Bounty Hunter Pros and Cons Ch. 01

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Putting the bad guy away in time for a pedicure.
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aaddicted
aaddicted
311 Followers

"Freeze!" I shouted at the man, firmly holding my gun leveled aiming at his chest with both hands.

"Chris, don't act so rash," the man I had been deceiving said panicking and rushed out of bed pulling his robe around him.

The young girl, maybe 14 or 15 looked at me calmly, sitting up in bed not bothering to cover up. Definitely stoned. Robert Delavano, my ex-lover, scum. That would be the nicest word to describe him, but it doesn't do him justice. He would always have young girls around using their bodies as payment for drugs.

"Robbie, I need it. Please," the girl begged crawling across the bed. I was overcome with compassion for the young girl caught up in all of this. I know I really shouldn't feel sorry for her since it really is her own fault for getting into drugs, but I'm pathetic like that. My only weakness is that I am too human, or so Dillon says.

"Shut up," he hissed at the girl on the bed, trying his best to placate me, but not succeeding much considering he just spat on me. "Chris, sweetheart, put the gun down. I'm sorry. I know I said I was going to be faithful, but it's not like we are married yet, si? You are my predilecto." He came up to me and held me by the shoulders as he softly kissed my lips. My gun was stabbing into his chest and hey if I ended up shooting him I would blame it on the gun company for producing guns with light triggers. Of course I'd never admit to being trigger happy. *insert sinister laugh*

His lips tasted disgusting. He smelt disgusting. I am glad I never took drugs. It was difficult to gain his trust since I refused to take any drugs. I kept putting it off saying I had a physical to go to and they were taking a urine sample or that I might be pregnant with his child. That one was a good one. It got him off my ass ASAP. I cannot believe I had to sleep with that. I was going to throw up and doing it on him didn't seem like a bad idea.

"¡vete al infierno!" Go to hell! I replied sweetly as I kneed him. I could dance around happily at the sight of him doubling over and screaming, but I had to remain professional. So I straightened my posture and mocked him, "You scream like a little girl."

I won't tell all the atrocious things he had to say to me squirming on the ground like the slimy worm he is. A lot of the things he said just proved what I knew all along, that he wasn't very smart. It made me wonder how he could have built such a large empire without ever being caught. I bent over and hauled him to his feet. I pulled out my handcuffs and cuffed him. 'Arpía' he shouted all the while. I had to get out of here quickly.

News from every station and then some were probably zooming over to get this, 'Notorious Drug Dealer Robert Delavano Caught!' and other things about enough evidence to put him away for good. Reporters would be taking pictures of the big bust and filming. If I could afford it, I would stay and watch what happens, but then again I can catch it on the news. I had to make sure they didn't catch me. Hopefully it's not windy out. I would hate for all the viewers at home to be scarred if his robe decided to give a live sneak-a-peek at his drug-altered pene. The disadvantage of live television is that it can't be censored.

"¿Quién..." he began to ask gritting his teeth in pain.

"You have the right to remain silent," I cut off.

"¿Policía? ¿Limpieza?" he demanded to know. As if I'm going to answer him. I cannot believe he did not already know.

"Mantener el orden en." Just keeping the order. I replied calmly. I finish reciting his rights just in time to hand him over to the uniformed S.W.A.T. agent who would not stop looking at me. What? I wanted to ask him and all the other men staring at me.

He started going off in Spanish, turning red and then purple. I wanted so hard to laugh, but I kept my professional façade as I walked away. Then he switched to English since I was ignoring him and screamed, "Chris, you deceiving bitch! I will see you in hell you lying cop!" Lying cop? Poor thing couldn't find any insults to throw at me in unless it was in Spanish. Pity. Then he went and proved me wrong. "Chris you cunt!"

I visibly cringed when he called me that. I turned towards him and tilted my head in an innocent angle. "I'm not a cop," I pouted. I had to get out of there before the media came along, but then I could really make his day. "I'm just doing community service. I work for Dillon." And that was all the explaining I had to do. No criminal was able to weasel their way out of court if it was Dillon Dosh who sent them there. Sometimes he had to...cough...magically produce solid evidence, but the guys Dillon put in prison belonged there.

The S.W.A.T. agents' drooling expressions hardened and little Robbie's face dropped knowing there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell he wasn't going to prison. I shrugged artlessly enough and turned to my car. I put on my glasses and slid behind the wheel of my slick dark grey Porsche. I drove off the estate singing all the way home. More bad guys needed to be put behind bars and it seems like I'm the only dependable person there is to do it.

-------------------------------------------------

Hi, my name was Denise Lorelei Isabella Weber. I come from a respectable family. Being the only child had its benefits, such as being able to demand for anything I want and get it. One con was that I never had brothers. I always wanted older brothers to beat up all my cheating boyfriends. Not that I had a lot of unfaithful lovers, or lovers in my case, but half of them did cheat, which would be two. The last boyfriend I had was about two years ago, but I don't really count him as a real boyfriend, and I have sworn back to celibacy about half a year ago, since I no longer had to service little Robbie. The reason I never had so many boyfriends is because I supposedly intimidated others and seemed like a cold fish. The first part is partially true only because my parents are rich so I grew up with that airy sense of knowing who am I in the world and the second is not right in the smallest sense. It might be hard to believe now, but growing up I was shy. I never use to venture out and play with other children. My shyness became such a problem that my parents hired private tutors because I was too nervous in my private school to focus. So my last real boyfriend, Jonathan, about three and a half years ago before I got into this bounty-hunter business turned out to be bisexual. Hey, we had our good times. I was happy until he ran away with my male neighbor the day I had decided I would finally give all of myself to him. Then I was pissed and I cursed men and the lot of them. Men are evil, nasty creations of God who cannot be trusted and the world does not need. That's why God also created vibrators. He saw the mistake he made in making mankind and showed us once and for all that men were truly useless. Why do you think we have so many lesbians now? It's because men have failed us! And I hope John gets AIDS! Then I think about poor Robert. I put him away for good, sacrificed him to the wolves. I laughed. It was pretty funny. I should pay him a visit. Nah, I would never jeopardize my cover to go poke fun at Robert or any of the other twelve federal offenders I helped put away. Then there are the thirty-four in State of California prison and one man in isolation prison.

As I was saying before I blow my head up anymore. I come from a respectable family, no siblings, and total of four 'boyfriends' in my pathetic twenty-six years of breathing. Oh yeah and I work for Dillon Dosh. Now he is one man God should use as a standard in which to create the opposite sex by. He is not well known to the public. Though many government officials hear rumors about him and the government itself would never admit to needing his help. It is because he plays dirty. Most Italian men do and if they looked half as good as he, they'd be wickedly evil. He told me he was twenty-seven when we met, which would make him thirty now. I had been training at a police enforcement agency and often got in trouble because of my uh, unconventional ways before I began working for Dillon.

When we met I had just blown a mission with one of my ingenious plans that did not work out as well as I had hoped. I was put on probation and Dillon offered me a job, but I had to cut relations with everyone I knew. I scoffed at him and offered to bring him to a clinic because it seemed he was in need of some professional help. He gave me his card and vanished.

A week later there were two more murders involving the escaped target. I called him the moment I saw the news in some ludicrous idea I could do something about it. He picked up the line barley before it rang twice. I could hear his grin in the tone of voice as though he was expecting my call. I decided to work with him and wrapped up the case in five sleepless days. I found the guy and did a bit of my own disciplining that would most definitely have me removed from the academy, but then again I already quit. Dillon had his men move in and take care of my packing up. Denise Lorelei Isabella Weber was dead. And Lora Rose Mitchell was born. I severed ties, burned bridges and buried hatchets. I was set on bring world peace. That was my goal ever since winning my first beauty pageant when I was three. I won all the pageants I was entered in up until I stopped at eighteen. I was pretty disappointed to find out there would never be world peace. The real world could damage an ignorant child like me. I was sheltered from the poisons of the real world by my over-protective Protestant parents who think I am dead now.

My mother had a breakdown two years ago. She could not cope that her only child was dead. My father was worried about her health and they retired to an estate on Maui. Here I am now, a bounty hunter. Dillon my mentor that I do not see as much anymore has been surprisingly quiet of the late. Not as though I would care to hear from him though. We both know that it we could both be on friendlier terms and for a while we were.

I know it was a stupid reason why I broke it off, but I felt hurt that my first lover would suggest I whore around for him. Protocol, casual sex was to be expected in the business. When I asked him if he was sleeping with other woman to gain information while with me, he grew quiet and then said I was being too emotional and unprofessional. Too human. And it was pathetic. He said we should never mix our personal life with our business life. I was furious and snapped at him saying, "So am I part of your personal life or business?" and stormed out of his apartment. I got wasted that night and woke up at my apartment tucked in my bed with my sleeping pajamas on and a cup of water on my counter along with RU-21 pills. He makes it so hard for me to just hate him.

I cried for days, non-stop. A month later I thought I was all right and stopped at a café and I remembered the mornings I would wake up in bed to find Dillon was watching me sleep as he sipped his cup of coffee. I scared a lot of workers when I receive my coffee, crying my eyes out. I had to dash out of the café to avoid making a scene. Once, I cried uncontrollably and spilt my steaming coffee all over myself right before I got into my car. I sat behind the wheel in the parking lot crying until I got exhausted and headed back to my apartment where I crashed until the evening.

Then I decided I wouldn't be a baby about it anymore and told Dillon my vacation was over and I was ready to start working again. He made a joke about teaching me how to be seductive and I declined saying that I did not need him teaching me how to seduce legions of woman. He laughed and he seemed less tensed. If ever he was jealous about what I did, he made a good show seeming he wasn't.

I once had to pose as a stripper to a bachelor party that Dillon was in attendance for some son of a black market arms dealer. It would have been much more fun if Dillon's indifferent expression changed when the handsome target was groping me. But not Dillon, Mr. Professional, who knew, to my mortification, that I was trying to make him jealous. While I was performing my lap-dance routine, he gave me a stop-looking-at-me-Lora-and-pay-attention-to-seducing-that-arm-dealer's-son glare. Yup, reads my mind every time.

I felt my cell buzz and laughed out-loud before answering. Speak of the devil! I waited a few more rings then answered.

"Hey it's me," said a husky voice on the other end.

"Scanning memory banks. Sorry 'me' does not register." I said coldly.

"Maybe I should come over and check your memory banks. I'm sure by the time I'm through you'll be screaming my name."

A hot flash swept my body, but I tried to play indifference. "No thank you, stay where you are."

"Lora, I know you still have feelings for me."

"Right..." I agreed cynically. "Does your conceit know no boundaries?"

"So you're admitting to having feelings?"

"Well now, I wouldn't be going around and bragging that I hate you, but whatever floats your boat."

He laughed that irresistible, deep laugh and that just pissed me off even more. Then he had the audacity to say, "You're so cute. I'm glad you care enough to hate me."

I gritted my teeth. "Dillon."

"Boss, but continue."

"What do you want?" I snapped. "Mission or companionship?"

"Are you willing to offer the second?"

"That depends, probably not."

"Well, it's a mission. Meet me where we usually meet," he said with his smart-ass authority and hung up.

Great. Now I had to get up and get dress when all I wanted to do was crawl under the covers and go back to sleep. Damn men, the lot of them.

aaddicted
aaddicted
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