[Reviews - 15]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 852 times

- Text Size +




Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.

Thank-you to my reviewers.


Chapter.6.


Next Saturday, the opening night of ‘Frankie’s Club’...


*CRACKLE* “This is Jamie Jameson reporting for New York City Radio LIVE! from the grand opening of the city’s newest venue ‘Frankie’s Club’. The club owner, former heavy weight contender Lucas Bishop, has just arrived with his beautiful new wife Tessa Bishop, looking stunning in a glittering blue dress and white fur. They’re waving to the crowds assembled here, waiting for a glimpse of some of the New York jazz scenes biggest celebrities.*CRACKLE*


*CRACKLE* And here we are, another black limo has just pulled up to the red carpet and it’s the current darling of Broadway, Raven Darkholme, looking stunning in white silk. She waves to the crowds as they go wild at the arrival of one of the New York stages hottest new stars.*CRACKLE*


*CRACKLE*Another limo has just pulled up and out steps club owner and close personal friend to Mayor Worthington, Kenny Forge accompanied by his gorgeous singer wife Ororo Munroe, who is rumoured to be making an impromptu performance some time this evening. They smile for the cameras as Ms Munroe emerges for the car and---*CRACKLE*


*BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!*


*CRACKLE* OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! There have just been several shots fired from a passing car, oh my god, it’s pandemonium down here! The crowds are running in all directions---people are screaming---nobody knows what to do! Security have just bundled Ms. Munroe and Kenny Forge back into their car, I don’t know if either were hit, I don’t know if anybodies been hit! This is unbelievable people! This is simply UNBELIEVABLE! I just don’t know what to say---oh god---oh god----*CRACKLE*



* * *


Police Station on the Upper East Side...


Ororo had been sat in the interview room for at least an hour and a half maybe more and her hands were still shaking. A blue coloured standard issue blanket was slung loosely around her shoulders as she held a now cold but still full cup of coffee in her hands, staring blankly at the opposite wall, her head leaning back on the one behind her. She’d been checked for serious shock, but the attendant doctor had determined that there was no need for her to go to hospital. Miraculously, somehow, she’d escaped completely unscathed.


Somewhere in the distance Ororo was vaguely aware of Forge’s voice, shouting at goodness knows who. It seemed he’d been shouting at everyone who approached him since he’d arrived. She could hear murmurs, phones ringing, less frantic shouting and the occasional scream. But they didn’t seem to register---it was like she was in a bubble and all these things were happening outside of it--- somewhere far away.



It had all happened so fast---she could remember getting out of the car. The bright flashing of cameras almost blinding, the incessant hollering of the crowds and then the bangs. Those terrifying loud gun shots. She could remember being thrown to the ground by Forge or was it security? She didn’t know all she did know was that within seconds she had been bundled back into the limo and they were speeding away.


The door of the interview room opened quickly, the blinds clattering against the glass. “Come on ‘Ro, we’re going!” Forge stormed through the door, angry as hell. Ororo looked up at him, startled; he was the first person she’d seen since the doctor when she’d first come in.


“Bu”but-but I haven’t spoken to anyone. Don’t they want to speak to me?” She stammered, her nerves shot to shit, gazing up at her husband with wide frightened eyes.


“NO! Now get you’re things, we’re leaving!” Forge was furious. His hands were clenched at his sides and he couldn’t seem to stand still for a second.


“But---“


Forge reached down and grasped Ororo’s arm, yanking her up from the seat and spilling the coffee she held everywhere. “Ororo we are leaving!” He was dragging her towards the door when Chief of Police Scott Summers came through it.


“What are you doing Mr. Forge?; we haven’t spoken with your wife yet.” He had a completely clam demeanour, like nothing at all had happened.


Forge released his grip on Ororo’s arm and strode over to Chief Summers. He grabbed at the lapels of Summers’ uniform pulling his face close to his. He said nothing for a moment, simply eyeballing the slightly shorter man with cold anger. Eventually he uttered quietly, so quietly that almost Ororo couldn’t hear, “You will both pay for this.”


Scott seemed completely unaffected by Forge’s confrontational behaviour. Reaching up to pull the other man’s hands from his uniform, he then took a small step backwards. Straightening out his collar he said, “I don’t know what you’re implying Forge but don’t forget---the Lensherr family don’t take too kindly to being messed with.”


Forge furrowed his brow---he’d been so sure about who was responsible for the attempt on his and his wife’s life. But now the seeds of doubt had been sown---Erik Lensherr was a ruthless son-of-a-bitch and this caper was just his style. But never-the-less, he still didn’t trust Summers and he certainly didn’t trust Mayor Worthington. In fact, Forge didn’t trust anyone right now.


“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m still taking my wife home---now.” He took Ororo’s arm again but in a more gentle fashion this time. “You can talk to her tomorrow.”


“O. K, I’ll send somebody to your apartment---or would the club be more convenient?” The Chief of Police asked, trying to stave off a self-satisfied grin from his lean, attractive features.


“I’ll let you know.” Forge said quickly as he almost dragged a still slightly stunned Ororo from the room and out of the police station.


*

“Johnston!” Forge shouted to the chauffeur as he rushed down the steps at the front entrance of the police station, pulling Ororo behind him.


“Yes Sir?” The man asked as he scrambled out of the car to open the back door for his employer.


As they reached the car door, Forge stood back to let Ororo climb into the car but he didn’t follow. Instead he turned to his driver and said, “Take her to Smokey’s pronto, I think Victor’s there---he can keep an eye on her.”


“No! I don’t want to stay with that man---not tonight.”


“What?!” Forge seemed angry and annoyed at his wife’s awkwardness as he looked down at her. He sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead as he leant on the open car door with his other arm. He racked his brains to think of someone, anyone he could safely send Ororo to. “Fine, fine, but you can’t stay alone tonight.”


“Why?---where do you think you’re going?!” She didn’t want to be left with Creed but nor did she relish the thought of being left on her own right now.


Then a thought came to Forge, he could send her to the only person that had no real connection with him. “Johnston, take her here.” He pulled a calling card from his wallet and handed it to the chauffeur.


The driver read the card quickly then asked, “Urr, which address sir?”


“The home one---get her there quickly and don’t leave until you know she’s safely inside.” Johnston nodded and climbed back into the driver’s seat of the limo. Forge crouched at the open door, looking in with what was almost a tender look, he reached for her hand. Clasping it gently his, he brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips over her soft skin. Ororo watched him from her heavy-lidded gaze, totally unmoved by his display of affection. On occasion she could become as cold as ice when displeased---or seriously upset.


“So, where are you going to go?” She asked indifferently.


Forge wasn’t fooled by the ice queen routine, he’d seen it many a time before. “I need to take care of something.” He closed his eyes as he kissed the back of her hand and then her fingers to the tips. “You don’t need to worry---it wasn’t you they were after.”


Before she could respond Forge let go of her hand and pulled away from the car. Slamming the door shut firmly he then banged on the roof a couple of times to indicate to Johnston to drive. Ororo turned around in the back seat of the limo, to look out at her husband as the car pulled away. It started to rain as she continued to watch him until the car rounded the corner. Turning back round to face the front she fought to hold back tears---she knew this was the beginning. She’d seen it a thousand times before, here in New York and back in New Orleans---this was always how it started.


* * *


*THUD, THUD, THUD!*


“Wha---?” Logan’s head shot up from his pillow that he’d been lying face down in as he heard frantic knocking on his apartment door. With his eyes still closed he floundered around trying, to grab the clock from his bed side table. Finally he found it, puling it near to his face he pried his sleep clogged eyes open. It was only ten in the evening, but the bottle of whiskey he’d consumed earlier had unsurprisingly knocked him clean out. “Who the fuck?” He grumbled groggily as he shook his head in an attempt to clear it. As he climbed from his untidy bed the knocking came again.


*THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD!*


“Alright, alright! Hold yer goddamn horses!” Logan bellowed as he made his way from his bedroom to the front door. He undid three of the six locks before stopping. Turning round he searched the room with his eyes for his jacket. It was fairly dark but for some reason he didn’t think to switch the light on. Then he saw it, hanging off the back of his sofa. Quickly Logan trotted over and reached into his inside pocket, pulling out his gun.


*THUD, THUD, THUD!*


“Calm the fuck down! I’m comin’!” He swiftly opened the rest of the locks, expecting to find one of his ‘questionable’ contacts, cocking the hammer back on his gun he yanked open the door.


It was her.


“Wha---what are you doin’---.” Logan stopped as he then noticed the uniformed man behind her and suddenly gained his senses. “What are you doin’ here Ms. Munroe?” He was looking at the chauffeur as he asked the question gruffly.


“Mr. Forge requested that I bring her here for her own safety sir.”


Logan looked at the tall, strawberry-blond haired man in the pristinely-cut, double-breasted navy jacket with large silver buttons quizzically, as he asked cautiously, “And who the hell might you be?”


“I’m Mr. Forge’s chauffeur sir, he simply told me to bring Ms. Munroe to you.” The man clocked that Mr. Logan had obviously not heard any news reports this evening, the short man locked like he’d only just woken up, the crease lines of his pillow still indented into his stubbled cheek.


“Go inside, make yerself comfortable.” He addressed Ororo somewhat curtly before stepping out into the corridor with the driver and pulling the door to behind him.


For the second time tonight she was left alone whilst the men around her talked in hushed tones behind closed doors. What did they think she was? Some delicate flower to be protected? If that’s how they viewed her, they were sorely mistaken. But she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to contest them. After those brief and somewhat bitter thoughts she started to take note of her surroundings. Looking around to her left then her right, the place was no more than she’d expected. Tiny, and despite being sparsely furnished it was a complete mess.


“Obviously doesn’t get too many visitors.” She said to herself as she continued to scan the room, ostensibly searching for a clean place to sit. Clearing a couple of books and some loose papers from the arm of the closest chair to her, she swiped her hand across it before perching tentatively on its edge. The light was still off in the room, only adding to the rather grim impression it had already made on her. But it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen or in fact lived in places like this before. Actually, now that she thought about it, the last place Remy and she had lived together in, wasn’t exactly the Plaza. She turned as Logan re-entered the apartment, flicking the light switch on unexpectedly as he came in.


“Ow! Thank-you very much!” Ororo complained as she hastily shielded her eyes from the light bulb’s bright glow.


“Sorry.” He mumbled quietly as he went straight past her and into the kitchen. Turning the light on in there she watched him as he quickly twisted the cold water tap on. Cupping his hands beneath the flowing, clear liquid, he brought the pool up to his face and scrubbed it roughly, presumably to wake himself more thoroughly.


“I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She called to him apologetically.


“Don’t worry about it.” Logan replied as he dried his face with a tea towel. He didn’t exactly sound to convincing though---he didn’t like it when ‘work’ showed up on his doorstep. He’d definitely have to have a serious talk with Forge tomorrow. Walking over to his sofa Logan hastily removed all the crap and clutter that covered its thread-bare cushions. “Sit.” He more or less commanded as he proceeded to leave the room again.


#Great host!# Ororo thought to herself wryly as she sat where he’d bade her to. But then again, she had just turned up unannounced on his door step. Despite the lunch, and quite pleasant lunch at that, they where still little more than strangers. Or so she thought---. She looked around again and now that the light was on, it did appear a little better. There were some rather nice Japanese prints on the slightly nicotine-yellowed walls, all in black lacquered wood frames. There were also a row of framed photographs on the mantel place.


Taking a short glance toward the doorway that Logan had just gone through cautiously, she got up and went over to fire place. She looked over the pictures one by one. There didn’t seem to be any of family, which she thought was odd but then she noticed one striking picture. It was of a Japanese lady, dressed in a Geisha outfit or ceremonial robes of some sort? She wasn’t sure, traditional Japanese dress wasn’t exactly her forte. Ororo picked the frame up to study it closer only to have it roughly snatched from her hands.


“What the hell do ya think yer doin’?” Logan growled angrily.


“I’m sorry---I just---.” Ororo was slightly flustered and embarrassed by being caught out. He gave the glass in the frame a quick ‘polish’ with his shirt sleeve before placing it carefully back where it was.


“I’ve sorted out the bedroom---you can stay in there tonight, I’ll take the couch.”


“O.K.” She agreed quietly, still feeling a little guilty for snooping. She was about to go into what she presumed was the bedroom as Logan began arranging blankets on the sofa. But she suddenly realised she wasn’t quite ready to be alone just yet. Stopping at the doorway to Logan’s room she leant against it, chewing her lip hesitantly she said, “Logan?”


“What?” He continued to sort out the blankets, not bothering to look at her.


Walking over to the sofa, Ororo leant her hands on its back, feeling nervous to ask. “Do you mind if I stay in here for a while?”


Logan stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. “Why?”


She laughed nervously, shrugging her shoulders, “I just don’t want to be one my own right now.”


As Logan looked at her, his irritation soon started to disperse---for the first time tonight he thought about how beautiful she was. Painfully beautiful in fact and found himself unable to refuse her. “Sure darlin’.”


She smiled in relief almost as she made her way round the sofa and took it upon herself to snuggle under the blankets, tucking her feet beneath her.


Logan cocked an eyebrow at her familiarity then went to sit on the chair opposite.


“There’s room for two you know.” He turned around to see her patting the space beside her. He hesitated for a moment, making sure he wasn’t picking up mixed signals---but then he told himself not to be so stupid. The woman had narrowly escaped with her life tonight, seducing a grizzled ex-cop was probably the last thing on her mind.


Ororo watched him as he came back towards her, she could tell he was nervous and only hoped he hadn’t taken her request the wrong way. She just wanted to be close to someone---that was all.


Logan sat, or more over perched on the sofa at first, hands on his knees, back rigidly straight. Ororo tried to stop herself from smirking at him, a fact that was not lost on him. Realising he was just being stupid he eventually relaxed back into the seat. Neither of them spoke for a while but oddly enough for two near strangers, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. They’d had a rather nice rapport at lunch the other day and that seemed to make them feel at ease with each other even under these---unsolicited circumstances.


“Well, seen as we’ve met twice now and I’m already at your place at the second ‘date’,” She began, a playful tone in her voice, “I think I’ve earned the right to find out what happened with you and the NYPD.” She gave him a small mischievous smile and cocked a snow-white eyebrow at him.


Logan just looked at her bemused and ever-so-slightly incredulous. Every time he thought he’d got this woman figured, something else popped out of the wood-work! She was a constant wonder to him, in more ways than one. Shaking his head and sighing in mock exasperation, then he chuckled, “Real subtle aren’t ya darlin’?”


“Moi?!” She said with pretend offence at the implication, bringing her hand to her chest. “ Never!” They both laughed. Logan thought how good it felt, to be in the company of someone else, to be relaxed in that company also. That was a very rare feat for him. “But seriously, what happened?” She appeared genuine in her curiosity, like she really cared. That was another thing that had been lacking in Logan’s life---for a fair few years now.


He leant forwards, scratching his head, “Where do I start? I did a lot of crazy shit, pardon my French,” He held his hand up to her by way of apology. “The drinkin’ was a major problem I guess, Summers was always on my ass about it. He was jus’ waitin’ for me to slip up, make that one major mistake that he could nail me for.” He stopped; it felt odd talking to someone about this. What was even more strange was the fact that he felt so damn comfortable talking to her, for some reason he suddenly felt like he could tell her anything.


Ororo sensed his hesitancy; slowly she leant forwards and gently ran her hand along his back, from shoulder to shoulder in a silent prompt for him to continue. He turned his head to look up at her, her blue, blue eyes seemed more intense than ever for some reason. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Tearing his gaze away to stare down at his own hands that were now folded over one another in front of him, he continued, “But I was rapidly losing control---I knew it---he knew it---the whole goddamn force knew it. And then---it happened.”


“What?”


“I was tryin’ to get a confession out of a suspect. He was guilty---we all knew he was guilty, but the bastard was gonna get away with it. He had the money, ya see---and a fancy lawyer.”


“What had he done?” She asked quietly, biting her lip with worry for some reason.


“He’d attacked a hooker---instead of payin’ her, he thought it would be a better idea to beat seven shades of shit out of her.” Logan rubbed his palms together, like he was concentrating on not getting angry.


Ororo thought it best to say something, “What happened to the girl---she didn’t---?” She couldn’t finish the question, mainly because she knew the answer already.


“Hmph---she hung on for a few days, considering the state the kid was in---even that was a damn miracle.” He stood up and went over to the fire place, leaning against it with one hand. There was a silver flask at one end of the mantle, he picked it up and quickly undid the top, holding its opening just in front of his lips he said, “I beat him.” He took several gulps from the flask.


Ororo brought her legs down from the sofa and shimmied along it towards the end that Logan was stood. Looking up at him, with an expression that was at once worried and sorrowful she asked quietly, “Did you---kill him?”


Logan’s jaw tensed as he met Ororo’s eyes and he shook his head. Keeping the eye contact with her he confirmed his gesture, “No---I didn’t kill him. But there’s not a single day that goes by that I don’t wish that I had.” On his confession he had to look away, he was scared at what he might see on her face at his admission.


“Did he get away with it?” Ororo was strangely unmoved by what he had just admitted, in fact, she could totally understand---he’d probably be shocked to hear that, but she really did.


Still looking down at the flask in his hand, idly running his index finger around its rim he replied, “Yeah.” Then took another drink. “Well, if ya call bein’ permanently paralysed down one half of yer body ‘gettin’ away with it’.”


“I suppose that was at least something.” She muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself---it made her sick that money could circumvent the justice system. Money and connections---that’s all that seemed to matter in this town. Then there were men like Logan, men who deep down are good---she could see that in him now. There was a strong sense of honour about him, that’s the only way she could describe it. What he did wasn’t right, but since when had the system ever played by the rules. That was one of the major first lessons that Remy had taught her---trust no one, especially not the system. It was a lesson she’d found hard to shake and it had taken her a while to learn how to trust anyone at all. For most of her life Remy was the only one that she could---and look how well that was turning out.


“You want a drink---food or something?” Logan suddenly said, remembering his manners and changing the subject in one fell swoop.


“No, I’m fine. Thank-you all the same.”


Logan moved back to the sofa, sitting the other side of her. The same silence as before settled over the pair. But this time it was Logan’s turn to break it. “So what’s your big secret?”


Ororo looked at him with a questioning expression but she knew what he was alluding to, she’d worked out his other little secret a while ago. “You want to know my secret?” Her gaze deliberately shifted across the room and Logan felt compelled to follow it.


“Shit!” He muttered, but with good humour, as both their eyes settled on a certificate in a small metal frame at the far side of the room. A certificate that read ‘James Logan: Private Investigator.’ In large letters across the top.


Ororo chuckled into her hand, “Don’t worry, I already had my suspicions---that just confirmed them.”


“You had yer ‘suspicions’ huh?” Logan said sceptically as he raised his eyebrow. “Since when?”


“Since the day at the hotel---when I noticed you in the corridor. But when you told me you were ex-NYPD that clinched it.” She gave him the same playfully sceptical look he was eyeing her with before adding, “I may be all smart clubs and fur coats now but I’m still street wise you know---you never loose that sixth sense.”


“Then you know what it’s all about?” He asked, suddenly serious.


Ororo nodded, “My husband thinks I’m having an affair---with Remy Le Beau of all people!”


“That’s right darlin’---I’ve realised that ain’t what’s goin’ on with you two.” He turned his head that little bit more to hold her gaze directly and said quietly, “So what is?” He couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping down to her mouth, tracing the line of her beautiful, ruby lips with their pouting edges. He had to concentrate hard to stop his eyes from dropping down further, taking them quickly back to her eyes.


Ororo didn’t reply for a moment, she knew what his eyes were doing---and it excited her. She’d been trying to ignore her growing attraction to this man. But the more she found out about him, the more it grew. Sure, he wasn’t conventionally attractive but he was still attractive none-the-less. She’d noticed this at lunch the other day; the strong lines of his features had certain---nobility to them, a rugged manliness. So unlike the smoothly chiselled plains of her husbands face---or even Remy’s. No, there was definitely something much more to this one---she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was definitely there. Taking her mind back to their conversation, she replied, “He’s in trouble.”


“I know that, I’ve been diggin’ around. Seems he’s really pissed off the wrong people this time.”


“Then you know who?” Ororo asked, sounding hopeful.


“Urr, no---not yet. But what does he want from you?”


“We’re old friends Logan. He wanted me to give him some money.” She suddenly looked worried and her eyes held that far off look as if she were thinking over something. “I’ve given him some before, but this time---its money that I can’t get.”


Logan twigged then, “So what? The bastard’s blackmailing you?”


Ororo nodded, still looking worried but also rueful at the same time. He didn’t understand their history---he didn’t understand anything about it, not really.


“Some friend ya got there beautiful.” He said sarcastically before taking in a deep breath, clasping his hands together behind his head and leaning back in the sofa.
“So what’s he got on ya?”


After a hesitant pause she replied, “You don’t need to know. But suffice to say, I’d rather Forge never found out about it.”


“That’s fair enough darlin’, but what are ya gonna do? If he’s in that much trouble that he’s gotta try and screw his friends over then it must be serious.” Ororo shrugged then yawned, stretching her arms up above her head and arching her back. Logan again found himself staring, thinking about what a stunning figure she had---for the millionth time.

“Can we just talk about something else? I think we’ve had enough drama for one night.” She tucked a stray, delicate white curl behind her ear as she rubbed at one eye sleepily.


“O. K.” He agreed, smiling at her tenderly despite himself.


They talked for hours, about all sorts but nothing of any depth or importance. Then at about 2.40am Ororo had fallen asleep---on Logan’s chest. He’d tried to move but every time he shifted she stirred and he didn’t want to wake her, not after the night she’d had. So he’d settled back into the most comfortable position that he could and found himself wrapping his arms around her. The skin of those long, graceful limbs was just as soft as he’d imagined it would be. She felt so good there in his arms, her head resting just under his chin. It was the first time in a long time that he’d just lay there, holding a woman in his arms. A beautiful woman that he could feel himself falling in love with.


Falling? He’d already gone head-long off that particular cliff and was rapidly drowning in the waters below.


* * *


Forge walked silently yet determinedly, following the ‘servant’ to Erik Lensherr’s office---or Magnus as he preferred to be known. Victor Creed followed not far behind, making for a menacing presence in his sharp pin-stripped suit and awesome height.


The guard, for there was no way he was a simple servant, didn’t even bother to knock on the broad double mahogany doors that led to Magnus’s office, clearly Forge was more than expected. Storming past the guard quickly, Forge stomped straight to Lensherr’s desk, banging his fists down on it and leaning forwards.


“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at Lensherr!” The usually cool Forge roared, but after the events of tonight no one could blame him for being riled. He had to direct the threat to the back of a high-backed leather chair though, as Magnus hadn’t seen fit to turn to face him yet.


“Hello Mr. Forge.” The greeting had a rather smug tone, knowing almost, like he was laughing at him without having the audacity to actually do so.


“You bastard!” Forge’s face screwed up like a Pit-Bull chewing a wasp as he ground out the words.


At that, Magnus turned his chair, a vaguely ponderous expression on his face. Weaving his hands together in front of him he arched a pure white eyebrow at Forge and then let his gaze fall upon Victor. He tossed his head in the direction of Forge’s heavy and gave a brief sardonic laugh, “Did you really think that was necessary dear boy?” He tipped his head forwards slightly, giving Forge a lop-sided smirk.


Kenny didn’t take kindly to the gesture, pursing his lips he uttered threateningly, “If this is the way you wish to play it---then so be it.”


“I wish to play?” He laughed again. “No, no, no. Now what porky-pies has our dear Chief Summer’s been feeding you?” He started to move his pivoted chair from side to side slightly, like a school child bored in class.


“Well, he said---he suggested that---.” Standing up straight Forge took a deep breath to steady himself. “This is just the type of thing you’d do Lensherr---you’re a ruthless bastard when it comes to getting what you want.” He said with hard fought constraint, mirroring Summer’s earlier words to him.


Magnus shook his head with that same knowing smirk on his face, “After everything you’ve been privy to you still believe that those prissy Long-Island, Harvard educated, sliver-spoon pricks are the ones playing by the rules.” He shook his head more vehemently. “You poor deluded fool, don’t you see?” He spread his arms wide in a dramatic gesture, “We’re all swimming in the same pig swill---it’s just that some of us are more adept at hiding it than others.” A dejected looking Forge nodded his head in somewhat reluctant agreement, suddenly realising what a naive fool he’d been.


“But who? Surely those privileged cunts wouldn’t have the nerve to get someone directly connected to them to do the dirty.” Forge’s eyes seemed to search absently as he tried to rack his brains to think of anyone who could have done this as their proxy.


“Mancini.” Magnus said the word quite slow and very precisely. Then leaning forwards on his large, wax-finished oak desk he asked, “And what are you going to give me for such---,” He paused as he swirled his tongue in his left cheek in gleeful anticipation of his request. “---valuable information?”


Forge nodded, willing to concede his precious cargo that he’d kept hidden for so long. “Tomorrow.” He stated, still bobbing his head and then repeated as he walked away from the desk and started to exit the office, Creed not far behind, “Tomorrow.”



Erik Magnus Lensherr pushed back the back-support of his chair, a gleeful glint in his eyes as he watched Kenny Forge and his mute lackey leave. “Tomorrow.” He echoed Forge’s promise quietly to himself. “Tomorrow Warren, you little bastard---you’ll get yours.” Turning his chair back to face the large bay windows behind him he felt for the first time in years true satisfaction---his time was near.


-TBC-


R ‘n’ R please!





You must login () to review.