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5

ALEXIS

I t’s amazing what a low cut shirt and tight mini skirt can do to get the attention of two of the men that killed your fiancée, at probably the shittiest dive bar I’d ever been in.

As soon as I found out they liked to frequent this specific bar, Dave’s Bar, I did a little homework. This bar was on the corner of a street in a run-down corner of Denver; it wasn’t exactly a full concrete street, but mostly dirt road.

It was the type of area you would expect to encounter drug addicts, homeless encampments, and beat up looking prostitutes, stumbling down the street, looking for their next trick.

Turns out, a childhood friend of the Davis Brothers, Dave Messa, owns this bar. This friend of theirs was also a low life piece of shit; spending the bar’s profits on sports gambling. So, it was easy to discover his security cameras, both internal and external, were inoperative, which made my life a lot easier, since I spiked their drinks and seduced them to my SUV.

Dom was a man of very few words, but getting him to willingly climb into the trunk of the SUV, where I had laid the seats down, was a piece of cake. Aaron, on the other hand, was a talkative motherfucker, saying shit like: “You want to take this thick cock in that tight little pussy, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes. Give it to me, daddy.”

I was impressed with my restraint while I said the words, biting my lip, and twirling my hair around my finger; the urge to either vomit or laugh was almost unbearable.

The promise of a threesome in the back of the SUV was enough to get Aaron close enough to the open trunk for me to reach for a waiting syringe, and press it into his neck while I leaned my body onto his, letting him grope me and kiss up my neck.

As I administered the sedative, he gasped in surprise before falling to his ass on the edge of the opened trunk.

“Sorry, daddy, ” I mocked.

Men are useless fucking sacks of shit. I thought as I tossed Aaron’s limp legs into my SUV.

Dom was still so drugged up from his drink he sat there in a daze, staring at the ceiling of the car with glazed over eyes.

“Alright, boys, here’s the plan. We have a nice little fifteen hour drive ahead of us, so it’s time to get comfortable,” I said, handcuffing Aaron’s wrists probably too tight behind his back.

Reaching into a duffel bag of supplies I brought with me, I pulled out a length of fabric, gagging Aaron, and tying it behind his head, before wrapping duct tape around his mouth and head four times.

Sneaking a peek at Dom, I chuckled to myself as his head bobbed, fighting to stay awake.

“Don’t worry, big boy; you’re next,” I purred.

He hummed in approval, leaning his head back against the side of the SUV, closing his eyes with a dopey grin on his face.

After securing Aaron’s legs with a rope, I rolled him out of my way to crawl towards Dom.

“Are you ready for me, Dom?” I asked seductively, straddling his lap, his legs outstretched between mine.

With heavy hands, he felt up my thighs as I rocked my hips on his lap, keeping him distracted while I reached for another syringe.

With the syringe in my fist and my thumb on the plunger, I leaned in close to his ear, pressing my chest against his.

“We’re going to have so much fun…” whispered, as I swung my arm around, stabbing him in the neck, and depressing the plunger.

His body went limp, and I slid off of him, tossing his filthy hands off of me. Repeating the same process as with Aaron, I gagged him, duct taped around his mouth and head, and bound ankles.

Sliding myself out of the trunk of the SUV, I pulled Dom’s 1911 out of the back of his waistband, and unsnapped the knife holster from Aaron’s belt. Sick fucks still carried the weapons they used to kill Amara…

I held one in each hand, holding them out in front of me, glancing from one to the other. Images of Dom shooting Amara in the thigh, and Aaron stabbing her through the throat, consumed my mind. The urge to kill them right now was all-consuming, but I had to wait… I had plans for them.

Tossing the gun and knife into my duffel bag, I gripped a folded up king-size blanket I had brought, shaking it out and tossing it over them to cover them from view. The back windows of this SUV were very darkly tinted, so I wasn’t worried, but couldn’t afford to take any chances. After covering them, I picked up my duffel by the short handles, and slammed the trunk door closed. Taking a quick peek around to make sure I was still alone, I walked around to the driver’s side and closed the door behind me, tossing the bag into the passenger side seat.

“Let’s go home, boys,” I said out loud into the silence of the car, beginning our fifteen hour drive back to Los Angeles; back to Hope Center.

Fifteen and a half hours and an outfit change later, I pulled my SUV into the back emergency entrance of the now abandoned Hope Center.

Driving down the familiar street towards the building stirred up memories of Amara and me making the daily drive together. She always wanted to know how the children were doing and knew our long-term pediatric patients by name.

Glancing to the passenger seat, memories of Amara, my passenger princess, materialized before my eyes. I could see an image of her with the visor down, adding final touches to her makeup. She had her car routine, and every time she finished, she would reach over to hold my hand. As the ghost of Amara reached for my hand, her memory dissipated before my eyes.

Gripping the steering wheel again, I felt my rage and heartbreak bubbling to the surface again.

Focus, focus, focus.

Gazing out the windshield, I scanned the building, making sure my security measures were still in place. For the past two weeks, I’d been preparing the building for Dom's and Aaron’s grand arrival. I had installed motion sensitive security cameras and state-of-the-art pick-proof locks on every possible exit, including the emergency exit. They could only be unlocked via a wireless switch that I controlled on my cell phone.

The city had since boarded up the windows, and most of the ones on the first floor windows had been tagged with graffiti. Since I knew this would be an obvious choice for an escape route, I rigged up an electric current in the metal windowsills. There was no way they could break out of the three inch thick bulletproof glass.

Once they were in, the only way out would be in body bags.

I pulled my hair into a tight ponytail, forming a small bun on the back of my head near my hairline, then covered my hair with a scarf, pinning it in place. Once done, I reached into my duffel bag and put on two pairs of latex gloves. I’ve taken so many precautions to not leave a trace of evidence behind; not a fingerprint. Although, having used to work here, I doubt it would be an issue if they were found, and my fingerprints were on areas near their bodies, but I couldn’t take any chances. There were still three more of these motherfuckers to go after this, and getting caught and locked up is not an option.

Once my hair was secure, and gloves were in place, I pulled out Dom’s 1911 from my bag, sliding it into the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back. With a chuckle, I climbed out of the SUV and remotely unlocked the emergency room entrance with my phone. One by one, I wheeled out a gurney and a wheelchair I had waiting, parking them by the trunk of the SUV. With a deep breath, I shrugged my shoulders, getting my body prepared for some heavy lifting.

Tearing the blanket off of Aaron and Dom, I scoffed. Dom was stirring, slowly starting to regain consciousness; while Aaron was so still, I had to check for his pulse to make sure I didn’t accidentally kill him.

“Too bad,” I said, feeling his pulse beating slow and steady in his neck.

This actually would work in my favor with Dom starting to come to. He can help me move himself onto the gurney.

Reaching inside for the rope around Dom’s legs, I gripped the knot between his feet with both hands, pulling him towards me.

He grunted softly as I dragged him with all my strength until his legs were hanging out of the SUV from the knee down. Positioning the gurney closer, I locked the casters and reached for his chest, gripping his shirt in both hands. With another tug, I pulled him to a sitting position, then pushed him to the side so he fell onto the gurney.

He started to stir and groan as I lifted the dead weight of his legs onto the gurney. He was off center and laying too low, but I didn’t care; I just needed to wheel this piece of shit inside.

Unlocking the casters, I pushed him away just enough to have room to close the trunk. While Aaron was still unconscious, I couldn’t risk the possibility of him getting away. After locking the SUV, I pushed Dom into the emergency room entrance, laser focused on my task at hand.

Once inside, I pressed a button on my phone, turning the building’s electricity on. Humming a little tune to myself, I casually pushed Dom’s body towards the elevator, pressing the button for the basement; where we used to store the bodies of patients who died.

The elevator doors closed, and Dom started to regain consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, squinting under the bright lights on the elevator’s ceiling. Rolling my eyes, I pressed the button for the basement to begin our descent, and stood by his side.

Leaning my elbows onto the gurney’s padding, I cradled my chin, giving him the most innocent look I could muster.

“Aww, you’re awake. I was so worried!” I said with feigned empathy.

Dom grunted, trying to speak. Realizing he was gagged, he shook his head back and forth, trying to free his mouth from the duct tape.

The elevator came to a stop, and I stood tall, reaching for his 1911 in my waistband, holding the cool metal of the grip firmly in my hand.

“You have nothing to worry about, Dom; trust me, I’m a nurse,” I purred as I swung my fist around in a haymaker, pistol whipping him in the temple. His head tossed to the side as he lost consciousness again, his blood now lightly splattered against the elevator wall.

Tucking the gun back in my waistband at my back, I pushed Dom out of the elevator and hung a right after exiting the doors, towards the morgue.

Pushing the gurney through the swinging doors, I shivered slightly at the change in temperature in the room.

Hope Center had a small mortuary unit, with a wall of refrigerated shelves for our patients we lost. Keeping them in a colder environment slowed down decomposition, while the families and loved ones decided how to have their bodies prepared for their funerals.

I smiled seeing the dust-covered stainless steel doors of the rack and pushed Dom until the gurney bumped into them. Opening one of the middle ones that was the perfect height, I pulled out the tray from the shelf, pulling it out as far as it would go. Circling around to the other side of Dom on the gurney, I took a deep breath again, and used all my strength to roll this piece of shit onto the tray, transferring him from the gurney.

I didn’t want him to die here; I had other plans.

Still humming my tune, I sauntered over to one of the side tables, digging through all the old autopsy tools and supplies. Picking up an old pair of trauma shears, I returned to Dom and cut the ties from his ankles.

Tossing the shears over my shoulder, the sound of them hitting the hard tile floor echoed in the room. With a smile, I pushed the tray back inside the rack, and pulled around the door to close it most of the way; leaving room for some oxygen to get inside.

Now for the fun part.

Before leaving Denver, I prepared two handcuff keys with a length of twine tied around each one. Pulling one of the handcuff keys out of my pocket, I unraveled the twine and tied it to the latch of the door to the rack.

“Good luck, you piece of shit,” I spat, making my way back towards the elevator.

Now, it’s Aaron’s turn.