The Games We Play

27. Twenty-Six - X

Twenty-Six - X

I grip my phone, waiting for her reply…but it doesn’t come.

Her phone location shows her at an address that I don’t recognize and I don’t have the means to find out who it belongs to right now. Ocean waves crash offshore outside my balcony, a sound that is supposed to bring people peace. But I’m not here on vacation.

I’ve started letting myself feel things I can’t in this line of work. I’ve let her become leverage. She’s become too close. With Darius back in the business, I can’t risk anyone finding out about her. According to Scott they already do, but then why hasn’t anyone made their move?

Doesn’t mean I don’t stop keeping tabs on her, though. She still has a role to play in all of this. That’s how I knew she left her house this evening and after calling her manager to request a reservation in her section, I learned she didn’t work tonight.

My imagination got the best of me when I thought Darius had found her and made his move. Finding out she’s in some ritzy subdivision didn’t help calm my nerves. She could be at another party…with someone else’s hands on her.

I grip the banister and scream my pent-up frustrations into the ocean wind. Even when I close my eyes, she’s there. This wasn’t supposed to be more than a job. Something to fulfill my fantasy and get what I wanted. Now I don’t trust myself to even step foot out of this condo, because I know I’ll race right back to her instead of doing what I’m here to do.

I’ve been tailed every time I’ve left this condo. An unmarked black SUV…typical. The past two jobs I’ve done, someone else’s hands were in them, fucking them all up. If Scott could hack our organization for my personal information, they’ve probably routed all our incoming and outgoing messages and calls. I knew this, of course, so my last job was to test the theory and although it was an actual target, it wasn’t someone of high value or high risk. My last orders were to hang in limbo and not go anywhere I’d want to be followed. But I’m getting stir crazy here.

We’ve been operating dark for weeks and even then, Scott and Darius are a step ahead of us.

After filling my glass with more whiskey, I sit on the lounge chair on the deck under the stars with my phone still gripped in my hand. I miss her touch, her taste, the fire she ignites under my skin with that smirk of hers when she knows she’s gotten to me. I’d imagine she’s wearing it right now and I want to simultaneously smack her ass and fuck her cunt just for the challenge.

The minutes tick until it’s been nearly thirty since I sent my last text.

Goddammit! When did I lose control ? When did she become my undoing ?

I down the contents of the glass and sling it over the balcony. It shatters along the rocks below. Shoving to my feet, the chair clatters against the railing and my feet get tangled, nearly causing me to fall.

“Fuck!” I scream and stomp back into the hotel. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the table, I pace the balcony, trying to talk myself out of doing something incredibly stupid. I need to find Darius so I can do what I always planned and move past this.

When my phone rings, I lean against the railing and take a long drink before the bottle nearly slips from my hand.

It’s her…and she’s video calling me.

Every sensible brain cell I have tells me not to answer, but when it comes to her, I have no restraint. And that makes her the most dangerous person I’ve come across.

I take a steadying breath and ensure my camera is off before her lit mask fills my screen. The video is shaky and pixelated at first before it comes into focus and she props it up against something.

“You wanted to know where I was?” she purrs and muffled shouts come from somewhere in her room. What the fuck is she doing? “I got bored. I got tired of waiting to see if you were going to show up. So here I am, making my own fun and playing games by myself.”

She’s with someone and calling me to what…make me jealous? Brag? I don’t know what to say. I barely can register what exactly I’m feeling and why I have the sudden urge to rip every man in her life limb from limb.

“What‘s wrong, X?” She draws out my nickname until she sounds like a slithering snake. Someone venomous, dangerous, waiting to strike. “Are you not having fun?” She angles her head in the camera and slips her mask off. Black surrounds her eyes and bright red lipstick stains her supple lips. Fuck, to have them around my cock again…

My fingers tighten on the railing and I force myself to look away. “I can have my fill of any pussy I want, Pet. A pretty face isn’t what gets me going.”

I wait for her to retaliate. For her to scream that I’m nothing more than a tease and she is better off without me.

She’d be right. It was good…no it was fucking great while it lasted, but this is how it has to be.

Her melodic laughter has my mouth falling open and I lift my hand to gaze at my white knuckled phone. She’s stepping back from the camera, giving me a glimpse of the room she is in. There’s a four-poster bed with a chandelier hanging above it. The lights are dimly lit, but it’s enough to make out the pristine modern artwork, and nothing like what I’d expect from a fuck boys’ house.

I suppose it could be their parents’. That thought is quickly squashed when she steps to the side and a man with a balding patch on top of his head is tied and kneeling at the foot of the bed on the floor, completely naked. My dick stirs and I bring the phone closer, intent on figuring out exactly whose house she’s at and what she’s doing.

“What was that about my pretty face?” she asks me, then turns her back so she’s crouched in front of the man. “Do you think I’m a pretty face, Brady? Would you have offered me the same favors as Casey if I was failing?”

The man whimpers and tries to talk around the gag.

She angles the man’s chin up with the tip of her knife and I make the connection immediately. He’s the weak man I threatened to even look in Puppet’s direction again from her school. Who Casey is, I don’t know and don’t fucking care. Right now, all I can think about is she’s in his house…alone. If he gets the upper hand or overpowers her—dammit! I never should have stayed so far away.

Professor Brady whimpers, and sweat mingles with the tears soaking into his gag.

“Puppet,” I say, but it comes out breathlessly, giving me away instantly.

“I want you to watch while I cut this man, piece by piece. And X…” she pauses, stepping closer until her face takes up the entire camera. “I want you to fuck yourself while I do it.” She giggles and I groan at what it does to me.

My erection bulges against my zipper as my hand falls to cup it.

She’s radiating confidence. My little murdering toy. She could fit into my life. I could make space just for her in my line of work. A team. Scott was the closest thing and—my line of thought takes a hard right as I remember exactly why I’ve put distance between us. My reality slams into me and I want to scream Darius’ name to conjure him just so I can kill him and be done with it. But I can’t find him. No matter how hard I’ve tried and even the intel I’ve bought from other sources, he’s a ghost.

And this girl isn’t mine. Not in that way. I own her to use her and that’s it.

Brady screams and I blink as Puppet’s knife comes away bloody and a bleeding slash goes from his hairline through his left eye and down to his chin. She slices clean through the gag and it falls from his mouth. His cries of pain grow louder.

“I’m waiting,” she sing-songs and slides her hand down her abdomen and underneath the waist of her black leggings.

“Okay Puppet, I’ll play your game.”

Even if it is the most selfish act, I’ll ever do .