Page 69 of Locke

What an irregularity this was.

What an interesting development this was.

After a taste of what they shared together, she must have wanted it, too. By now, their time together had dulled, the taste had faded until it was in the faintest form of a memory on her tongue.

But he needed to break her first. He needed the decline to be swift and quick. He needed to see the walls of her life close in on her. He wanted his prey helpless, dependent, needy. He wanted her crazy as he felt. He wanted her monster brought to the surface, and like before, he would not tame it. He wanted to exploit it, play with it, watch what it did when it was no longer contained.

His prey needed to be free by being caged, and he knew just how to do it.

*

Her street was a rotting wasteland. Garbage, filth, vandalism and junkies. Locke walked past whores as they cooed at him, not realizing how fucking close they were to a murderous villain. “Five bucks for a blow,” one offered.

“With those lips, another time,” he responded casually, and they laughed and whistled at him.

This place still had nothing on the disabled man his little lion had to care for. It put his mind at ease that she no longer had to walk those streets to get to that derelict building. Unless she had a car of her own, he wouldn’t let her anywhere near that place again. Too rife with violence and drugs, her building was directly across from machete wielding fucks that seemed to constantly elude him when the sun went down. Like cockroaches, they scattered from sight, and he had yet to figure out just where exactly they went.

He would need to station a Raven crew in Blackwater at some point soon in order to drive those slimy bastards out. It was just another problem atop a mountain of others.

Keeping his hands fisted in his pocket, his fingers were coiled around the knuckleduster as he walked past more strays. They looked him over, assessing him, wondering if they could jump him for his wallet, but they promptly determined he was too much work, and what the fuck could he possibly be carrying of any value looking the way he was? He was a big guy, this fucking body tested to its limits every morning he got up to work out every fucking muscle. He wasn’t dressed in his suit, either. Wearing dirty joggers and a dark grey sweater with the hood pulled up, Locke seamlessly blended in.

Just like he had seamlessly blended in when his little prey slammed straight into him. She was so fucking small, she nearly fell over had he not gripped her arms momentarily to steady her. Did he come close enough to smell her hair? Fuck yes, he did. Did he momentarily relish the softness of her bare skin under his palms? That simple touch went straight to his centre before it went to his cock, and he knew straightaway this was getting out of hand, but he didn’t give a single fuck.

Did Obsession smile?

He did: a Cheshire smile, in fact.

Locke stopped in front of her building now and crossed his arms, waiting by the door. He pretended to nod off, like his fellow addicts on the ground beside him. He kept his eyes shut, waiting patiently.

“I’ll talk to her, alright?” a feminine voice spoke nearby. Clouds of smoke wafted to him. “She’s being a little bitch about it, I get it, but I told her it wasn’t your fault, Eric. Why are you even bothering anyway? How many times did I offer to blow you? Kali barely touches a guy’s cock—you really think she’d have sucked yours?”

Locke’s ears perked up. He tilted his head in the direction of the girl standing out front of the laundromat next door. She was puffing on a smoke, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, a basket of clothes pressed against her hip.

He recognized her straight away.

Kali’s friend—shitty friend.

What the fuck was his girl doing with the likes of her?

And who the fuck was this Eric fuck that this bitch was offering to blow? Was he interested in his little lioness? Fucker was going to be looking down the end of his gun barrel—

“She’s losing her shit. I think she’s actually on something, which I’m not surprised about. She told me her family has a long history of drug addiction, which she only admitted when she was drunk. She’s probably going down the same road as them. She sleeps half-drunk most nights lately, and she’s probably mixing it up with other shit.”

She went quiet, and Locke could faintly hear a man’s voice on the other end of the line. Fucker had an ugly voice. Kali wouldn’t want that voice in her ear while she was being fucked.

“I’m not being unreasonable, though,” she continued, sounding defensive. “She was all spooked her phone was in the bag, Eric! Like, what the fuck? Oh—you know what she asked me about today? She asked me what I knew about Max Locke.” After she said his name, she realized her mistake. Her body stilled and she tossed a look up and down the street before stopping to look over Locke and the limp bodies still riding through their high. Deeming them no threat, she resumed, whispering quietly, “She says she applied for a job at one of his stores, but she’s a shit liar. I think she’s buying drugs off Locke’s dealers or something. She always passes them when she looks after that crippled dude. Why else would she ask about him?”

Locke’s lips curved up, a satisfied smile stretching across his lips.

That vexing witch was just as curious.

At the same fucking time, he needed to know more about this vicious friend that was talking so much shit about her.

It should have disturbed him how much it bothered him that Kali was surrounded by cunts like this bitch, but he was beyond the point of reason now.

He waited for her to get off the phone. She moved along to other topics. Something about using cock rings on Eric’s petite princess dick before she got off the phone and lit up another smoke. She sucked it dry and then tossed it on the ground.

Walking past him, she strutted to the doors, stuck her key in, and then swung it open. She walked into the building like she was walking down a fucking runway.

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