Page 12 of Lucky Shot

Chapter fourteen

Aiden

Ilook through the list of four names and addresses on my screen that my IT contact, Shamus, sent me. I had him hack into the last live Phoebe did, and provide me the addresses, personal information, and shopping habits, of any males within a three-hundred miles radius of my location, who watched my girl’s show. The added bonus is that Nicolo isn’t the only one who knows where she is anymore, not that I’ll tell him that. A feeling of unhinged fury and aggravation is increasing inside of me at this whole situation. Knowing men are out there getting a piece of my girl, hiding behind a screen, and throwing disgusting, degrading comments her way. I know she’s not innocent in any of this, she’s on the lives to make money, but I don’t give a fuck. My rage needs an outlet, and they are about to become mine.

“Why the fuck are we here, Aiden? It’s hot as the devil’s balls,” Nicolo whines from the passenger side of the Cadillac Escalade we rented under an alias, to help us find Phoebe. He’s been behaving like a pissy shit ever since the poker game, where he made himself look like afool, and Wren, a Russian mafia princess, had to save his life when he had an allergic reaction to some shit he ate. I don’t bother to answer his obnoxious question, my head is pounding, and I’m trying to decide whether to allow him to keep breathing, or if I should just slit his throat and leave him in a ditch somewhere, and blame it on the Russians. Let his family go to war with them. They’ll all kill each other, and the best part is, I get to keep Phoebe all to myself. “Aiden, fuck, can you at least keep the air conditioning on? I’m sweating like a damn pig here, and this is a Tom Ford shirt.”

I breathe out through my nose, reminding myself that a quick death by slitting his throat would be too easy for this fucker, after everything he’s done. He’s the reason she had to run in the first place. I should stab him with a pen knife over and over, and watch him bleed out while I fill his fucking mouth with peanuts, and watch him suffocate as his throat closes up. A grin twitches on my lips as I open the center console, pull out a package of chocolate peanut butter cups, and rip it open, taking a bite of one and moaning at the savory goodness. The minute he notices, he jumps in the passenger seat, and tries to put as much distance between us as possible. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Those could kill me, asshole!” He yells in outrage.

“Then you had better shut your whiny, bitch mouth, before I shove one down your damn throat, Nico. You’ll do what I fucking say without complaining, and stop behaving like a spoiled three-year-old who needs a nap.” His dark blues are bright with fear, and I watch with amusement as he searches his pockets for his Epi-pen. “Wh-what are we doing here, Aiden,” he gulps, and it brings so much satisfaction to my dark soul, seeing him realize that, despite all our years of friendship, I could end his life, and I wouldn’t even feel much remorse. He took someone from me, someone I valued more than anything in my world, and he needs to understand that I will never forgive him for that. The only reason I haven’t ended his life yet is because I know it would hurt Phoebe, despite everything he’s done to her.

I finish the chocolate and crinkle the wrapper, throwing it in Nico’s direction, and he bats it away like a scared little kid, his face flushing red. “You fucking lunatic! What the hell is the matter with you?!” I ignore him and stare out the window, getting a glimpse of our first victim, pulling into the parking lot of the coffee shop he goes to every single day after work. He doesn’t look like much, barely over five feet five, and weighing less than one of our guard dogs back at the Murphy compound. User:Imyourbitch22,also known as Ziggy Stuart, enjoyed calling my girl a dirty whore, while he no doubt cummed like a stupid fuck in the dark, and hid behind his screen name. He’s about to learn some damn manners, and I am going to ensure the fucker is either left breathing through a straw, or not at all. “Why the fuck are you staring at that guy like that? Do you know him from somewhere?” Nico questions, while rubbing his hands on the expensive shirt he was moaning about moments ago.

“Get the fuck out of the car, Nico. You’re going to help me teach that piece of shit some manners, and to make sure he never gets to see Phoebe naked again,” I growl as I exit the driver’s side, slip on my brass knuckles, and pull my black bandana from around my neck and up over the lower half of my face. Nico hesitates for a brief second as he processes my words, and then he rushes around the vehicle toward me. “You watched her? That guy watched her too?” I nod my head, amused that he’s now utterly incensed with the thought of us both having seen Phoebe naked, and pleasuring herself. I throw him a matching bandana that he wraps around his face with quick, jerky movements. “He called her a dirty whore, and treated her like shit under his shoe, while he got off on it,” I egg him on. I want Nicolo out of control. I want him to realize how much he costs us both, with the decisions he’s made. I want him to feel violated, like Phoebe must feel, as she uses sex as a way to stay alive, and hidden from us.

“Motherfucker!” Nico starts to storm across the parking lot, just as Ziggy comes out of the coffee shop with a takeaway cup of coffee in his hands, and begins walking back toward his baby blue Toyota Prius. Poor Ziggy doesn’t even get his door open before Nicolo punches the back of his head, and slams him to the ground. The coffee cup flies up into the air, the lid popping off and scalding both of them. “MOTHERFUCKER! I’m going to fucking end you!” Nicolo growls as he swipes hot coffee off his forearms, and pulls his ruined designer shirt away from his chest. As amusing as all of this is to watch, I need to relieve some of my own rage, and I don’t plan to just stand around and watch. I glare at a fucker about to get out of his car to try to help stop the beating Nico is giving Ziggy. “You move, and you’re fucking next. You call the cops and I’ll be paying you a visit at your home.” I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the guy’s license plate, and one of his face, and he quickly backs his car up and flies out of the parking lot.

I move with complete confidence across the parking lot until I reach Ziggy, who’s now in the fetal position, taking harsh kicks to his back and head from Nico, who’s losing his shit completely. “Stop, prick. We need to have a little chat here with our friend, to make sure he understands the error of his ways.”

I bend down and grab a fistful of Ziggy’s greasy man bun, and force him to stare at me as tears slide down his pathetic face. “Ziggy Stuart, or should I call you,Imyourbitch22?“ I yank him closer to me, until I can see the terror in his muddy brown eyes. “You see, Ziggy, I think you are my bitch, and I’m about to ensure that you see the light. Whether you ever wake up and remain breathing is not really up to me.” I slam my head against his face with a crack, and his nose explodes into a bloodymess. “Please! Please take my wallet and my car, take it, just don’t hurt me!”

I chuckle behind my bandana. “You hear that? He thinks we are common thieves here to steal from him.” I slam the brass knuckles into the side of his face as I release his hair, wrap my fingers around his throat, and squeeze while he tries to twist in my grip. “I don’t want your piece of shit car, asshole, and you don’t have enough money to make me want to walk away.” His face is turning a bright shade of eggplant, as his eyes bulge out of his ugly skull. It would be so easy just to crush his throat and leave him to die, but this fucker hasn’t even realized what he’s done to offend me, and I need him to learn the error of his ways, before I send him to meet his maker. “You disrespected someone that means a lot to me. You treated her like she was some common whore, when she’s a fucking queen. You watched what doesn’t belong to you, and instead of treasuring that privilege, you behaved like a fucking cunt. For that, you have to pay, Ziggy. The disrespect you paid her must be avenged.”

I slam the brass knuckles into his mouth, shattering his teeth, and Nicolo kicks him so hard in the back that his whole body bows forward, and I am forced to relinquish my grip on his throat. “Get right with whatever God you believe in, fucker, ’cause you’re about to meet him!” Nicolo growls as he kicks Ziggy in the head, forcing him back into the fetal position, and he begins stomping hard down on his head, over and over again, as Ziggy screams for help. I pull out my switchblade and get Nicolo’s attention. “Hold him fucking still,” I demand as I straddle Ziggy’s waist, and rip open his shitty band t-shirt. I use the knife to carve into his chest, ‘Imyourbitch’.Once I’m done, and Ziggy has passed out from the pain, I slam the blade into his throat and groin before pulling it back out, getting up, and staring down at myhandiwork. “Ziggy here won’t be watching anyone ever again. Let’s go, Nico, before the cops show up.”

I pocket the bloody blade, planning to keep it as a trophy, so I can remind myself of what lengths I am willing to go for Phoebe Murphy. “Hey, can we go through the drive-thru, and get a cold macchiato? I’m fucking parched?” Nico questions, and I roll my eyes at him as I get back into the Escalade.

“Maybe after the next one, Nico. There are a few more dirty perverts we have to pay a visit to today.” He pulls out the wipes I stashed earlier in the glove compartment, and starts wiping at his hands. “Okay, but you’re going to buy me lunch, and none of that avocado toast shit they eat out here.”

Fucking Nicolo Amato is going to get himself killed one of these days, probably at my hands, when I lose all my patience with him.

Chapter fifteen

Hoodie Guy

Iwatch her, my beautiful clover, with rapt anticipation strumming through my body, as she looks over her shoulder with undisguised wariness once again after leaving her last class, in which I left her a little note, discreetly tucked into the front pocket of her bag. It made my heart sing with glee when she emitted that high-pitched squeak, as she reached for a pen, and instead found my present, as I sat across the lecture hall from her, forcing myself not to grin or look in her direction. It was almost too easy slipping it in there, when I brushed past her as we went up the stairs. She really should be more careful; not everyone around her has good intentions.

The dark corners of my mind light up with possible ways of causing her to make other noises, ones that bring unrestricted pleasure to my soul. I try not to look too closely at why I want that, since I know it’s not exactly normal. It’s not even a matter of wanting her anymore. She’s not a toy I wish to play with. She’s an ardent need inside of me, one that threatens to consume me whole with an uncontrollable scorching blaze. All my thoughts day and night now revolve around this woman. She’s the air I breathe, the light in my darkness, and the reason my blood hums in my veins.

She crosses the grassy quad, and stops to speak to another female student a few feet away from me, her sweet, melodic voice being carried on the wind. My eyes trail over the pretty cream sundress with a red cherry print she’s wearing, that hits her at knee length, and leaves her toned calves on display. I bet she doesn’t realize that, in the sunlight, the material is almost sheer, and displays her lush curves for anyone glancing at her. The swell of her round breasts peek over the scalloped edges of the material, and cause my mouth to water with heady anticipation to taste them. I observe with humor that her body is tense, her shoulders are up by her ears, and her eyes keep darting around the open space, attempting cautious glances. Does she sense me watching her? Does she know how very close I am to her at this very moment? Almost close enough to reach out, and touch the strands of her wavy brunette hair. A part of me wants to try, just to see what she’ll do, but I force myself to stay still.Soon, she’ll be mine, and then I can do what I wish with her.

My obsession with Phoebe Murphy started in an unlikely way back in Illinois years ago, when my family was indebted to hers, for my father’s drunken gambling bets. She probably never even noticed me in all the years we lived in the same area, and went to the same church. I was nothing then, and much like her, I decided to run from my family, and start a new life away from the corrupt system that kept us both prisoners. Our shared pasts give us commonality, but that’s where it ends. Phoebe was a beautiful princess, and now she’s a tarnished whore. Her fate has taken a turn that no one, including her, would have expected. In contrast, mine has only stabilized, and become easier to bear.

Whowould have guessed that the day I spied her, outside of her class last semester, and followed her around for a few days, would be so interesting? If someone had told me the only sister of the head of the Irish Mafia in Chicago was out in California, hiding under an alias, and doing porn, I would have laughed in their faces, and asked them what they were smoking. Yet, after watching her, and following her to the warehouse where she does, in fact, perform for a paying audience, I was shocked. It didn’t take me more than a few days to find her videos on their subscribers’ site, and I have enjoyed watching her ever since. I couldn’t afford her top-tier stuff, so I used my skills to hack her system. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my higher education at work, and being used for something other than corporate greed.

It brings me a sick, perverse joy, seeing the depths the spoiled princess has been reduced to. Her cold demeanor back in Chicago always made her unapproachable, and her brother’s violent temper made her untouchable. Couple that with those two simpering psychopaths that never left her side, and everyone gave her a wide berth growing up. Now she’s here all alone, hiding who she is, and I have my chance. To do what, I am not entirely sure yet. A part of me wants to play with Phoebe a bit, like a spider does with a fly caught in its web. I find her fascinating, as if she were one of the pretty butterflies I used to tear the wings off when I was growing up, to see how long they could survive without them, or the alley cats whose tails I would cut off, to see if they would still land on their feet, and have perfect balance. I want to see inside of Phoebe Murphy’s mind and body. I want to know what makes her tick, what causes her pain, and how much she can endure. I want to hear her beg and scream. I want her to plead, with my name on her lips, as her sweet and delicious tears slide down her face.

DoI know that’s more than a little unhinged?Sure.Does it mean I plan to stop, and forget all about the girl who I spent years crushing on, when she didn’t even know it?Not even for a second.I know that what was once a normal childish crush has turned into a raving obsession, where I can’t think about anything except her. My days now begin and end with Phoebe Murphy, or should I say Phoebe Smitherson, as she’s now calling herself.

“Yeah, his class is brutal, one of the worst I have ever taken, and don’t even get me started on all the papers I had to write last term.” I listen to her with amusement, and try to hide my smirk, as I lean back against the brick half-wall, and pretend to be reading something on my phone. She scans the grounds again, looking for someone with a dark hoodie like the one I have tucked away in my backpack. It’s way too hot out here today, even for me to be wearing one.Poor sweet Irish princess, you don’t even know who the villain is that may mean you harm.

I watch with intensity as she drags her long, thick hair off of her slender neck, which would look amazing with a collar strapped to it, and uses her graceful hands to pull it into a high ponytail on the top of her head. I much prefer her natural dark hair, to the gross blonde wig she wears, as she’s performing sexual acts for strangers. The desire to run my fingers through the silky strands and wrap them around my fist, forcing her to arch that pretty neck of hers, while I take her mouth, has starred in many of my fantasies. As has her lovely pink pussy, and that puckered hole she loves to display, adorned with jewelry. My obsession with her has only grown more powerful, and unhinged, in the last couple of weeks. Every moment in her unaware presence is a hit of dopamine to my brain, forcing me to become addicted, and crave her more and more.

I’ve tried to work up the courage to speak to her in person, but chickened out almost every time, except for once when I forced myself to sitnext to her, at the coffee shop with the tarot reading, and weird Tibetan chanting music, she loves to go to. I had hoped that she might have recognized me from back home, so that I could tell her that she was safe now, that I would protect her from her family, and help her continue to hide her identity, but instead, she looked right through me, as if I didn’t even matter. For over an hour, I sat at the small bistro table right next to her, breathing in and savoring her roses and vanilla scent, while she scrolled on her phone, and drank her sugary butterscotch coffee concoction, and not once did she acknowledge me sitting there. Not once did she attempt polite conversation with the person at the table next to her. I wanted so desperately to hear her voice directed solely at me. Yet, even when I purposely dropped my napkin next to her chair, she made no attempt to pick it up. That’s when I realized it didn’t matter that we were both far from our families, and who we once were. Nothing had changed for either of us. I was still unworthy of the Irish princess, even in this new life I had built for myself.

That’s when I allowed my anger to take root, and made a poor judgment call. One I have regretted ever since, and is now causing me tons of anxiety. Instead of just working up the courage to talk to her, like a normal human being, or trying at that moment to understand that she perhaps is fearful of everyone around her, because of her circumstances, I lost my sanity. I went on a rampage, allowing hate to momentarily take root inside of me. I anonymously forwarded her cam girl link to none other than her enemy, and waited with bated breath for the world to come down around her. Every single day since, I have been waiting for that fucker Nicolo Amato to show up, and force her back home to Chicago. Except now I know that I will murder him if he tries.

I tighten my grip around my phone, almost cracking the screen at the thought of him taking what now belongs to me away from me. He had his chance with her. He had years at her side, and I have only had a few short months. I have no doubt that he’s coming to reclaim his bride. I may be hiding out in California just like Phoebe is, but I still manage to get news from back home. I know she left the obtuse cunt standing at the altar on their wedding day. The question I am sure everyone and their momma wants to know is why. They were thick as thieves growing up, and I’m sure she had to know that he had a crush on her most of his life, since it was so obvious to see. Something happened to make Phoebe run, and how she got out of Chicago undetected, and unscathed, by both the Irish and Italian mafia, is a mystery I seek to discover.

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