Still, I indulge. I let myself imagine a world where the lies I live don’t stain me as the harlot I am, and where I could find the kind of security I get with Gunter, but with somebody I actually could love. I let myself imagine what real love would feel like, to know I belong to a man who wanted to spend the rest of his life with me because I made him happy, not because I made him look good.

A hiss escapes my gritted teeth when Gunter pulls my panties aside and pushes his ready erection inside of me. For the briefest of seconds I’m snapped back to the reality of my weak illusion, to the shame of what I’m doing. But I reach for that fleeting fantasy with both hands and pull myself back to another place as Gunter thrusts hard and bruising. I allow myself to escape the reality once more and fantasize about a life where I can love a man with brown hair and kind eyes without fear of him finding out the truth about me; that I’m nothing more than a self-taught con-artist, selling herself for information, for answers that seem less likely to be had as time goes on.

IMMORALITY

Bronx

With my clothes spread out over the bed, I flop down on the end of the mattress and drop my head into my hands. When did this become my life? Fuck, when did I get so used to what I have been doing with the Butchers that it even crosses my mind to complain about how it is now?

My weeks have been spent for the better part travelling between Nebraska and Texas, my time split between the Red Lion some nights and getting wasted with Hooch at home others. I’ve put rubber to road when I shouldn’t have been thinking of doing anything other than sleeping off a hangover in my motel room. I’ve been wiping the slate that is my mind with an eraser cut into neat lines, and chasing it with the numbing bliss of a cold beverage.

All so I don’t think about her, and what’s she’s doing with a man like him. The thought of that Nazi’s hands on her sickens me; my jealousy burns a bright flame when I ask myself why I can’t have her. Everyone’s hooking up but me, and until now I’ve been envious of the idea, not of the who.

The life of the contract killer is lonely for me, and as much as I play the fool with the women who’ve shared my bed, I wish that wasn’t how I sate my needs. I want somebody who I can talk with at night, somebody who knows when all I need after a shitty day is to be shown affection and appreciation. But to do that, I first need to build a solid relationship with a woman, and the weeks it takes to court a girl aren’t time I can afford to spend. Malice and Ty managed it, but only just. Malice, because his thing with Jane became sink or swim thanks to her asshole ex-husband, and Ty, because damn near dying was a sure fire way to get Ramona’s attention.

As it is, we’re only just starting the task of taking Eddie down, and already I can’t wait to get my ass away from his crew and back to the straightforward job of breaking fingers and recovering debts. I need to dive in headfirst and get this shit done so I can move on and forget her. She made it clear she’s got no intention of leaving that Nazi fuck—I just need to listen. Why is a woman I spoke to in a crack house and who I’ve watched from a distance since screwing with my thoughts like this?

Drawing a deep breath, I drop my head back and stare up at the ceiling, running through what I need to organize if I’m going to stay away from home for a while. I’ve been pushing my luck by keeping away from the Fallen Saints’ clubhouses yet still coming home. I’m not distanced enough. I need to leave Fort Worth altogether. The dogs. Snatching my phone up from where it sits amongst the mess, I hammer out a quick text to Malice.

Going away for more than a couple of days. I need somebody to look after the dogs. Think you could spare a quick visit to pick them up?

I pocket the phone as I stand and head through to the kitchen to check how much food I have for them. The boys eat a mountain of biscuits and meat, being Rottweilers—hazard of the breed. I pull the giant bag of dry food out and set it on the counter when my phone vibrates.

No problem. See you soon.

Bagging up what’s left of the dog roll in the fridge, I set it down beside the dry food and head back to my bedroom to grab the last of what Hooch gave me from my jacket pocket. Eyes cast, I hold the bag in my hand and weigh up the pros and cons of taking another hit. I’m on my own, getting high by myself, but I ache for that relief. I need to feel at ease with leaving. Returning to the kitchen, I find a clear space on the counter and dump out the last of the dust from the baggie, throwing the spent plastic and my dignity in the bin. Within seconds, the coke is cut and heading down the back of my nose to give me a much needed ego boost.

Wiping the residue from my nostrils, I wander over to the back doors to let the mutts in. They both greet me with their silly grins, stumpy tails wagging. The boys follow me across to my usual seat, flanking me like a couple of sentinels on either side of the chair. As I wait for Malice to turn up, I sit and stare at the black TV screen, fingers running over the boys’ heads, my thoughts a million miles away thinking of what it would be like to drag my fingers through her black hair.

What is it about that girl that has me so obsessed with finding out more about her? She floored me, sure, but haven’t a dozen women before? What makes her so special? I run the brief conversation I had with her over and over in my mind, looking for the clues that would give the reason for this attraction away. But there’s nothing, not an inch of why it is I can’t get her out of my head.

I completely get King and what he said about not being able to stop thinking of Elena. But shit, I don’t have a name, and I’m hooked. Is it a fantasy? Have I imagined her to be something she’s not? Maybe the girl’s not that great after all, and it was just the drugs?

Fuck yeah, that’s probably it. I was probably so damn high that I imagined her pouty lips, the way her hair falls in her face, that round backside . . . damn. There’s nothing to explain it except I’ve been bitten by the love-bug, hard, square in the ass. You always hear stories of people who meet ‘the one’, and how they knew it from the moment they first laid eyes on them. I’d thought it was a crock of shit, stories dreamt up by advertising firms trying to sell more Valentine’s day cards. But I guess it’s one of those things you don’t know until you’ve been there, and fuck, looking at her took me all the way, fast.

Now I have a fucking car show to attend, which more than likely means a day spent around her. She’s bound to be there, just like she’s always at the Lion with Gunter . . . who also is wherever the hell Eddie is. Which leads me to another mystery to solve—what does Eddie want me there for? Guess there’s only one way to know what he has planned, and that’s to turn up. Not like I have a choice in the matter, either way—getting on the inside is what I’m leaving my home to do. I’m sure as shit not putting myself through all this for a fucking holiday.

The sound of Malice’s truck pulling up the drive sets the dogs off. The boys are barking at the front door before I’ve left my seat. I get the dumbasses to heel, and release the chain for my friend, welcoming him with the usual clinch and pat to the back.

“How you doing?”

“Yeah, good,” Malice answers, walking in and patting the boys on their heads. “What about you, bro?”

I shrug, wandering through to the kitchen to retrieve the food. “Okay.”

“Don’t sound it.” He leans into the doorframe, arms crossed and a no-nonsense look across his face.