Chapter 34: Vendetta

"There's something you need to know Angelique," said Jerry, stroking Mary's raven hair after an hour of pleasure. Even the brief, interrupted half hour session being one of his best encounters with an escort ever, the exquisite massage, the breathtaking blow job, the delicious cunnilingus and the rapturous fuck, at least for him, had gone beyond all expectations. He asked if she would reconsider being a Madame, which she refused. He asked if she could remain an escort at least for him and she accepted.

The thousand dollars helped her decision, but liking the man proved the only really important reason. Him and a handful of others whom she considered as friends, two she shared with Marianne, would continue to be johns for as long as they enjoyed her expertise. L had finally relented to Mary's continued career in no small part because Mary always returned to her arms more vigorously and with greater love after she saw the clients.

"What do I need to know, lover?" she asked.

"You know Harry?"

"Of course."

"Georgy still considers him to be his most trusted minion. They're from the same neighborhood, best friends as children, brothers. Harry did much of the heavy lifting clearing Georgy a path to ruling as boss."

"You mean he killed people in the way."

"Yes my angel. The statutory rape would have been the least of his problems. And I became a little bird propped on his shoulder whispering of his inevitable downfall, his scapegoating by his supposed brother. He listened with skepticism, but when Georgy had his representative law firm give Harry the most junior lawyer as his defense attorney, which I told him would happen, and the kid might have been decent, but Harry knows lawyers and could smell fear and a lack of confidence, Harry realized I had a point.

"I offered him a lucrative position equal in pay to what he got from Georgy and without the constant need to be available, only to let me pick his brain, and the statutory rape beef disappeared with the head of my firm working his magic, and careful string pulling with a certain vice detective and a certain member of the DA's office we provided a buffer from prosecution through simple nods of the head instead of testimony against his boss, he's become anything but trustworthy for Georgy. Of course Georgy hasn't been in the loop. Anyway, what it comes down to is Georgy's in search of hitmen."

"What?"

"Don't worry. Thanks to your girlfriend's father and a couple of my men, not to mention a couple cops, Georgy's well surveilled. It's actually going to benefit me and my cousin in Milwaukee. We'll provide an ending for a couple of hitmen careers."

"So you're going to let them loose on my best friend and her parents?"

"They won't succeed."

"How do you know?"

"It would have happened anyway. Georgy's a vengeful asshole."

"And you're not?"

Jerry laughed. "You're a bitch aren't you?"

"Through and through my predatory motherfucker."

"Yes my bitch angel. It's an essential qualification for my business, an eye for an eye and all that, although we've learned restraint and subtlety in our revenge."

Mary chuckled, a welcome noise for Jerry. "I'm getting that. Okay. Do they need to hide or something?"

"No. In fact the opposite. They need to be ridiculously fastidious in their routine."

"Have the hitmen been hired?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Not completely. Why?"

"It's not a problem with her folks I imagine. They probably have their routine. But Marta's unemployed. She visits her boyfriend unpredictably. You're risking not only her but Joe."

"Who's this Joe? You love him too, don't you? I thought you never fell for men."

"Not your concern. Joe Solomon. He's a lawyer. He works for..."

"Phillips. Of course. The young genius, Phillips' pride and joy."

"Yep. And what about his brother..."

"Roger Solomon, the rave maven. What about him?"

"Lefty knows..."

"Don't worry about Lefty. He's a different man literally. He's hiding under an alias in Witness Protection. Believe me, hiring a hitman won't happen with him. If he even hinted at it, he'd be exposed and dead."

"That's good at least."

"You love Roger too?"

"He's a really good friend, Mr. Nosy."

"The best laid plans..." wrote Shakespeare. Harry found a hitman for Marta's parents. Mike encountered the mysterious man after his soldiers caught him casing the family's abode and turned him on Georgy. Unfortunately Georgy's wife decided to visit Georgy's room hearing the house sounding intruded upon and became a second victim, shot in the heart and head like her prone husband. The cops only caught the man after the deed and arrested him in the presence of George Junior, shaking, in shock and orphaned.

L and her father schooled Mary, Marta and Joe in firing pistols, Mary being the most promising student. J provided them with pistols and insisted they wear them or kept them within arms reach as much as possible.

An unknown hitman had been hired to kill Marta, would have known his target had been informed because of the training and constant company of Mary whenever Marta left Joe's apartment. He didn't know about the ringer.

Margie took up residence in the apartment.

Even with the large bed, four bodies filled it to near maximum. L, when she stayed, provided the last comfortable body. Every night of that paranoid week, the women kept themselves and Joe busy. When L came to stay for the night she and Mary made love while Margie and Marta teamed up on Joe. Without L there, Mary and Marta provided for their and Joe's pleasure with Margie a most appreciative voyeur. The threesome seemed to glow with love. Margie always had her poem in hand, adding to it and refining it.

For four days Margie never left the apartment. The killer had no idea she existed. And though no shot had ever been fired by her, the others gave her all the knowledge they had on how to shoot and where to shoot and what to be expected when the pistol expelled bullets.

Margie knew when the door rattled with the sound of someone attempting entry that no one notified her of their return home. Hiding behind the bed, at least her petite body, she set her pistol with two hands grasping it on top of the bed and waited. She measured the door and sighted a little lower than at middle height to hit the intruder in the chest.

"Hey!" she yelled when the average looking thirty year old man shut the door carefully behind him. He turned and grabbed into his long wool coat, extracting his silenced pistol. She shot him with every one of the seven bullets in the cartridge, screaming almost as loud as the pops. The hitman had no chance.

"Motherfucker wouldn't even have been paid his final cut," mumbled the shaky little redhead. She called 911 and then called Joe.

"You okay Little One?"

"I don't know," she quivered.

"I'll be home in five minutes."

"Thanks."

"I love you."

"Love you too," she sobbed.

Joe arrived seconds before the police, calling Margie to let her know he would wait for them on the street in case they didn't want his presence disturbing evidence. Margie preferred him to race up the stairs and hold her.

"I'm sorry we put you in harms way, my love," spoke Joe softly. "Be brave for us."

"I embraced the chance to save Marta," Margie responded hesitantly, breathing in tears. "I just ... didn't ... think ... it would be so ... horrible."

"Cops are here darling."

"Thank God."

Opening the building door for the officers, Joe explained the situation as quickly as possible while following them up the stairs. "I left a message with Detective Johnson. He knows the situation."