Phalarope Romance

Chapter 1 Revenge

"You know my boyfriend will kill you if he finds out you touched me." Lena glanced about the room and into the next nervously where the group of men sat playing poker. She turned to look at him with a sexy smile, biting her lower lip seductively. His reputation as a rich man with a thing for young women seemed to be accurate.

Roscoe smiled. "Sweetheart, I'm going to do much more than touch you."

"No, I mean it. He will. You know his reputation. No one can see me go up those stairs, and I mean no one," she replied swiveling her head around.

"Then we won't let him find out. Upstairs, third door on the right. In two minutes go up the stairs. I'll have my men go to guard the outside doors. I'll come up after, so you can get undressed before I get there."

Walking into Roscoe's home was as close to a mansion as I'd had ever been in. Two stories filled with the very best furniture and beautiful art impressed me. The home was located on a spacious lot surrounded by a high wall, plantings of colorful flowers, shrubs, trees, and garden sculpture added to its appeal. I'd been told the grounds had a high tech camera and security system that came on if triggered by sensors. The cameras I'd noticed as I walked in from the parking area arm in arm with Frank confirmed it. I couldn't help but think a life of crime paid well once you climbed to the very top.

"You know this will have to be quick. No more than half-an-hour. He'll miss me if it's any longer than that," I said hands clutching my purse.

"It will the best half hour of your week. Guaranteed," he said with a grin, his graying mustache and hair belying his age.

"I'll try and make it memorable for you," giving him a shy smile.

I walked to the card room door, making eye contact with Frank. He smiled, then went back to the game. The two men who stood near the stairs had disappeared and I quickly took the first three steps looking back to make sure no one was watching. Taking a calming breath, I placed my clutch purse in my other hand and reached for the handrail to continue up the stairs.

The noise from downstairs faded as I walked to the third door, opened it, and peered inside. I closed the door, the bathroom's nightlight threw yellowish light onto the large bed made up with fine linens. An assortment of patterned pillows against the headboard looked like a photograph in a home fashion magazine. Slipping off my high heels I felt the soft carpet greet my bared feet. I smiled and enjoyed the luxury surrounding me as I stepped into the opulent bathroom. Laying my purse on the marble surface of the vanity I took another calming breath. I'd never had to get this close to my target before.

My image in the mirror showed a figure in a red sleeveless satin dress with spaghetti straps, a deep cleft in front revealed rounded shapes half concealed on either side. I pulled the straps off one side, and twirled my head to throw my long brown hair across my bared shoulder. I then pulled the straps on the other shoulder away revealing my sexy, lacey, red bra. The satin dress slipped off my hips landing in a soft heap at my feet. I stepped out and stood in wispy red panties. I'd made a point of not wearing nylon stockings; they would have been in the way.

It had taken me three weeks of flirting and engaging in mild seduction with Frank to get him to invite me. I'd had given Frank kisses and enough chances to feel me up that he was expecting something far more intimate after the party tonight. The thought sickened me. It had been hard enough to have his lips on mine, his hands where a man that truly cared for me should go. Now, after years of watching and planning it was time to make those concessions pay off.

Hearing the bedroom door open, Roscoe I watched him walk in, the door closing behind him. I saw him glance at the bed and see it was empty and he shifted his gaze to the bathroom. His eyes grew wide and a smile graced his face as if it were Christmas morning when he saw me. My stomach tightened.

I smiled. "Get undressed, we don't have time to waste. I'll be right there. Get into bed, I want to be on top."

"Any way you want it," he replied as his pants fell to the floor to join his dress shirt and under shirt. I glanced into the bedroom as his shorts came off. His manhood appeared, drooping slightly. Then watched him crawl onto the bed and lay on his back; the organ falling onto his abdomen. I smiled to myself knowing a man is most vulnerable when he's lusting for a woman and ripe for action.

Taking a soft cotton hand towel off the rack I reached into my purse and covered my hand as I walked to the bed. He looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"What's with the towel?"

"Baby, we don't want to leave a mess on these beautiful sheets."

He said nothing as I slipped onto the bed, placing the towel on the pillow next to his head as I straddled him. "Time to make some memories together," I whispered seductively.

He looked at me as his hands came to touch my breasts as they swung before his eyes. "I'll going to remember this for the rest of my life," he said just before a muffled bang rang out. His hands fell away not making contact with the soft, rounded, white, objects he had sought to grasp. Sick bastard. This should have happened years ago, I thought.

Slipping off the bed I looked at him. His face calm, just a hint of red showing on the pillow opposite where the towel lay. "Yes, those memories will last the rest of your life," I replied softly feeling the exhilaration of revenge so long denied.

Dressing quickly, I walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the stairs and looked down, seeing no one, I reached the bottom of the stairs without pause. Hearing voices, I took a calming breath. I walked around the corner to join a group of ladies standing outside the card room, the men fully engaged in their card game. The women looked at me as if questioning where I'd been.

"It took me a few minutes to find the powder room. This place is larger than I expected. I walked right past it the first time," I explained.

"Yes, it can be confusing," one of the women offered with a smile, holding her glass with both hands as Roscoe's wife scanned the card room.

"Has anyone seen Roscoe?" she asked.

"I saw him walking up the stairs as I went to find the bathroom. At least, I thought it was him, all I saw was his back," I replied earnestly holding my purse tightly. I was hoping no one would notice his absence for at least another fifteen minutes so I could spend time with Frank to disguise my brief absence.

I watched as Roscoe's wife rounded the corner as I walked into the card room to stand behind Frank. I felt sorry for her in a way, she was going to lose something akin to what I had lost. The attention of the men was focused on the table where a wad of bills lay in a loose pile. I watched as a few cards hit the table when a woman's scream erupted. Heads went up, then the men scurried to the doorway as Roscoe's wife came rushing around the corner her face tortured.

"Roscoe has been shot! My God, he's been shot!" she wailed as the women came to her side, then she cried hysterically.

I saw one of Roscoe's bodyguards come running in, then the other.

"Where the hell were you?" Frank asked as if he were in charge.

"Roscoe told us to guard the doors. We didn't see anyone enter. We didn't leave the whole time."

"Okay. Let's go, maybe he's alive," Frank suggested taking a step towards the stairs.

I watched as the men bolted up the stairs while other guests started to gather in knots, some heading for the doors. The men reappeared shortly, walking down the stairs slowly, their faces grim.

"He's dead. Has anyone called 911?" Frank asked looking at the assembled crowd.

No one had and Frank told one of the bodyguards to do it after telling them he had to get me home. This was a lucky break as I had planned on asking him to do it. Better it was his decision. It played into my departure plan-- what good girl wants to hang out with people who are engaged in things that get them killed? I'd strung Frank along, this our first real date, and it would be our last.

It was a quiet ride to my apartment. As things settled down he had noticed the money on the card table was missing. It infuriated him, one of the men at the table took advantage of the opportunity to abscond with about six thousand dollars. A string of profanity escaped his mouth, stopping only when he saw I wasn't pleased as we walked to his car.

Frank parked in a space in front of my apartment and turned to look at me. "Look, I'm sorry Lena. I wanted it to be a good time for you. I'll call you later so we can set up another date."

"Frank, please don't. This is hard enough already. Seeing his wife that way. I can't do this. I'll call you when I'm ready, if ever."

"I understand," he replied dejectedly, but didn't argue. He drove off as I unlocked the door of my apartment, walked in, and locked it. I opened my purse to remove the derringer and the money. It had been a good night, my vendetta completed and unexpected spending money. If anyone cared to look they would find my apartment empty in the morning. The woman who had rented it had used a fake name, paying rent three months in advance in cash. I suspected no one would look, not even Frank as he would have business to attend to.

Chapter 2 First Meeting

I started the drive home the next day, packing my car for the three day drive after ditching the pistol; throwing it into a river. As usual, I'd double-checked to make sure there was nothing in the car that would be of interest if stopped by law enforcement.

I arrived home three days later and conducted a one week winter birding tour a few days later. Afterward I settled into a quiet routine. I'd not heard from Frank after three weeks and was thankful for that. The months passed, the heat of summer bringing with it singing birds, wildflowers, and green pasture land filled with grazing cattle. The summer heat passed and I'd kept mostly to myself checking on the dark web for opportunities, though I found my enthusiasm dampened now that Roscoe had been take care of.

Deciding there was enough time to take one more contract job before fall migration began I searched for something low risk. Fall migration was something I didn't want to miss as I could lead a birding tour to earn money for my legit business. I looked over what I considered the best contract and sighed using my encrypted temporary bank account number.

I sat in my chair and wondered why these jobs so often took me to some of the shittiest places? Though in all honesty, this was better than most. My mind wandered thinking about my life and the direction it had taken and why it was time to change.

I walked onto the deck and looked out over the open landscape of North Dakota. I'd been doing contracts for six years, starting at eighteen. I managed to complete my college education, taking contract jobs during summer and winter breaks. I'd started with small jobs and let my reputation grow until I drew the notice of those I really wanted to hire me. Though it hadn't gotten me as close to Roscoe as I had wanted I'd made enough contacts to learn more about him and his organization, including Frank.

I'd become choosey, passing up jobs I considered too risky. Besides, I had to keep my legit tour company going. It was the best way to launder money without involving others. I'd been very careful to lead an average life, paying all of my bills with my credit card, including my touring business. Patience, so much came down to patience and organization. That and not being greedy.

My expenditures for contract work were in cash, no receipts, leaving no electronic trail showing my whereabouts. That meant no air travel, fancy hotels, or fancy meals. It was a bare bones, no nonsense existence when doing the work. I brought what I needed to fit in with my surroundings once I was there. Sometimes, it was like people at the lowest level of society who didn't have enough money to open a bank account. It was as if I didn't exist for brief periods if you were to look only at my spending.

I'd always been interested in nature. A gift from my father before mom and he died in an automobile accident when I was fifteen. Their accident a case of mistaken identity by a drug lord also engaged in human trafficking. The authorities knew who did it, but couldn't prove his involvement. It had been traumatic as my parents were as loving as any girl could ever want. My parents taken from me, I was bitter at the world for letting who was responsible get away with it. Someday, I vowed, he would pay for having ruined my life; but there were others like him.

I'd been lucky in one respect. My Uncle Roy, my dad's brother, took me in while I finished high school and went to college. Uncle Roy was a cop and he loved to share his knowledge with me. In fact, he taught me how to shoot both a pistol and rifle. Skills I honed and used effectively as I took small jobs. If he only knew what he taught me provided the basis for my clandestine life of making those who preyed upon others pay when the legal system failed.

Uncle Roy was a good man. He and my Aunt Linda weren't pushovers despite my loss. They didn't give me everything I wanted while I lived with them to assuage my feelings. They were kind and loving. They were family and I treasured them. I guess it was the combination of the good and bad I saw when I lived with them that lead me to work I really didn't enjoy. But, I found it paid well while dealing a blow to those who preyed on the weak and disadvantaged.

After getting my Bachelor's degree in Biology, I moved from Massachusetts to work for the state of Montana and found it uninspiring. At the time, I was spending a lot of time birding in North Dakota and Wyoming and became active in reporting my sightings. By way of the internet people began asking me where to find birds on a regular basis when they came West on vacation.

After a while I decided to charge a fee for my services, then started to offer two, or three day birding tours. Even though North Dakota wasn't a birding mecca, I found leading trips to Montana, the Dakotas, and Wyoming enough to make a comfortable living given the standard of living. Plus, I was my own boss and that had a nice ring to it to.

It was time to end my introspection and get to work. I sat down at my computer and gathered information on the target. From day one, I only took contracts for people who did terrible things to people; selling drugs, or trafficking people. I didn't bother with the lower level dealers, or even the middle men after a while. I wanted the higher ups who made tons of money and controlled the operation. There were rival gangs that wanted to degrade, or eliminate their rivals. Sometimes I had my pick of work and had to make up my mind which of them did the most harm.

I never met with my clients face to face, contacting them by using burner phones, or by using public library, or hotel computers. My voice disguised electronically to hide my sex knowing it was a distinct advantage. My birding tours took me to enough places that hiding my whereabouts online worked well.

All of my communications were encrypted, with payment made in two installments-- half at the start and half when the contract was completed. All payments were to an off-shore bank account. I made sure I paid taxes that matched my private and business spending. I brought more money in by claiming exorbitant fees when I needed, using fake clients, but that was rare.

There was no reason to get greedy and have the Feds after me, at least for that. This was something my uncle had pointed out to me several times. Many criminals served time for tax evasion, not the other crimes they committed. Those crimes were more difficult to prove--whereas accountants were formidable foes as they had dates and numbers.

If I was unsuccessful, I returned all of the money not used to my client. Explaining I had a tight schedule and if I couldn't get to the target during the time I had available, I was done. It was accepted after some initial hesitation. After they got most of their money back it wasn't a problem. Several times, the same person came up on a contract I'd missed the first time. I usually had better luck the second time around which added to my reputation. After a few years I paid proxies to eliminate the target providing them with everything they needed to be successful. I paid them by way of a dead drop so they never met me in person. I didn't have to be physically present with the target, only nearby in case something went wrong, and needed to complete the contract myself. I'd been lucky in that regard too.

*** More than a year later

The contract I found on the dark web was for a human trafficker who supplied the sex trade out of Mexico. Several calls to people I trusted at lower levels provided information on current activity, and his reputation. This one I'd known about for three years as he moved a lot of women. If I took the job it was also going to my last as at some point your luck runs out. You either get roughed-up, or dead. I didn't mind rough, but being dead wasn't a great outcome. Plus, it wasn't like I needed the money and my conscious was bothering me more. I'd done Roscoe-- when and where was this going to end?

There was time to think about my next move. I didn't have to reply to the contract for another few weeks if I were interested, enough time to gather more information before making a decision. If the target had been in Mexico, rather than Washington state. I would have rejected it outright. Mexico has terrible jails and jailers, especially for women. I had a passport, but that meant my whereabouts could be traced, a no go as far as I was concerned. I used my passport only for leisure travel, not business, and I had found the Bahamas to my liking.

I decided to relax by going to find birds at a local birding hotspot-- McKenzie Slough. It was one of my favorite places along with Long Lake National Wildlife Refuge farther to the south. The drive was easy with little traffic, the usual in rural North Dakota. McKenzie was quiet and didn't take long. I had plenty of time and left for Long Lake National Wildlife Refuge and drove straight to the dike at Pool 2.

I was looking through my spotting scope when I heard a car stop on the gravel road. Seeing as how it was a weekday I was surprised. I usually had the place to myself unless it was the weekend. I glanced toward the road and saw a man pulling a spotting scope out of the backseat of his car. It wasn't anyone I recognized. I turned my attention to my scope to watch the male Red Phalarope swimming in tight circles on the open water as it foraged.

"Hi, see anything good," a cheery male voice called out.

Taking my eye from the scope I looked toward the voice. My first impression was I had to get better glasses. No man could look that good in blue-jeans and a plain tan short-sleeved shirt. He wasn't a local birder.

"They're all good. Are you looking for something specific?"

He laughed as he opened the legs of his tripod and started to adjust his scope. "Nothing specific, but I did see a Red Phalarope was reported. And you're right, they're all good."

I gave him a quick rundown of what I'd seen, including the drab male phalarope, as I scanned with my scope.

"Thanks. That' a pretty good list. The Red Phalarope is one of my favorite birds. The females are gorgeous," he replied.

"The male is foraging about three hundred feet out at twelve o'clock," I offered.

"You know most birders would have seen the thin bill and called it a Wilson's as it more common here while the Red is rare. I'm impressed you took the time to really look."

"Thanks," I replied without looking up from my scope. He obviously was knowledgeable enough to know this species was well out of range for this time of year, well short of its normal breeding range on the tundra.