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High Profile (ShadowOfDesire and Catalyst)

If there had been any snide remarks stewing in the back of his mind as she whined back at him, and he was sure that there had been, they were immediately pushed away the moment she flung her warm body over him and sat upon his legs. Though he did his best not to let his expression betray him, there was a twinge of surprise that he could not help but show as he found himself looking up at her, with her long nail against his skin, her chest mere inches from his face, and her deep brown eyes peering back into his own.

His eyebrow cocked naturally upon his forehead when she spoke. The feeling of her body atop him was impossible to ignore, and though he wanted nothing less than to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd caught him off guard, he'd have been hard-pressed to deny it. That she hadn't bought the name he'd given her was not a particular shock. She knew of his experience, after all, and knew he would not give up his own so easily. It was her attitude toward him in that moment, though, that he had not been expecting. Not only was she not cowering away from him; she was pressing him, bringing herself closer. Into the lap of her captor.

His tongue pressed against the inside of his lip, holding back the smirk that wanted to creep its way across his lips. His hands finally moved, touch finding her legs and running up the outsides of her spandex covered thighs. His gaze loomed, entangled with hers, and not relenting, nor breaking away, even as he felt the movement of her hips about his crotch.

Wicked thoughts ran through his mind as he felt her body against him. He could make her whatever promise, give her whatever assurance he so chose. Whether or not he kept them, however, would be another story. The decision to keep her alive or not depended on far more than how much or how well she satisfied him, after all. But her suggestions were ever so enticing...and if this was the way she wanted to play, then play, he would.

"You want to close that deal?" he answered her rhetorical questions with a series of his own. "You want me to really think long and hard about what to do with you? You really want to convince me to do what you're asking?" With every word he spoke, his voice was dripping with warm, seductive honey, his tone dropping noticeably as he stared through her. "You want to be my 'partner in crime?'...Then prove it to me."
 
Yea, he'd like that, wouldn't he? As though throwing herself at him might save her life. He just wants to get laid.

Leaning forward, soft breasts pressed against his chest, she captured his ear in her mouth. Her teeth nipped at the sensitive bit of flesh before suckling gently. She ground her body against his as her hand slid from the couch to his shoulders, one gliding up the curve of his neck to caress his hair. Warm breath spilled over his ear when she finally released him and pressed her mouth close to whisper.

"Mmmm... how do you want me to prove it? Do you want me to crawl between your legs right now and suck your big fat cock?" She murmured seductively, a soft groan accompanying her question. "Do you want me to choke on it until you're right on the verge and then climb into your lap to slide that throbbing shaft deep into my wet pussy? To ride you hard until you explode? Is that how you want me to prove to you how serious I am?"

There was a long pause as she drew back to gaze at him, then her eyes narrowed. "No," she said flatly, all softness gone from her voice. "If that's how you think this is going to go, forget it. You get paid when the job is done, not before. That's how it is with every job. And if you're the sort of killer for hire that requires a down payment, then I'd say that you got a huge one last night from me, and that's more than sufficient."

Batting his hands away from her hips, she slid off his lap and moved a few steps to collect her water. The storm was raging now, both outside and within, and there was little to be done about quelling either. He might have pulled her from her sullenness, but it had been replaced with more of her fiery temper which she wielded like a protective shield.
 
Mmmm...she's good... he thought to himself as he felt the wave of her warm breath against his ear, his skin rising in little bumps where her fingers trailed slowly and softly up his neck. For whatever negative things he could say about her, she was not oblivious. She knew the power her body and her seduction held. Without a doubt, she'd used it to get her way countless times before. Her words were laden with a level of experience that told him that much immediately. And while he had a far stronger will than most, he was by no means impervious to her temptations, even now.

His eyes met hers, a twinge of anticipation within them; and suddenly, he could do little more than watch her as she refused him, swinging herself off of his lap in one fluid motion and leaving him to glance at her ass as she momentarily turned away from him. Leaving him with the vague feeling of warm blood just beginning to rush between his legs. internally, he cursed himself for succumbing to her little play, however minute it may have been. Externally, she would only see him lean forward in his seat, bracing elbows on his knees and gazing upon her.

Almost too good...

"I don't know who you're used to dealing with," he glared, "but I always get paid in advance. You really think I'd kill for someone without knowing my payment is secure? That would just be bad business practice, now wouldn't it?"

Her little move had clearly had some measure of effect on him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. But he was not about to let her know that. He rose from his spot on the sectional and slowly stepped toward her - not in any particular hurry, knowing she could not go anywhere. His hand came up and brushed over her arm, touching her in a calculated manner, needing no force to convey himself. "Why exactly should I let you be any different?" he asked her with narrowed eyes. "Your 'down payment,' was nice, but there ain't exactly a layaway option, when you're bargaining with what you're bargaining with..."

Now it was his turn to leave her with the sentiment that lingered in the air, as he shot her one final look, one worth a thousand words, and then walked straight passed her. "I've got to get going." he called out over his shoulder as he made his way for the stairs. "So you can think about that while you get yourself ready." He didn't need to clarify what he meant by 'ready.' He was sure she knew exactly what his leaving entailed.
 
"It is different because you didn't ask me for money," she shot back. "And it isn't like I can refuse payment once the deed is done, now can I? Not when you can just take what you want. Your not waiting for transfer of funds from the Cayman Islands or something. I'm here without a means of escape. They call it a 'captive audience' for a reason." She snorted and stalked off into her bed room as he ventured upstairs.

Her blood was still up, temper flaring despite her attempt to tamp it down. He knew how to push her buttons, and she'd already realized that, but it still irked her when he did it. She was only human, after all, and prone to emotional outbursts.

She didn't bother with food or water this time. She could do without both until he returned. Instead, she went to the bathroom to relieve herself, not knowing how long he'd be gone. After seeing to the necessities, she stopped to brush her teeth and threw her reflection a glance. He'd not found fault with her, but she certainly thought she'd looked better. She'd not worn any makeup in a few days now, and it felt strange to be looking at her face without at least some level of coverage. Still, it wasn't like she needed to impress him, so what was the point? Sighing, she finished up and returned to the bedroom, snatching the remote off the bedside table to flick on the television.

When he returned, she was sitting comfortably against the headboard, legs crossed beneath her with the remote resting limply in her lap. She gave him a flat look, ever suspicious of what he might have in store for her this time. Whatever it was, she knew it wouldn't be good.
 
Acting unphased, he ascended the stairs and disappeared out of sight to tend to some final business before leaving for the evening. She had a valid point, of course; not that he would tell her as much. Why he hadn't just taken what he wanted already was beyond him. He certainly wasn't above it. One more smart-ass move on her part, though, he thought, and I just might.

One thing he was admittedly having fun with, though, was this newfound routine. Not only had she essentially accepted her fate, when it came to being restrained; she was waiting for him by the time he returned downstairs. If he hadn't been already, by now, he was absolutely beginning to believe that she just might be perfectly fine with it. Maybe, just maybe, she even got a little bit of enjoyment out of it.

The first thing he did as he looked upon her was to raise the cuffs he held in one hand, allowing them to dangle in her line of sight. There was no need for him to ask if she was prepared, she'd been given all the time she needed, as far as he was concerned. Unlike the previous night, though, when he'd caught her by surprise, this time he'd elected to give her a full picture of exactly what was coming while approaching the bed. He even went so far as to allow her to choose which hand she wanted free, cuffing the other to the headboard.

"Not so bad, is it?" he said toyingly, chastising her as he tugged at the chain to ensure that she was secured. It was obvious he wasn't quite finished yet, but he took a moment to let his hand linger. His fingers slid down her forearm from her wrist, and then continued to move lower, toward her collarbone and her chest. "You know if it wasn't for that damn attitude...maybe I would be inclined to cut you a little extra slack!"
 
She frowned when she saw him coming in with the handcuffs and sighed, but didn't fight him as he took her left wrist and secured her to the headboard. She had to swallow hard as his hand caressed her, fingers trailing over her soft skin, stiffening but she did not pull away. She couldn't pull away, anyhow. He'd made certain of that.

Her dark eyes lifted in search of his, that spark of anger within them still causing her nostrils to flare. "Can you really blame me? You'd not be half so compliant in this situation, would you? No, you would have tried to kill your captor a dozen times by now. Maybe even succeed if she wasn't as good as you, or maybe you'd already be dead. By contrast, I've only thrown a bottle at your head. I'd say that I'm being pretty damn sweet, all things considered."

She'd yet to unfurl her legs and they remained firmly crossed. "I don't want my ankles roped to the bed. It isn't comfortable and it's chafing my skin. Can you at least give me that tonight? I still can't go anywhere." She jerked her wrist against the head board, causing the cuff to clang against the metal. "If I promised to be nicer, would you leave me with just this?" Knowing he likely had little capacity for mercy, she thought it a long shot, but it didn't hurt to ask.

The minute he went to for her legs, he'd find her resistant, dragging against his hold and doing whatever she could to squirm free. She had her limits, which he was going to discover if he pushed her.
 
"Ha! That's funny." he laughed. "Sweet, huh? Well, that's not exactly the first word that comes to mind...No, I'm the one who puts people in your position, not the one who gets put in it. That's why I'm here, and you're there, in the first place."

For someone captive, she sure had no shortage of requests to make of him. He found it humorous, that she thought she was in such a position to do so, even now. And yet, the realization did not escape him; that he had found himself relenting to those requests on a pair of separate occasions, already.

"Let's not forget," he started to remind her. "You're basically at my mercy, and yet I've done you a couple of favors, too. Not locking you in a closet. Letting you talk to your family and make calls. And It ain't like I'm the only one benefitting from these little encounters of ours, either..." His hand had roamed down to the top of her chest, and as he looked back into her eyes, he dared to allow it to brush down over the roundness of her breast before returning it to himself. "Hell, I even patched up your foot after your little bottle-throwing stunt backfired."

I don't have to be dealing with you like this. I could be using you whatever way I pleased, right now. Shoving something down your throat and using your cunt to my desires. And yet the worst I've done is what? Tie you up and fondle you?

"All things considered," he mocked, "I'd say I'm the one who's being remarkably nice."

He glanced down at her legs, noting the way she'd tucked them into herself, crossing them compactly where she sat, and clearly not willing to give them up to him very easily. He couldn't help but chuckle as he touched his fingers to her skin there. "You're making my point for me, you know. I bet you can make it pretty fuckin' hard on me, but at the end of the day, we both know if I want to tie your legs up, they're going to get tied up. So you don't want that to happen? Well then you gotta give me a reason not to." There it was again, that air of over-confidence and control he exuded. That smug sense of self that always seemed to infuriate her so. Admittedly, he was enjoying every bit of the rise he got out of her. "So what's your offer? Why shouldn't I?"
 
She sighed heavily. "It's always a bargain with you, isn't it? I guess that's why it surprised me when you helped me with my foot and cleaned up the blood afterward. You don't seem the type to just do something for someone without demanding something in return." She would have crossed her arms, but with one of her wrists shackled to the headboard, the gesture was impossible. Instead, she put her free hand on the curve of her hip, trying desperately to ignore the way her breast tightened at the slightest touch. He was so good at teasing her that she was going to have to become better at ignoring those teases.

"I said that I'd promise to be nicer," she repeated. "You'd be a fool to not take me up on that one. I can make your life hell, and we both know that, but I don't want to. It is exhausting and would only lead to both of us getting hurt in some fashion." There were at least a dozen different ways she could think of to hurt or annoy him when he least expected it. "But if you have to have something more tangible in return, then we both know you're looking for something sexual. Right? I don't have anything else to give you if you won't take my money."

"So what's the price? Another hand job? Blow job? You want to fuck my tits until you cum all over them?" She was asking seriously, though couldn't help the touch of sarcasm in her tone. "I could just sleep naked tonight and let you fondle me." That thought had serious appeal despite what it'd mean for her pride, but at that point, she was desperate to do most anything just to appease him.
 
"You know, really I'm a much nicer person than you give me credit for." His words may have carried a bit more of a serious weight had it not been for the ghost of a smirk hanging faintly upon his visage as he spoke them. "Cut me some slack, why don't you? I'm just doing my job, after all. Just because I kill people for a leaving doesn't mean I don't have a heart. I can be quite the fucking ray of sunshine!"

She was right on one account. She could absolutely make his life, and his job, exceedingly more difficult. Likely even more so than she truly realized, being that disposing of her via his normal methods would be a task that would bring about a fallout all its own.

"Ah, now that's not a bad idea at all." He tilted his head in an interested gesture, though he didn't exactly specify which of those little offerings had caught his attention. "Though I've got to tell you sweetheart I'm really starting to think you'd like all of that." He knew that saying that aloud, rather than simply thinking it as he had been for the most part, would almost undoubtedly strike a match to her already fiery temper, but how could he resist?

He glanced down briefly at his fingers as they ventured inch by inch up the inside of her thigh, stopping not far from what lie between them. "Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt...for now." he said at last, meeting her gaze once again. "Not like you're going anywhere anyway. Can't take that headboard with you, and you damn sure aren't breaking it...so fine." he lifted his hand from her leg and planted a finger just beneath her chin, not unlike she had done to him. Coming within inches of her ear, he whispered harshly. "Just don't make me regret it, and I won't have to make you suffer.

She wanted to test him. See if she could push a little further with him. He could sense that much. He could play along for a little while longer...but he wasn't going to make it easy on her. Not by a long shot.
 
"Yea, right," she muttered. "Ray of sunshine during an eclipse, maybe." Still one corner of her mouth quirked upward.

She tensed as his fingers went exploring, caressing her soft skin and rising ever higher. Only a few more inches would made her squirm, and she fully expected him to tease her in that manner, leaving her heated in punishment. She wasn't certain whether she'd hate him or love him for that. Her emotions were in turmoil, and he was the disturbance that kept them that way. As he withdrew, she shifted to bring her thighs together, stopping the throbbing sensations before they could ever begin. Her chin lifted with his finger, forced upward, eyes meeting his as he leaned in.

Those words and his dark, dangerous tone caused her to shiver. She closed her eyes as she felt his breath upon her cheek. There was little hope of quelling the nervous flutter in her stomach. She'd tested his boundaries several times now, and he'd flexed sometimes, but not always. Of course, it was a game with him. What could he get out of her? What could he make her agree to? How much further would she go to save herself?

Rather than speaking aloud and making promises she'd eventually try to break, she merely nodded her understanding in the barest tip of her head. Her tongue escaped to lick her lips, feeling them suddenly dry. How could he have such an impact on her? By all accounts, she should be repulsed by him. Petrified. While she was wary of him and what he might to do her, she didn't feel either of those emotions. Instead, she couldn't stop thinking about the cock that had been in her mouth the night before, or the way he'd devoured her pussy and seemed to enjoy every moment of smothering himself in her folds.

"Will you be gone long?" she asked quietly.
 
Even without a word, it was clear that she understood the gravity in his tone. It was also apparent that for all of her talk, and for all of her refusal to back down from him at times, there was some part of her that feared him. That knew what he was capable of, and wished to avoid his wrath. It was an effective motivator, truly. That was the control, the position of power he was used to maintaining. And with little more than a few dark words, he was able to assert himself in some way over her. Though it was clear that fear, nor worry were the only feelings lingering behind those chocolate brown eyes when she looked at him.

"As long as it takes," he answered her casually. He knew of this little gathering only what Candy had told him the night before. Any other information would only come once he was settled into position, from his own cautious and meticulous observations. As such, he had no answer for how long he would truly be gone. Perhaps it would be only an hour or two. Perhaps it would be much longer. Only time would tell.

Soon enough, he was gone, leaving her all alone, with only enough freedom as her three unrestrained limbs would allow. The drive to the club was a familiar one, now, though he'd only made it twice. The place was hard to miss, after all. It may not have been a large building, but in the middle of downtown Miami, on an otherwise relatively drab and uninteresting side street lined primarily with parking lots and back alleys, its purple and pink neon-lit facade stood out as much as their skimpily dressed dancers.

Or at least...on a normal night, it did.

Tonight, though, it was as dark as the cloud-veiled, starless night. Its beckoning lights were off, as was the streetlight directly in front of it. Sure...that doesn't scream suspicious... If he hadn't gotten the knowledge directly from one of Garcia's own employees, he likely would not have believed that there was any 'party' going on at all. Even now, he was skeptical. Still, that did not stop him from hanging around, to be sure.

The fifth level of a diagonally adjacent parking structure provided a strong vantage point. On a night in the middle of the week like this one, there were not enough cars that any bothered to venture this far upward. Even if they did, they would likely not think twice about his nondescript vehicle, parked with its lights shut off. For some time, though, there was nothing to speak of, and he was beginning to wonder if he hadn't been misinformed. A few bodies here and there roamed down the street, mostly drunkards, a couple perhaps looking to have a drink and see a show before realizing that the place was closed. But none were of any sort of interest to him.

That was, until two well-dressed men rounded the corner onto the street. He recognized neither of them immediately, noting only that they seemed incredibly out of place. At first, they looked to have nothing to do with the club itself, as they walked straight past its front entrance. But then, as if on cue, a door on the far side of the building opened up, and the pair rounded the corner into it's side alleyway, saying a few greeting words and disappearing inside.

Clearly, there was something going on tonight. And despite his efforts to get here early, someone was already inside.
 
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A short time after the pair of men arrived, a black Escalade turned into the street and pulled up to the same door. A suited man emerged and then a woman, though she was clearly not part of the entertainment. The Latina girl was extremely short and petite, seemingly fragile like a stiff breeze might snap her in half like a dried twig, and had dark hair that had been cut shoulder-length. She was wearing a pair of dark slacks and a white blouse beneath a dark jacket. It was impossible to see her face clearly from his vantage, but the light from the car glinted off her glasses as she turned to retrieve a black laptop bag from the back seat. She'd taken a few steps toward the club before one of the men caught her by the arm and pulled her back. The exchange of words was unintelligible, but the tone was clear. They were having an argument of some sort and the large man had apparently won. She clutched her bag to her chest, slumping slightly as she waited for him to open the door. She started forward only after he'd gestured her inside. Another man, similarly dressed and built as the first, followed them both into the club. The driver pulled off, leaving the street empty once more.

---

Once Brian had gone, Sofia sank back into the pillows. Having one hand cuffed was annoying, but at least she was more comfortable than when he had her sprawled. She was also able to move her arm about into a better position when she grew tired of holding it in a certain way. She didn't want to thank him, exactly, but she was extremely grateful that he'd allowed her a slight amount of freedom. Throwing a glance a the handcuff holding her, she frowned. She'd never tried to pick one before, and wasn't even sure where she should start, nor if she even had anything close at hand that would help. Maybe a bobby pin would work, but she was far too fastidious to leave them laying about. A look at her bedside table confirmed her suspicion. With a sigh, she reached instead for the remote and flipped on the television.

Her guilty pleasure was trashy reality television. She picked a show she liked and started on an episode she'd never seen. As she was wide awake and the volume wasn't overly loud, she heard the door open when Brian returned. The clock on the TV told her that he'd only been gone a couple of hours. Surprised that he'd returned so soon, she turned the TV off as his footsteps grew louder.

"That was fast," she called out. "I thought it'd take you lon..." She trailed off as he appeared in the doorway.

It wasn't Brian.

It was Brandon, her ex-boyfriend, and Sofia felt the blood drain from her face.
 
Brian lifted his binoculars back up to his eyes as he saw the out of place vehicle pulling up. As he watched the three exit the car, he immediately recalled the conversation he'd had with his newfound stripper friend the previous night. A woman who was always invited to the parties, but wasn't a dancer, nor particularly attractive. That must have been her. Shit, what was her name again? Erin? Elisa?

Elise. That was it, He remembered suddenly. DeSantos' niece. And if she's in there...then that means he must be, too.

Now, there was no doubt. Something was going on behind those four dark brick walls. Something that went far beyond any normal of the normal business dealings of a typical strip club. The question was, what, exactly? The only real clue he had was that DeSantos was involved. And that meant that whatever it was, there was a lot of money involved. A conclusion that was supported by the looks of those who entered the closed-off club.

Though he had no way of discerning what had caused the small confrontation between the two large men - apparently bodyguards, of some sort - he could only imagine that it involved her protection. What could she possibly need that sort of safeguarding for? One of the men seemed to glance in the direction of the parking structure briefly, and that did not elude him, though he didn't think much of it at the moment. He was more concerned with the implications of this meeting, feeling increasingly annoyed by his own lack of ability to find out more. There was no telling how long this would go on. He could go another three or four hours without seeing anything else. He could kill to know who else was in there. And before all was said and done, there was a very real possibility he would have to. For now, though, it was best he not linger here for too long. Lest he risk the possibility of his presence becoming more obvious.

Whatever the case, learning a little bit more about this Elise looked to be the next logical step in his process.
 
"Miss me?" he asked, grinning.

"Brandon, what the fuck are you doing here?! I told you I never wanted to see you again, and I meant it." She shifted to sit up straighter, subtly positioning her hand behind one of her pillows so he wouldn't see the handcuff. She could beg him to free her, but that'd end up badly for them both. "They weren't even supposed to let you up here!"

His smile widened. "Yea, I know, but I make friends easily. I've got an arrangement with one of the doormen."

"He's getting fired in the morning," she said darkly.

Brandon shrugged, ever true to his asshat of a personality. "He got me in, that's all I care about. You wouldn't answer my calls or my texts, so what other choice did I have?"

"I don't know... crawl into a hole somewhere and die?"

He closed the distance between them to sit on the bed, his side of the bed, and put a warm hand on her leg. "Hey, I know I hurt you, sweetie, but you don't have to keep being like this. I was angry when you left and stiffed me with the hotel bill, but I took care of it. I'm not even going to ask you for the money back. And what I had with Hea..."

"Don't say her fucking name!" she yelled angrily.

He held up a hand in apology. "Sorry. I'm really sorry. What we had was shallow and it's over completely. I don't care about her like I care about you. I love you, Sofia."

"Bullshit. You love my money."

He cocked his head. "Who doesn't love money?! But you know that's not why I'm with you. We belong together. I came here to beg you to forgive me. I'll do anything for you. What will it take? Do you want me to beg? Get down on my hands and knees for you? I will, Sofia. These past few days have killed me. I can't live without you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yea, I bet. After I left, you figured out that all the shit I bought you is in my name, didn't you? The car, the boat... the condo. All mine."

A look of annoyance flashed on his face. Without warning, he slapped her hard and her head snapped sideways. "Listen, bitch! You're going to sign everything over to me, free and clear, or you're going to find some very embarrassing photos of you leaked."

"Not before yours are," she snapped at him, one hand pressed to her throbbing cheek.

He raised his hand again to slap her, but she flinched. The sudden jerk caused the handcuff to clang against the headboard. Brandon jerked the pillow away, a look of confusion on his face. He blinked at the restraint, tilting his head slightly as he looked from it to Sofia. "Seriously? Now you get into kinky shit? I'd begged you so many times, and you do this after we've broken up. Who is he?! Where is he?! Is he upstairs?!"

"Is that who you were calling to when I came in?!" He growled low in his throat and glanced briefly at the door. A slow and dangerous smile pulled at his lips, and he shifted closer "What's your new boyfriend going to say when he comes back and you're sucking my dick?"

Sofia recoiled. "Fuck off. And get the hell out while you still have a chance to get out of her alive."

"What, you don't think I can take him?"

"I know you can't," she spat at him.

He was on her before she'd realized he'd moved, pinning her arms against the bed with his knees. She bucked beneath him, trying to throw him, but he weighed too much for her to budge. That didn't stop her from squirming, throwing him off balance as she'd once done to Brain. The movement took Brandon exactly where he wanted to be, however, thrown forward with his crotch in her face. In a matter of moments, he'd freed his cock and shoved it down her throat, causing her to gag. Before she could bite down, he slapped her hard again, leaving her in a daze as he began to slowly fuck her mouth.

"After I cum in your mouth, I'm going to fuck you up the ass since you never let me have it," he hissed down at her.
 
Following Elise's arrival, all was silent. For just short of half an hour, there was barely so much as a passing car to be seen upon the dimly lit street. Chances were, whatever was going on, it would be continuing well into the night. And so he had a choice to make. To settle in and wait, for however long it may take, or to leave, and follow up on what information he'd managed to gather already. One certainly seemed far easier than the other. The former, though, would likely expedite the process.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of that black Escalade turning back onto the street. A closer look confirmed what he was already immediately sure of; that it had been the same car that had dropped the girl off. Were they picking her up already? Was it really that fast? He was sure that couldn't be the case. Besides, the vehicle did not stop in front of the club, where it had before, however. Instead, it continued down the street in his direction. Perhaps they were just patrolling, staying close by, he justified to himself.

And then without warning, the car turned left, entering the parking structure directly beneath him.

No fucking way... he lowered his binoculars, a look of disbelief crossing his face. They couldn't possibly have seen me...could they have?

No...no that's not possible. I was here way before them...I didn't even go on the damn street. And I'm too high up. It has to just be a coincidence...but why the fuck are they coming in here?

He was unsure, but while he was able to convince himself that they could not possibly have been coming for him, he knew that he could not risk staying here, now. The decision had made itself. And so with a quick shove that slide his binoculars beneath the passenger seat, he started up the car and moved. As quickly as he could, he traveled down one floor, and over to the other side of the parking lot, where cars were meant to exit, rather than enter. He slid himself into the first space he found between two other cars, shutting off his engine and lowering himself below the level of the dashboard.

Not a moment too soon. Seconds later, the headlights of their vehicle began to shine upon the cement of the structure, and he could hear their engine as they ascended. Growing louder for a long time, the lights coming more into view. He did not move a muscle, unsure of their exact location, but knowing it was far too close for comfort. A few moments later, the sound began to fade, as they drove further up into the structure, leaving him alone once more. Even then, though, he was not so naive as to start up the car. Instead, he waited until he could no longer hear them at all. There were four floors above him, and he figured that if he could not hear them, then by now, they must have been near the top.

Once he decided that, he immediately fled the scene. Leaving and driving away in a direction entirely opposite of where he needed to go, he made sure that he was well out of sight before redirecting himself to take a back way back to Sofia's complex, keeping a constant eye out in his rearview mirror along the way. If anyone had been to follow, he was ready to deal with them. Fortunately, that scenario did not come to pass, and he breathed a small breath of relief as he settled back in near the complex.

As per usual, he did not take the direct route up. Unlike Sofia and her family and friends, he would never make it past the doormen, nor whatever security was in place, and he'd known that from the first day he chose to use her place as his base of operations. What he was able to do, however, was enter through the maintenance entrance, using a key card easily stolen off of one of the on-site workers in advance of his original arrival. Days were a bit more difficult, with more staff hanging around. At night, though, it was as easy as could be for him to slip inside, take the maintenance elevator up to a nondescript upper floor, and use the resident elevator (or the stairs, during busier times), to make the rest of the journey up to her penthouse floor.

He stopped in his tracks as he turned the corner. Her front door had been left ajar. Suddenly, a flood of rage washed over him. Did that little bitch seriously find a way out?!
 
Sofia was reeling. For a long moment, the world wouldn't focus. She was vaguely aware of a blurred body hovering over her and the long shaft piercing her throat, causing her to gag violently as it struck the back of her throat time and again. She couldn't gain her bearings, couldn't understand why the world was swaying. When she finally blinked away the water that blurred her vision, Brandon's body swam into focus. He held her by her hair, two fistfuls of it, and was plunging away into her mouth, driving his cock ever deeper. She gagged again, but that didn't stop him from thrusting. He took it as a challenge, even, determined to ruin her throat and push through the tightening throat muscles.

When she finally came to her senses, she closed her jaw on his cock, which made him scream. He clapped his hand hard against her face and pain bloomed in her ear. She turned that throbbing side of her face away, wrenching free of his cock with a lewd sucking noise. He grabbed a handful of hair to wrench her face toward him and the sharp tug made her scream. She used to her free hand to try to keep him at bay, pushing at him while she squirmed to free herself, though the death grip he had on her hair made that next to impossible.

"I told you I was going to get you back for what you did to me!" he hissed. Another jerk made her cry, tears springing to her eyes. "What are you going to do about it now, sweetheart? I know what... let's play a little game. I'm the master and you're my pleasure slave. Yes, I think that will do quite nicely."

Sofia glared at him, hissing through her teeth. "You always were an asshole," she spat at him.

Brandon grinned and grabbed her mouth, squeezing it to loosen the jaw muscles. "Too bad for you that you didn't figure that out until it was too late. Now, you're going to take this cock again, and if I feel you bite me, one of your parents are going to die." She squealed as he shoved his cock back into her mouth, thrashing to get away.
 
He handled her not like a man apologetic, nor a man who ever loved her. No, the way he handled her was as though she meant nothing to him at all, outside of what she had to offer him. Now, that which she had to offer him was not her money any longer. Instead, it was her body, unable to defend herself against him. His cock was buried to the hilt within her throat, and he had no intention of stopping. No longer was he putting on the act he'd displayed for her for so long. If she would not take him back, then he would take her.

A sharp breath escaped him, carrying along with it a startled and immediately stifled grunt as his length was ripped from her warm mouth. Suddenly, her arms were free, his weight coming off of them all at once, his body being jerked violently backward.

Brian's arm constricted around his throat with all the force of an enraged python. His opposite arm pressed against the back of his head, pushing him up against the crux of his elbow and choking him with all of his might. Brandon thrashed his arms and legs violently as he was pulled off of the bed in a desperate attempt to ward off his attacker. The second his feet met solid ground, he used them to push himself backward, sending both of them crashing into her dresser with a loud and painful impact, knocking all sorts of items off of it in the process. The blow forced the wind from his lungs, but his grip did not relent, even as elbow after elbow struck him in the ribs, and a well-placed throwback of his head busted open his lip.

The struggle went on for seconds that felt like long minutes, Brandon barely managing to draw in labored, strained breaths that wheezed against the inside of his throat. Brian's breath was unstable and ragged as he tried to regain his composure from the unexpected impact, but his strong arm kept Sofia's one-time lover well restrained, despite his strongest and most wild efforts.

Brandon would not recall the way it felt when the ceramic vase was shattered against his skull. The impact rendered him unconscious well before he hit the ground. With no way of protecting himself, he fell face-first upon the cold marble floor, his dick still exposed from behind the pants that hung half-way down his ass.

But Sofia would recall the sound vividly. The way it sounded as it exploded into a thousand tiny shards. The sight of her ex-boyfriend's unconscious body falling flat, and slamming against the ground.

Brian panted, surveying the aftermath, and looking back at his captive to find her still handcuffed helplessly to the bed, right where he'd left her. He raised one arm to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and stared at her in utter silence.
 
The moment that cock pulled free and she felt Brandon's weight leave her body, Sofia heaved in a deep breath and scrambled back against the headboard, clinging to it with one hand. She watched in utter horror as the two men struggled, fearing the outcome. Brandon was outmatched and had little chance against the trained killer. The minute she saw Brian raise her vase, an extremely expensive one at that, she knew that her ex-boyfriend had no chance. Wincing at the crash, she huddled against the wall, her body still trembling in fear. Tears rolled down her cheeks, though not out of concern for her unconscious boyfriend, only for the trauma he'd inflicted upon her. She wiped at those tears with a shaky hand and took several steadying breaths to quell the terror that had risen in her chest. She'd never seen Brandon act that way, never had been mistreated by him save for when he'd cheated, and she hadn't known that he even had the capacity for such violence in him.

Her eyes lifted from the floor and sought Brian's gaze, the deathly quiet between them growing as neither seemed to know what to say. Finally, she was the one to shatter the silence with a question, though her voice was hoarse, throat suffering from the abuse. "Is he dead?" she whispered. Her stomach quivered in anticipation of the answer.

She wasn't certain which answer she wanted. She hated the man, even more now that he'd attacked her, and wouldn't shed a tear if he'd been killed. However, his death would create a rash of complications for them both. Not only had someone seen him arrive, but they'd personally escorted and opened her apartment for him. He might have even mentioned to someone that he was back in town and would be visiting. Of all the scenarios that she thought might play out as she played guest to the assassin, this certainly hadn't been one of them.
 
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Once the struggle was over, it did not take him long to steady himself. He knew the answer to her question, but knelt down beside Brandon's unconscious body nevertheless, pressing two fingers to his neck to ensure. His pulse was steady, and his breath still labored, but automatic. In the heat of the encounter, he did not see his face. Now, he was able to with ease, and deducing his identity did not take long. He'd recognized him vaguely from a rogue picture or two that he'd come across in his cursory examination of Sofia's social media weeks prior. And given her predicament, the pieces seemed to fit together perfectly all on their own.

He looked up to meet her gaze and shook his head slowly. "No. Bastard just went night-night for a little while." He rose to his feet, adjusting the collar of his shirt and rolling his shoulder. The sight of the blood from his lip caused him to mutter beneath his breath. "fucker..."

A thousand thoughts had run through his mind upon the initial discovery of that cracked open front door to her apartment. All of them built on rage. All of them to make her pay for crossing him at the first inch of mercy he dared to give her. None of them to protect her; much less from the assault of her ex-boyfriend. Of all the thoughts that he'd had in those few, infuriating moments, none of them involved his asking her the three words that came from his mouth next.

"Are you okay?"
 
Sofia had stopped crying, but still found herself trembling as fear and adrenaline continued to pump through her body. She took another deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, wincing as she swallowed. Eyes fixed on his, she nodded mutely. Her cheek hurt where he'd struck her, her throat ached where he'd fucked her, and the metal handcuff had bitten into her skin as she'd tried to jerk free. They were minor injuries, all things considered, and she didn't think any of them worth mentioning. He could easily see the redness on her tanned skin from the first and last, and hear the damage the second had caused.

Her eyes darted about the scene, taking in the damage, and then to Brandon laying on the floor. A shudder rolled through her as she stared down at his unconscious form. He was breathing, but otherwise looked dead. Not that she would have blamed Brian for killing him, but it would have made things extremely complicated for them both.

"I need my phone," she finally said, trying to speak louder, though her voice cracked several times. Her eyes lifted to meet the assassin's. "And I need to call the police to have them haul him off. People know he's here. He can't just disappear. We've got to make this look like a domestic case. He never saw your face and can't identify you. We need... we need a story they'll believe."
 
The pain was indeed obvious in her voice, shaky and partially broken, her tears having left light stains upon her skin. The last thing he wanted was to have police in this apartment. A mere few dozen feet away from where he'd set up his own base of operations, in a room laced with a plethora of his own DNA. Even this room had some evidence of his presence, if for some reason it was deemed necessary to search it.

And yet, what choice did he have?

As he surveyed the room, his wheels began to turn, the image of the scene playing out over and over again in his mind. First, as it happened. And then, as it could have happened.

"He put the cuffs on you." he said suddenly. "I'll plant his fingerprints on them...he tried to handcuff you to the bed, but he must not have tightened them properly. He's just some pretty boy, he doesn't know how to use something like that anyway...You pushed him off of you and tried to get away. He grabbed you, and you struggled. That's how all the stuff got knocked off the dresser. kicked him in the balls, Then you grabbed the vase and hit him over the head with it as hard as you could, and then you called the police..."

"You made calls earlier. You have people who know what he did to you. And they know that you left him in Europe. So he has a motive. The doorman let him up here, and they don't know that anyone else was here except you. Ther's no marks on his neck, so that won't be a problem, either...it should be open and shut. The only way he can claim anything else, or claim that anyone else was here, is by admitting that he assaulted you. He won't do that...so you don't mention it, either...got it?"
 
Sofia nodded soberly. "I won't. He won't. I know his lawyer. He is friends with Mory. I'll tell Mory to have a word with him, tell him to keep his mouth shut about this entire night. If he doesn't admit to anything, his lawyer might be able to get him out of it. He doesn't have a record. This would be his first offense, which they can sweep under the rug. I can... can file a restraining order if I need to. Building management is going to have a fit. They're going to tighten up security after this, which might prove to be an issue for you."

Raising her wrist, she waited for him to release her, though her eyes were on Brandon. "I need his phone, too. He has pictures of me, both on the phone and in the cloud. I want them gone before someone starts digging through his shit and finds them."

Already she was thinking of what she'd need to do to pull this off, what story she'd have to sell, and how she'd need to act. The pain was real, so she wouldn't need to fake it, not in the slightest. The tears, as well, but she was going to have to walk the line between assault and rape. If they thought she'd been sexually assaulted, they'd haul her to the hospital to do a rape kit. Neither of them wanted that. He wouldn't want her out of his sight, and she didn't want the press that would be involved. This entire night needed to be hushed up and fast.
 
Stepping over Brandon, he moved to the side of the bed and unlocked only the cuff that held her to the bed. The other side would have to stay on in order to explain the red ring that stood out against the olive complected skin of her wrist. "I'm not touching him any more than I have to. Take his phone, get whatever you need off of it, off. I don't give a shit...But you better make God Damn sure you don't do anything that can be traced back to you...or me. Anything you delete, you better make sure it's gone completely. Otherwise, they'll find out you tried, and they'll start wondering why."

There was an obvious tone of annoyance in his voice, but it was not directed at her. At least, not this time. The situation would indeed cause a great deal of problems for him, moving forward. Security would be tight, and a stolen keycard may well not cut it, any longer. His DNA was all over the place, and if the slightest hint of anything suspicious were to come from it, he would be forced to do a full sweep and leave at a moment's notice. Those thoughts alone were more than enough to fray his nerves. And on top of it all, he would somehow have to make himself scarce while the police flooded the apartment, just downstairs from his own lair of veritable criminal activity, while simultaneously making sure that they did not come across it, or anything of his own.

"I'm going to get your phone...and some shit to fix this mess...Whatever you have to do, do it quick." He called back over his shoulder, as he made his way out of the room with haste.
 
Finally released, Sofia rubbed at her wrist, but didn't ask for his reasoning. She knew the handcuff would tell a better story than words alone. While Brian headed upstairs, she moved to Brandon's side and dug his phone out of his pocket. Staring down at him, she scowled and jabbed a toe into his ribs. "Pendejo," she spat.

After unlocking his phone with his thumbprint, she swiped through to his gallery and that little secret folder he thought she didn't know about. It was full of naked women, pictures that sluts had sent him and some he'd taken himself. Her own photos were in there -- not nude, but sexy and compromising -- a bit more than she'd show in public. She deleted them all permanently and then logged into his cloud account to take care of those, as well. He might have sent them to other people, emailed them, or saved them elsewhere, but she couldn't do anything about that. It'd be a scandal if they were posted, but not one she couldn't rebound from. His murder and the inevitable investigation would cause complications for her and kill her career, so for that alone, she didn't want him dead. However, she wasn't going to let him take her down with him.

Finishing with her photos, she wiped off his phone and held it with her shirt, trying to ignore her shaking hands. After pressing it back into his hand to transfer his prints, she slipped it carefully into his pocket. Her frown deepened as she glanced about, noting the mess and several broken items. She didn't attempt to straighten them, however. It was proof of their crafted scenario. The scene, plus the addition of her own injuries would be enough to land him in the Miami-Dade County jail.

Though she'd calmed somewhat, she couldn't stop the shaking that plagued her. She sat on the bed, curling up beneath one of her throw covers as she waited for Brian to return, her eyes glued to Brandon's body as they strained for any sign of movement.
 
Brian returned to find her already sat upon the bed, having seemingly already done whatever it was she felt the need to do. "Come here," he demanded of her, wasting no time at all. In his hand, he held a microfiber cloth, which he used to wipe away any trace of his own fingerprints from the metal cuff around her wrist, and the one that dangled freely and loosely from it. In a case as clear as this one, printing may well have been a foregone step in their investigation. In the event it was not, however, there was no precaution to great to take.

"Kneel down." he said, doing the same right beside her. The next move he made was to take Brandon's wrist, manipulating his fingers and using them to create prints on the metal of the cuffs and about her own wrists in all the right places that would correspond with his own manipulation of the restraints, as though he had been the one to place them on her. Once that was taken care of, he quickly turned his attention toward wiping away other minute pieces of evidence of his own existence away from the room, including his own clothing, and wiping away his prints from the headboard of the bed.

If they searched for and could find any evidence of someone else's presence at all, he could at least be sure that they would not have any reason to believe that he was there at the same time, nor that he had anything to do with this attack.

Once he was satisfied, he turned to her, handing her back her own phone. All that could be done immediately, was done. The longer they waited, from this point on, they were simply risking him waking up. "Make the call." He suggested to her earnestly. He could nothing to help her, to that effect. It had to come from her.
 
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