Page 82 of Poisoned Pawn
“But you’ve never had my cunt, Carter,” she whispers seductively, running the crop up her leg to the top of the inside of her thigh.
I turn my body toward her, and she practically orgasms at the thought I might finally take her up on her offer. But when my hand wraps around her throat, instantly cutting off her ability to breathe, she realises her mistake, although there is still a small spark of pleasure in her eyes.
“Carter!” Akim warns, his path blocked by Zak.
“I wouldn’t touch your used up old cunt with someone else’s dick let alone my own. Now get the fuck out of my way before Akim over there has to explain to Pavel how his precious Madam fucking Queens ended up dead.”
“Let her fucking go, Carter!”
I release her, shoving her leg out of the way as she gasps for breath, clutching her throat. The two guys with Akim earlier come out of a room as we head down the hall to the front door.
The prick who was getting his dick sucked steps in front of me. But with one punch to his throat, he’s getting a small taste of what the girl suffered at his hands. I wish I had time to really teach him a lesson, but there is some place else I want to go before I head home.
While he splutters and falls back against the wall, the other beefy bastard gets a blade pointed at his throat when he tries to stop Zak.
“I don’t fucking think so,” Zak growls, and the guy steps back as Akim shouts down the hall at him in Russian.
Back in the car, Zak looks at me and around a smile says, “So, Priscilla seemed nice.”
“Yeah, a real fucking keeper that one.”
I head to my destination following the boundary between Pavel’s territory and that of the 51 Squad.
Zak looks out the window. “This isn’t the way back to the church, so where we going?”
“Akim and Pavel seem to have forgotten I don’t need them to find out what goes on in this city. The best eyes are those that others don’t see.”
I turn off the main road and into a car park, turning my lights off. At the far end is a large derelict office block, and I come to a stop a few feet from what used to be the front door.
“What the fuck am I walking into here, Carter?”
“This place is the largest unsanctioned homeless shelter in Manchester. Unless you’ve got a pocket full of booze or drugs, no one in here will give a shit about you.”
“You’re really spoiling me with the sights of Manchester tonight. Who are we looking for?”
I laugh. “It’s only our first date. I don’t want to spoil you too much.” My reply is met with an equal rumble of laughter. “We’re looking for Shepherd. He’s the unofficial patriarch of this shit hole.”
“And this is his flock, right?”
“Exactly fucking that,” I say as we duck round the side of the building to a side door.
Raising my fist, I bang on it several times. To most it would appear random, but not to those inside. Shepherd is ex-military, and this is simple Morse code.
After a couple of minutes, the sound of locks being opened clanks through the silent dead of night and the door opens. Dull light pours out from inside casting a silhouette of a young lad.
“Carter!” he exclaims.
“Hey, Titch. Shep around?”
“Yeah, he’s inside.” He opens the door fully, allowing us in. “He wondered if you’d show up what with all the whispers going around.”
“That’s enough, Titch,” comes the deep smoky rumble of Shep from the shadows.
“I was just saying. Ain’t nothing you ain’t gonna tell him anyways,” Titch grumbles, rubbing his hand up his arm and scratching at the scabs on his forearm.
“Maybe,” says Shep, finally stepping out into the light. His cane knocks against the broken tiles of the office floor as he walks. “But it ain’t your place. Now scram.”
Titch says goodbye with an eye roll then hurries off down the corridor and disappears into a side room. The kid has been on the street for the last three years, and while Shep took him under his wing after finding him taking a beating, it doesn’t look like he’s been able to get him off the smack and out of this hell hole.