The Hitman Set Me Free

It was a hot night in Rochester but I shivered all the same. There were no cars in the driveway on a sprawling cream colored new-money manse the bordered the Clearey Woods, so I pulled up the parking brake and on battered gray Camry. The thick pine and birch that skirted the side and back of the property kept drawing my eye. If I wasn't very careful, I could die tonight. But if I'd refused, I'd be dead for certain.

I'm Vina Desai. A vice cop born and raised in Rochester, New York, a city whose chief exports are white flour and crime families. Since last winter, I've been closing in on one in particular. The Valenti family, Rochester's very own cosa nostra. At first it was nothing but two-bit crooks. I brought in Mikey Valachi and Nico "the Cheese man" Massina for assault with a deadly weapon, but the D.A. couldn't make the racketeering charges stick. I attended every hearing though. This is what I'd always dreamed of doing.

Four months back I was on the witness stand. I was being cross-examined. I had interrogated Larry Bianco, who had capped Grady Morrison in the bathroom at the Finger Lake racetrack on Saint Patrick's Day. I nailed it. Bianco's lawyer had nothing. I was about to step down when I saw him.

Even sitting he was half a head taller than the men on either side of him. His skin was dark but was the wrong shade for Sicilian. His rust colored eyes bored into me from the opposite end of the courtroom. His dark hair was cut very short, making his strong profile even sharper. He let me catch him staring. He neither smiled, nor looked away.

I'd been expecting one of Valenti's crew to try something but this was unusual. He wasn't a Valenti. He didn't even look Italian. Worse, he didn't care he'd been made.

He had been there too when I testified against Jimmy "the Ref" Valenti and Little Sal. I booked them both and now I wanted them off the streets. Each time he watched me, not them. I tried to have him tailed, or at least identified but he seemed to vanish into thin air when he stepped onto city pavement. I told Detective Hamil, my partner in Vice, but all he could tell me was that the Valentis never hired outside the family.

Fast forward to this Monday. I threw myself behind the wheel and tossed my encrypted laptop down on the passenger seat. I exhaled for what felt like the first time all day. I was this close to closing in on Frank Valenti.

Every cop in my unit knew Valenti's nephew Moogi "The Mouth" could be bought, but right now he had money. What he needed was distance. He had just called me to say he had knocked up Valenti's goddaughter and wanted to move upstate, and he'd exchange evidence for a couple hundred miles and a different last name. I hung up and tried Hamil's phone and left a few messages. I was lucky though. The other guys in my unit were dicks, and maybe even on the take, but Hamil was solid. Bet he'd even give me the lion's share of the credit when I closed in on Frank Valenti himself. I grinned and buckled my seatbelt.

"Drop the keys."

I didn't scream but it was a close thing. My eyes flew to the rearview mirror. Unblinking rust colored eyes flashed back at me. He was holding something against my headrest. I knew what it was.

"Drop the keys, Vina, and you might appreciate my offer."

I didn't get this close to Valenti by being stupid. I dropped them. The man's voice was smooth and deep. Vaguely latinate. Maybe Spanish. I stared back at him in the rearview, intent on memorizing his features on the off chance I lived through this.

"Good," said the man. "As you probably know by now, I've been offered a job."

I tried to keep my voice steady. "Am I the job?"

The man's eyes narrowed but the corners of his mouth twitched. "That's for you to decide."

I waited, but he didn't elaborate. "Who are you?" I asked him.

"My business name is Gunn."

I couldn't stifle the giddy snicker that bubbled up in my throat. Of course I'd get taken down by a hitman called Gunn. Of course.

"Few people appreciate the joke," said Gunn mildly. I caught a glint of light coming off the gun pressed against the back of the headrest.

"I've never shown the best judgment," I said wryly. His cheeks were chiseled and his chin was prominent.

"That could save your life," Gunn replied.

That brought me to my senses. "Okay. Gunn." I took a deep breath. "I decide if I'm the job? What do I have to do?" Valenti would be wanted leverage against me. Something to discredit me. I imagined crossing the Canadian border with cocaine in my hubcaps.

Gunn smiled and twisted his gloved hand into my wavy black hair. "You will come to a house. The address is in your glove compartment. You will wear a dress. You will not tell anyone. You will not inform the police and you will not wear a wire."

That did not sound good. I winced as he pulled my head against the headrest.

I coughed. "Does that sound like a good deal to you, if you were me?"

"I wouldn't make it, no," Gunn admitted. "But then, I don't have fifty large on my head."

"Fifty? That's twice what Phil the Shill got."

Gunn eyed me in the mirror. "Well, he was a shill and you're a screw. You need to decide now, Vina, if you're going to be my job."

"And show up to some unknown location in my burial gown and keep my trap shut about it?" I glared back at Gunn's reflection. Then I heard the click of the safety release and bit down hard on my tongue.

"You decide. You die today or tomorrow or in a week. Maybe even a month, but probably not. Or take my deal. You need to decide right now."

"Okay!" My voice was unpleasantly shrill with panic. I was going for exasperated but the semiautomatic was fucking up my performance. "Since I have no choice."

Gunn ran his thick gloved fingers down the back of my neck and something inside me rose up in response to his touch. Creepy.

"Everyone has a choice. And I like you, Vina, so let me say it again. Don't run, don't talk, and dress to impress."

The car door was open and he was gone before I could dig the .38 out of my purse.

Three days passed. And now I was sitting in the same car in the driveway from the note in my glovebox. Worse still, I'd done what I was told. No one knew I was here.I dithered about telling Hamil, but in the end decided it wasn't worth not getting another chance to dodge my death sentence. I figured I should tell someone, but no one came to mind. My parents would worry. My best friend Jas would have me committed. I didn't wear a wire either. The Sopranos was right, there's no quicker way to get dead.

I'd plotted just one act of defiance which was to forgo the dress code, but even then I'd lost my nerve. I went back into the house to put on the blue bridesmaid dress I wore to my sister's wedding last year.

I checked my handbag and gave myself a mirror pep talk. My black-brown eyes, dark skin and long curved nose stared back at me. I'd overdone the eye shadow in lieu bravado. Gunn's note said to arrive promptly at nine, but I never do anything promptly. The clock on the dash read 9:10pm. I was probably pushing it. I stifled the urge to be sick and got out of the car.

I was out of practice at walking in heels. Being a cop will do that. I also figured I might have to run for my life, so I'd forgone the matching pumps for a pair of plain black flats. The dress was good though. Tight and low cut in the tits and waist, flaired out and loose at the hips. The better to sprint in. I tried not to think about how short it was. I knocked twice.

I waited for what felt like hours before the latch slid and Gunn opened the door and beckoned me inside.

"I'm glad you came, Vina," said Gunn. He was dressed deliciously in charcoal slacks and a mauve cashmere sweater that made his skin look darker and his eyes look brighter. He looked casual and in control. Suddenly I felt like an overdressed teenager.

"Now what?" I was proud to hear my cop voice again as Gunn threw the deadbolt.

"We can talk about that in a minute." Gunn turned to me and held out a small pink cylinder. I examined it a moment and then almost dropped it in shock. "Wear that before we continue."

I held it back to him, eyes narrowed. "I'm not wearing sex toys for you. That's not what this is."

Gunn folded his arms. "What is this, then?"

"This is me trying to negotiate with you about the terms of your contract."

Gunn grinned, his eyes drilling into me again. "A police detective shows up alone to mob house wearing a party dress to make demands?"

Oh that was it. I unsnapped my pocketbook but before I could reach my gun, Gunn yanked the strap from my shoulder and set in down on the hutch behind him.

"You get it back when you make a decision, Vina," said Gunn. "Either way you walk out of here tonight. Nothing happens that you don't consent to."

I tried not to punch him. "Consent under duress doesn't count."

Gunn shrugged. "Then I can't help you. I guess you better leave now and get a head start, because I work for a living."

I'm no good at gambling. I had only a minute to decide if I thought Gunn was better at lying or delivering just what he promised. Any other hired gun and I'd probably have gone straight to Hamil. Or the fucking FBI, god forbid. But everything about Gunn, from the way he moved to the sound of his voice promised a supernatural skill. My money was on marksmanship and dogged determination over bluffing.Which meant I had just one choice.

"Where's the bathroom?" I muttered.

Gunn pointed down the long arched hall and I saw it. The floor in the bathroom was white marble just like the entryway. A huge vanity mirror glowed coldly across from the toilet and shower stall. Nothing on the counters, no pictures on the wall, no oxy prescriptions in the medicine chest. This was some kind of shell house, which didn't give me much confidence. I locked the door.

It was a small thing, the vibe. Almost cute. Smaller than the one I owned. I caught my own rich brown reflection as I pulled up my dress and slid the still vibe between my legs and into my pussy. It was too small.I arranged my black thong tight between my pussy lips to hold it inside me. If I took small steps I could avoid the embarrassment of dropping it. I smoothed my dress down and felt an unexpected, illicit thrill. No one could tell by just looking at me.

I took modest steps back to the entryway where Gunn was waiting. He didn't quiz me about the vibe.

"Come to the living room with me. I called a meeting to discuss your situation and there's someone I want you to meet." He grabbed my left wrist and snapped a pair of handcuffs over it and then the other while I twisted.

"What the fuck!" I elbowed Gunn in the gut, but he didn't flinch from the blow, instead grabbing a fistful of my hair and pressing his lips to my ear. "It's just while we talk, to put him at ease. And because I like you cuffed. You wanted negotiation. This is it. Now follow me."He released my hair and my curiosity narrowly won out over my survival instinct.

I followed him down two marble steps and around the corner into a thinly furnished fitting area. There was a cherrywood bar on the far side of the room, and two white leather loveseats with a glass coffee table between them. There was no overhead light and the twilight had dimmed the otherwise empty space, but for a pair jade lamps that bathed the room in a frosty glow. There was a man sitting in one of the loveseats. He was slight and his tan face was heavily lined. His dark hair was patchy and held in place by BP's finest. He wore a crisp navy pinstripe suit and polished brown wingtip shoes. He was checking his iphone. There was a glass of dark liquor on a coaster in front of him, and two more besides.

"Detective Desai, allow me to introduce Frank Valenti. You know his work."

I steeled my poker face and nodded to Valenti as Gunn offered me the seat across from him. Here he was, the biggest crime lord outside Queens and I was dressed to the nines with my hands cuffed, though at least they were cuffed in front of me. I'd only ever seen Valenti in pictures. He'd aged ten years in the last two.

"Good evening, Detective," he said. His voice was soft, with the slightest trace of an accent. The fucking godfather indeed. "You've had me busy as a dyke in a hardware store for a few months now. I don't like busy, Detective. I prefer retired life."

I snorted. "Then retire. That could have saved us both a lot of trouble." Suddenly the vibrator inside me sprung to life. I turned a squawk of surprise into a convincing cough. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. Gunn glanced at me and then back to Valenti. I squirmed slightly.

"Frankly, Detective, my sons are idiots and the chauvinist numbnuts that fill out my family tree refuse to take my daughter seriously." Valenti swirled the liquor in his glass and took a sip. It smelled like whiskey. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. That someone might have taken you in hand. Told you maybe why no one in my city goes after me."

The vibrations increased and I uncrossed and recrossed my legs. My thong was already soaked from the stimulation, and the erotic wrongness of it all. The hitman was teasing me in front of the man I'd sworn to bring to justice. My brain was foggy, clogged up with sexy thoughts. I tried to focus. What did he mean 'taken in hand?'

"So who's on the take?" I asked shrewdly. "Mancuso? Gregson? Kwan?"

"Chrissakes, Detective, have a drink. Loosen up." Valenti paused to follow his own advice. "The fucking Commissioner doesn't want me taken in. Bad for the city. My line of work's recession proof. Fuck, look at you. I hate a fidgeter."

I managed to stop moving despite the maddening vibrations radiating through me. Gunn handed me the whiskey glass in front of me. "So I quit." I said. " I'll resign tomorrow, first thing."

Valenti shrugged. "Like I know you from Eve. Maybe you do, maybe you don't. Maybe you tell the media. I lost control of the way the world works about a decade ago. I can't predict the news. It's the fucking internet. People take the least little thing and make it a headline."

"You want my evidence. I'll give you passwords and encryption keys. Four cabinets worth of files on the Valenti's alone." I swallowed hard. Every cop thinks they'll never crack under pressure. Usually I was a cool customer and now here I was offering to break my oath for Frank fucking Valenti, Rochester's most wanted.

"Gunn didn't like that, did he? No, you didn't." Valenti didn't wait for an answer. "Too many holes. Might make you reckless to try again somewhere else, or get in front of a typewriter or a computer or whatever. Maybe sell a book. Inform the wrong folks. Isn't that what you said?" He didn't wait for Gunn to nod. "Plus he doesn't get paid. Gunn had another idea."

I clenched my legs closed, suddenly scared the sopping vibe would escape and end up on the marble floor in front of Valenti. I turned to Gunn who stared at Valenti rather than me.

Valenti drained his glass. "My man here thinks the best thing you can do with cops is discredit them. Fuck up their rep. The best thing to do with ladycops is show everyone what whores they are. No one who isn't fucking one likes a whore. Sad but true. That's what's wrong with this fucking country if you ask me," he added, but I wasn't following. I stared at him, open mouthed.

Gunn cleared his throat. "One night. Some footage. We keep it under lock and key. We're done and you go about your life. Stay on the Force. Open up a tikibar in Cabo under an assumed name. The Family doesn't care. They have insurance."

I eyed the stiffening bulge in Valenti's trousers. "I'm not letting anyone fuck me and film it. Not Valentis, not anyone."

Frank Valenti pursed his lips. "You flatter yourself. Two of my idiot sons are queer as a three dollar bill. The other one likes 'em real young. My daughter wouldn't piss on you to put a fire out. And I don't do cameras, even if I wanted to take a whack at you, which I don't." He was a surprisingly bad liar. "It's my gunman here who thinks with his dick."

My head spun to look at Gunn so fast I gave myself a crick. "This is your idea?"

Gunn sipped his whiskey. "You wanted a compromise. This is it. Valenti here wants insurance that you won't talk. You want to live. The way I see it, this is the most elegant arrangement."

I felt my face flush and my eyes darken - danger signs. "You think you can extort and blackmail me into fucking you? That my body is for sale? Fuck you both!"

Valenti shrugged and pocketed his phone. "Told you it wouldn't work, son. Cops are more trouble than they're worth bout half the time. I don't like to ice a lady, even if she is a fuckin' cop, but she's got too much on me. Give me an hour or so to put some distance between you an' me, son, and then be my guest."

"If she changes her mind?" Gunn stood up with Valenti. All I could do was wiggle and simmer with rage.

Valenti rolled his eyes. "Send us two copies and the contract is down to thirty large, and that's just because it's you and you're helping me solve a very tedious problem. If she squeals down the line, there's another thirty waitin' for you, kid."

Gunn nodded. He was staring a hole through me. I refused to meet his eyes. Valenti buttoned his jacket and called from the hallway, "I'm parked out back. I guess I'll just see myself out. Seems you've got your hands full."

Suddenly it was so quiet that all I could hear was the frantic hum of the vibrator. Gunn poured another shot of whisky into my untouched glass and took Valenti's vacated seat.

The problem was that a small but very insistent part of me really wanted to do it. That part was oversensitized and beyond sense. The last thing I needed, actually. Well, second-to-last. The very last thing I needed was Gunn. Tall, dark, with broad shoulders and wide hands, a strong chest and sensuous lips. Wait, that was the vibrator talking. Had Valenti known what Gunn had been doing to me?

I took a few deep breaths. Time to review. Valenti wanted me dead. Gunn would rather fuck me than kill me. Commissioner Rossi didn't want to tackle the Valentis but couldn't tell me to stop without arousing suspicion. So I had no support and a contract and not much time for a quick and stealthy disappearance.

Gunn, meanwhile, wanted me to do things on camera that would ensure I couldn't look any of my fellow cops - to say nothing of my parents - in the eyes ever again. Maybe gross things. And Valenti wanted a backup copy. I wouldn't put it past Valenti to share the tape around.

"How do I know they won't just give it to my department anyway?"

Gunn sipped his drink. "They won't. They've got no leverage then. If it goes public they're begging for an inquest."

I took a sip of the whiskey. It was sharp and warm, like the buzzing deep inside me.

"So what do you want to do to me that's going to cost you thirty grand?"

Gunn's laugh was like a starting pistol and I jumped but managed to keep the booze off my dress. "At ease, Detective. One of the things I'd like to do is make you come. Any fantasies of yours come to mind?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What exactly makes you think you're capable of making me come or trying to act out my fantasies?"

But Gunn wasn't laughing anymore. "Do you believe I can know a lot of specific, very personal things about someone from a distance?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Gunn caught my chin in his hands and stared into my dark brown eyes with his bright copper ones. "You work harder than anyone in your department, because you're the only woman. And because you're an attractive woman and you need to look tough and sound tough, you hide your femininity. But it comes out in other ways. You're the first to say thank you and sorry. You lower your eyes when a dominant person walks into the room. You've done what I've told you twice now, with little direction."