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 Of Wicked Things
Not the Good Guy

Kyra Nyx
with Bree Weeks

Lone Oak Publishing, LLC

 Copyright © 2021 Kyra Nyx and Bree Weeks

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations for a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or
locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
 Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
About The Author
Not the Good Guys
 Chapter One
Ava

Slinging drinks at some dive bar wasn’t exactly my first career

choice when I was a little girl, but working there gave me a few
things a regular job couldn’t provide. Anonymity. Freedom. A reason
to stay up all night so I could vigilantly observe people. A room full
of big guys to protect me if anyone came looking. All useful things
for someone in my predicament.

Despite said predicament, I was stupid and reckless. Never

being one to listen to my mother’s advice and mind my own damn
business, I jumped head first into something wicked. It started
innocently enough, and I told myself it was pretty freaking brave.

The woman at the bar that fateful night looked lost and
uncomfortable with her surroundings. I first thought she was drunk,
but then I noticed her trying to avoid some guys who were harassing
her. They should’ve scared me, but stupid, reckless people aren’t
usually scared when they should be. Even after the guys left, she
looked shaken. I tried striking up a conversation, but because her
eyes were empty, I knew it was fruitless. I’d seen similar eyes
looking back at me in the mirror far too many times.

She had a few drinks after they left, which made me worry
more. When she left, I didn’t see the harm in following her. I
thought she was too impaired to get home safely and may need
help. I wasn’t trying to get involved in something nefarious, but
found myself in the middle of some heavy shit.
 She was dead. I was sure of it. No one could survive losing the
amount of blood pooling around her head. I'd only seen that much
blood one other time in my life, and that person most certainly did
not survive. Panic filled my already overwhelmed mind as I
frantically scanned the parking lot for the killer. If he was still there
watching me, I could be next.

I should’ve told someone what I saw, but who would’ve

believed me. I didn't even believe it myself, which is why I left the
quiet little church parking lot exactly the way I found it. I left her
there. Lying on the cold, hard ground.

Before I made it back to the bar, my guilty conscience began

eating away at me. Actually, it was more like beating me over the
head. What if she wasn’t dead? While it seemed unlikely, if there
was a remote possibility, I had to be sure. So, shortly after I
returned to the bar, I went back to the church. All the way there, I
worried about what to do if she were still alive. I’d have to call for
help, but I couldn’t wait around for an ambulance, much less the
cops. I could not be there when the cops showed up.

Arriving at the scene, it was clear my worry about having to

call an ambulance was unfounded, but not for the reason I thought.
I expected to find her body there right where I left her, lying in a
pool of blood. Instead, there was no body, no blood, no...nothing! I
couldn’t believe what I was seeing with my own eyes. Or really, what
I wasn't seeing was more accurate. She. Was. Gone. No blood, no
injured woman, no one threatening her or me. Nothing.

My eyes frantically searched the parking lot for whomever

could’ve moved her body. Was he still there? Was I in danger?
Instincts took over, and I reached for my purse to retrieve the
handgun I’d carried ever since that night not so long before. The
night that changed the entire trajectory of my life.
 Shit! I’d left the bar on a whim and didn’t have my purse,
which was still in the breakroom. If there was someone out there
lurking in the shadows, I'd need another way to stop him. I looked
around for anything I might be able to use as a weapon. Because it
was Friday night and the members of the congregation responsible
for keeping the place clean wouldn’t be there until the next day
before services on Sunday, there was a plethora of interesting things
lying about. Not much in the way of weapons, unfortunately. I found
a dirty syringe, which would come in handy if someone got close
enough to me, otherwise, I had to figure it out on my own.

Due to the lack of appropriate weapons, I decided the best

course of action would be for me to run like hell and hope no one
caught me. I stayed close to the buildings and out of the street
lights while I ran and avoided taking shortcuts through unknown
alleys. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by sprinting into the
night like a crazy woman, but I also wanted to get someone's
attention if I needed it. My brain wasn’t functioning properly, and it
hadn’t occurred to me that I hadn't seen another soul since leaving
the bar the second time. It was eerily quiet, almost as if even the
dregs of society knew they should've stayed off the streets that
night. Well, at least everyone but me. I was the dumbass out there
running for my life.

Rounding the corner of the building toward the entrance of

the bar, knowing I was almost back to safety was the most
frightening part of the whole trek. I ran those last few yards like my
life depended on it. Perhaps it did. Regardless, I’d never been
happier to step foot in that seedy old place. Even with the creepy
customers and the low-life owner, I still felt a million times safer. At
least I wasn’t alone. At least I wasn't dead. Like that girl.

Over the next few days, every moment of that night played
slowly in my mind. On repeat. I wondered about her. Who was she?
Where was she from? Would someone miss her when she didn't
come home?
 Her face was emblazoned in my memory. Shy. Beautiful. Long
blonde hair and dark blue eyes. Wearing little makeup, she didn’t
need it. Just your everyday girl next door. She looked out of place
with her loose-fitting summer sweater and blue jeans, in her
sensible shoes. Nothing like the other female patrons of the bar. No
short, tight dresses cut down to there. No tits and ass hanging out
or makeup so thick it could’ve been applied with a spatula. Just a
quiet, simple girl. Or at least that’s the image I'd created for her in
my mind. Maybe I was way off base. She could have been a secret
hell-raiser who got mixed up with the wrong people, and maybe
that’s what got her killed.

The nagging question in the back of my mind was what

happened to her body? Someone moved her and cleaned up the
mess in the short time I was gone. Was it a professional job, or was
she just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Whatever happened,
one thing was certain. I had to watch my back. It happened fast and
someone could’ve seen me either leaving the first time or when I
came back the second time. How could I have been such an idiot?
Who the hell leaves a murder scene, doesn’t report it, and then goes
back fifteen minutes later by herself with no weapon? A fucking
moron, that’s who.

I watched people more intently than usual after then,

whether I was at work or simply at the grocery store. Everyone and
everything made me nervous, and each person I saw was a potential
killer. Did the guy at the bar know what I'd seen? Was someone
going to stick a knife in my back when I wasn't paying attention?
The paranoia was getting to me, and I had to find a distraction
before I went out of my mind.
 Chapter Two
Jake

Lost in thought while looking around my grandmother’s house, I was

struck by the size of the place. It was much smaller than I’d
remembered, even though I’d only been gone five years. "I
appreciate you managing the upkeep on the house, Mike." One of
only three family members who would still talk to me sat at the small
kitchen table where we ate so many meals together while growing
up.

"Yeah well, don't let my wife find out about it or else I'll be
moving in here with you.” The grin on his face almost convinced me
that he wasn’t serious, though I knew better. “You know I couldn't
let the old place fall apart. We spent so many good times here. It
would’ve been a shame to let it fall to pieces, especially since I knew
you’d be back eventually."

"Well, I know you didn't do it for me, you did it for Grandma,
but I can still offer my thanks." I stood, walking circles around the
room, waves of memories flooding my brain. The midday sun
glinting off a shiny object in the backyard caught my attention as I
walked past the back door. Throwing it open, I grinned at seeing the
monkey bars my grandmother had installed so many years before. I
gave my cousin a surprised look, noticing one corner of his mouth
turned it up and a half grin. "I can't believe she kept that old thing."

"And I can't believe the city didn't make her tear it down. I
always suspected she baked cookies for someone on the zoning
board who allowed her to keep it, especially falling down the way it
is."

Placing my hand on the warm metal of the door handle

brought another smile to my face. I closed my eyes and tried to
remember the sound of her voice when she called me in for supper.
"You know, the air is even different out here than it is on the inside.”

“I guess I’ve avoided the elephant in the room long enough. I

have to ask you: do you think you can do it? Can you stay out of
trouble and go straight?”

I shouldn’t have been bothered by his question, but it pissed

me off. “Well, I guess we’re just going to have to see, aren't we?
Fuck, Mike! I thought you of all people would have more confidence
in me than that!”

As he stood, I recognized the look of disappointment in his

eyes. I’d seen it so many times over the years from him and other
people who were supposed to be close to me. Resentment filled me
just under the surface, and I fought hard to keep it from reaching
the boiling point. He didn’t back down, though, which was unusual
for most people. “Look, Jake. We’re family, and I love you. Always
have, always will. But, you hurt a lot of people when you went away.
I don’t think you realize what it did to her. And don’t forget, buddy, it
wasn't just the emotional pain. There were a lot of bills to pay, and
she just couldn’t do it on her own.”

“I left her completely set up. No one should’ve had to do

anything!”

“Dude! Everything you had was seized when you were sent to
prison. Did you not know that?” He surveyed my face for the answer.

“Fucking vultures! Fucking lying cops and lawyers!”

 After a moment of stunned silence, he shook his head. “Well,
I guess you didn’t know. I’m sorry, man, to be the one to tell you,
but yeah. That’s what happened. Lots of us chipped in to help, but
without your assets, all she had was this house and the money she’d
scrimped and saved all her life. It wasn’t much, but we did the best
we could. The worst part is she was too fucking proud to let us do
more. Deb and I would get groceries and have to bring the kids to
distract her while we put food in the pantry and freezer without her
seeing us. The rest of the family took turns paying a portion of her
water or electricity bill. I tried paying for the whole thing once, but
she found out and threw a fit. From then on we had to make sure
we didn’t pay the full balance so she’d feel like she was
independent.”

“She always was a stubborn old fool.”

“Yeah, well, that trait seems to run rampant in this family.”

The smile returned for a brief moment. “It got better toward the
end. She didn’t have much energy after chemo, then she quit
fighting and allowed us to take care of her.” Looking at his phone, he
winced. “Shit, man, I gotta go. Deb will have my ass if I’m late
picking up the kids from day camp again. Last time, she threatened
to cut me off in the sack if I left her babies stranded again. Like they
can’t handle waiting five minutes for me.”

“When did you get so pussy whipped?”

“I prefer the phrase ‘devoted husband and father.’ Besides, if

you knew how great it is to have someone who loves me enough to
nag my ass, you wouldn’t have anything to say. You should make
finding a wife high on your priority list now that you’re starting over.
It could change everything for you, brother.”

I laughed to drown out the sound of my gagging reflex. “No

thanks, man. That’s your life. Not mine.”
 “Suit yourself,” he sighed. “Just saying. It’s pretty great. I’ll
see you later, man.” Reaching the door, he swung around slowly. “I
can’t invite you over to the house yet. Give me a little time to soften
Deb up on the idea, alright? I am glad you’re back, though. Don’t do
anything to screw it up! You’ve always been more than my cousin.
You’re my best friend, and I don’t think my heart could take seeing
you go away again.” He nodded and sprinted out the door to his car
before I got a chance to say anything.

Taking a deep breath, I wondered if maybe he had life figured

out way better than I did. He certainly seemed to have everything
he wanted, even if he did complain too much about Deb and the
kids. It was obvious they made him happy. Knowing that lifestyle
wasn’t for me didn’t mean I wasn’t glad for him. I’d do whatever
was necessary to protect him and his family, which is why I was
grateful the two shadowy figures in the back of the house had
stayed where they belonged while Mike was visiting. “You two sons
of bitches can come out now. He’s gone,” I called out.

I stood at the kitchen door and waited for them to emerge

from their hiding places. Fury ran through my body, but I wasn’t
going to let them see it. Better to keep my cool and find out what
they wanted, though that didn’t stop me from staring them down
when they got close enough. “Sweet and touching little scene, there,
Jakey. Must be nice to still have a family to care about you after all
that time you were gone.”

“Leave my family alone Ray. If I catch you around any one of

them--”

“Back off, Snake. We’re not here to mess with your family,”
Ray hissed.

“Then why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here and why
I shouldn’t kill you where you stand for coming into my home
uninvited.”
 “All in good time, Snake. There's plenty of time for that. Don’t
you want to catch up first? You’ve been gone a while, and I’m sure
you want to know about a new alliance that's formed since you've
been gone.”

“I have no interest in any alliance. I’m out of the business

now, or didn’t you hear that part of the conversation when you were
back there eavesdropping?” I threw a dish towel over my shoulder
and motioned for them to get the hell out of my way so I could
clean up from Mike’s visit. I may have disappointed my grandmother
while she was alive, but I intended to pay my respects to her by
keeping her house clean the way she would’ve wanted it.

Jimmy's shrill laugh cut through the hot and humid afternoon air
like a knife. “Well, isn’t this precious! Get this, Ray. Not only does
Snake here get out of prison and think he’s going to change careers,
but he’s also become a sweet little housewife. Be sure you get those
dishes clean now, sweetheart, or your daddy will tan that ass for
you.”

In one swift movement, I turned, punched Jimmy in the throat,

knocking him to the ground. As he lay there making gagging sounds,
I grabbed the butcher’s knife from the counter and held it under
Ray’s chin. “I’m just about to lose my patience with you. So just go
ahead and tell me what the fuck you’re doing here so you can be on
your way. And don’t call me Snake.”

His sickening smile slid across yellow teeth as he inhaled. If I

didn’t think he was pissing his pants, I’d swear the mother fucker
was enjoying it. “Oh, come on, now, buddy. Just because you’re
pretending to be reformed doesn’t mean you aren't the same old
Jake the Snake. That’s who you’ll always be as far as I’m
concerned.”

With one quick flip of my wrist, I clipped his chin with the tip of
the knife. He flinched when I drew blood, but he was either too
stupid or too emboldened to back down. “I’m not going to ask you
again what you want.”

I lowered the knife and allowed him to assist Jimmy to the chair.
Because it wouldn’t have been well received for my parole officer to
find some random dead guy sprawled out on my kitchen floor if he
decided to make a surprise visit, I didn’t hit him hard enough to do
any real damage, but I grinned at the thought of him having trouble
talking or breathing for a few hours. “I’m gonna let that one slide,
because I’ve always liked you, Snake. You wanna know why we’re
here? Well, I’ll tell you. We’re here to give you the information you
need for your final job for us.”

“No. I’ve done my final job. I’m done. I’m starting a new life,
without you or anyone else” I turned my back on them and headed
back to the sink. Even if they tried to jump me from behind, I was
still quick enough to outmaneuver either of them.

“I’m afraid that’s not the case, my friend. Don’t you remember
that little favor you owe? You know, the Russian?” I stiffened, and I
didn't have to turn around to know a smug grin covered his face.
“Yeah, you remember. Well, it’s time to pay up. He’s helping me take
care of something, and that’s where you come in. One last thing you
have to do, and then you can call it quits.”

I was trapped, and I knew it. There was no way I was getting
out of doing one last job. Not if Yuri was involved. No fucking way. I
thought I was as tough as they come, but that guy, he scared the
shit out of me. One look from him, and people disappeared, and
they may never even find the bodies. “Fine,” I huffed, knowing it
may be the last thing I’d ever do. “What’s the job?”
 Chapter Three
Ava

After the murder, I changed some habits in case someone was

watching me from beyond the shadows. I got to work early, always
before dark and made sure someone walked me to my car when we
closed. I told my coworkers that an old boyfriend had been calling
and threatening to show up, and, though he was harmless, I wanted
to avoid him cornering me. I alternated my route home, sometimes
stopping for fast food breakfasts and other times going straight
home. I never got out of my car until daylight, and only then after I
drove around the parking lot several times to make sure nothing was
amiss. I watched for my neighbors to be up and about, milling
around the outside of their apartments, so I could grab someone if I
needed to in a hurry.

Of course, this was all in addition to the precautions I normally

took to make sure no one found me. In the prior months I’d become
quite good at making myself scarce, and I was lulled into a false
sense of security. I thought I was safe. I thought I was off the radar.
I thought I was so smart. I was wrong.

I noticed him right away, not because I was worried about having
been found, but because he was gorgeous. Hard edges, muscles for
days, short but sexy facial hair, dangerous look in his eyes. Definitely
my type. I hadn’t realized until then that I actually had a type, but
he fit the bill. I took one look at him and knew I was in trouble. He
was the type of guy that a girl knows she’ll either lose her heart to
him, or her life, either one.
 I stepped back into the shadows when he walked in, because I
didn’t want him to see me right away. I stood back and watched him
survey the room, evidently looking for his prey for the night,
wondering if perhaps he was looking for me. Despite my best efforts
to stay hidden, he spotted me soon enough. The way he looked at
me did strange and wonderful things to my body. My nipples
instantly hardened, and I wondered how long my panties would stay
on by themselves. Once I realized it was no use to resist him, I
stepped closer to the bar and inched my way to him, perched like
the deadly hunter he was. The moment my eyes met his, all the air
left the room. My throat tightened and the moisture left my mouth. I
wondered if I’d be able to speak. We stared at each other for what
seemed like an eternity, every second of silence heavy with a
growing need I found impossible to ignore. The hungry eyes of a
predator stared back with a ferocity that unnerved me.

Ignoring the other customers clamoring for my attention, I shot

him my best smile. “What can I get for you?” I asked, pleased when
his eyes dipped to my chest as I leaned forward into the bar.

“Glenlivet neat,” he said with such an air of authority it wouldn’t

have surprised me if everyone in the bar suddenly went mute. My
brain took a moment to comprehend as almost everyone ordered
beer with the occasional shot of something harder.

“Sure thing. We don’t get many requests for that, so give me just
a minute,” I smiled and pulled a dusty bottle from the shelf and gave
it a quick wipe with my bar cloth. I glanced into his eyes after I
poured and slid the glass to him, which he caught in one quick flick
of his wrist. The movement made me wonder what other wonderful
things those large hands might be able to do.

He picked up the glass, swirling the amber liquid around like a

pro. He gave a quick sniff before touching his lips to the rim of the
glass and throwing back his head. He slammed the glass back onto
the bar with a loud thump, making my heart leap out of my chest. A
couple of the regulars bristled, appearing to want to call him out for
disrupting their evening, but then, I suppose after assessing his
demeanor, thought better of it and returned to their conversations.
Without looking into his eyes or asking if he wanted another, I
poured a second shot. He drank it just as quickly but
unceremoniously placed the glass back on the bar next to my hand.
As I tipped the bottle to pour, his hand suddenly landed on top of
mine to make sure I dispensed the amount he wanted. The lightning
that exploded from his touch should've been enough to make me
run, but it only served to draw me in more. Yes, the guy was
dangerous, probably to my life and most certainly to my heart, but I
didn’t care. I knew at that moment I’d never again be able to
breathe properly without him by my side.

His expression changed from hunger and lust to one of curiosity.

The lust was still there, but my refusal to flinch appeared to surprise
him. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” The coarse, raspy voice sent
shock waves throughout my core. My body tingled as those waves
crashed over every nerve ending from the tips of my nipples to the
innermost point of my pussy. I had the overwhelming desire to give
myself to him right then and there. I wanted to beg him to fill me
completely, not caring who saw or what they thought.

“I’m Ava. Haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new in
town or are you just passing through?”

“Just passing through, but I find the scenery appealing. I might

want to stay for a while.” His smile wasn’t a warm one, but it sent
the temperature in the room soaring regardless. “So tell me, other
than stand here and watch you pour another drink for me, what’s
there to do in this town, Ava?”

Good Lord, the way he said my name made me feel naked and
exposed! The space between my legs was on fire. Something primal
rose inside me, something I hadn’t felt for a long time. His gaze on
my body made me feel alive again. I wanted him more than I’d ever
wanted anyone in my life. The intensity of my desire should’ve
thrown up red flags. I was normally much more in control of myself,
but there was no doubt about what I was feeling.

He exuded sex, and I wanted it. My head spun with images of

me down on my knees with his cock in my mouth, hearing him say
my name before I realized he was waiting for me to answer his
question. Unfortunately for my little fantasy, other women in the bar
began to notice him and just like that, our moment was over. One of
the regulars plopped down on the barstool next to him. “I’m afraid,
honey, there’s not much to do in this town, but you’re welcome to
stay in your seat as long as you like, and I’ll make sure you enjoy
your time here. I’m Courtney. You can back off now, Ava, and just
bring me another beer. I’ll take it from here.”

I thought I noticed a momentary look of irritation on his face as

she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, but my hopes were
dashed when he grinned then leaned in to whisper something in her
ear. Whatever he said must have been hilarious because she threw
her head back wildly in a fake laugh, which only had the effect of
pushing her already low-cut dress down even further as her tits
jutted into his face. She damn near flashed him, and everyone else
within a five-mile radius. When he reached for his wallet, I caught
the faintest glimpse of a gun stuffed in the waistband of his jeans.
My back straightened slightly, and he noticed. With a quick grin and
a wink, he placed three one hundred dollar bills on the bar in front
of me and stood, scooping Courtney off the barstool by her waist.
“Come with me, darlin’. I think there’s a table in the back where we
can sit and relax.”

Her legs wrapped around his body and her arms tightened
around his neck. “I like you,” she purred. “What’s your name, baby?”

“I’m Jake. You can tell me everything I need to know about

this town while Miss Ava here keeps the drinks coming.” He carried
her to the back of the room and they barely made it to the table
before she shoved her tongue down his throat. As they kissed he
caressed her ass, which made her writhe up and down his body.
Still, I got the impression he didn’t enjoy it. Because as he stood
there, kissing her, fondling her, with her body attached to his groin,
his eyes were wide open, and he was staring straight at me.
 Chapter Four
Jake

The plan when I entered the bar was to find the woman, follow her
home, take care of business, and then get my ass out of town
before anyone knew I’d been there. My plan changed as soon as I
saw Ava.

I was fairly certain she was the woman I was looking for, but
I had to be abso-fucking-lutely sure. The footage from the church
security camera was grainy, but you could make out the figure who
appeared on it. It was enough to make a pretty positive
identification, especially since she didn’t go to any lengths to
disguise herself. I wondered how those animals got their hands on
anything belonging to a church without immediately bursting into
flames.

With Courtney damn near locked onto my jock, I had to

formulate a new plan. I thought if I carefully plied her with drinks
and left with her, I could get her to tell me what I needed to know
before she passed out. Then I could let her sleep it off in my motel
room while I took care of the job long before she woke up. Worst
case scenario was I’d have to fuck her and sneak out when she fell
asleep.

The old Jake wouldn’t have minded getting a little pussy along
the way from Courtney. She was hot, and damn, she was willing, if
the lap dance she was trying to give me was any indication. But
after I locked eyes with Ava, hers was the only pussy I wanted. I
desperately looked around for another woman in the bar who could
possibly fit the bill, but none of them had the same curves as the
woman on the footage. Just Ava. Damn.

I ordered more drinks for Courtney, which had the added benefit
of ensuring Ava delivered them to our table, and I could enjoy the
view as she walked away. The longer it went on, the more confident
I became that she was the woman I’d been sent to find. I also knew
there was no way I could go through with it. The fire that passed
through our fingers when we touched was something I’d never
experienced before. Something I didn’t want to lose, no matter the
consequences.

For her part, Ava looked furious, slamming the drinks down on
the table whenever she could. I got the feeling she was just as
interested in me as I was in her, and she didn’t like Courtney
grinding on me any more than I did. Well, I did enjoy it a little. After
all, I hadn’t been out of prison long, though I’d gotten laid within
two hours of getting out. I still knew how to find a woman when I
needed one, even if I had to pay for her. But Ava was different. Her
gaze unnerved me. She could already see every secret I’d ever had
and wasn’t afraid of any of them. That was the kind of woman I
wanted. One who wouldn’t be intimidated by me or just want a good
time. I was amused by the thought perhaps I was finally becoming
the man my grandmother always wanted me to be. Well, as soon as
I got Courtney off my cock and did the job I was sent there to do.
As long as that job wasn’t Ava.

At last call, Courtney texted her roommate that she wouldn’t be

coming home, so I had plenty of time. She was just drunk enough
that I doubted she’d remember much. She’d blabbed where Ava
lived, so the first part of the plan would be easy. The second part,
actually finding proof that she was the woman in the surveillance
video, would be more difficult. I was usually much more organized
for a job, but seeing Ava made me throw all my plans out the
window.
 I decided the best course of action would be to break into Ava’s
place and search for the clothes the woman on the video was
wearing. If Ava had the same ones, then she was my mark. If I was
lucky, I’d find nothing incriminating in Ava’s apartment and get back
to the motel before Courtney even knew I was gone. She wasn’t
quite drunk enough to pass out and I was afraid I was going to have
to fuck her to get her to play along. So, I gave her another beer at
the motel, but I put a little something special in it first to make sure
she’d stay asleep for a while. She was out before I got her
undressed. Still, picking a woman who could handle so much alcohol
had cost me time. I had to get to Ava’s fast.

The building was quiet when I pulled up to Ava’s apartment

complex. It was before dawn. My favorite time of day. When I was
getting into so much trouble as a kid, I’d stay out all night and come
home just before dawn. The front door was always locked, but I
didn't bother picking it. No matter what, my grandmother would be
up waiting for me. I’d always think she’d give me a hard time or try
to ground me or something, but she never did. She’d unlock the
door and grin at me like nothing was wrong. Then, we’d sit on the
front porch step and silently watch the sun rise out the eastern sky.
It was beautiful.

I never asked why she didn’t get angry. She’d just drink her
coffee and pray. I told her once that praying for my soul would do no
good, but she kept doing it. Stubborn old bat. I missed her. And
while I knew she certainly wouldn't approve of what I was sent to
do, she’d be glad that it was the last job before I went straight. She
worried about me turning out like my old man, and while she was
right about that. I was determined to change that. I didn’t want to
end up dead like him.

As sunlight broke through the line of trees on the horizon, I

watched with some trepidation. Damn Courtney put me way behind
schedule. I’d intended to be at her place before Ava got home, but
the delay left me scrambling for a way to get what I needed while
she was at home. If I let her fall asleep, I could sneak in quietly. If
she wasn’t a very sound sleeper, I could tell her how I felt about her
and hope she felt the same kind of attraction for me. If all else
failed, I could disguise myself as a repairman and get into her
apartment that way. I’d been in the business long enough to know
that sometimes you need to adapt.

While trying to make up my mind, I spotted her walking, no,

make that sprinting, toward the front of the building. Despite the
summer morning, she had a hoodie pulled up over her head and a
scarf wrapped around her face, as if she wanted to hide, but I’d
know that ass anywhere. I’d spent enough time looking at it over the
last few hours at the bar. Her demeanor gave me red flags too. She
acted like a person afraid of being found. Things were not looking
good for my future wife. I decided there was only one way to
proceed.

She was fast, but I was faster. I made it to her apartment before
she did and stepped out in front of her, which stopped her in her
tracks. She gasped at my quick movement and looked at me with a
confused expression. It was only a moment, and then she realized
who I was and what I was there to do. Panic took the place of
confusion on her face and I thought I would have to chase her
down. When I grasped her elbow and squeezed, she tensed but
relaxed quickly thereafter. Resignation settled in her expression. “I
don’t suppose we could talk about this, could we?” she asked.

“Not much to talk about, honey. It’s nothing personal. Just got
take care of some loose ends.” I led her to her apartment, glancing
around to see if anyone was watching.

“Let me go or I’ll scream,” she said, daring me.

“You don’t want to do that, baby. I can’t be seen here, and you
know what will happen to any of your neighbors who see me, don’t
you?” She nodded grimly. “Then let’s just get inside and I promise,
I’ll listen to what you have to say. Won’t make any difference in my
job, but I’ll give you the dignity of being heard.”

“Oh, what a relief,” she laughed sarcastically. That was the

moment I fell in love with her.
 Chapter Five
Ava

I was used to living with the stress of knowing someone would

eventually come looking for me. I suspected he was one of them
when I first saw him last night, but I let my guard down anyway.
Stupid!

Entering my apartment for what I was sure would be the last

time, I wondered if there was any way to convince him to let me go.
Probably not, but I had to try. Every moment since he entered the
bar passed through my mind in the hopes of coming up with
something to gain an advantage. Perhaps I could use our mutual
attraction to persuade him not to kill me. When Courtney was
wrapped around his waist, he was watching me. He could be
interested in me or he may have just been trying to make sure I
didn't escape. I couldn’t be certain, but I had nothing to lose. I had
to take a chance.

He settled in on the couch, as I sat across from him in the

chair. “Do you want coffee?” I asked, my head spinning with the
absurdity of it all. It wasn’t a social visit.

“That would be great. I’ll come with you to the kitchen to make
sure you don’t pull a knife or a gun on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, not caring if my sarcasm offended

him, “but by all means, you can watch me make coffee.”

He snickered. “Honey, I could watch you all day.”

 “Yeah, I noticed. You watched me a lot last night, even with a
woman attached to your groin, you were still watching me. What’s
the story there?”

“There’s no story, really. I just like the way you look. It's not a
crime to admire a beautiful woman.”

“But it is a crime to murder one.”

“I’m no stranger to crime, honey.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Speaking of women attached to you, where is

Courtney? Is she dead?” I asked and popped the coffee pod into the
machine and discarded the one from yesterday.

He laughed and my skin grew cold. “No, she’s not dead.” My

eyebrows raised as I glared at him. “I promise, honey. She’s not.
And she won’t be anytime soon, not by my hand, at least. I have
nothing to gain by killing her. She’s passed out in my motel room
right now. With what I gave her, she ought to sleep for a while
longer.”

“Long enough to give you an alibi, I suppose.” I passed a

steaming mug of coffee to him and marveled at the erotic surge that
jolted through me as he raised it to his nose and breathed in deeply.
I’d never known coffee could be so sexy. His eyes roamed over my
body, and I thought someone must have turned on the heat in my
building. God! What was I thinking? The man was there to kill me
and I was getting turned on by him!

“Exactly. An alibi. That’s all I need from her.” He paused and

stepped a little closer, apparently sensing my attraction to him. He
pushed a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and leaned in close.
“You weren’t perhaps a bit jealous of the attention I was giving her,
were you?”
 His lips were close to my mouth, and I fought an
overwhelming urge to suck them. I forced myself to remember he
was there to kill me, and I had to do everything in my power to stop
him. If that meant sucking his lips or sucking his dick, I’d do it, but I
wouldn’t allow myself to enjoy either, despite how damned appealing
he was. “I have to admit I was a tad confused,” I said coquettishly.
“I mean, I thought you and I were off to a good start, with me
batting my eyelashes at you and everything, and then suddenly you
were all into Courtney. I suppose now I know what your motives
were, it makes sense. Although, I think I could show you a much
better time than Courtney could.”

He grabbed my hips, swinging me around to face him straight

on, and lifted me in the air, swiftly placing me on the countertop.
Pushing my knees apart with his torso, he moved in even closer than
before. “You’re hot, I admit. And I’d be lying if I said you didn't turn
me on the minute I laid eyes on you. But don’t think than an offer to
fuck me will change the job I have to do.”

The kiss came hard and fast. Instinctively my legs wrapped

around him, mimicking Courtney just a few hours prior. I pulled his
cock into the space between my legs, the bulge in his jeans pressing
firmly against my soft core. Before I could stop myself, my hands
were running through his hair as my body melted into his. A low
moan emanated from the back of his throat, and my nipples
tightened. His tongue explored regions of my mouth no one ever
had before. His strong hands plunged below the waistband of my
jeans, kneading my ass like his life depended on it. Well, if his didn’t,
mine did.

My hands moved from his luxurious hair down to his sculpted

shoulders and his muscles rippled at my touch. Another wave of
excitement pulsed through my body as the kiss deepened. “God, I
want you, Jake.” Pulling hard on his shirttail and nearly tearing it
from his body, I was rewarded with a smooth, defined chest to run
my hands over. My head rushed forward to nibble the taut skin
between his pecs while he jerked my own shirt from my waistband.
The black lace of my bra was no match for my rock hard nipples
trying to poke through.

He noticed them too because his eyes focused on my heaving

chest and a sly grin appeared on his face. Suddenly he reached
behind me, grabbed a knife from the dish drainer and brought it
swiftly to my chest. I gasped and ice filled my veins as I waited for
him to plunge the knife into my heart. The second before I knew my
life would end, I stiffened and made a quick move to try to get
away. His left arm gripped me tighter as he twirled the knife slowly
around each nipple. My breath quickened as he slipped the tip of the
knife between my breasts and with one quick flip of his wrist cut the
fabric of my bra. He tossed the knife in the air and I felt his teeth
clamp down on my nipple as I listened to the clanking sound of the
knife as it fell into the sink.

Using his upper buddy to push me against the backsplash left

both hands free to unbutton my jeans. He lifted my hips from the
counter and jerked both jeans and panties from my body in one
quick motion. His face poised just inches from my throbbing core, he
breathed in deeply while looking directly into my eyes. “I’m gonna
enjoy licking your sweet pussy, baby. You’re gonna come harder than
ever before, and I'm just going to use my tongue on you. And when
you’ve come all over my face, I’m going to suck every ounce of your
sweet nectar from your pink little pussy to get you ready for the next
thing I’m going to do to you.”

“And what will that be?”

He smiled as his fingertips circled the soft skin of my inner

thighs. Fire suddenly shot through my body as his finger plunged
deep into me, expertly finding the special spot that guaranteed I’d
be his forever. “Well, Ava, next I’m going to bury myself deep inside
you until we’ve both had all we can take, but you have to promise
me something first.” I looked at him quizzically but couldn't bring
myself to utter anything but pleasure-filled moans. “Promise you
won’t grab that knife to plunge it in the back of my neck. At least let
me come first.”

Lowering himself to the floor and jerking my hips forward, he

set straight to his work. I wanted to be pissed, but his tongue
darting in and out of me proved to be too distracting. I grabbed the
back of his head, pushing him deeper between my thighs, and my
head flung itself backwards as the pressure built and a time bomb
threatened to explode inside my core. A hand shot up from between
my legs to pull my nipple at the same time his scruffy beard scraped
the outside of my pussy. Every nerve ending in my body fired off
electrical sparks, sending me over the edge. My body bucked
forward and every muscle clenched with waves of pleasure washing
over me. He held on tight until I stopped shaking.

Picking me up from the counter, he grunted, “Which way to

the bedroom? It’s time to really make you feel good!” My arm slowly
rose from his shoulder, pointing down the hall. I didn’t know what he
had in store for me, but I was looking forward to finding out.
 Chapter Six
Jake

Tumbling into bed on top of her, I thought I’d finally come home. I
didn’t care what happened to me, but I knew there was no way I’d
ever be able to hurt her, or allow anyone else to hurt her. She’d
reached into my soul and taken possession of my heart, and I’d
never be the same again. It wasn’t just the sex. I’d had mind-
blowing sex before, but it was the overwhelming instinct I had to
protect her, to keep her with me, God help me, to love her for the
rest of my life.

“Oh, Jake,” she moaned into my neck. “I didn’t know I could feel
like this.”

“Me either, baby. But it only gets better from here.” I stood up to
take off the rest of my clothes and the lustful look in her face made
me stop in my tracks. “You can’t look at me like that if you expect
me to keep my sanity, Ava.

“God, the way you say my name makes me want to stay in bed
with you for the rest of my life.” Her expression suddenly changed,
as if she’d realized the weight of what she’d said. She still thought I
was going to kill her after I fucked her.

“Ava, I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t. You’ve awakened

something deep inside me that I thought was long gone. I don’t
understand it, but I think I could fall in love with you, if I haven’t
already.” Tears welled in her eyes and I thought my heart would
explode with love. “Oh, don’t do that, honey. I don’t think I can
stand it if you do.”

“How do you expect me to respond, Jake?” Her voice was more

forceful than I expected which took me aback. The enormity of it all
seemed to be too much for her to handle at once.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know I’m throwing a lot at you right now,
but I mean it! I promise! You’re safe with me, and if anyone tries to
hurt you, they’ll have to come through me first. Got it? Now, what
do you say, baby? Do you think you can trust me?”

She stared at me blankly for what seemed like an eternity before

she answered. “It depends.”

“On what, honey. I swear I’ll do anything.”

The corner of her mouth curved up into a devilish grin. “Well,”

she hesitated ever so slightly, “I seem to recall a promise of burying
yourself in me until we just couldn’t take any more. You could
probably start there if you’re so inclined.” Her hand flew forward and
wrapped itself around my shaft sending a bolt of electricity through
my body that for a little bit more would’ve reached my soul.

I grabbed her hips with both hands and pulled her to me. "Hell,
yeah, baby! Anytime you want!” I hovered above her, staring into
her eyes. “I’m trying to figure out how I got so damn lucky for the
most beautiful woman in the world to want me.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Jake. It’s destiny.” My mouth

crashed onto hers with such force I was surprised we didn’t both
draw blood. The kiss, wet and passionate, lasted an eternity. “Now,”
she said as she pulled away from the kiss and settled herself under
my body, “fuck me or else I’ll go crazy!”

She didn’t need to ask me twice. My hips instinctively thrusted

forward and I plunged into her soft, wet heat, and she felt like a
fucking million bucks! Over and over I did exactly what I promised
her I’d do. When I felt a deep shudder flow through her body and
she screamed my name, I knew my own release was mere seconds
away. “Yeah, come for me, Ava! Come all over me again, honey!”
The explosion in our bodies came a second later and I shot my full
load deep inside her.

After her body stopped convulsing, I slowly rolled over and pulled
her close to me. We stayed still and silent for a few moments until I
heard her softly crying beside me. “What’s wrong, Ava? I meant
what I said, honey. I’m not going to hurt you, and I promise I’ll find
a way out of this.”

“It’s not that. I believe you, Jake. It’s just, well, I’ve never felt so
close to anyone before, and I’m a little scared. I don’t exactly know
what’s supposed to happen now. What’s our future going to be,
Jake?”

I sighed, knowing the difficult path in front of us. “I think

normally, people would start talking about forever, but that’s not us,
at least not right now. We do need to figure out the immediate
future, but I think we can take a few minutes to bask in each other,
don’t you?”

She settled into the crook of my arm and pressed her body
against mine. “Yes, we can do that, but then we really need to talk.
And we can’t forget about Courtney.”

“She should be out for another couple of hours, so we have

plenty of time.”

***********

Ava dumped out the cold coffee she’d given me earlier that
morning and replaced it with another steaming cup and passed me a
plate containing a toasted bagel covered with cream cheese. “I
haven’t had one of these in a long time. Not since before I went to
prison.”

She gulped and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all
about that later, but I think we have some other things to discuss
first.”

“Tell me what you want to know,” I said in between bites of

bagel.

“Can I start by asking you a question?” I nodded as she

appeared to gather her thoughts. “Tell me why. I mean, I know what
I saw, and I’m guessing someone didn’t like that I saw and can’t
have me out here running around in case I decide to tell. But I want
to hear it from you. Who hired you? Who killed that girl, and why?
Who was she?”

I inhaled sharply before finishing the food and taking another

gulp of the still too hot coffee. “I don’t know who she was, other
than she was the girlfriend of someone I used to know. He works for
some really bad people now, and I owe them a favor.”

“And getting rid of me is what they want.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why she was killed, and I didn’t ask. Not
my business. But, knowing this guy like I do, it may be as simple as
she smarted off to him and he didn’t like it. Anyway, he’s a punk, but
he has some very powerful friends.”

“How did they know I saw? I was very careful and made sure
I wasn’t followed.”

“The church parking lot had security cameras. I don’t know

how those punks got a hold of it, but they did. They didn’t see you
that night. It was only after they saw the surveillance footage that
they knew anyone was there. You’re lucky they didn’t see you in
person. They’d have killed you on the spot.”
 “So they wouldn’t have had to send you.”

“Well, then I’d just still owe the guy a favor. And trust me, he
would’ve sent someone else to take my place anyway. That man is
nothing but trouble. What the hell were you doing there anyway?”

“She was in the bar that night, and she looked so sad. It was
almost as if I was drawn to her. I wanted to help her so badly. She
was quiet, but I could tell something was on her mind. She had a
story to tell, and I wanted to listen if she'd let me. Just as I thought
I was breaking through her shell, two guys came in and started
harassing her. They acted as if they knew her, but she tried to ignore
them. They didn’t like it.”
 Chapter Seven
Ava

While it was cathartic to tell Jake the story, reliving the details was
quite upsetting. I paused to calm my nerves. He took my hand and
gave it a squeeze to encourage me.

“Yeah, if it was Ray, I imagine he didn’t like that worth a

damn,” he agreed.

“She eventually went to a table with one of them, her

boyfriend I assume now, and they spoke for a little while. They
argued, but I didn’t hear what they said. The other guy just stood
back and tried to look menacing. He didn’t. He looked like a buffoon”

Laughing, he said, “He always looks like that. I swear I don’t

know how those fools got to be so well-connected.”

“After their argument, the men left, but she stayed long
enough to pull herself together with the help of another couple of
drinks. When she came to pay her tab, I tried to talk to her again,
but she’d already had a lot to drink and wasn't making much sense.
She had taken off her jacket while she was talking to the guy, and
that’s when I saw bruises on her arms. My blood began to boil, and I
was worried she wouldn’t get home safely, so I followed her, to stop
her from driving. When I saw her walking down the street, I went
after her. I was just trying to look out for her.”

“So, you just followed her? Do you know how dangerous that
was?”
 “Well, I do now! I didn’t at the time. All I could think about
was making sure she got home safely. I guess I failed in that
mission.” My joke fell on deaf ears. “I lost track of her, so I doubled
back to return to work. That’s when I went past the church. I didn’t
get too close, but I saw her lying there in a pool of blood. She
wasn't moving, but I didn't check on her. I’ve wondered a million
times if I should have. Would it have been any different? I don't
know if she was still alive, but I didn't think so. It was bad.”

“And that’s when you left?”

“Yeah. I didn't have my cell phone, or I probably would’ve

tried to help her. At least call an ambulance, you know. But I
panicked. I was a coward and ran back to the bar as fast as I could.”

“But then you went back again?”

“By the time I got to the bar, I’d mustered up some courage,
and I was determined to help. When I got back to the church, she
was gone. All evidence of her was gone. There was no body, no
blood, no nothing! It had only been a few minutes, but there was
nothing there. That’s when I really got scared thinking someone was
close enough to see me. So I ran again and never looked back. I
used to drive by that church every day on my way to and from work.
Now I take the long route so I don’t have to be reminded of her. Not
that it helps. I see her in my dreams. She was scared of that guy,
and it showed all over her face.”

“So, I still don't understand why you bothered following her in

the first place. I mean I get it that you thought she might be in
trouble, but it was a dangerous, reckless thing for you to do. Why
would you put yourself in a situation like that?”

I tried to think of how I could explain it to make him

understand. Without knowing if he was capable of understanding, I
just spilled everything. “Victims recognize victims, Jake! If you’ve
been through any kind of abuse, you know the signs and you know
how victims think. It's like a club you don’t want to join, but once
you’re in, you're there for good. For the rest of your life. Once I got
past the initial anger and hurt, I wanted to do whatever I could to
make sure no one else suffered the same way I did.” I choked back
tears to keep from screaming. “Or had to do the same thing I had to
do to make it stop!”

“What did you have to do, honey?”

“I had a life before then, Jake. A good one. I had to make it

stop, but it cost me everything!” I was shaking uncontrollably, and I
buried my face in my hands to hide my shame. I’d played the scene
in my head every day for eight months, but I’d never told another
living soul.

“Did you do something to your abuser, Ava?”

“I killed him! Alright! I killed him! I didn't mean to do it, but I

had no control over myself. He wouldn't stop hitting me. He knocked
me to the floor. I landed next to the jacket he’d thrown across the
room when he got home and dinner was still in the oven and not on
the table. I knew he kept a knife in it, so when he turned his back, I
reached for it and, and I...I…”

“You don’t have to say any more, babe. I got you. He’s not
here and he’s never going to hurt you again. In fact, no one will ever
hurt you again. Oh, God, honey, when I used a knife to cut off your
bra earlier, that must have brought back some awful memories! I’m
so sorry!”

He pulled me to him and held me like he never wanted to let me

go. We stood there for what seemed like forever until I could
breathe again. “I have another question.” His muscles clenched
under my touch, and once they relaxed I asked, “How did you find
me? I mean, I know you saw me on the surveillance footage, but
how did you know to come to the bar to find me?”
 “It was the timestamp on the security footage.” He motioned for
me to sit and disappeared into the kitchen for a glass of water. “It
wasn’t that hard. The footage shows you there in the church parking
lot and then you left. It was a little over seventeen minutes before
you appeared again. I assumed you were on foot and had probably
run all or part of the way to wherever you’d gone when you weren’t
on the video. So, I figured it would take you less than eight minutes
one way, and I narrowed down all the possibilities of where you
could’ve gone at 3:30 in the morning and be back in that length of
time. I narrowed it down to the bar pretty easily.”

“So where do we go from here? Do you have a plan? How are

you going to explain this to your friends?”

He laughed. “You sure do ask a lot of questions, woman,” he said

and slapped me on the ass. “And they aren’t my friends. They’re
former associates, I’ll think of something to do about Yuri. I don't
want you worrying about it. I think I might have an idea. It’s risky,
but it may work.”

“Tell me. What are you planning to do?”

“Well, Yuri wants you dead, right? The only way we'll ever be free
is if he thinks you’re dead. We have to fake your death. You can’t
have your same old life as before.”

“Ha! I don't think that'll be hard for me. I've basically done it
since the incident. My family thinks I dropped off the face of the
planet, and I’ve started a new life here. What else do I need to do?
Change my name, I suppose?”

“Yeah, but the biggest obstacle is going to be convincing them

you're dead. They’re not going to take my word for it.”

“You mean, they’re going to want to see my body?”

 Chapter Eight
Jake

That was exactly what I meant. “I’m afraid so. There are drugs to
slow your heartbeat down to almost nothing, but knowing these
guys, they’d stab you through the heart just to be sure. We’re going
to have to come up with something else. Maybe find someone who
looks like you, and ---”

“Now, hold on, Jake! You’re not suggesting killing some strange
woman just because she looks like me, are you?” I allowed my blank
stare to answer her question. “I can’t do that, Jake. I got into this
whole mess because I wanted to help someone. I can’t be
responsible for taking another life just to save mine, especially
someone who is completely innocent.”

I knew she was right, but it didn’t make me any less frustrated.
Not necessarily at her, but at the situation in general. “Well, we have
to do something, Ava! Do you have any better ideas?”

"I don't at the moment, but I'm not going to allow you to kill
some random person. We're just going to have to come up with
another plan." She paced the floor, periodically throwing her hands
up in frustration. While I could absolutely commiserate with her and
understand her feelings, I didn't care what happened to anyone else.
I'd kill ten people if necessary to keep her safe. She stopped pacing
after a moment, turned to me, opened and closed her mouth as if
the words wouldn't quite come, and then continued pacing. That
went on for several minutes, but watching her glide across the floor
like that was turning me on instead of forcing me to find a solution
to our problem.

I knew I had to come up with something quick. We were

running out of time. We had another couple of hours before
Courtney would wake up, but I really didn’t want to risk anything
else going wrong. "I might have an idea. I've not personally done
this, but I heard from one of my cell mates that it can work. But it
has to be planned perfectly. It may involve some expertise I don't
have."

“What do we need to do?”

“As badly as I hate to say it, you need to get dressed, and I
need to make some calls. Gather the clothes you were wearing the
night of the murder and the ones you were wearing last night. And
stay put, here inside. Don’t go near the windows where anyone
could see you.”

“Where are you going?”

I checked my phone for the time. 8:30. Still too early to call
him, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed answers only he could
provide. Hell, I didn’t even know what time zone he was in. He could
be waking up or calling it a night. I was just going to have to take a
chance. “I’ll be right outside. I want to see if anyone is watching us,
and I need to make a phone call." I made for the door and she
started to follow me. “Seriously, honey. Stay back. No one can see
you.” I grabbed her waist, pulled her toward me. I kissed her, gently
at first, but couldn’t resist exploring her mouth. It took every ounce
of resolve I had to pull away. I wanted to take her back to bed right
then and there, but her life depended on what I did next. “I’ll be
right back. I promise.”

I shut the door behind me and looked out into the morning
sky. Storm clouds brewing off in the distance got my attention right
away. The approaching bad weather was an appropriate prelude to
what was coming. I scanned the parking lot, relieved to see the
same few cars that were there when I arrived at dawn. It was
possible someone could’ve been watching, but I didn’t think it was
likely.

Confident no one was watching or within earshot, I grabbed

my phone, took a deep breath and scrolled until I found the number
I wanted. He picked up on the second ring. “I can’t believe you still
have the same phone number. Sure took your sweet ass time calling
me. Too much longer and you were going to hurt my feelings.”

“Yeah, like you ever had any feelings to hurt,” I chuckled.

“Oh, brutal! I have feelings, Jake. But I'm successful because

I bury them so deep no one will ever find them, but they exist. How
the hell are you?”

“I’m good, but this isn’t a social call. I have a problem and I
need your help, little brother.”

“What’s her name?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I need you to walk me through
how to break into a building that has more security than I’m used to.
I have something working that’s a little out of my area of expertise.”

“So more secure than a liquor store,” he teased.

“Not funny. You know quite well the last time I broke into a
liquor store I was a kid. I was, what, like 16 or 17 years old?”

“Yeah, I know. I was there. I was 13 and you showed me the

ropes. My mom wanted to kill you when she had to pick us up from
juvie, but Dad thought it was hilarious,” he laughed.

“If I remember correctly, your mom dumped Dad’s ass for

good not long after then. He blamed me for that too, and he
definitely took it out on me.” I shook my head to loosen the cobwebs
after being dragged down memory lane. “So, enough of this shit. Do
you have a few minutes for me to pick your brain?”

“For you? I have all the time in the world. You’re my big
brother after all. What do you need to know? What are you trying to
break into?”

I glanced around again, just to be sure no one was around

who could hear. “I need to break into the morgue.”
 Chapter Nine
Ava

Despite the serious doubts I had in Jake's plan itself, I placed my

trust in him completely. If there was anyone who could pull it off, it
was that guy. The trust I had for knowing him for such a short
period of time shocked me. But both my heart and my head knew he
was for real. I’d never said that about anyone else.

He was adamant about me staying out of sight. In my head I

knew he was right, but my heart couldn’t stand him doing
everything by himself. His brother, some kind of infamous art thief,
gave him instructions on certain security features and the subtle
intricacies of breaking into a place like the morgue in the middle of
the day. When I asked him how an art thief would know how to do
that, he said he was really more interested in tips on how to hide in
plain sight. His brother was an apparent expert at that.

Parts of the plan Jake would be able to handle on his own,

but he needed help for the rest of it. After he went back to his motel
to deliver Courtney home and clear out his belongings, he spent a
couple of hours tracking down some people he considered to be
trustworthy, and then vetted them again just to make sure he could
actually count on them. Then he picked up the supplies we needed,
including hair dye in case the only available women had blonde hair
instead of dark hair like mine. He also talked to another of his
brothers, and I wondered how many of them he had, and they
planned to hack into the morgue's computer system so no one
would suspect a body was missing. Yeah, I couldn't believe that was
really a thing.

I stayed inside, like a good little girl, hoping he'd be able to

pull it off. I slowly began to understand that not only did my life
depend on his success, but his life did as well. If anyone found out
that he’d not actually killed me, they’d come gunning for Jake. His
plan had to work.

Jake was grumpy, but I tried to be understanding. We both

had a lot riding on those next few hours. As the time approached for
him to leave, I got more and more antsy. “Are you sure I can’t come
with you, Jake? I promise I’ll stay out of sight.”

“Absolutely not! If someone sees you, the plan is ruined, and

then I don't know what we’d do except go on the run for the rest of
our lives.”

“At the risk of starting an argument, if they see you breaking

into a morgue, the plan to steal a body that looks like me is going to
be blown anyway, don’t you think?”

With all that was at stake, logic was too much for him to
handle at the moment. “Ava! I know this plan has some flaws, but
it's the best I could come up with on short notice. If you can think of
something else that will work in the next few minutes, I’m all ears.
Otherwise, just stop trying to figure out how to come along with
me!” he yelled.

“Fine!” I exclaimed. “Maybe it was a bad time to bring it up!” I

yelled right back at him. After a minute, we both calmed down and I
noticed he kept checking his phone. “It’s almost time for you to go,
isn’t it?”

“Yes. You’ll be fine here until I get back.” He leaned in to kiss

me. “This will work, honey. It has to.”
 “Deep down, I know that, but I reserve the right to worry
until you get back.” The smile and pleasant look I tried to plaster on
my face were intended to reassure him, to no avail. I hugged him
tighter and his heart raced like it was about to fly right out of his
chest.

He kissed the tip of my nose and said, “I’m certain I’ll worry
the same way about you. Now, wish me luck. If all goes well, I
should see you in about three hours. If I'm not back in four, you
have to promise me you’ll leave town like we discussed.” I started to
bristle, but he stopped me. “I mean it, Ava! Either way, your new life
starts at midnight, with or without me. My brothers will help you get
the IDs you need. You can trust them. Got it?”

“You get back here before then. Good luck.” I kissed him one
last time and went to the back of my apartment, away from all the
windows, just like he’d instructed me, to try to figure out how I was
going to spend what I was sure would be the longest three hours of
my life.

It was quiet after he left, and it stayed like that for a while. I
kept myself locked in the bathroom as it was the most interior room
and there was no chance of anyone seeing me. I had to stay off my
phone and even off the internet in case someone was monitoring my
online activity. I wasn't sure about that, but I knew I trusted him
and had to do what he said. So, the only thing I could do was read.

Earlier, Jake helped me pack what was commonly known as a

bug out bag. I could only bring essentials, and only things no one
would miss. It couldn’t look as if I intended to leave. We’d taken
great care to ransack my apartment to make it look like a burglary.
The worst part was allowing him to slice my arm to get enough
blood to spread around to make it look like something violent had
happened. I suggested getting some animal blood from the local
butcher, but he said it had to be my blood because the police would
probably do DNA tests.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 THE DERVISH AND THE OFFENSIVE
STRANGER

T he Dervish: I will say again, and yet again, and still again, that
a good deed----
The Offensive Stranger: Peace, and, O man of narrow vision!
There is no such thing as a good deed----
The Dervish: O shameless blasphe----
The Offensive Stranger: And no such thing as an evil deed.
There are good impulses, there are evil impulses, and that is all.
Half of the results of a good intention are evil; half the results of
an evil intention are good. No man can command the results, nor
allot them.
The Dervish: And so----
The Offensive Stranger: And so you shall praise men for their
good intentions, and not blame them for the evils resulting; you
shall blame men for their evil intentions, and not praise them for
the good resulting.
The Dervish: O maniac! will you say----
The Offensive Stranger: Listen to the law: From every impulse,
whether good or evil, flow two streams; the one carries health,
the other carries poison. From the beginning of time this law has
not changed, to the end of time it will not change.
The Dervish: If I should strike thee dead in anger----
The Offensive Stranger: Or kill me with a drug which you
hoped would give me new life and strength----
The Dervish: Very well. Go on.
The Offensive Stranger: In either case the results would be the
same. Age-long misery of mind for you--an evil result; peace,
repose, the end of sorrow for me--a good result. Three hearts
that hold me dear would break; three pauper cousins of the third
removed would get my riches and rejoice; you would go to prison
and your friends would grieve, but your humble apprentice-priest
would step into your shoes and your fat sleek life and be happy.
And are these all the goods and all the evils that would flow from
the well-intended or ill-intended act that cut short my life, O
thoughtless one, O purblind creature? The good and evil results
that flow from any act, even the smallest, breed on and on,
century after century, forever and ever and ever, creeping by
inches around the globe, affecting all its coming and going
populations until the end of time, until the final cataclysm!
The Dervish: Then, there being no such thing as a good deed-
---
The Offensive Stranger: Don’t I tell you there are good
intentions, and evil ones, and there an end? The results are not
foreseeable. They are of both kinds, in all cases. It is the law.
Listen: this is far-Western history:
 VOICES OUT OF UTAH

I
The White Chief (to his people): This wide plain was a desert.
By our Heaven-blest industry we have damned the river and
utilized its waters and turned the desert into smiling fields whose
fruitage makes prosperous and happy a thousand homes where
poverty and hunger dwelt before. How noble, how beneficent, is
Civilization!
II
Indian Chief (to his people): This wide plain, which the Spanish
priests taught our fathers to irrigate, was a smiling field, whose
fruitage made our homes prosperous and happy. The white
American has damned our river, taken away our water for his
own valley, and turned our field into a desert; wherefore we
starve.
The Dervish: I perceive that the good intention did really bring
both good and evil results in equal measure. But a single case
cannot prove the rule. Try again.
The Offensive Stranger: Pardon me, all cases prove it.
Columbus discovered a new world and gave to the plodding poor
and the landless of Europe farms and breathing space and
plenty and happiness----
The Dervish: A good result.
The Offensive Stranger: And they hunted and harried the
original owners of the soil, and robbed them, beggared them,
drove them from their homes, and exterminated them, root and
branch.
The Dervish: An evil result, yes.
The Offensive Stranger: The French Revolution brought
desolation to the hearts and homes of five million families and
drenched the country with blood and turned its wealth to poverty.
 The Dervish: An evil result.
The Offensive Stranger: But every great and precious liberty
enjoyed by the nations of continental Europe to-day are the gift
of that Revolution.
The Dervish: A good result, I concede it.
The Offensive Stranger: In our well-meant effort to lift up the
Filipino to our own moral altitude with a musket, we have slipped
on the ice and fallen down to his.
The Dervish: A large evil result.
The Offensive Stranger: But as an offset we are a World
Power.
The Dervish: Give me time. I must think this one over. Pass
on.
The Offensive Stranger: By help of three hundred thousand
soldiers and eight hundred million dollars England has
succeeded in her good purpose of lifting up the unwilling Boers
and making them better and purer and happier than they could
ever have become by their own devices.
The Dervish: Certainly that is a good result.
The Offensive Stranger: But there are only eleven Boers left
now.
The Dervish: It has the appearance of an evil result. But I will
think it over before I decide.
The Offensive Stranger: Take yet one more instance. With the
best intentions the missionary has been laboring in China for
eighty years.
The Dervish: The evil result is----
The Offensive Stranger: That nearly a hundred thousand
Chinamen have acquired our Civilization.
The Dervish: And the good result is----
The Offensive Stranger: That by the compassion of God four
hundred millions have escaped it.
 INSTRUCTIONS IN ART
(With Illustrations by the Author)

T he great trouble about painting a whole gallery of portraits at

the same time is, that the housemaid comes and dusts, and
does not put them back the way they were before, and so when
the public flock to the studio and wish to know which is Howells
and which is Depew and so on, you have to dissemble, and it is
very embarrassing at first. Still, you know they are there, and this
knowledge presently gives you more or less confidence, and you
say sternly, “This is Howells,” and watch the visitor’s eye. If you
see doubt there, you correct yourself and try another. In time you
find one that will satisfy, and then you feel relief and joy, but you
have suffered much in the meantime; and you know that this joy
is only temporary, for the next inquirer will settle on another
Howells of a quite different aspect, and one which you suspect is
Edward VII or Cromwell, though you keep that to yourself, of
course. It is much better to label a portrait when you first paint it,
then there is no uncertainty in your mind and you can get bets
out of the visitor and win them.
I believe I have had the most trouble with a portrait which I
painted in installments--the head on one canvas and the bust on
another.
 THE HEAD ON ONE CANVAS

The housemaid stood the bust up sideways, and now I don’t

know which way it goes. Some authorities think it belongs with
the breastpin at the top, under the man’s chin; others think it
belongs the reverse way, on account of the collar, one of these
saying, “A person can wear a breastpin on his stomach if he
wants to, but he can’t wear his collar anywhere he dern pleases.”
There is a certain amount of sense in that view of it. Still, there is
no way to determine the matter for certain; when you join the
installments, with the pin under the chin, that seems to be right;
then when you reverse it and bring the collar under the chin it
seems as right as ever; whichever way you fix it the lines come
together snug and convincing, and either way you do it the
portrait’s face looks equally surprised and rejoiced, and as if it
wouldn’t be satisfied to have it any way but just that one; in fact,
even if you take the bust away altogether the face seems
surprised and happy just the same--I have never seen an
expression before, which no vicissitudes could alter. I wish I
could remember who it is. It looks a little like Washington, but I
do not think it can be Washington, because he had as many ears
on one side as the other. You can always tell Washington by that;
he was very particular about his ears, and about having them
arranged the same old way all the time.
 AND THE BUST ON ANOTHER

By and by I shall get out of these confusions, and then it will

be plain sailing; but first-off the confusions were natural and not
to be avoided. My reputation came very suddenly and
tumultuously when I published my own portrait, and it turned my
head a little, for indeed there was never anything like it. In a
single day I got orders from sixty-two people not to paint their
portraits, some of them the most distinguished persons in the
country--the President, the Cabinet, authors, governors,
admirals, candidates for office on the weak side--almost
everybody that was anybody, and it would really have turned the
head of nearly any beginner to get so much notice and have it
come with such a frenzy of cordiality. But I am growing calm and
settling down to business, now; and pretty soon I shall cease to
be flurried, and then when I do a portrait I shall be quite at myself
and able on the instant to tell it from the others and pick it out
when wanted.
I am living a new and exalted life of late. It steeps me in a
sacred rapture to see a portrait develop and take soul under my
hand. First, I throw off a study--just a mere study, a few
apparently random lines--and to look at it you would hardly ever
suspect who it was going to be; even I cannot tell, myself. Take
this picture, for instance:
 FIRST YOU THINK IT’S DANTE; NEXT YOU THINK
IT’S EMERSON; THEN YOU THINK IT’S WAYNE
MAC VEAGH. YET IT ISN’T ANY OF THEM; IT’S THE
BEGINNINGS OF DEPEW

First you think it’s Dante; next you think it’s Emerson; then you
think it’s Wayne Mac Veagh. Yet it isn’t any of them; it’s the
beginnings of Depew. Now you wouldn’t believe Depew could be
devolved out of that; yet the minute it is finished here you have
him to the life, and you say, yourself, “If that isn’t Depew it isn’t
anybody.”
Some would have painted him speaking, but he isn’t always
speaking, he has to stop and think sometimes.
 That is a genre picture, as we say in the trade, and differs from
the encaustic and other schools in various ways, mainly
technical, which you wouldn’t understand if I should explain them
to you. But you will get the idea as I go along, and little by little
you will learn all that is valuable about Art without knowing how it
happened, and without any sense of strain or effort, and then you
will know what school a picture belongs to, just at a glance, and
whether it is an animal picture or a landscape. It is then that the
joy of life will begin for you.
When you come to examine my portraits of Mr. Joe Jefferson
and the rest, your eye will have become measurably educated by
that time, and you will recognize at once that no two of them are
alike. I will close the present chapter with an example of the
nude, for your instruction.
This creation is different from any of the other works. The
others are from real life, but this is an example of still-life; so
called because it is a portrayal of a fancy only, a thing which has
no actual and active existence. The purpose of a still-life picture
is to concrete to the eye the spiritual, the intangible, a something
which we feel, but cannot see with the fleshy vision--such as joy,
sorrow, resentment, and so on. This is best achieved by the
employment of that treatment which we call the impressionist, in
the trade. The present example is an impressionist picture, done
in distemper, with a chiaroscuro motif modified by
monochromatic technique, so as to secure tenderness of feeling
and spirituality of expression. At a first glance it would seem to
be a Botticelli, but it is not that; it is only a humble imitation of
that great master of longness and slimness and limbfulness.
 THAT THING IN THE RIGHT HAND IS NOT A SKILLET; IT IS
A TAMBOURINE

The work is imagined from Greek story, and represents

Proserpine or Persepolis, or one of those other Bacchantes
doing the solemnities of welcome before the altar of Isis upon the
arrival of the annual shipload of Athenian youths in the island of
Minos to be sacrificed in appeasement of the Dordonian
Cyclops.
 THE PORTRAIT REPRODUCES MR. JOSEPH
JEFFERSON, THE COMMON FRIEND OF THE HUMAN
RACE

The figure symbolizes solemn joy. It is severely Greek,

therefore does not call details of drapery or other factitious helps
to its aid, but depends wholly upon grace of action and symmetry
of contour for its effects. It is intended to be viewed from the
south or southeast, and I think that that is best; for while it
expresses more and larger joy when viewed from the east or the
north, the features of the face are too much foreshortened and
wormy when viewed from that point. That thing in the right hand
is not a skillet; it is a tambourine.
This creation will
be exhibited at the
Paris Salon in June,
and will compete for
the Prix de Rome.
The above is a
marine picture, and
is intended to
educate the eye in
the important matters
of perspective and
foreshortening. The
mountainous and
bounding waves in
the foreground,
contrasted with the
tranquil ship fading
away as in a dream
the other side of the
fishing-pole, convey
to us the idea of
space and distance
as no words could
do. Such is the
miracle wrought by
EITHER MR. HOWELLS OR MR. that wondrous
LAFFAN. I CANNOT TELL WHICH device, perspective.
BECAUSE THE LABEL IS LOST The portrait
reproduces Mr.
Joseph Jefferson, the common friend of the human race. He is
fishing, and is not catching anything. This is finely expressed by
the moisture in the eye and the anguish of the mouth. The mouth
is holding back words. The pole is bamboo, the line is
foreshortened. This foreshortening, together with the
smoothness of the water away out there where the cork is, gives
a powerful impression of distance, and is another way of
achieving a perspective effect.
We now come to the next portrait, which is either Mr. Howells
or Mr. Laffan. I cannot tell which, because the label is lost. But it
will do for both, because the features are Mr. Howells’s, while the
expression is Mr. Laffan’s. This work will bear critical
examination.
The next picture is part of an animal, but I do not know the
name of it. It is not finished. The front end of it went around a
corner before I could get to it.

THE FRONT END OF IT WENT AROUND A

CORNER BEFORE I COULD GET TO IT

We will conclude with the portrait of a lady in the style of

Raphael. Originally I started it out for Queen Elizabeth, but was
not able to do the lace hopper her head projects out of, therefore
I tried to turn it into Pocahontas, but was again baffled, and was
compelled to make further modifications, this time achieving
success. By spiritualizing it and turning it into the noble mother of
 our race and
throwing into the
countenance the
sacred joy which her
first tailor-made outfit
infuses into her spirit,
I was enabled to add
to my gallery the best
and most winning
and eloquent portrait
my brush has ever
produced.
The most effective
encouragement a
beginner can have is
the encouragement
which he gets from
noting his own
progress with an
alert and persistent
eye. Save up your
works and date
them; as the years
go by, run your eye
THE BEST AND MOST WINNING AND over them from time
ELOQUENT PORTRAIT MY BRUSH to time, and measure
HAS EVER PRODUCED your advancing
stride. This will thrill
you, this will nerve
you, this will inspire you as nothing else can.
It has been my own course, and to it I owe the most that I am
to-day in Art. When I look back and examine my first effort and
then compare it with my latest, it seems unbelievable that I have
climbed so high in thirty-one years. Yet so it is. Practice--that is
the secret. From three to seven hours a day. It is all that is
required. The results are sure; whereas indolence achieves
nothing great.
 IT SEEMS
UNBELIEVABLE
THAT I HAVE
CLIMBED SO HIGH
IN THIRTY-ONE
YEARS
 SOLD TO SATAN
(1904)

I t was at this time that I concluded to sell my soul to Satan. Steel

was away down, so was St. Paul; it was the same with all the
desirable stocks, in fact, and so, if I did not turn out to be away
down myself, now was my time to raise a stake and make my
fortune. Without further consideration I sent word to the local
agent, Mr. Blank, with description and present condition of the
property, and an interview with Satan was promptly arranged, on
a basis of 2½ per cent, this commission payable only in case a
trade should be consummated.
I sat in the dark, waiting and thinking. How still it was! Then
came the deep voice of a far-off bell proclaiming midnight--
Boom-m-m! Boom-m-m! Boom-m-m!--and I rose to receive my
guest, and braced myself for the thunder crash and the
brimstone stench which should announce his arrival. But there
was no crash, no stench. Through the closed door, and
noiseless, came the modern Satan, just as we see him on the
stage--tall, slender, graceful, in tights and trunks, a short cape
mantling his shoulders, a rapier at his side, a single drooping
feather in his jaunty cap, and on his intellectual face the well-
known and high-bred Mephistophelian smile.
But he was not a fire coal; he was not red, no! On the contrary.
He was a softly glowing, richly smoldering torch, column, statue
of pallid light, faintly tinted with a spiritual green, and out from
him a lunar splendor flowed such as one sees glinting from the
crinkled waves of tropic seas when the moon rides high in
cloudless skies.
 He made his customary stage obeisance, resting his left hand
upon his sword hilt and removing his cap with his right and
making that handsome sweep with it which we know so well;
then we sat down. Ah, he was an incandescent glory, a nebular
dream, and so much improved by his change of color. He must
have seen the admiration in my illuminated face, but he took no
notice of it, being long ago used to it in faces of other Christians
with whom he had had trade relations.
... A half hour of hot toddy and weather chat, mixed with
occasional tentative feelers on my part and rejoinders of, “Well, I
could hardly pay that for it, you know,” on his, had much modified
my shyness and put me so much at my ease that I was
emboldened to feed my curiosity a little. So I chanced the remark
that he was surprisingly different from the traditions, and I wished
I knew what it was he was made of. He was not offended, but
answered with frank simplicity:
“Radium!”
“That accounts for it!” I exclaimed. “It is the loveliest effulgence
I have ever seen. The hard and heartless glare of the electric
doesn’t compare with it. I suppose Your Majesty weighs about--
about----”
“I stand six feet one; fleshed and blooded I would weigh two
hundred and fifteen; but radium, like other metals, is heavy. I
weigh nine hundred-odd.”
I gazed hungrily upon him, saying to myself:
“What riches! what a mine! Nine hundred pounds at, say,
$3,500,000 a pound, would be--would be----” Then a treacherous
thought burst into my mind!
He laughed a good hearty laugh, and said:
“I perceive your thought; and what a handsomely original idea
it is!--to kidnap Satan, and stock him, and incorporate him, and
water the stock up to ten billions--just three times its actual
value--and blanket the world with it!” My blush had turned the
moonlight to a crimson mist, such as veils and spectralizes the
domes and towers of Florence at sunset and makes the
spectator drunk with joy to see, and he pitied me, and dropped
his tone of irony, and assumed a grave and reflective one which
had a pleasanter sound for me, and under its kindly influence my
pains were presently healed, and I thanked him for his courtesy.
Then he said:
“One good turn deserves another, and I will pay you a
compliment. Do you know I have been trading with your poor
pathetic race for ages, and you are the first person who has ever
been intelligent enough to divine the large commercial value of
my make-up.”
I purred to myself and looked as modest as I could.
“Yes, you are the first,” he continued. “All through the Middle
Ages I used to buy Christian souls at fancy rates, building
bridges and cathedrals in a single night in return, and getting
swindled out of my Christian nearly every time that I dealt with a
priest--as history will concede--but making it up on the lay
square-dealer now and then, as I admit; but none of those
people ever guessed where the real big money lay. You are the
first.”
I refilled his glass and gave him another Cavour. But he was
experienced, by this time. He inspected the cigar pensively
awhile; then:
“What do you pay for these?” he asked.
“Two cents--but they come cheaper when you take a barrel.”
He went on inspecting; also mumbling comments, apparently
to himself:
“Black--rough-skinned--rumpled, irregular, wrinkled, barky, with
crispy curled-up places on it--burnt-leather aspect, like the shoes
of the damned that sit in pairs before the room doors at home of
a Sunday morning.” He sighed at thought of his home, and was
silent a moment; then he said, gently, “Tell me about this
projectile.”
“It is the discovery of a great Italian statesman,” I said.
“Cavour. One day he lit his cigar, then laid it down and went on
writing and forgot it. It lay in a pool of ink and got soaked. By and
by he noticed it and laid it on the stove to dry. When it was dry he
lit it and at once noticed that it didn’t taste the same as it did
before. And so----”
“Did he say what it tasted like before?”
 “No, I think not. But he called the government chemist and told
him to find out the source of that new taste, and report. The
chemist applied the tests, and reported that the source was the
presence of sulphate of iron, touched up and spiritualized with
vinegar--the combination out of which one makes ink. Cavour
told him to introduce the brand in the interest of the finances. So,
ever since then this brand passes through the ink factory, with
the great result that both the ink and the cigar suffer a sea
change into something new and strange. This is history, Sire, not
a work of the imagination.”
So then he took up his present again, and touched it to the
forefinger of his other hand for an instant, which made it break
into flame and fragrance--but he changed his mind at that point
and laid the torpedo down, saying, courteously:
“With permission I will save it for Voltaire.”
I was greatly pleased and flattered to be connected in even
this little way with that great man and be mentioned to him, as no
doubt would be the case, so I hastened to fetch a bundle of fifty
for distribution among others of the renowned and lamented--
Goethe, and Homer, and Socrates, and Confucius, and so on--
but Satan said he had nothing against those. Then he dropped
back into reminiscences of the old times once more, and
presently said:
“They knew nothing about radium, and it would have had no
value for them if they had known about it. In twenty million years
it has had no value for your race until the revolutionizing steam-
and-machinery age was born--which was only a few years before
you were born yourself. It was a stunning little century, for sure,
that nineteenth! But it’s a poor thing compared to what the
twentieth is going to be.”
By request, he explained why he thought so.
“Because power was so costly, then, and everything goes by
power--the steamship, the locomotive, and everything else. Coal,
you see! You have to have it; no steam and no electricity without
it; and it’s such a waste--for you burn it up, and it’s gone! But
radium--that’s another matter! With my nine hundred pounds you
could light the world, and heat it, and run all its ships and
machines and railways a hundred million years, and not use up
five pounds of it in the whole time! And then----”
“Quick--my soul is yours, dear Ancestor; take it--we’ll start a
company!”
But he asked my age, which is sixty-eight, then politely
sidetracked the proposition, probably not wishing to take
advantage of himself. Then he went on talking admiringly of
radium, and how with its own natural and inherent heat it could
go on melting its own weight of ice twenty-four times in twenty-
four hours, and keep it up forever without losing bulk or weight;
and how a pound of it, if exposed in this room, would blast the
place like a breath from hell, and burn me to a crisp in a quarter
of a minute--and was going on like that, but I interrupted and
said:
“But you are here, Majesty--nine hundred pounds--and the
temperature is balmy and pleasant. I don’t understand.”
“Well,” he said, hesitatingly, “it is a secret, but I may as well
reveal it, for these prying and impertinent chemists are going to
find it out sometime or other, anyway. Perhaps you have read
what Madame Curie says about radium; how she goes searching
among its splendid secrets and seizes upon one after another of
them and italicizes its specialty; how she says ‘the compounds of
radium are spontaneously luminous’--require no coal in the
production of light, you see; how she says, ‘a glass vessel
containing radium spontaneously charges itself with electricity’--
no coal or water power required to generate it, you see; how she
says ‘radium possesses the remarkable property of liberating
heat spontaneously and continuously’--no coal required to fire-up
on the world’s machinery, you see. She ransacks the pitch-
blende for its radioactive substances, and captures three and
labels them; one, which is embodied with bismuth, she names
polonium; one, which is embodied with barium, she names
radium; the name given to the third was actinium. Now listen;
she says ‘the question now was to separate the polonium from
the bismuth ... this is the task that has occupied us for years and
has been a most difficult one.’ For years, you see--for years.
That is their way, those plagues, those scientists--peg, peg, peg--