Red-Hot Vengeance (2 page)

Farrell hid behind the counter. The money had only just been transfered to her account when the police arrived. Good timing. But now she was crouching at what felt like miles away from the exit. She raised her head above the counter and peered across the enemy lines. A shot whistled past her ears.

Farrell quickly hid again. A rush of adrenaline made her pulse race. She swallowed with difficulty, but a sour taste remained on her tongue. That shot was meant to kill her. In all probability, it hadn’t been fired by the police. Farrell remembered that she was in a hall full of relatively dishonest criminals.

She glanced to her left and saw Carter, gun in hand, eyes fixed on a remote place in the dark that Farrell couldn’t quite make out. Suddenly he got up and ran to the dark corner. At that moment, Farrell noticed the back door. She shot at him to make him aware of her situation. He jumped back with an angry growl. Carter took his aim, but soon lowered his gun when he noticed Farrell. He knew that if she stayed there, she would get caught in no time.

Carter looked behind him. Apparently the police hadn’t discovered the back door yet. They soon would. Carter had little time left if he was to escape through there—which seemed to be the only escape option at all.

He thought of leaving Farrell to her fate, but somehow that just felt wrong. He made a sign for her to run to him. As soon as she moved, Vaughn aimed at her. Carter shot at Vaughn, forcing her to stay hidden behind the pile of unused chairs. Farrell reached him. She was about to talk but he didn’t give her time.

“Go, go,” he shouted, pushing her to the door.

In this chaos of gunshots, wounded people lying helpless on the ground, and policemen yelling orders, Vaughn had recognized Carter’s blue eyes. She wasn’t thinking about Farrell anymore, and not even about how she’d humiliated her by proving the real ruby was not hers but on the table there. No, now she was furious at Carter for daring to appear at this event after having sold her a fake ruby. Her protruding eyes were fixed on her prey. She wouldn’t let him leave the building alive.

“Get him!” she roared at her minions.

“But, ma’am, the police are closing on us,” one of them tried.

“Get him, or I’ll use you as a shield,” she threatened.

Carter observed the scene. Vaughn was taking inconsiderate risks just for him. How flattering. But dangerous too. Carter considered his options once more. The field to which the back door led was now infested with police uniforms; it would be impossible to get out on that side.

There were still a few criminals in the hall but most were wounded, thus not much trouble anymore. The main door was wide open, yet barred by a line of police. And, worst of all, Vaughn’s men were advancing on him. Carter chose the safest option. He ran to the back door. Once out he threw his weapon on the ground and lifted his hands in the air. A minute later, he was being handled by officer Cowley.

“Hello again,” she said.

Carter internally smiled. It wouldn’t be hard to get rid of her. He let himself be guided to the closest car. The handcuffs didn’t stay long on his wrists, but Cowley didn’t notice anything. When she opened the door of the car, Carter pretended to faint. Cowley was so surprised that she let twenty seconds pass before she reacted. That was enough for Carter to knock her out and run.

Them

Carter lived in Manhattan again. He had left New York for no more than two months after his escape from officer Williams and Co. It was not usual for him to go back to a place where police might be waiting for him. But this time it was New York; did he need any further justification? With the help of a former partner in crime—the only one Carter had ever had—he’d found a flat in a short time.

As always, Carter didn’t own a lot of furniture. He didn’t need it, and he preferred to travel light in case he would have to make for a quick escape. He had recuperated his four books: two novels, a collection of reproductions of famous paintings, and a book with no pages but containing a priceless treasure. Carter also had a wooden box with a secret opening where some of his money was hidden, tied in regular rolls.

From his bedroom window, Carter had a magnificent view on the city. Although he wasn’t actually in great heights—because he lived only on the eighth floor—he could easily watch people walk around in the street. Carter disliked people. He only spied on those he thought wealthy. Wealthy, thus potentially interesting. Especially if they were women.

Carter visualized Farrell in her tight tank tops and tighter blue jeans. He wondered if he’d ever see her again. Yesterday was just a meeting out of chance. But perhaps López knew what she was up to. Or if she even lived in New York. With this thought in mind, Carter grabbed his jacket and went out.

**

Farrell pushed the door of the pub. She sat at the bar and ordered a Cuba Libre. López looked astonished to see her. He served her the drink without losing his look of surprise. Farrell didn’t say anything for a while. She hadn’t been very nice to him last time they’d met. But López seemed to be waiting for her to talk first.

“How are you?” she eventually asked.

López laughed heartily. “I’m great,” he said. “You are the last person I would have expected to see.”

“Well, I…” Farrell didn’t know what to say.

“Apology accepted,” López helped her with a wide smile across his face.

Farrell sipped on her drink. “Do you have any news from Reese Carter?” she casually inquired.

“Oh, so
that’s
why you’re here,” the bartender noted. “I thought you actually wanted to see
me
, but no, there’s always a particular reason with you guys,” he complained.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she admitted. “How are you?”

López was silent for a minute. He gave Farrell a disapproving look, but couldn’t help laughing at her childish smile. “Reese still comes to say hi now and then. In fact, he was here not so long ago.”

“Really?” Farrell reacted cheerfully.

“Uh-huh. And he asked about you.”

“Really?” Her tone was now factual rather than cheerful.

“Uh-huh,” López repeated. “Is there something between you?” he grinned.

“No, nothing.” Farrell had replied just a little to fast for her answer to be completely honest.

“That’s not what
he
said,” López sang, teasing her.

“What did he say?”

The bartender burst out laughing. Farrell realized she sounded like a teenager and laughed at herself too.

“Do you know if he lives around?” she asked, regaining her seriousness.

“He does.” López wrote the address on a napkin. “Don’t do anything dangerous, honey.”

Farrell snatched the napkin from his hand. She paid for her drink and was soon out in the street.

**

Farrell found the address in no time. Thankfully a woman was coming out of the building so Farrell didn’t have to ring any bell. She climbed the stairs to the eighth floor. When she arrived at the right door, she knocked. No answer.

She then made sure no one was watching, and picked the lock in about a minute. She entered on tiptoe. She soon found a light switch, and could move without the risk of bumping into anything. Carter’s new flat was way bigger than the first one she’d visited. Or perhaps it only looked larger because it was empty. No more than a few pieces of furniture dressed up the place.

Farrell walked around. She took off her boots so that her steps wouldn’t resonate. There was not much to discover in the empty flat. Farrell opened a drawer from a chest near the door. She was disappointed to find only shirts and nothing more exciting. She tried the second drawer. Trousers. She sighed and walked to the kitchen. After opening a few doors, Farrell leaned on the table. “How can this guy live in such a boring place?” she thought.

The bedroom door was calling to her, so Farrell risked an eye inside. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything more striking in there than in the living room. Just a bed and a shelf with four books. Farrell closed the door. She went to sit on the couch and waited.

Carter got home about half an hour later. He pushed the door which Farrell had left slightly open on purpose.

“Hello there, little girl,” Carter said, pointing his gun at her.

“Put that away, will you?” Farrell replied. “You may hurt someone.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” he grumbled. Keeping an eye on her, he walked across the room and opened the door of his bedroom. He peered inside. Nothing seemed to have moved. But the door was closed; Carter usually left it ajar. “Did you go into my bedroom?” he asked.

“No,” Farrell said casually, “but I had to use your bathroom.” She got up from the couch. As Carter was still holding her at gunpoint, she approached carefully, ready to retreat in case he got violent. “Why don’t you want me to go in your bedroom? What’s in there?” His suspicious look had aroused her curiosity.

“My bed,” Carter simply answered. He eyed her, still wary of some unexpected danger. “How did you even find me?”

“I believe we have a common friend.”

“Rafa? He knows where I live?” Carter’s tone betrayed his otherwise concealed surprise.

“Apparently,” Farrell said. She looked at Carter in the eyes and then at his gun. “Put that away. Please,” she insisted.

Carter finally complied and lowered his gun. “What do you want?”

“You.”

That was the unexpected Carter expected. He took a step closer to her. He put his gun on the table. “No tricks?” he asked, just to make sure.

“No tricks,” Farrell said. She ran her fingers along Carter’s chest. She rose on her tiptoes and gave him a little kiss. “Just you…” She kissed him again. “Me…” Another kiss. “And the night ahead.”

Carter stopped arguing. Farrell smiled. Carter’s eyes were traveling along her body from feet to breasts. She enjoyed his look for an instant, and then brought his lips to hers. Their kiss was long, wet, and hot. A year had passed, but their desire was unchanged.

Carter’s arms were suddenly around Farrell’s waist. She closed her eyes and felt his tongue ride along her teeth. Carter slipped his hands under her shirt. He slowly undressed Farrell. She didn’t resist in any way. Feeling his fingers on her bare skin brought back memories of the year before, of the ruby, the fighting, the running. She also remembered how they’d been interrupted. But now, no police would show up to stop their good time.

In minutes, they were both naked. Carter held Farrell close to him. He sucked on her nipples, licked her tasty skin, and enjoyed her caresses on his nape. Farrell moaned her pleasure into Carter’s ear. She slowly knelt in front of him and let her tongue travel along his cock. Carter soon joined her on the floor.

Lying on her, Carter felt her body tremble. Farrell could hardly control herself. Feeling his hard cock inside her was more than delight. She intuitively moved her body to his rhythm. Her world was turning upside down. She closed her eyes, and let Carter possess her.

Farrell felt electrified under the intensity of her orgasm. She couldn’t help screaming while hanging on to Carter. He groaned in her ear. He went as deep as he could, clasping Farrell’s wrists and enjoying her body undulate under him. Their embrace ended in a hot devouring of tongues.

They lay exhausted in each other’s arms, in a kitchen exquisitely smelling of sweat and sex. Neither of them spoke. Carter was lying on his back on the cold floor. Farrell was glued to his side, with her hand on his chest. Without even noticing, they both dozed off.

**

Farrell was finishing getting dressed while Carter had gone out to get Chinese food. Farrell had promised to wait for him and not leave, but she was now reconsidering her choice. She had plans for the next days and, somehow, she suspected that staying with Carter would mess up her projects. She was pondering the matter when the door opened. Carter appeared with his half-smile slightly stretching his lips.

“You actually didn’t leave,” he noticed with a satisfied note in his voice.

“No, you came back before I could decide if I’d wait for you or not,” Farrell admitted.

“Oh come on,” Carter said. “You weren’t actually considering leaving this behind,” he said, pointing at himself in a narcissistic way.

“Well, truth be said,” Farrell started, approaching him slowly, “I was only waiting for the food.” She snatched the bags from his hands and peered inside. “Shrimps! Yummy.”

“That was so childish,” Carter grumbled.

“I know,” she answered with a wink.

Carter waited for her to look away before he smiled an actual real smile. But Farrell lifted her eyes too early and caught it.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “Was that a smile?”

“No,” Carter lied. “I’m hungry.” He didn’t pay attention to Farrell’s laughter, but instead he sat at the table, and was instantly joined by her.

“So tell me,” she said between two mouthfuls. “Did you stay in New York this whole time?”

“Almost. I left for ten weeks or so, just to let Williams forget about me a little. You?”

“I left for good.”

“For good?” Carter echoed with surprise. “What are you doing here then?”