tagNovels and NovellasGangster's Moll Ch. 02

Gangster's Moll Ch. 02

byLaRascasse©

"Morning sunshine, and how may I help you today?"

"Cut the bullshit. We have a triple homicide at the Plaza. Somebody entered a room on the top floor and shot everybody inside."

"You're not winning any points for good manners here. I'll look into it and get back to you."

Monica was so angry at herself for getting trapped in this arrangement. She absolutely despised working with criminals but here she was whoring herself out to New York's biggest mob boss.

She was having a bad day at office. There were cases which were lying open and her best detectives were busy. It had finally gone to the point where her temptation to make that phone call proved to be too much.

Most of the jobs of a Captain are administrative, but she had assigned someone to handle all the paperwork so she could do the one thing she wanted- be in the field. She was desperately combing through whatever evidence they had, but could not get anything beyond the make and model of the gun. The phone started ringing again.

"Was the bullet used from an unregistered gun?"

"Yes. What does that mean?"

"The victims were all college students, right?"

"Yes."

"They were part of this new secret escort service for rich ladies. These kids get huge sums of money to help them live out their most debauched fantasies. Debauched and sometimes violent. Word is that they were hired by a very important woman. Her husband arranged this in a moment of rage when he found out."

"Wait, this woman had sex with all three of those guys?"

"Yes, as it turns out, she wanted something 'different'. The agency name is Private Liaisons. They have an underground office in Queens. Go there and threaten to shut them down unless they tell you who those kids were servicing last night. That should do the trick."

She slammed the phone down. At least one case was solved. This was like a lifeline, but one she was not comfortable using. Wanting to be thorough, she visited the website of the service. Logging on, she immediately saw a myriad of handsome young boys in their late teens to mid-twenties. She shook her head as she tried to think of reasons they would want to be gigolos.

Absent-mindedly surfing through the list, suddenly she came to a halt. One face jumped out of the page at her. Monica observed it minutely- closely cropped blonde hair, hazel eyes, high cheekbones, it looked uncannily familiar. She opened his profile page. His name was Zach Harper and he was one of their newest recruits.

So when Monica Devereaux went to Queens, she had two objectives in mind. Going to the address she got from Brett, she confidently strode past the bar in front. In the backroom, she found a dour woman with a laptop. She seemed shocked to see a police officer and tried to shut the laptop, but Monica was too fast for her and grabbed it from her hands.

"Well well, you seem to have a nice establishment running."

The woman stuttered, trying to feign ignorance, "I-I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh really? Then how come you have admin access to an escort website?", Monica said, smiling at the laptop screen in her hands. The woman had a look of disbelief slowly morphing into horror on her face.

"There is no way you have any proof."

"I don't need proof. Can you imagine if word got out how the richest wives in the city were being serviced by these kids? I fancy some powerful husbands would come looking for you."

The woman stared at her blankly, processing the information. Soon the expression was replaced by one of resignation.

"What do you want?"

She took out three photographs and put them on the table along with the laptop. The woman on the other side examined them closely.

"I want to know who they were doing last night."

She searched on her computer and a minute later had an answer.

"They were supposed to meet one Mrs Lindsay Pearl."

"Why does that name sound familiar? Wait, that's the wife of Dominic Pearl, who runs all those nightclubs in Harlem," she said under her breath.

Monica smiled, her helpline was invaluable. Now for the second part of her visit.

"I was looking through your website and I think I saw someone I liked."

"Ohh.. Do you remember his name?"

"Zach Harper."

The lady seemed to relax a bit. Monica had come for a business transaction as well. She wouldn't be shut down just yet.

"Just a minute let me check. Yes, Zach Harper is available tomorrow night."

Monica leaned in closer to her. It was one of her patented ways of intimidating people. She could see the colour slowly drain from her face.

"I want him tonight."

"I-I-I'm afraid he's already booked for tonight. If you would look at the rest of our men...."

"I'll pay double the rate. Just make sure he is waiting here at 10. I will pick him up."

The woman nodded. Triumphantly, Monica stood up and started leaving the room. The last thing she said before walking out of the door was, "I hope he likes it rough."

Once she knew where to look, the rest of the case was a formality. It was wrapped up in a neat package by the night. She took her car out to Queens and sure enough, young Zachary Harper was waiting outside the bar. He seemed distinctly nervous- after all, it had taken considerable juice to get the agency to blow off a client and reassign him.

She stopped her car beside him and lowered the glass.

"Get in."

Zach hurriedly obeyed the order. He sensed that nothing good could come of disobeying this woman. She radiated an aura of power. Sensing his apparent discomfort, Monica tried to initiate a conversation.

"Where are you from?"

"Colorado. I just moved here a couple of months ago."

"And why become a gigolo, that too one with no limits?"

"Easy money. This city has a lot of horny, rich ladies who have secret dark fantasies. I'm no stranger to physical violence, having grown up in a bad neighbourhood in South Boulder. Simply put, I can take whatever they throw at me."

"Don't get so cocky young man. You have a rough night ahead."

"How rough?"

"You'll find out."

He involuntarily gulped. He knew that he was sitting beside the legendary cop herself. This woman was known for her ability to dish out a beating. She reached over and patted his head.

"Don't worry, I won't permanently damage that pretty face."

They sat in silence as Monica drove up West Street. He spoke up after a few minutes.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Go on."

"Why do you need an escort? I am sure there are enough handsome bachelors in the city. Some might even like it a bit rough."

"It's just that your face reminds me of someone I used to know."

"Really? Were you in a relationship with this person?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. It didn't end well."

"Okay, so this is grudge sex."

"Excuse me?"

"Grudge sex. Where you look for the lookalike of someone you didn't like and beat him to feel better. Most of the women I meet want that."

"You can call it that. No more questions."

Her car drew up beside her building on Washington Heights. She took him up the stairs and into her apartment.

"Just a few more rules Zach. For the next half an hour or so, I will call you Simon. Don't ask why, just accept it. I think it would be best for you if you kept silent during this time. Last, but not least, if any details from tonight's escapade were to make their way out of these walls, you will regret it. Mark my words young man, if I so much as hear a rumour about me, I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways you can't imagine."

He fervently nodded in fear.

"Good, now shed all your clothes and lie down. I promise not to hurt you beyond a limit."

He did so as quickly as he could. She shed her clothes. He let out an audible gasp as her bare body was slowly revealed. Beneath the flawless white complexion, there was the body of a battle hardened woman. Her lean physique and well defined muscles spoke volumes about her prowess.

She mounted him and without much warning, impaled herself on his erect member. Slowly, she began moving up and down. Her pace was slow and measured, her face emotionless.

Zach watched in awe as she changed her expression to one of anger tinged with heartbreak. Suddenly, she increased the tempo of her thrusts and at the same time pushed him down on the bed by his chest. He watched in horror as she balled her other hand into a fist and brought it crashing down onto his nose. Blood flowed freely as she kept him pinned down on the bed.

"Why Simon? Why did you do it?"

He knew he had no choice but to bear it. Her thrusts were now at a manic speed as she held him down with both hands. Her face was now taut with emotion and she was crying freely.

"ANSWER ME, GODAMMIT!! ANSWER ME YOU FUCKING COWARD!"

Her face was contorted as every muscle clenched in unbridled fury. Fury mixed with a profound sense of sadness. Her tears had formed wet streaks down both cheeks.

"DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVED YOU?"

Her hand made another solid connection with the centre of his face. This time she used her palm.

"YOU LEFT ME ALL ALONE. WHY DID YOU DO IT? "

She kept humping Zach at a furious pace, moving her loins up and down like a jackhammer. He had long since given up struggling.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONELY I HAVE BEEN? DO YOU CARE?"

Her face was clenched in a mask of unbridled fury mixed with a deep and wallowing sadness. He could see a vein popping in her temple even as her body was wracked by her sobbing. She had held back so many emotions for so long, that they were all fighting to come out.

Her next punch squarely connected with his jaw. She kept up her babbling as she kept raining down vicious blows on young Zach. Soon his face was covered in cuts and bruises but she kept humping him at full speed.

"WE WERE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER!!!"

Every single fibre in her face radiated an intense, passionate rage. It had clouded her beautiful aquiline features as she wept like a little girl through the simmering anger that clouded her mind.

"Oh Simon, I loved you so much."

Finally this opera of carnal violence ended with Monica slamming her entire being down on his phallus and at the same time making a final powerful connection of her fist with his face. She just sat still for some time and gathered her breath. He tried opening his swollen eyes.

They lay like that for a few minutes, breathing heavily. After a while, she got off Zach and got an icepack for his face. He held it against his cheek to reduce the pain. He looked like he had just come off second best in a fifteen-round bout with Mike Tyson. His nose and jaw were cracked, his eyes were puffy and swollen and he was missing a few teeth.

"Feeling better, Zach?"

"I'll live."

"Get dressed. I'll drop you off at the ER."

He squinted out of his swollen left eye. She had put on her clothes and had the left the room. The pain had subsided a bit as he could see with some degree of clarity as she returned with an envelope full of cash.

"Here. For your troubles."

He counted the notes.

"This is much more than..........."

"I know, use this to get yourself a real job. Now let's get going."

Silently, Zach followed Monica down to her car. She drove him to the ER entrance of Trinity General.

"Zach... Thank you, I really needed that."

Giving as good a smile as he could with split lips, Zach made his way towards the nearest paramedic.

Monica drove her car to the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, near Central Park. The imposing structure held a special place inside her heart. When she was young, her parents used to bring her here from time to time, not to pray but just to marvel at its grandeur. That night, it would also be the place of her redemption.

She had never been particularly religious, but she felt the need to atone. She had many sins to atone for. Sitting alone on the last row of pews, she silently clasped her hands in reverential fashion, but she did not know what she was praying for. Finally she said, "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

Somewhere deep in her heart, in a place she did not like to acknowledge the existence of, a voice spoke up. It didn't call her a liar or a hypocrite, just told her that she would sin again and again. Whether she liked it or not, it was who she had become since the day Simon died. Her prayer was as hollow as her soul.

---

Sunday came along sooner than she would have wanted and once again it was time for her to make her ignominious drive to the Tribeca. This time, she was determined to spend more time trying to find out who killed Anne. She had gathered some reports to show Brett.

If only Chief Royce knew that she was sharing information on an open case, the murder of a cop, with one of the main suspects. She shuddered inwardly as she considered the consequences of her recent actions. No one else could know.

Like before, Brett was calmly sitting down on the far end of the room. His eyes followed her movements as she walked into the room and made her way to the adjacent couch. His lips curled in a sly smile as she sat down and returned his smouldering gaze with her piercing one. The two predators sat in silence and intently observed each other, acknowledging that they were more alike than Monica wanted to admit.

"I hope you're hungry, I have ordered some dinner and a special drink I got as a gift from some friends."

She kept silent, her mind trying to decipher this enigma. Soon a tray with several fine delicacies was brought up to the suite by a young steward. No one looked at him. He quietly left the food on the table and left.

"Dig in. We have Kobe beef and lobster thermidor, the two most expensive things on the menu."

The Kobe beef was seared on one side and glazed on the other. The tempting aroma wafted around the room, but no one even looked at it. Finally, Brett broke his gaze and cut it into equal portions for them.

They ate in relative silence, neither breaking eye contact. One could almost feel the electric tension in the room. After the meal, he ushered her over to his couch with his finger. She walked over, with a look of haughty contempt, both at him and herself. Her opinion of herself had fallen several notches over the past week, but she was able to crack hitherto difficult cases with ease.

But was it worth it? To be drawn into his web of lies and manipulation. Monica never had any respect for a criminal, but she could see the wheels turning furiously behind those cold blue eyes. At any moment, he was aware of everything that happened in New York.

"This is one of the finest wines in the world, the Chateau Lafite '75."

He gently uncorked the wine. Picking up a glass, he poured out some for himself and then proceeded to do the same for her. There was a look of interest on his face.

"So you have something for me."

She fished out the reports from her bag. He picked up one file and opened the first page.

"I know the shooter wasn't on the road with us. I would have seen him running. My guess would be a sniper from the rooftop on the opposite side."

"Ballistics came back to an M14 sniper rifle."

"M14? That's out of production now. I recall a shipment of old sniper rifles which was smuggled into the city last month."

Monica stood up, alarmed by this revelation.

"What? How do you know?"

He smirked at her.

"Who do you think smuggled it through the docks? You need to have the East Coast Seamen's Union under control to get something that big into the city. Luckily I got the union leader elected in the first place, so I can get favours."

"So there are a whole cache of those rifles running loose in the city?"

"Relax, most will be resold by various arms dealers. Only a handful will stay."

"Who was the shipment meant for?"

"An arms dealer out of Brighton, Randall Thorstein. I think we should visit him sometime."

"We?"

"Come on, I know that you want to catch Anne's killer as much as I do. Maybe more."

There was no hiding from him. He knew about her black hatred towards cop killers. He had just pushed Monica's button and he could see the rage darkening her features.

"All right. I'll go with you."

He smiled. Soon he would have her eating out of his hand.

"Let's get to the main event of the night then."

She got up, her gaze still transfixed on Brett and followed him into the bedroom. He took his time and took of his clothes and neatly folded them in the corner. She shed her clothes in one fluid motion. Mentally she was prepared this time.

He lay down on the bed, with his engorged member pointing towards the ceiling. Monica climbed onto the bed. Instead of planting her vagina on his erection, she crawled forward and clamped his face down between her thighs.

"How does that feel?"

Without replying, Brett thrust his tongue deep into her folds. She gasped at the first time, but then when he began a long circular motion inside her pussy, her gasps were replaced by low moans of ecstasy. This time she was taking him on her terms.

He kept up the motion and soon she could feel a rush building inside her. His efforts were now concentrated on her clit as he took it between his teeth and deftly ran his tongue around it.

She kept grinding her pelvis against his face. Soon, her orgasm began to build, feeding on itself until finally she could feel the symphony of pleasure at its highest octave and still increasing higher and higher until it reached a crescendo of pleasure. Only then, did she release the death grip her legs had on Brett's face.

"Satisfied, bitch? Now my turn."

"I don't think so. Tonight you play by my rules."

His smouldering gaze was now replaced by an incensed stare. For the first time in ages he had been dominated, in any aspect of his life. Monica just smiled, she knew that he was not immune to mind games either.

He kept up this stare for a minute or so. Then his face cracked up in a wicked smile. She knew that this wasn't a good sign.

"I'm sorry. It appears I was wrong the other day."

This took her by surprise. He went on.

"You don't hear the kid screaming any more. But you used to."

Her eyes opened wide in horror.

"It was Dormone, wasn't it?"

He knew.

"Dormone may be the world's most powerful sleeping pill, but it's illegal in the US. How did you get your hands on the stuff?"

Robotically she replied, knowing that the balance had shifted again.

"There was a Federal Air Marshal who would smuggle these in from Europe. He would then sell them locally and make a lot of money. We busted the ring and retrieved a fresh shipment."

"...and you decided to keep some of it for yourself. How bad were your dreams? Could you see the kid as you held him down? Could you hear him crying for mercy? Or were your dreams of Simon?"

Monica could feel her nightmares begin to climb out of the pits of her mind where she had buried them. There was a time when she was afraid they would drive her insane. No pill worked. She had had no choice but to steal one box of the Dormone stash.

"How did you know?"

He kept up his wicked grin.

"You have a very faint muscle tremor on your face. It's usually well concealed by your emotions, but under stress it does show. That's from Dormone withdrawal. When did you run out?"

"Two weeks ago."

Brett looked at her in mock sympathy.

"The after effects are pretty good, but in a couple more weeks, they wear off. Then slowly but surely, those nightmares will return."

She shuddered at the thought. Inwardly she had been preparing for this.

"To make things worse, the government seems hell bent on not allowing that pill within our borders. Tough luck, Monica."

She heaved a sigh of resignation.

"...but I may be able to get some."

Her eyes shot up. She knew Brett wasn't joking. He definitely had enough contacts to get as much of it as he wanted. After all, this man ran the biggest smuggling operations on the East Coast.

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