In to Her

Yvette, you are a kinky little miracle.

No wonder Damon was pissed when you took off.

I didn’t know Yvette before she left. I knew of her, but I was just one face among many back then. Just a guy who did stupid tasks like collect money and beat the shit out of people who didn’t pay.

I still beat the shit out of people sometimes, but AJ mostly does that now. I still collect money too, but at the organizational level, not the street level. AJ runs those guys too. I clean the money now.

But Aje and I have been with Damon since we were all kids. Back when Damon’s father ran shit. Yvette—Glori—was Damon’s girl once he started moving up in the org. She was still in high school and I always wondered what he saw in her. So fucking young, ya know?

She was pretty enough, for sure. I saw pictures of her. Damon kept one in his office of the two of them and I can recall many times sitting in the chair in front of his desk, listening to him berate some no-good worker about whatever bullshit he was pissed off about, and staring at their picture as I came up with a plan on how to kill said no-good worker in front of Damon so there’d be minimal mess afterward.

It was typically choking. Sometimes with my bare hands, other times with a garrote wire, but usually bare hands.

I even went to their wedding. AJ didn’t. None of the street killers were invited. It was classy like that and classy isn’t a word I’d ever use to describe AJ.

I didn’t mingle at the wedding because I was working, so I never actually got introduced to Yvette-slash-Glori. I was busy with security.

So I guess that’s why he sent AJ and me. We worked together in the past. We did our jobs. And I suppose this job was just too personal to trust some other team to take care of it.

Which I understand and that’s why I said yes. Besides, once I knew I’d be offing AJ as well, I wanted to spend a little goodbye time with him.

And that’s working out pretty well.

I like AJ. Have always liked AJ. He’s a very sexual man. And we’ve done lots of sexual shit together. I missed him, maybe.

So am I sad that I have to kill him before I go home?

Sure. A little bit. Maybe not sad, though. Maybe just… disappointed.

But I’m not loyal to anyone but myself. I learned that lesson the hard way when I was a kid. You can’t count on anyone to save your ass. Ever.

My motto is every man for himself.

Besides, that money did go missing on AJ’s watch. I got heat for that too because AJ and I are both responsible for the money on the highest level.

So fuck it. Damon told me to kill him and I’m gonna see it through. I’m not done using Damon just yet so I follow orders. It’s just that simple.

Besides, it’s just business. And if AJ had been told to kill me, instead of the other way around, he’d probably do it too.

Gotta survive, ya know?

Except… he’s not really that kinda guy. We have a lot in common—we like to fuck, sometimes together, we both work for Damon, and we’ve both killed our share of people.

But we’re different in lots of ways too.

I close the kink drawer back up and visualize all the ways I can make use of it before this job ends, then walk around the other side of the bed to open the other bedside table drawer.

This one has a book.

No, I decide, picking it up. A journal.

Nice find, Logan.

I open it up and shine a light on the first page.

My True Confession, it says.

Jackpot.

I turn the page and start reading, then stop. Because there’s a single piece of paper stuffed into the middle of the book. I open to that page and I’m just about to pull it out and see what it is when I hear a muffled laugh.

“AJ?” I say, closing the journal and dropping it back into the drawer. “That you?”

Better not be. Because the fucking lights are still off.

“AJ?” I say, walking out of the bedroom and entering the living room.

Nothing.

I shine the light on the couch and find it empty.

“Shit. Yvette?” I call, louder now. No answer. “Yvette!”

I shine my flashlight all around the room and catch a glimpse of movement outside a large sliding door.

“Yvette!” I call again. Because she’s outside on the terrace in this freezing-ass blizzard in her fucking underwear.

I jog over to the door, pull it wide open and say, “What the fuck are you doing?”

She’s got her back to me, her skin already bright pink from the cold. How long has she been out here?

“What the hell?” I say. “Get back inside. You’ll freeze to death.”