off more right now, and I need to be on my toes with this one.

The information we have is sketchy at best, and sketchy might be too much of a word for the actual information we have on the house. Mario, his wife and his young stepdaughter are supposed to be in there. The son from his first wife and the son’s girlfriend might be there, but might not.

We have been waiting since about eleven tonight to see if anyone’s moving, and to get a sense of who’s all inside but it hasn’t helped. Fucking Daniel and his goddamn temper. Soon as the fucker discovered where Mario is, Daniel has to fucking pounce. Make a fucking mark—mark his goddamn territory like a fucking dog.

I step out of the black BMW and pull my black leather coat tight around me. It’s as fucking cold as the stripper who took my virgin heart. She fucked a fifteen-year-old me and then took every single dollar I could get my hands on. She told me I was her boyfriend and never talked to me again.

I’ve been doing this job for six years. As soon as I was discharged from the army with a broken leg at twenty-two, I have been killing people for “Uncle Daniel”. I was killing people for my Uncle Sam too though. I went through boot and then got myself picked up by the Army Rangers. How I made it past all those security checks, and the background shit with them was a miracle.

Daniel likes that my morals about killing someone else are pretty damn flexible—well except for children, I won’t do that fucked up shit.

The gun metal pushing against my ribs is freezing cold as it gets bound to me, and since I’m only wearing a black t-shirt beneath, I don’t have much in the way of keeping the metal warm.

I can see my breath puff out as I walk to the sidewalk on the same side of the street as the house. This fucking neighborhood is in the really well-to-do part of town. Old money and new money mix here, and you can see it in the houses. But on a cold fucking December night like right now, the lights are few and the weather is pushing everyone and everything inside.

It’s been a shit year; I’ve been doing a fuck ton of jobs with Conor this year. The fucker seems to be becoming more and more unhitched as we work through all the damn people Daniel has decided to have a grudge against. For a long time he was so fucking smart, but I think the syphilis has gone to his brain now and it’s made him fucking insane with paranoia. Daniel that is—Conor has always been a sociopath like this.

I know my father was Daniel’s fathers right-hand man, and that made Daniel walk on egg shells with the organization. Well, fuck, let’s call it what it is—a mob. But since my dad died, Daniel has become more and more aggressive, and increasingly paranoid of the other gangs out there. I don’t know why my dad held some control over Daniel, but if dad was the only thing keeping Daniel in check… this city is going to go to shit real soon.

I pull down my black nylon mask as I hit a set of shadows, and ease myself off of the sidewalk towards the covering trees and overgrowth. This neighborhood is for the rich and uncaring people, the ones who don’t seem too concerned about security.

I don’t like this one bit.

A big guy like Mario should have tons of guys hanging out right now around his house, but he doesn’t. He has two guys on the outside that I can see, and both have lit cigarettes. Morons. Smoking kills their night vision. Each time they take a long drag, the cigarette flares and the heat brightens enough to write a death warrant with their names on it. I name them Fat Guy and Stick Man. They both talk to each other for a couple of minutes, quietly laughing about something.

I watch for a little longer; Fat Guy is my target. Conor gets Stick. I slip my pistol back into the holster, and pull the tactical knife from my belt. I can’t afford too much noise.

As they walk away from each other, I slow step and come right behind the fat one just as he turns the corner of the house. I’m thankful that in this freezing fucking weather there isn’t snow or a bunch of dead leaves on the ground. Slow step, slow step—and I’m pushing the thick long blade through the side of his neck as I rock our bodies forward, towards the ground. We land with a dull thump but nothing too bad. Pulling the blade back out, I swipe it clean on the guy’s coat.

Conor better be doing his fucking part,
I grouch to myself as I make my way around the house.

I don’t doubt he will do his part, I just want this to be over with. I hunch my tall frame over and quietly walk further around the house. I am so done with working with Conor, I have to try and reason with Daniel. I don’t need this fuckstick around to do the job, never have and never will.

I haven’t felt right since my father passed, but it’s not my conscious or anything like that. The people I kill don’t bother me. Someone is going to do it, so why not me? And why not make really good money doing it? No, the feeling is more towards Daniel and his maniac henchman, Conor. Daniel has had me carry out lots hits, a bunch of drops, carrier shit, and escorts. But these jobs have all been real low-level shit, nothing like the stuff I was doing before.

There’s also the fact that on every fucking job I get assigned, Conor has to tag along too. Like he has to babysit me or something. I have pulled off much bigger and much more difficult hits on my own than this shit. I have been doing big hits for the mob for some time now, and for the Rangers before this shit. I’m no stranger to killing, I’ve had blood on my hands for years. Daniel was calling me his favorite hitman… So what the fuck happened? I don’t know. But fucking Conor seems to be a part of it.

I shake my head from the wool-gathering and focus on the job. I stand up from picking the lock on the sliding glass door located at the back of the house. The entire back of the house is made up of windows, uncovered windows that allow just anyone to look inside. I don’t see anyone inside the darkened rooms—which is a nice. I really don’t want to start killing as soon as I step inside.

I know Conor is coming through the front door right now as I slide mine open. There is a giant pool covered with one of those winter coverings behind me, and I can’t help but wonder how much this three story house must have cost Mario.

The sun room is much warmer as I slide the glass door shut behind me. There’s another door that leads into the house, and I can see thanks to the faint light coming through it. The next door is unlocked, thankfully, and I ease myself further into a hallway. Here the lighting is subdued, coming from a dim hallway light, and I stick closely to the shadows. Creeping silently and slowly, I open doors, checking each room that I pass. From what we could tell, Mario’s son and his girl should be somewhere down here.

I reach the second to last door before the stairs when I receive my first glimpse of the targets.

There they are, asleep in a large room on an almost too large bed.

It’s hot as fuck now that I’m further inside the house, and I can feel sweat sliding down the center of my back. I see the guy, in his early thirties, sprawled out across the bed with an arm thrown over a voluptuous and very naked blonde. He’s on his stomach, and she’s on her back. Both are snoring lightly so I try to make as little noise as possible.

This guy likes women with huge tits and bleach blonde hair, but from all the shit I’ve heard about him he also likes to knock them around a little too much. His perversions can be seen by the bruises on her stomach and ribs, dark inky spots marking the blows. This fuck likes to make sure she looks pretty by avoiding the face. Fucker hides the shit below the breasts so there aren’t too many questions.

I wouldn’t mind working this fuck over for a bit before I do the hit, but I don’t have time like that.

I push his face deep into the large fluffy pillow, and shove the knife deep into the left side of his neck. I’m pushing forward
hard
and ripping shit up in there. I pull the blade back out before slamming it down into the now-stirring-blonde’s chest. Neither make a sound. I don’t like having to kill a victim like her, but she just had the bad luck of being in the wrong house.

I leave the bedroom quickly and head up the stairs. There’s a guy in the hall living room once I reach the main part of the house, but he has a bullet through his forehead. His brains all over the white couch.

Jogging up the stairs, I hear a very quiet hiss. Conor is exiting a room with a gleeful grin. He must have found the daughter.

We both walk quietly to the door at the end of the hall. Pulling my pistol from its holster, I ensure the silencer is nice and tight on the barrel.

Raising his hand up, Conor gives me a countdown of three before we both push the door open. We both sweep the room from center to our respective sides. There, in the middle of the room, is Mario and his wife. She’s blonde and probably my age—late twenties, early thirties. Like father like son, they both have a thing for blondes with big tits.

The couple is sleeping heavily as we walk around the sides of the bed. I have Mario’s side; Conor has the woman’s. She is sleeping on her back so Conor just slits her throat, holding her body down as it goes through its death throes. She probably never even knew what happened.

I nod my head at his motion to get on with my part. First, I pull up my mask and take a long deep breath. Conor already has his off. I put the barrel of my pistol against Mario’s knee and squeeze the trigger.

The screaming is immediate, as is his thrashing around. I punch the man in the throat with some force, and let out a breath of relief as all the noise quiets down. He goes from screaming - to gargling -to now choking.

The man’s eyes are scanning every part of his room as he searches for his tormentors. I slap him across the face with the silenced barrel of my gun. He stares at me hard, eyes locking on me, slowly beginning to find his breath.

I put the barrel to his forehead and say the three words I was instructed to say before I kill this fuck. “Daniel says hello.”

Mario’s eyes go wide with anger right before I pull the trigger. The metallic whap of my pistol ends my part in this job.

I look to Conor and he has his hands mauling the dead chick’s tits.

I want to gag and puke right there, that is just fucking Conor though.

“Get your shit together you sick-fuck!” I growl out loudly to him. He looks up with a grin, showing he has absolutely no fucking shame.

“What? You want a feel too?” he asks as he walks towards the door and out into the hall.

I follow him to the daughter’s room, and I am fucking struck stupid for a moment as I peer over his shoulder, getting my first glimpse of the bound and gagged girl.

She looks kinda young but she’s fucking beautiful, and I mean
beautiful
. Her hair matches my own, black as night, and her bright blue eyes are startling to me. Her cheeks are bright pink though, and she has tears streaming down her face, rolling down the duct tape that’s been slapped across her mouth.