KNOCKED UP BY THE HITMAN Read online

  “Where’s this place?” asked Cory. “Queens?”

  “Astoria,” said Russell. “That same place where you nearly got us fucking killed a few months back. Remember? Because I do.”

  “Jesus, Russ,” said Cory, his tone defensive. “I didn’t know that was Mr. Jensen’s fuckin’ girlfriend. She looked like his goddamn mother to me.”

  “I said it before and I’ll say it again—who the fuck would bring their goddamn mother into a weapons-buy?”

  “Eh, lay off,” said Cory, swatting his hand through the air. “I already said my fuckin’ sorries.”

  I said nothing, my heart still pounding like a drum. We entered one of the few parts of Astoria that was still mostly warehouses, not having yet been converted into the expensive condos that were popping up everywhere in Queens these days. Eventually, we came to a stop in front of a nondescript warehouse. Russell killed the engine and opened his door.

  “You. Stay,” he said, looking me dead in the eyes.

  Up close, his icy-blue eyes and low, commanding voice almost had a hypnotic effect. He probably could’ve told me to grab one of the guns and go rob the nearest bank and I would’ve listened.

  The brothers got out and, bag in tow, entered the warehouse. I placed my hand on my chest as they disappeared inside; it was beating even faster than before. This was all so much for me. Only a couple of hours ago I had been eating crappy food in a diner and wondering desperately what my next move was to be, and now I was something like an accomplice on a gunrunning operation. And on top of everything, I still had no idea just what Russell had in mind for me.

  After a time, the brothers returned. The giant bag that I’d been hidden under was now gone, replaced by a small black gym bag that dangled from Russell’s hand. The two of them climbed back in the car, and Russell tossed the bag on the floor by my feet.

  “See how much easier everything is when you keep your fucking mouth shut?” asked Russell, starting the car.

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Cory. “Now lemme see that fuckin’ money again.”

  He reached down for the bag and plopped it onto his lap. After rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he unzipped the bag.

  I gasped when I saw the contents.

  Inside was easily the largest amount of money I’d ever seen in person. Stack and stacks of hundreds were shoved in there, the bills fresh and crisp. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch them. Just one of those stacks looked like it would be enough for me to get out of the city and start a new life wherever I wanted.

  Cory picked up one of the stacks and ran his thumb over the end, flipping through it like a deck of cards.

  “Mmm,” he said, a smile on his face. “Not a goddamn thing nicer-smelling than a fresh stack of hundies.”

  “Put that shit away,” said Russell, his eyes on the road. “Lotta NYPD out here would love to take that shit off of our hands and throw us in Riker’s for the trouble.”

  “Fine, fine,” said Cory, zipping up the bag and shoving it back down on the floor. “Anyway, now what? We gonna go get fuckin’ wild with this cash or what, bro?”

  Russell shot Cory a steely, severe look.

  “No. We’re going to go back to our apartments and let this shit cool down for a few days. We just pulled off a major gun sale and I don’t wanna draw any attention to ourselves. And the way you spend money seems to be for the express purpose of doing just that.”

  “Aw, man,” said Cory. “You’re no fun.”

  We headed down into Brooklyn, reaching Bushwick. Eventually, we arrived at a rundown apartment complex and came to a stop.

  “Ride’s over, bro,” said Russell.

  He reached into the bag and pulled out a few bills from one of the stacks. “This is all you get for now.”

  “What the fuck?” demanded Cory. “Half of that’s mine!”

  “You wanna take this money and snort it up your nose or stick it into some stripper’s thong, you go right ahead. But not until the heat’s cooled down.”

  Cory grumbled and got out of the car.

  “Nice meeting you, toots,” he said, looking me up and down in a way that made my skin crawl.

  I’d been so overcome with anxiety since the deal’d been done that all I could manage was an awkward half smile. Not to mention that something about Cory struck me as not on the level. The brothers might have both been criminals, but at least Russell seemed to be a little more level-headed.

  “Um, now where?” I asked Russell, my voice weak.

  “My place.”

  And that was that. His tone didn’t suggest that he was looking to discuss the subject.

  We drove through Brooklyn, heading further east, ending up somewhere around Bed-Stuy. Soon, we arrived at a nondescript building. Russell pulled into the front and killed the engine.

  “Now it’s time for you to talk,” he said, looking over at me with those cutting blue eyes.

  “About what?” I asked, still feeling anxious from the events of the evening.

  “‘About what’?” he asked, his tone dismissive. “What do you think? I found you in the back of some shitty car, nothing but that car and a pile of old clothes to your name. Then you ask me to ‘kill’ you. I want to know how a girl like you ends up in a situation like that. Just what the hell are you running from?”

  I took a deep breath and prepared to speak. But before I could get a word out, Russell spoke again.

  “And no bullshit. I can sniff a lie from a mile away.”

  “I’m … running from a life that I couldn’t live in anymore. Just a bad relationship that I had to get out of. One bad decision after another. I had nothing to stay for, and nothing I cared about leaving behind.”

  Russell looked me up and down, this time skeptically, as if looking for signs of dishonesty that I couldn’t help but show if I were lying. I was being vague, but I hoped my answer would be enough for him.

  “Hmm,” was his response.

  He looked out of the driver’s side window as if weighing what I’d just told him. After a time, he spoke.

  “Well, I did what you asked— I made you disappear. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Alyssa,” I said.

  “Alyssa,” he repeated. “Well, Alyssa, you’re dead now. You’ve got no identity. As far as the rest of the world’s concerned, you’re a ghost.”

  I considered his words. He was right; once I was marked as dead by the NYPD it would be like I wasn’t real.

  “And here’s the thing: you’re my ghost.”

  The words hit me like a disorienting blow to the back of the head. I wasn’t even sure that he’d said what he had.

  “I’m … what?”

  “You heard me. I did you a favor. The favor to end all favors, possibly. And now you belong to me.”

  “What do you mean ‘belong to you’?” I asked.

  “Meaning, as far as you’re concerned, you’re my property. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna put you to work for me until I’ve decided that you’ve paid me back to my satisfaction.”

  What did he mean by that? I wondered.

  “So … I’m going to be your slave?” I asked.

  Russell let out a dry laugh.

  “That’s a little more dramatic than I’d put it, but you’re in the ballpark. Think of it more like an indentured servant. You know what that is?”

  It sounded familiar from my college days, but the exact meaning escaped me. To be honest, I was so shaken up that I probably couldn’t have even said what my middle name was if he’d asked me.

  Russell must’ve seen that I was at a loss for words, so he continued.

  “Way back when, property owners would put people to work on their farms. For the privilege of working for them, the farmers would owe the owner a major debt. Whatever the farmer made until that debt was paid off went right back to the owner, minus a little for the farmer to live. And once the debt was paid, the farmer could do whatever the fuck he wanted to. Stay, leave, the owner didn’t give a sh
it, just as long as he got what was his.”

  “And … that’s what I’m going to be to you?”

  “That’s right. You’re in the hole with me. Haven’t figured out just what I’m going to have you do for me, but I’ll think of something. And here’s the deal: once I’ve decided you’ve paid me back to my satisfaction, I’ll get in touch with some people who I know who’re into the false papers game. I’ll get you set up with a new identity, maybe even a little cash to get you started.”

  A moment passed as I thought about what Russell had just said. I had no idea what he had in mind for me, just like before, but the idea of being able to start again with a new name … it was just too good to pass up. He clearly had the money and the means, and being able to get a new name, maybe a little cash, and get the hell out of this goddamn town was exactly what I needed. Short of murdering someone, there really wasn’t much he could ask of me that would justify me saying no.

  “Otherwise I can send you out into the cold with the clothes on your back. But good luck getting a job or a place to live being officially dead. And I hear it’s going to be a shitty winter.”

  I’d already made up my mind.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  Russell flashed me that sly smile again.

  “Thought you’d make the right call. Oh, and one more thing: now that you’re on board for this little arrangement, let me explain the terms to you.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said, settling in and preparing to listen.

  “You try to run, or you tell anyone about the job tonight, or any other jobs I do, I’ll kill you. That’s it.”

  He opened his door and stepped out.

  I stayed frozen for a few moments, the severity of what Russell had just said sinking in. Part of me wondered if he was just talking tough, but in the little time I’d known him, Russell didn’t really seem to be the type to blow smoke; that seemed to be his brother’s expertise.

  Russell gave me a quick head tilt, one that said “hurry the hell up.” I scampered out of the car and made my way to his side.

  “This is my place,” he said. “Follow me.”

  I got out along with him and together we walked up to the building he’d parked in front of. The building was an old apartment block of gray stone, one that looked like it had seen better days. The inside wasn’t much better; the lobby was rundown and dingy, and the stairs leading up groaned and creaked under our weight. As we made our way up the dark and dirty stairs, I found myself wondering why someone like Russell, who seemed to have money, was living in a place like this.

  Eventually, we arrived at a top-floor apartment. He opened the door and revealed a small apartment. It wasn’t as rundown as the rest of the building, but wasn’t exactly five-star digs. Russell flicked on the lights and I gasped at what they revealed: one of the walls of the living room was packed full of shelf after shelf of weapons. I’d never seen so many guns in my life.

  Russell made his way to the kitchen and pulled a beer out of the fridge.

  “That’s you right there,” he said, pointing with his hand that held the beer to a futon. “You can stay here for now; I’ll figure out where to keep you long-term later.”

  Long term? I wondered as I walked further into the apartment. For just how long am I going to be his “indentured servant?”

  I moved closer to the shelves, looking over the weapons. Fear ran through me as I did, and I wondered just what the hell I’d gotten into. I’d never so much as a held a weapon in my life, and now I was going to be sleeping next to enough guns to take on the NYPD. What if one of them went off during the night? Was that even possible? Everything about this current situation that I found myself in was just so strange, so alien. Part of me was convinced that I was dreaming, that I’d wake up any moment in the back of my car, shivering under the pile of dirty clothes that I called a bed.

  But what happened next made it crystal clear that this whole evening wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

  Behind me, I heard the sound of a belt buckle coming undone, followed by the gulping down of the last swigs of a bottle of beer, and finally, the sound of a beer bottle being placed on the kitchen counter. I spun around on my heels and was confronted with the sight of Russell walking towards me, his hands on his belt buckle, a narrow-eyed, intense expression on his face.

  “What—what are you doing?” I asked.

  He continued towards me, stopped a few feet away and pulling his pants down a few inches, revealing his skintight black boxer-briefs and a bulge that I couldn’t help but notice.

  “Just like we discussed,” he said his voice low and sensual, “until this is all done with, you’re my servant. You’re all mine. And I’m ready to take my first payment.”

  Chapter Six

  Alyssa

  “Where … where do I start?”

  Russell stared hard into my eyes. I felt frozen in place.

  “I’m gonna assume you’re not a virgin, right?”

  “R-right.”

  “Then you just go ahead and start wherever you want, little lady.”

  Part of me wanted to run; I couldn’t believe that I was being taken by this man in such a way. I knew that I should’ve protested, at least a little. But everything around me seemed to serve to intimidate me, I knew that I had no option but to let Russell do with me whatever he wanted.

  My eyes moved up and down his body, and I couldn’t help but be taken in by just how goddamn good-looking he was. He towered over me, his broad-shouldered, beefy body as solid-looking as a stone wall. His thick arms hung at his sides, and my gaze tracked along the lines of his toned, tanned biceps, then along his thick shoulders, then to the hard angles of his torso. I noted the way the fabric of his white undershirt strained against his muscles; the thought popped into my mind whether or not it just might rip off if he decided to flex right at that moment.

  Finally, my eyes came to a rest on his package. Without thinking, I felt my tongue move along my bottom lip.

  What’s gotten into me? I asked myself. I should be smashing that beer bottle against his head and running for the front door. But I couldn’t. I was still like a prey animal under the gaze of a predator.

  “Looks to me like you know where to start,” said Russell, the corner of one side of his mouth pulling up slightly.

  I guess I did. I stepped towards Russell, placing my hands on his hips. Sure enough, his body was just as hard as I’d imagined it would be. Another moment of hesitation came over me, but before I spent too much time standing there like a deer in the headlights, Russell decided to help me out. Putting his hand on the top of my head, he pushed me down with no small amount of force. I dropped to my knees, the impact against the ground stinging a bit.

  But Russell didn’t seem to give a damn just how comfortable I was. He moved me closer to the bulge of his cock until it was a mere few inches from my face. I swallowed hard, now close enough to see that he was seriously packing under that thin layer of fabric. I could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, and with each pulse it grew harder and longer.

  Russell shoved his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down. I gasped as his cock sprang out—it was somehow even bigger than I’d figured it was. Long and thick, it pointed right at me, the head mere inches from my face. My eyes went wide as I looked down the length of his pillar; it was easily the biggest cock that I’d seen, whether in person or in a picture.

  “I know it’s a nice-looking prick,” said Russell, his voice even more booming from above, “but don’t just stare at it.”

  He was right; I had a job to do. And the worst part was that though I knew I was being controlled in a way that I should’ve objected to with every fiber of my being, I couldn’t help but feel more than a little turned on. Something about the way Russell took control without compunction or hesitation, Russell knew what he wanted, and didn’t give a damn about what I might have to say about it.

  Reaching up, I wrapped the fingers of my
right hand around the thick shaft of his cock and began to slowly stroke.

  Gotta start somewhere, I thought as I moved my hand and down the length of his long cock. Each pump up and down took some time, and I began to wonder if I’d even have the stamina to pleasure this thick tree trunk of a dick. Stroking with one hand, I took him by the base of his cock with the other. Licking my lips and flexing my jaw, I readied myself for the task that was staring right at me.