He said it was easy money.
He said it would be a big move up for her.
He said it was simple - in and out - then she'd be back at the club, with him, and they would toast to a job well done.

Aiden would have his petty vengeance.
Ashley would make a name for herself. Finally.

No longer just a string of sentences, all from her own head.
But a real deal. A real threat. A real feather in the proverbial cap.

So, she did what she does best.

Always at one in the morning. Always lining every edge with high-grade gasoline, then topping it off with lighter fluid about three feet up and on the walls.
This would be easy. So easy.

After-all, empty houses might as well be popsicle sticks when it comes to flames.

And she was nervous, but not from second guessing.

She was nervous because this excited her.
Fire excited her. Aroused her. Gave her a rush like nothing else in this world.

And, after tonight, it was going to make her kind of famous.

That's what Aiden said.
And that's what she believed.

/ / / /

"Tie her up. Now."

And they do as they are told. It's what they are paid to do.
Plus, guys like this are not known for being sharp tacks - they are lucky to get jobs at all.

They are janitors. They are bookies. They are grave-diggers.
Or they are really big men who break the legs of really stupid people.

Spencer likes the fact that they are of the latter variety.

She watches Ashley take in gulps of air after Spencer releases her from that vice-like grip, the woman licking her lips and swallowing repeatedly.
Then Ashley is shoved into a chair.
And her right ankle is tied to one leg of metal, then they do the same with the other.
And arms are pulled back carelessly, causing the brunette to groan in stifled pain, but wrists are tightly secured behind the back.

"Get out."

And they do as they are told, the heavy door opening and sliding shut with a bang.

Ashley doesn't look at Spencer.
She heaves a sigh, one that still doesn't sit right in her stomach and she knows there will be a lot of bruising on her skin - if she lives, if Spencer decides to believe her.

But she can hear the click-click of Spencer's shoes on the floor, can see as Spencer moves around her bound form.
And Ashley inhales. And it hurts.
And Ashley exhales. And that hurts, too.
The blonde is lurking behind her now and Ashley is actually worried.

For the first time in a long while, Ashley wonders how the hell she got here.

"So... Ashley..." Spencer starts and her voice is close, too close now, a deceptively skilled whisper next to Ashley's ear.
And the fingers that were choking are now pushing Ashley's hair aside and are feather-light against Ashley's neck, caressing where the imprint of threat still remains.

"...I hope you don't leave anything out."

That hand cups Ashley's sore jaw, gentle as a breeze, and that mouth grazes Ashley's cheek - a kiss that isn't a kiss at all.

And it's so wrong, so fucking wrong, to feel that touch the way she does.
But desire is a funny thing.
It is a thing, after-all. This is a thing between them.

Twisted and full of thorns, this thing, but it is there.

Otherwise, Ashley wouldn't be feeling strangely eager.
Otherwise, Spencer would have already killed her.

/ / /

It was already happening, you see.

It was already lit and racing along and picking up great speed and she was stepping back, for just a second, to admire her handy work.
The way fire could change colors - the red, the orange, the yellow - but go further and you'd see a blue unlike any other.

She used to stare into that color for ages as a child.
It would mesmerize her.

But this was different and soon she'd have to go, in order to not be caught. And there would be a drink and a pay-off and an action to build a career out of waiting for her.

No time to congratulate herself on such a beautiful bonfire.

As she turned, that's when she saw it.
Or, rather, him.

Him. No face. No name. Him.
Flailing and screaming and on fire - him, a terror of sound from inside as smoke seeped past the shut windows, an arm busting through glass and probably bleeding now.
Him, the man who wasn't there. Him, the man who wasn't supposed to be there.

Aiden's petty vengeance has a body and a name and a life.

And Ashley freezes in the darkness as that man burns alive.

/ /

Spencer doesn't like this.

She doesn't like any of this. And it isn't for moral reasons. Nor for the sake of sympathy.
This is a business and there is no room for sentimentality.

But there is no room for mistakes either.

And, somewhere along the way, important information has slipped through the cracks.
And she'll make someone pay for this misstep.

Spencer will make them suffer and she'll enjoy every minute of it.

She studies Ashley's face, arms crossed and motionless as she leans onto her right foot in front of the tied-up girl. She watches the flutter of eye-lids. She takes in the hitch in the breathing. Each and every twitch and shift of Ashley's body, no matter how subtle.

Ashley lied.
But others have lied, too.
Aiden Dennison is probably lying as well.

That's the bad thing about crime, you know - you can't truly trust anyone.
Not a pretty girl or a handsome man. Not a lot of money. Not a perfect plan.
Everyone is a liar, in the end.

Spencer is liar, too.

But she walks over and reaches around Ashley's body, bringing them close together, so close that Spencer can almost hear the brunette's heart beat faster and Spencer can't seem to stop the wicked grin that grows upon her face.
She loosens the rope and allows it to fall to the ground.

And Ashley's shoulders stay stuck somewhere between wanting to relax and wanting to remain tense.
But Spencer does not move a single inch.
She stays right there, too close and too near, hovering over Ashley and blocking the light from their respective faces.

"I'm going to check all of this out, you know."

Spencer talks softly and Ashley's head turns slightly in her direction.

"Yea... I know."

And Spencer trails one fingertip across the girl's cheek, skimming over Ashley's bottom lip.
And Ashley makes this sound, an almost-whimper, and Spencer wants to growl in pleasure.

"And you won't be going home tonight. Don't want you running off or anything."
"...Okay."

There it is, this thing between them, and Spencer doesn't need to give it a name.
It doesn't really have a name, though others would more than likely call it lust.
Call it ecstasy. Call it sex. Call it give and take.

It is all of those, this thing.

And, still, it is something else.
Spencer doesn't need to name it in order to revel in it, though.

And if this is all a lie, then she can destroy Ashley Davies in the morning.

/

No longer tied up, no longer restrained by anything tangible, but Ashley isn't moving those arms and that's by choice.
And everything aches now, but it is built of conflicting sensations.
The jaw that needs aspirin. The gut that needs to be stretched out.
The panting that hurts her lungs. The agonizing urge between her hips.

Ashley is a mess.
And she likes it all too well.

Maybe it's not just fire that gets her going. Maybe it is not just arson that makes her a bad girl.

Her ankles are still lashed to the chair.
When she strains, if only for a moment, she can feel the ropes cut past her jeans and rub against her skin - it hurts, it feels good, it is too much and Ashley moans uncontrollably when Spencer's tongue plunders her mouth.
Ashley shakes with all the touching she is denying herself - as Spencer's bites viciously along her neck and as Spencer's fingernails go past the shirt and the bra and drag along Ashley's breasts.

Ashley begs with her body. Like she has no pride.
And she doesn't, not right now.

And Ashley wonders if she'll ever need pride at all, especially if Spencer Carlin is around?

Spencer is grinding against her, legs on either side and straddling, and a chuckle leaves the blonde's lips because Ashley has forgotten herself in a wave of want - her hips are rocking in response even as her hands stay fisted by her side, asking with each frustrated lift what she cannot fully voice.

"How badly do you want it, Ashley?"

But Ashley cannot speak. She cannot think. She can only feel and move and groan.
She is reduced to the animal within.
She is merely bones and blood, with a longing ages old inside of her.

Spencer laughs out loud this time, getting up and smirking at Ashley's wide-eye stare and panic-filled face.

"You know, I almost hope you are telling me the truth... Because it would be a shame to not finish this."

Ashley is dumbfounded and painfully aroused and her head is starting to pound.

"You're going to leave me here like this?" She croaks out weakly.

And Spencer's voice is an echo in the distance.

"Yep."

TBC