The Gentiles

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A bald man nudged the other on his rib which he didn’t appreciate, grunting. They turned to us, both standing at least a foot taller than either me or Carter, with bulky muscles and tattooed arms and neck. The bald one has a scar slashed across his pudgy face, giving him a permanent grimace, aside from the fresh cuts he has decorating either side of his cheeks. The other, Asimov, has an eyepatch on his left eye.

Both men looked rugged and worn off. Experienced and lethal.

The thought made my blood boil in excitement. I fucking love a challenge.

Their size didn’t intimidate me at all. It was what they are capable of that I am interested in. What training they did, how their brains move – are they huge as their build? Do they put them to good use? Are they quick, do they think, or do they just attack without any preamble?

My skin is prickling in anticipation. But I have to reign the demon in. Not until we get what we want or in this case, what Carter wants. He has his eyes trained on the woman trailing her body up and down. He was more thrilled for her than with these two fuckers we have to take care of.

Feeling herself being watched heatedly, miss Holly’s back straightened and she slowly faces us. The look on her face was priceless. Can’t say I haven’t gotten over her frisky look by now. The same thing can’t be said with Carter.

I know him. He might look calm and collected now but that sly smirk couldn’t fool me the way it fools everyone else. The son of a bitch is revved up and he’s about to run over two Russian motherfuckers.

“You brought it, right?” Baldy asks Carter, completely ignoring me.

No offense taken. I know I blend in the dark seamlessly as if I was shadow itself. It’s to my gain, so I couldn’t complain. And even though this is actually my job, Carter would have been doing the same thing he’s doing now. He’s the talker, I’m the doer. It was just that right now, I’ve agreed to make a subtle change that involves the woman in scantily clad clothes right in front of us.

Miss Holly looks more surprised than scared and I noticed that she was keeping her eyes from training on me to avoid suspicion. Or because of humiliation. I can’t tell which. Holly was aware of what was happening. What this transaction is for. A clear indication that she went here willingly. Not sure if that’s the same as her not being forced to do it, too.

She doesn’t seem cold, which completely puzzles me how these girls manage to wear barely there clothing without feeling the biting air. Carter’s fists close and open as he rakes his eyes on her and I wonder if he notices, too.

Numerous times that she does a good job in masking her emotions as quickly as they had come and instead focused on the back of Asimov who was exchanging details with Carter. These are orally transmitted codes devised to be memorized, not written nor encoded anywhere else but in a person’s mind. Easier to just shoot ’em in the head once a transaction goes bad. Gets rid of all the evidence down to the expendables.

Never cared for memorizing any shit, though I still do because who knows, I just might need it as well, but Carter can spit out even the cryptic messages from two years back when we were just runners and delivers notice from one post to the other. Makes him real useful and valuable. I try to keep up but I wasn’t as talented.

I believe Sarika, the one who trains and oversees the runners, was secretly disappointed in letting Carter go. He was her best, she always boasts, but nobody goes against the boss’ command.

Guess it makes me damn lucky to have Carter as a partner.

When the transmission was done, there was no handshake. Both Carter and one of our marks, Asimov, nodded at each other before Carter pulled out the check from his jacket pocket.

Usually, in these types of transactions, cash is preferable. But the boss has the best friends he could ever ask for in highest of places and the money is guaranteed clean. It was one of the numerous legal accounts he owns, minus the hard blood cash which is by all means dirty and, well, acquired through illegal means. These couldn’t be tracked down but the boss wanted to assert his dominance and show off his superiority. So check it is.

Asimov eyed the check with one raised eyebrow. He stared back at Carter. “This good?”

He knows perfectly well it is. The question was mandatory, though. To assure himself. To intimidate us. Fat chance in hell. He held out his open palm but nothing was handed over to him.

Carter gave him a brisk nod. “The woman, cut the ropes off.”

Somehow, I sort of already expected Carter to command them the way he did. This wasn’t our first time exchanging yet it was a first that he asked for the product to be free of her bindings and it was not hard to find out why.

The bald man laughed harshly. He wiggled one thick finger at us, rings just as thick can be damned considered as brass knuckles.

“You not want.” A flash of gold sparkled when he gave us a sneer. Damn Russians and their golden jackets. “Wild cat,” he explains, probing Holly’s almost naked body up and down with his glare. He licked his lips, one finger pointing at his stupid face. “She not like touching.”

Without giving him a single glance, I knew Carter had tensed up beside me. I raised my head, deciding to speak for the first time, to let Carter have a few moments to calm down.

“We can do it ourselves, then. Can’t imagine a single woman besting us even with her hands free.”

Baldy cocked his head at me, confused. The baboon couldn’t read the context behind my words. Asimov on the other hand, looked offended. Clearly, he was the brains of this pair, and oddly enough, I was glad that he is. I expect him to keep a leash around Baldy and not let him do anything they might both regret.

The women need to be clean and pure. If they’ve never been touched, the price goes higher. They are the ones our boss wanted. Baldy here seems like the guy who really does enjoy his job and not just because he earns huge cash because of it. The malice in his eyes and the disgusting sneer on his even more disgusting face says a lot. The thought makes me furious, I could only imagine what Carter must be feeling.

“Let’s get this over with.” Asimov took a switchblade to cut the thick ropes tightly wrapped around Holly’s wrists. She rubbed them gingerly, twisting her arms. My muscles would be fucking sore, too, if tied behind my back for god knows how long. I’m guessing for hours judging by the wince on Holly’s face. She then helped removed the ropes as they loosen around her ankles after Asimov worked on them.

The pervert that he is, Baldy rounded Holly, stopping behind her to not even trying to conceal his obvious leering. The son of a bitch.

Carter took hold of Holly’s elbow and pulled. Hard. She landed in his arms, surprised.

“Could you be any slower?” He gritted out, patience running thin. I hope Holly would realize she wasn’t the cause of his irritation. To my surprise, she didn’t cower, nor did she act the way girls who had been in her position usually acted which was to flirt with the both of us. With both hands, she shoves Carter on the chest and he, too, was shocked by her action that he almost landed on his ass.

“Don’t touch me,” she seethes.

My, oh my. Miss Holly bites back.

Nothing of the sweet, patient high school teacher could be seen. In place was a woman whose deathly stare could pierce anyone to the bones. Lucky for me, Carter was the only recipient of that.

The two men rumbled with laughter, Asimov’s was more subdued than the other motherfucker’s. Carter regained his balance and shot them a look which they hadn’t noticed.

“You said one woman you can handle, no? This one, you can’t.”

***Author’s Note***

Hi guys!

Just want to say thank you to my dear commenters: @zamauriabell @susanroselosper1 @koikibangura @shinypatel @MrWriter @kaybogart1953

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