Specter's Gamble - 14. Chapter 14

Desmond lay still on top of Gabriel, waiting for Rayhe to fall asleep. He knew it wouldn’t take long. He was right. Fifteen minutes later, Gabriel was fast asleep. Desmond got up very carefully and got dressed. “Time to pay a visit to Sammy,” he thought. He wouldn’t kill the kid; not right now anyway, not while he was still with Rayhe. Because if he kills LeVoughn-Junior now, Gabriel just might come unglued, and that would lead to an inevitable face-off, which would be a very inconvenient thing at the moment, considering the circumstances. No, Desmond could always kill the kid later, after the whole thing with the Salamanders was resolved, and after Rayhe and he parted ways.

The last thought made his heart squeeze itself into a very unpleasant, tight knot for some strange reason. Desmond frowned. He didn’t like that reaction from his own heart; he didn’t like it a single bit. He pushed all those thoughts as far away into the back of his mind as he could and went outside, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Back when he was still considering the deal on LeVoughn-Junior (not knowing that it was fake, of course), he didn’t bother to run a check-up on the client, but he did run a check-up on the mark. He knew the kid’s habits and his schedule somewhat well, and he was sure that nothing has changed since several weeks ago. And several weeks ago, Samuel LeVoughn would inevitably go for a run in the park near his apartment building every single morning. He’d start running at six in the morning, and he’d come back at seven. It was six-fifteen right now, so Desmond stopped by a coffee shop on his way to the place – he had plenty of time.

...He waited for LeVoughn-Junior at the kid's own apartment. The kid’s door was even easier to unlock than Desmond’s was. He was done with his coffee and was thinking whether to light up a cigarette, when he heard the front door opening. LeVoughn-Junior kicked off his sneakers, walked into the room, and immediately froze in his spot when he saw Desmond sitting in one of the larger chairs with his legs crossed, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hello, Samuel,” he said quietly. The kid kept staring at him. Desmond knew that he was twenty, but right now, he looked no older than sixteen. He wasn’t too tall – he stood around maybe 5’9 if not less – and was pretty skinny, even though he was nicely built. His dirty-blond hair fell on his face in an unruly fashion, and his skin was lightly freckled.

Desmond expected him to say something like, “Who the hell are you?” but he never did. He just kept staring at the assassin, and there was this weird look in his eyes – some strange mix of fear, desperation, and hatred. Desmond thought that the kid looked like a trapped animal.

“I am here to talk about the deal your father and I have...” Desmond hemmed thoughtfully. “It’s a long story...” he started saying, but the kid interrupted him.

“Is he here?” he asked in a low voice. He sounded like someone who was about to lose all control and become hysterical any minute. The question made Desmond blink in confusion.

“Your father?” he frowned slightly. “No, he is not.”

The kid glanced around.

“So what,” he said in the same low voice. “You set up a camera or something?”

Desmond blinked again. What the...

“No, I did not,” he replied slowly. “Why would I do such a thing?”

The kid let out a dark and desperate laughter.

“How else would he be able to get off?” he said, and a cold shiver ran down Desmond’s spine. “He didn’t have the guts to show up here himself, not after I promised to cut his balls off... So he sent someone stronger and younger... But he can only get off if he is fucking me or if he is watching someone else fuck me... So, where is the camera? What’s the deal?”

Desmond felt like he was punched in the gut. He stared at the kid without blinking, a flashback looming in the back of his mind, ready to wash over him like a huge wave of disgust. Desmond gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. The wave swayed and disappeared into nothing.

“Get the fuck outta here, kid,” Desmond said finally in a colorless voice and closed his eyes.

“W...What...?” The kid sounded confused and scared.

“You heard me,” Desmond repeated in the same colorless voice. “Get out.”

“This is my apartment,” the kid said quietly, and Desmond opened his eyes. LeVoughn-Junior looked scared, almost terrified, but at the same time, he looked very determined and defiant. He looked like someone who has finally decided that he was not going to be kicked around anymore, and if he got hurt in the process, then so be it.

“Right,” Desmond muttered and got up. He brushed by the kid on his way to the front door. The kid immediately flinched but didn’t move away. Desmond stopped briefly and looked at him.

“Do you really want his balls cut off?” he asked quietly.

The kid looked up and gave him a very dark, stretchy smile. Desmond was astonished at the transformation that smile brought. Now the kid looked thirty.

“I want them to be shoved down his throat,” he said slowly. “I want him to choke on them.”

Desmond nodded and went away without saying anything else.

****

On the way back to his apartment, he stopped by the same coffee shop, to justify why he was out this early to Rayhe, in case if he was awake. He bought two cups of coffee and slowly walked towards his apartment building. The kid’s words kept ringing in his ears with every step that he took. By the time Desmond finally got to his building, he was seriously considering going back and killing the kid for real; maybe it would make those words to stop finally. He doubted that, so he went inside instead of going back.

Gabriel was still asleep, so Desmond set one cup on the table, grabbed the second one, opened the window, and lit a cigarette. He was smoking with his eyes closed, forehead pressed against the cold glass of the window, when Rayhe finally woke up.

“Oh, hey,” he said in an upbeat voice. “I think it finally wore off...”

Desmond turned his head and looked at him. Gabriel was carefully making his way around the couch. He seemed fine.

“Told you so,” Desmond said. “It’s almost eight in the morning.”

Rayhe stopped and looked at him with interest.

“You are fully dressed,” he said. “Going somewhere?”

“Went already,” Desmond demonstrated his coffee cup and nodded towards the table. Rayhe followed his eyes and smiled when he saw another coffee cup sitting there.

“Coffee in bed,” he murmured. “I could get used to that, you know...”

Desmond silently cursed his heart when it decided to beat faster.

“Yeah,” he snorted. “I wouldn’t if I were you... This...” he nodded at the table again. “...doesn’t happen often.”

Rayhe shrugged and took his cup.

“Still...” he said and sat back on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself.

Desmond looked out of the window again.

“I went to see LeVoughn-Junior,” he said, surprising himself. “Why the hell did I just say this?” he mused. “It’s not like I haven’t lied to him before... Plus, this was not exactly a lie...”

Rayhe slowly set his cup back on the table, his eyes huge and almost shocked. Desmond thought that he could see hurt in them; hurt and disbelief at betrayal. He cringed.

“I said ‘see,’ not ‘kill,’ ” he said evenly.

“What did you do...?” Gabriel asked quietly, his shoulders beyond tense. Desmond sighed and flicked his cigarette out of the window.

“He is fine,” he said, walking away from the window. “Well...” he frowned. “I don’t know about fine, but he is alive... Who knows,” he muttered. “He might actually be fine one of those days...”

“What did you do?” Rayhe repeated as quietly as before, and Desmond sighed and finished his coffee.

“The deal is off,” he said shortly, and Gabriel just blinked in surprise. “I am not going to kill him. The deal is off.”

“Why?” Rayhe asked softly. Desmond shrugged.

“No reason,” he said indifferently. “He doesn’t interest me anymore.”

“What happened there?” Gabriel locked his gaze on Desmond’s face.

“Nothing,” the assassin answered shorter than he intended. “Nothing happened. I simply realized that he is not worth wasting my time, that’s all.”

“That and I finally understand why Nicholas reacted the way he did back when he was about to kill me...”

“Okay,” Rayhe nodded. “What’s the plan?” he asked, and Desmond silently thanked him for the change of subject.

“The plan is to solve the Salamanders’ situation,” he said, and Gabriel nodded again. “I mean, until then, we are pretty much stuck with each other... I don’t know about you, but this arrangement bothers me.”

He firmly told himself not to close his eyes after he said that.

“Right,” Rayhe nodded, his fingers hugging the coffee cup firmer than before. “The Salamanders’ situation...”

“Who is Julian?” Desmond remembered suddenly. Gabriel frowned.

“Who?” he asked, his fingers still clutching onto his coffee cup.

“Julian,” Desmond repeated. “When I was about to take that guy out, the one who drugged you... He said that your little stunt with the spell had upset Julian... Who is Julian?”

“Oh,” Rayhe sighed and finished his coffee. “He is a nephew of Salamander-Senior, the one I killed.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Desmond snorted. “You didn’t kill him; you merely placed the hit. That ain’t the same.”

“Well, anyway...” Gabriel shrugged somewhat uncomfortably. “Julian is his nephew... Sheila’s cousin...” he added in a smaller voice.

“I see...” Desmond said slowly. “I’ve heard that name before. Not sure if it was the same Julian though.”

“Where have you heard the name?” Gabriel asked, expecting the assassin to frown thoughtfully.

“From one of my marks,” Desmond answered immediately. “Five years ago.”

“Must’ve been a special mark,” Gabriel muttered. “Since you remembered it just like that...”

“No,” Desmond said simply. “I remember everything and everyone, no matter how much time had passed. That mark...” he lit another cigarette. “She was covered in bruises and old scars... I asked her why, and she just smiled and said that those were the reminders of how much Julian loved her. She wasn’t sarcastic or anything... She really meant it.”

“Her face...?” Gabriel frowned.

“No,” Desmond shook his head. “Her face was fine. You couldn’t see anything if she had clothes on...”

Rayhe blinked.

“You slept with your mark?” he asked in mild disbelief, and Desmond shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “She was willing, and to tell the truth, it made the entire matter simpler.”

“Did you still kill her?”

“Yeah,” Desmond said again. “A job is a job; just because we ended up in bed together didn’t change anything.”

“Huh,” Gabriel said thoughtfully.

Desmond glanced at him.

“If someone placed a hit on you,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t sleep with you, I'd just kill you.”

“Why?” Rayhe seemed to be genuinely curious. The assassin shrugged and turned towards the window.

“Because in your case, it would complicate things,” he muttered. Rayhe didn’t say anything to that.

“That’s what happened,” Desmond thought bitterly. “That’s exactly what happened... Everything got beyond complicated. I can deny it all I want, but it’s not going to change the fact that this is more than just a good lay... Shit...” he gloomily dragged on his cigarette. “The Salamanders’ situation has nothing to do with this. Let’s face it, I could simply disappear off everyone’s radar, lie low for a while until everything calmed down -- I’ve done that before... I am not with him because of the Salamanders... I am with him because I can’t make myself leave... Shit...”

How could this even happen to him? He was always very careful not to let his emotions to come through; not to let himself to get attached to anyone; not to let someone to get close enough to him to stir something up deep inside his heart. How in the bloody world did this happen? “Should’ve just killed him when I had a chance,” Desmond thought gloomily. “I could’ve killed him several times by now. Should’ve just done it; everything would be back to normal... I am a moron...”

“What’s the name on the apartment lease?” Rayhe asked, and Desmond flicked his cigarette outside.

“Anthony Smith,” he said indifferently.

“Why not John Smith?” Gabriel smiled.

“Because ‘John Smith’ is too simple,” Desmond sighed. “So simple that it might make someone wonder if it’s a real name or not. Too simple is as bad as too fancy when it comes down to my life and what I do. You don’t want to attract any attention; not by anything too bizarre or by anything too simple.”

“Golden middle,” Rayhe muttered.

“Uh huh,” Desmond nodded. “Exactly that. Golden middle.”

He stared out of the window for several minutes, thinking. Finally, he turned towards Gabriel.

“There is something I need to take care of,” he said slowly.

“What is it?” Rayhe asked seriously.

“If you don’t want to be a part of it, that’s fine,” Desmond continued in the same slow manner, ignoring Rayhe’s question. “But if you’d help, it would make the entire thing somewhat easier...”

“Liar! Since when do you need help? You know that you are more than perfectly capable of doing something like this on your own! It’s like a child’s game to you by now... Well, that would be a seriously fucked-up child we are talking about but... The point is -- you don’t need his help!”

“What is it?” Gabriel asked again.

“I need you to make a phone call,” Desmond continued, ignoring the voice in his head. “I need you to call LeVoughn-Senior and request a private meeting with him. Tell him that you are tired of hiding, and that you are ready to give him Specter.”

“How do you know he’s not going to let the Salamanders know right away?” Gabriel asked calmly, as if he was getting requests like this every day. Desmond’s mouth stretched a little, a smile snaking its way through his lips.

“If he is the one who delivers Specter to the Salamanders,” he said in a low voice. “He’ll become one of their favorite pets. That’s too good for him to pass up. He’ll come alone.”

“What are you going to do?” Rayhe asked in the same calm voice.

“Do you really want his balls cut off?”

“I want them to be shoved down his throat... I want him to choke on them.”

“I am going to cut his balls off,” Desmond said quietly. “And then I am going to shove them down his throat.”

Gabriel looked at him thoughtfully for several seconds.

“Does this have anything to do with your sudden loss of interest in Sam?” he asked finally. Desmond looked out of the window again.

“Maybe,” he muttered, and Rayhe slowly nodded.

“When do you want me to call him?” he asked. “And where should I meet him?”