straight down the line

A Short Story, Quentin Tarantino Style

This story will be using my noir character (and a few others) whose profile can be found here.

Loving this woman would get me killed. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Marcus,” She said in that beautiful, velvet voice of hers. If only she knew what my name at her lips did to me.

I slowly moved towards her, eyes dancing over her voluptuous form standing at the balcony. Her fiery hair was fluttering slightly against the night breeze, fighting for a dominance she didn’t need to try and get. The city lights touched her pale skin like a delicate brush, moving over her elegantly and skillfully, and nearly bringing me to my knees. Today she was wearing a deep green dress that clung to her every curve, spooling down to the concrete beneath her feet.

Had she and I been normal people, you’d think this was a moonlit tryst, a quiet affair. But that was complete bullshit and it nearly made me laugh.

“You rang?” I said, moving to the space beside her. I leaned against the railing, turning my whole body towards her.

“You sound like this is going to be only business.” She said softly, looking at me with those dangerous eyes of hers.

“When is it ever not with us?” I laughed. “You want something or I want something. That’s all there ever is between us.”

She looked away briefly before meeting my eyes. She had that same glint deep within those dark pools. That was how I knew she wanted something from me. That was the rope that pulled any lesser man towards her and into her grasp. But I wouldn’t go down that easily.

“You’re right. I do need something.”

“And what particular skill do you require of me?” I asked with a wave of my hand, careful not to brush her accidentally.

“The killing one,”

“And Assassin Marcus is at your service.” I bowed slightly. “For a price of course. Who’s the unlucky fella?”

This time she turned away fully, shielding her face from my view.

“My father,”

“The old geezer?” I laughed. I had to stand up for that. “But you love the hell outta him.”

“And I still do.” She said softly, returning her gaze to me, eyes as blank as a white sheet of paper.

“Sometimes I really don’t get you.” I sighed, running a hand over my face. “Why do you want him gone? I know it’s not because you want his position so it’s gotta be something really important.”

She remained silent, hands moving to rest on the rail.

“He plans on bringing Terrence into this.”

My eyes widened. “He wouldn’t.”

“He told me. He said he would finally accept the son who killed his wife and move him into the family business.”

“But T’s four.” I breathed out.

“I took this position to keep Terrence out of this. I followed my father’s every command in the hopes of leaving Terrence out. I don’t want him to have this kind of life. I will do anything to keep that from happening. Anything.” She said smoothly, eyes blazing with the heat of an angry daughter.

In the years that I’ve known the Flame Princess, she’s only ever told me what was actually on her mind when it concerned her baby brother. Terrence was her everything and her only link to a normal life. She wanted to keep him as far away from our dirty business as possible and I do too, almost as much as her. He’s a smart kid and he’ll get far in life, another kind of life. But the old man just got on Layla’s bad side and we all know what happens when her rage is evoked. He’s gonna die one way or another.

“I’m surprised Tweedledee and Tweedledum haven’t broken his neck yet. Where are the two lug heads anyway?”

“Out shopping,” She said simply. At my look of disbelief she added, “It’s their mother’s birthday. They went out to get her something nice.”

“Ok. So, how do you want this done? Accidentally? Brutally? Slowly?”

“You’ll do it?” She asked, tilting her head at me.

I had to laugh at that. Ms. Know-It-All still didn’t know that I’d do anything for her.

“Of course, babe.” I sighed. “I’ve got this.”

“If you fail and you’re caught—”

“I know. You’ll deny even knowing me.”

“They’ll kill you.” She finished.

I lifted my hand and rested it over hers, squeezing it lightly before moving away. She didn’t react to the touch as expected, only looking down at it with that poker face of hers.

“I’ve got this.” I repeated, turning to walk away.

I made it to the balcony door when she said, “I love you. You know that, right?”

I smirked, looking at her over my shoulder. “Yeah,  I do. I remind myself every morning I wake up alive.”

That was when she finally smiled. That was what I lived for, that rare, curve of her lips. It told me that everything I did had a purpose, that I was doing something right. I would die a thousand deaths just to see that smile again.

Loving this woman would get me killed. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.


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