The Complete Contract Series (37 page)

Lozado

I eye my son and shake my head. As much as I have tried to instill some class in the boy, he is still straight up, swampland, Cajun crazy. I finally gave up when I realized it is actually working in my favor. People in these here parts are scared of Bo. He loves to
gut
things. His idea of fun is to hunt a gator down and then disembowel it.

How this works in my favor is that the boy has become so desensitized to all the gore in gutting gators, he is now begging me to let him use his skills on some of my enemies.

Now, Bo’s idea of fun is to cut one of my enemies loose in the woods, play with him for a bit, enjoying the thrill of the hunt, and then gut him. Seems my boy learned quickly that once you hunt a human, nothing else ever quite measures up. There is only one person who Bo fears, and that is me. He damn sure better be scared of me too because I won’t hesitate to string his ass up and lash him with a whip. Son or no son, the boy is going to respect his daddy.

“Come on, boy, we got business to tend to,” I speak as I pull the truck up to one of my strip joints. I’m tired of fucking around with these boys and they are getting ready to get a lesson in what happens to people who forget their place. All eyes are on Bo and me as we enter because everyone in here, from dancers right down to patrons, knows when I make an appearance, there is usually trouble on the horizon.

“Get the fuck out of my office, boy!” Just the sight of that little gangbanger in my office chair is making my blood boil. The little shit, Manuel, looks up to view me glaring at him as Bo casually stands against the doorframe, cleaning his nails with a huge hunting knife.

I hear Pablo speak under his breath to his cousin, “Get out of here.” I note that it comes out more like a plea than an order and I’m not happy about it. I knew this kid was going to be trouble which is why I thought ahead and have Colombian cartel on standby.

The little shit slinks up out of the chair and swaggers his way to the door. That right there is the problem; the boy has no respect. It’s not something that can be taught to him either. It’s too late. He will have to be killed. That will send a message to anyone stupid enough to try and step into my shoes.

I notice my boy, Bo, strategically moves so that Manuel can’t get through. The boy is itching for some playtime and is just waiting for my go ahead.

“Let him through, Bo,” I command without even having to turn and view what is happening. I can tell the boy is scared of Bo as he stands there, waiting for him to move. I’m certain he can sense there is something very creepy about the man blocking his path. Manuel has no idea just how deep that
creepiness
runs inside my boy.

Many people don’t know that Bo is what psychologists would term,
A Psychopathic Predator
. He enjoys the thrill of a good hunt, takedown, and ultimate kill. It thrills him to the point that he feeds off of another’s fear. He intentionally toys with his prey, much like a wild animal does.

Yes, my boy is pure predator. He was born with an innate craving for the hunt. Add to that his psychopathic tendencies, and he has all the makings of a full blown serial killer. The boy is certifiably crazy and I use it for my benefit. I’m actually doing society a favor by veering his craving to kill in the right direction.

I was smart enough to see the traits my son had and use them in what I consider to be a constructive way. After all, there is no sense in letting the boy’s talents go to waste.

Where Manuel would be the type to do a cowardly drive-by, Bo likes to look a man in the eye when he kills him, or better yet, guts him. My boy hesitates just long enough to raise his nostrils in the air and smell the fear that Manuel is trying to hide behind a wall of defiance. Yes, he might be able to hide the sight of his fear but you can never hide the smell, not from a true predator like Bo.

We finish our business with Pablo and make our way back out to the truck. I speak first, reading my son’s mind. “Oh don’t you worry, son. The first move that little shit makes in my direction, well, let’s just say that we have found your next
human hunt
.” I notice him pushing down on his hardened cock. He is definitely looking forward to it. Yes, my son is certifiably fucking crazy…

Beth

I know it might seem odd to others—the way we live—but for me, I have never been happier.

My life has consisted of growing up in group homes, foster care, shelters, or on the streets. My mother was more concerned about her next high than me, and my daddy was nonexistent because she didn’t know who he was. Maybe that’s the reason I’m so drawn to Lozado; he gives me something I have never had before… security. Claudia gives me friendship and comfort, much as a mother would her daughter. As I said, I like it here and I really don’t care what people think if it means me feeling safe and secure for the first time in my life. Today is a day like any other lately and I am doing like I normally do, padding around the kitchen behind Claudia like a little puppy.

“Claudia,” I whine, calling out her name.

“What, Little Bit,” Claudia answers.

“Does it ever bother you, Daddy having me too?”

Claudia giggles at me as if my question makes no sense at all, “Lord no, child. Why you are just a girl. Now, Little Bit, we have been over this before,” she chides me with the patience she always shows me.

“You mean the way you tell me that it’s apples and oranges?” I ask as I finger the kitchen towel.

Claudia continues working as she talks, “Yes, Little Bit, apples and oranges.”

“Well, which one am I, Claudia?”

“Lord, girl, you’re wearing me out with questions,” she giggles once again.

“It means you and I are two different things. You meet a need in Sir that I can’t meet, and I meet a need in Sir that you can’t meet.”

“Claudia, will you do that pose for me that you do for Daddy?”

Claudia jerks around so fast that it scares me. When she looks at me, I swear I have never seen eyes so full of terror. I’m confused about what I have said that is so wrong.

“You listen to me, and you listen to me good, girl!” She is shaking me and, as her grip roughly tightens into my upper arms, it’s scaring me. I’ve never seen her act this way.

“Don’t you ever ask me to do that again. Ever!”

I’m looking at Claudia with wide, fearful eyes, trying to figure out what in the world I’ve done that is so wrong.

“I am only allowed to do that when Sir commands!”

“You will get us both horse whipped. Don’t ever say that again!” Neither of us is aware that Lozado is standing around the corner listening and he will deal with this later.

I’m getting ready to get my first lesson in what my new owner expects from me. No longer am I a separate being who makes my own decisions. Now, I belong to a man who expects certain things. He is not a conventional male and I will see that very soon. Lozado is all about control. He controls everything in his life and that most definitely means he controls his women.

Stormy

We’ve managed to sneak up on the property for the hit we need to exact before we leave the bayou. Lozado has us on hold and Miller feels now is as good a time as any to get the job done. I’m in the midst of a true redneck’s haven and I can suddenly understand why Miller insisted that I wear jeans and tennis shoes. I’m in, for lack of a better term, a junkyard. I’m surrounded by rusty cars and I can hear barking in the distance, providing ever present background noise. I keep wondering if some junkyard dog is going to jump out and maul me. I just want to kill this guy and go home.

Miller waves me over and pulls on a large sliding door which I can see is rusted over and unlocked. My nerves are becoming frayed. I can’t understand why this guy would be so careless as to leave the door unlocked and I’m still waiting for some pit bull to jump out and grab me by the throat. This place is giving me the creeps. We enter into a large warehouse filled with hallways and cubbyholes and neither of us has any idea who could be in here or where they are located. As I said, this place is giving me the creeps.

An eerie glow illuminates our path and we find ourselves drawn to it like moths to a flame. We quietly tiptoe, making our way towards the source of the lighting, and we finally come upon the culprit.

A large, hulkish looking man sits at a desk with numerous computer screens and it is evident he was observing us before we ever entered. His voice sounds as if it also sustained damage in the fire resulting from his bomb’s explosion.

“I’ve been waiting for you and looking forward to the day you would finish what you started.” He changes the subject as if he is conferring with himself and not us.

“She’s very beautiful, something I will never be able to experience again—the warmth of a beautiful woman in my arms.”

At that point, he turns and nothing could have prepared me for the hideousness I’m viewing. His face is so scarred that he has the appearance of a monster. The skin is pulled taut, stretched so tightly that it appears as if it will snap. Where his nose was at one time, there is nothing more than two holes in a flesh covered skull. One of his ears is completely burnt off with only a cavity in its place. My breath hitches in horror at what I am witnessing.

“You have made my point exactly. You see her reaction? Women are appalled by me and children fear me. I’m condemned to a life of isolation and you will be doing me a favor by killing me.”

I jump as the familiar noise of a silenced gun goes off and the man slumps to his death. Miller grabs the surveillance tape with his gloved hand and as quickly as we entered, we exit. We have fulfilled our mission—the mission of killing a lonely and isolated monster. I feel no guilt as his words resonate through my psyche…
you will be doing me a favor by killing me…