A/N: As always, I don't own anything but the plot, and 'Mike'. Fair warning, there's a lot of cursing and a lotta violence in this story.
CHAPTER ONE
Lamika arched a black eyebrow, staring at the sports car across the street. The jerk who owned it had almost ran her girl and set leader, Kara, over. Lamika, or as she was called 'Mike', looked down at the three inch, razor sharp blade in her hand, slipping it into the pocket of her baggy, low hanging jeans, which showed off her SINNER tattoo done in Old English right underneath her naval. Her steel toed boots sounded on the road as she crossed the street, intense blue eyes narrowed as she remembered the order: remind him to look where the hell he's going next time.
A few short minutes later, she was grinning, staring at the control panel in her hand. This was almost way too easy. The car was awesome, no doubt about that, and she had been more than tempted to hotwire the sonbitch and take it for a spin but that wasn't in her job description for the night. Instead she had gotten underneath the monstrosity and put her knowledge of vehicles to use, disengaging the alarms.
"Now…" Lamika tossed the panel aside, glancing around the deserted street. Even if this was a technically 'uptown' neighborhood, most people were smart enough to keep their butts inside away from the gang bangers. She smirked before bashing her elbow into the window, grunting when it shattered then flicked out the switchblade.
**********
David was trying to watch a movie, trying to get over the initial shock of what he just found out. Dead. His baby sister was dead. Raped and beaten. He felt sick to his stomach, remember just talking to her three days ago.
Slowly slinking out of bed, David walked over to the bar and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels, feeling anger welling up inside. He would pay, whoever had done this was going to pay with their life. He poured himself a shot, downing, not wincing as the liquid burned a trail down his throat.
David made his way back to the cluttered bed the bottle of JD in hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at the paperwork and photographs that covered it, pictures of his sister, Samantha. He was about to drink another shot when he heard something outside. Frowning he walked over to the window, staring down into the parking lot, brown eyes narrowing to dangerous slits at what he saw. A petite woman with a red bandana on was smashing out his car window!
He was out the door in a heartbeat, heading down the back stairs, not caring if he was barefooted or shirtless, this was an EXPENSIVE freaking car! Once outside of the hotel, David slipped into the shadows and quietly made his way up behind her. Moving faster then a man his size had the right too, David had her knife pressed against her throat by her own hand, her other arm twisted behind her back, his superior strength forcing her to submit.
"You have three seconds to tell me what the fuck you're doing before I slice your throat." He growled menacingly in her ear.
Lamika could have killed her own fool self for being snuck up on like that. "Listen here mother fucker, if you don't want YOUR own throat slit, you'll let me go!" She threatened, wrenching against her assailant, snarling when he dug her OWN blade into her neck. "I'm thrashing this car man, what the hell does it look like?"
She had a pretty good idea this mystery man was the car owner. "You nearly ran over my girl cum bucket! Maybe next time you'll watch where your douche bag ass is going!"
"If I were you, I wouldn't speak another word." David's voice was low, angry and eerily calm as he pressed the knife harder against her skin. He was in NO mood for this shit, especially when his baby sister was dead. "You got two options: You either go to jail for vandalizing my car or we work something out so you can pay me back. The choice is yours, bitch."
Lamika almost told him she'd take the jail term but she knew she couldn't do that. She already had a lengthy criminal record: B & E, assault with a deadly weapon, aggravated assault, assault with intent to kill, possession of stolen goods, etc. "How am I supposed to pay you back?" She growled, her arm beginning to ache from the position he had it bent in. "You want money to repair the piece of shit? Fine… I'll get you money."
"No, I don't want money. I have plenty of that." David replied, using the same lethal tone of voice. "I'll let you go if you promise you won't run. Trust me, you don't want to run, it wouldn't be good for your… health, if you know what I mean." He threatened, no amusement in his tone. He wanted to kill her for screwing with his car but had a pretty good idea that she knew the streets well.
She groaned. "Man, there's whores down the street, I ain't sleeping with you!" Lamika grunted when he tightened his hold on her arm. "Fine! I won't run, just fucking lemme go already! Damn…."
"Wise choice." David growled before showing her forcefully away from him, causing her to collide with his car. "Now then, I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you were paid to do this, correct?" His raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, what bout it?" Lamika sneered up at him, glancing around uncomfortably. "Look dickweed, what the hell do you want? I could be spotted any second talking to you and that wouldn't be cool, catch my drift?" She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jeans, her right hand slipping through the hole in her pocket to reach for the gun strapped to her leg. "What do ya need? Drugs? Something your money ain't buying?"
"Hardly." He raked a hand through his hair, still holding her knife with his free one. A second later he lashed out with the blade, cutting right through her pants and the strap around her leg, his eyes not missing her slight gesture. He snorted when he heard the gun hit the pavement, her baggy pants providing more then enough room for it to drop.
"You really should keep there elsewhere, like where it wouldn't be noticed." David held the knife to her already bleeding throat again, pressing her back against the car. "You got two choices, remember? Jail or work for me. You work for me and you'll do what I say, when I say it or I'm sending your ass straight to the cops. Get me?"
Lamika's blue eyes were spitting icy flames, willing him to keel over and die. "You got it boss." She said mockingly. "What you want, when you want… got it. Now ya mind getting that fucking blade off my throat? What the hell can I do for you that you can't do yourself?"
David smiled grimly, pulling the blade away and took hold of her arm, pushing her towards the rear entrance of the hotel, the same door he'd come out of. "Walk or I'll slit you from stem to stern." He threatened, meaning every word and waved the knife at her. This bitch was going to pay for messing up his car and pulling him away from trying to solve his sister's murder.
Lamika nodded stiffly, making a threatening gesture before walking. She arched an eyebrow when he guided her to a posh hotel room, wondering why he wasn't in a psycho ward instead. "ALL RIGHT!" She bellowed when he shoved her inside. "Fucking pig!" She spat, hands on her hips, the unbuttoned red flannel she wore over a black sports bra pushed back behind her arms. "What the fuck already?"
"I'm not a cop." David grunted, slamming the door shut behind him. "Sit." He ordered, walking towards the bed, raising an eyebrow when she didn't do it. "I SAID SIT DOWN!" He roared, his voice bouncing off of the walls.
Lamika flipped him both middle fingers before dropping down into a chair, tossing one leg across the arm of it and leaning back, her other leg sprawled in front of her, looking positively defiant. She stared at him from narrowed eyes, already planning on slitting his throat the first chance she got.
"Just warning you now, bitch, you even THINK about trying anything, you won't make it out of here alive." He warned her with a sick smirk, dropping down on his bed, his eyes moving to the articles. David could feel his heart clench, immediately shaking it off and started combing them over once again. He sighed, raking a hand through his short black hair and sighed heavily. Samantha was gone and there was nothing he could do to bring her back, which made him all the more angry.
Lamika rolled her eyes, showing him he didn't scare her. True it was a façade but damn it, she wasn't no pussy from some upper class house, she was born and bred on the streets and had been in worse situations then this. She might've had to really rack her brain to think of one, but she knew there had to be something.
"You mind telling me what the hell I'm doing here?" She demanded, rolling up her shirt sleeves, folding her arms across her chest; her left arm covered in a black and gold dragon, both arms sporting scars from various fights she'd been in and won though she wasn't out to impress this moron, she was just beginning to roast her butt off in this stifling room.
"You're here to sit there and keep your mouth shut. We leave in the morning sweetheart, so you best get your rest. It's a long drive to the next city." David informed her coldly, never taking his eyes from the pictures in his hands. "Samantha." He whispered, growling from low in the back of his throat and clutched a picture to his chest, smashing it in his fist.
Her eyes widened at first then narrowed to tiny slits, wondering what the hell that was all about but then didn't give the matter anymore thought. Lamika knew this hotel rather well, she'd scouted out a few rooms here before for some jobs and knew there wasn't a balcony, just a fire escape. She didn't hesitate in bolting from the chair and tossing herself out the window, doing a tuck and roll onto the steel grate.
David shook his head with a heavy sigh and immediately headed back outside. Within moments he was waiting for her as she shimmied down the fire escape. The minute her feet touched the pavement, David spun her around and head-butted her, instantly knocking her out. Hoisting her up over his shoulder, David carried her back to his room and this time tied her to the chair, making sure every single weapon she had was out of her possession.
He poured himself a shot, staring down at the woman before him impassively. She looked like a punk. Her baggy jeans, tattoo under her navel, black bra… He peered closer, shaking his head, she even had what looked like a red dragon tattoo on the upper swell of her breast, the rest of it apparently ending underneath the bra. From what he could see of her hair, it was long and black, braided into dozens of tiny braids, pulled back into a low ponytail, her bandana partially holding it in place.
Yeah, she looked like a common street urchin. She couldn't have been no older then Samantha was, had been. Samantha…
