>001<

The parked limousine stood at the center of the desolate car park, its sleek exterior mirrored by the rain-soaked ground. Nearby, the crumbling remains of an ice-skating rink loomed, an abandoned relic ready for demolition. The once vibrant parking lot lights flickered overhead, casting a lifeless glow.

Inside the limousine, the man turned the onyx ring on his finger, his thumb tracing the diamond-studded initials: TD. Outside, rain beaded on the tinted glass like cold sweat. He stared through it, past the droplets and city reflections, waiting.

The anticipation wasn’t just palpable. He breathed in the intoxicating nature. This was the calm before the storm, the breath before the plunge, pleasure before pleasure truly began.

Beyond the glass, his private security stood watch. A few lit cigarettes flared like dying stars as they exchanged meaningless chatter, the kind that filled space while time ticked louder in the background. Soon, this small team would no longer be enough. Too many ears meant too many risks. The days of intimacy were numbered.

Then it appeared.

Twin orbs blinked around the corner, headlights cutting through the drizzle like scalpels. The black sedan surged forward, slicing puddles, jolting over a pothole. It stopped sharply, tires whispering against wet asphalt, headlights dying in an instant.

Security closed in, swift and silent, like a tide trained to protect. The driver’s door slammed open. Out came Rich, a habitual nuisance but always dependable. He rounded the hood, gave a familiar nod to one of the guards, and paused at the passenger side.

Brushing drizzle from his jacket, he opened the door. She stepped out with the grace of a predator in silk. He watched from inside, breath hitching as it always did.

A black dress, form-fitting and unforgiving, hugged her figure. Black stockings traced long legs that ended in stilettos, and a faux fur stole slid over her shoulders like a whisper. She looked like something between a classic film star and a very expensive secret. Candy.

His mind flicked, for no reason at all, to the ranch back home, to the two-thousand-pound longhorn bull that stood six feet tall and bore a bloodline older than some nations. That beast was his pride. But this? This woman? She was his obsession.

Outside, she and Rich exchanged quiet words, their proximity hinting at tension. The conversation was inaudible, but something in their body language suggested a disagreement, something unsaid that hovered between them like static.

Before the moment could shift, Rich placed a hand on her arm and urged her forward. His demeanor was akin to that of a police officer leading a suspect to an interrogation room.

She walked quickly to keep up, her heels tapping the pavement with intent. That smile of hers, so poised and impenetrable, revealed nothing. It only hinted at what she wasn’t saying.

The security team moved with quiet precision, hands sweeping over the visitors like seasoned customs officers. Every gesture was rehearsed, every touch clinical. One guard opened the lady’s clutch, sifting through its contents with gloved fingers, his expression unreadable.

Once satisfied, they stepped aside.

Rich moved next, smooth and unhurried. He reached into his coat, pulled out a small tin, and tapped a cigarette into his palm. It met his lips. Out of his pocket came a gold lighter, polished and weighty. He pressed the button. A blue flame flickered to life, momentarily illuminating the lines etched into his face. He inhaled deeply, the tip of the cigarette glowing, then exhaled a slow plume of smoke that curled like ribbon in the rain-heavy air.

Behind him, one of the guards opened the limousine door.

Light spilled out, warm and sharp, cutting across the wet pavement like a golden invitation. Inside, cocooned in the opulent dark, Senator Teddy DeWalt sat motionless. His thumb brushed across the surface of his onyx ring, a lingering ritual, before he leaned forward.

A hand emerged from the shadows, broad and rough, the hand of a man who once worked the land but now moved in far more dangerous fields.

With grace and poise, Candy stepped forward, delicately placing her hand in his.

“My, my, Candy,” he said, his voice deep, a drawl in his tone. “You grow more irresistible every time we meet.”

Candy’s laughter danced through the air. Her eyes sparkled with wicked delight as she dipped into a curtsy, graceful and demure all at once.

“Oh, Mr. DeWalt,” she cooed, each syllable a brushstroke of charm.

“How many times have I got to tell you to call me Teddy?” he responded.

Amidst another enchanting giggle, he gallantly guided her into the opulent sanctuary of the limousine’s interior. As she descended gracefully, the soft glow of the ambient lighting caressed her form. With a satisfying click, the door sealed shut, enveloping them in an intimate world of their own.

Within the cozy cabin, bathed in the inviting glow of the interior lights, Teddy guided Candy to a seat opposite. He extended a hand towards Candy’s delicate features. With tenderness, he traced the back of his hand against her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin. As his hand traveled further, it came to rest upon the plush fur draping around her shoulders.

He tugged at it, pulling it free, before dropping a hand to her knee.

“Teddy,” she crooned. “Are you happy with the services that I provide?”

“Of course, baby,” he sang back, eagerly parting her legs with thick fingers.

“It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

“Some other girls I know get a lot more for doing a lot less,” she said.

“Let’s talk afterwards,” he said, working his hands higher.

She placed a hand on his. “Or we could get business out of the way first, to make the pleasure even more pleasurable.”

He froze, exhaled hard, then pulled back into himself. Fingers tugged at his tie, straightening the knot with restless precision. Leaning forward, he perched on the edge of the seat, his voice low and frayed at the edges.

“Jesus Christ, Candy. You want to do this now?”

“It’s just that—”

“This talk of business is really killing my libido.”

She reached for him, running a hand under his lapels. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “We can make business talk sexy.”

“We have an agreement,” he said, pulling his cuffs down from his jacket sleeve. “An understanding.”

“Oh, Teddy,” she said. “I love what we’ve got. I just think sometimes agreements can be renegotiated.”

He smiled, running his tongue along the inside of his mouth, then leaned back and crossed his legs. “Get out,” he said evenly.

Her eyes widened, jaw dropping in disbelief. “What? What do you mean?”

Chuckling to himself, he surveyed the interior before fixing his gaze on Candy, his arms folded. “You think you’re the only girl I’ve got on my payroll? The only one who can do what you do.”

“Teddy, it’s not like that.”

“How’d you mean it? Huh?”

“Rich made me!”

“You’re a dime a dozen, Candy. And you aren’t the only one. Rich can find me someone else, someone who indulges in a little less conversation and a little more action.”

She fell to her knees, hands on his. “Baby, please. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just—”

“Go!” he roared, pushing her away.

“But I need this,” Candy pleaded.

“I didn’t get to where I am… where I’m going… to be hustled by anyone.” He ran a gaze over her. “And certainly not someone like you, some two-bit whore.”

Lying on the floor, she turned her head and spoke over her shoulders, her expression transforming from concern to defiance.

“If my sister was here…”

“What?” Teddy roared. “What would you do? You’re nothing.”

“I know things,” she breathed.

He snapped his head towards her, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

Now on her knees, she looked up at him. “I said I know your dirty little secrets.”

He shot her a piercing stare.

“What? Do you think I cover my ears when you wanna talk when we’re fucking?”

“So what?” he sneered. “Do you think anyone would believe you? Some piece of trash over someone like me?”

“I know the horrible things you’ve done, the terrible things you’re planning to do.”

“You bitch!”

He let his hand fly, striking the side of her face with the back of his hand, like throwing a heavy rock into a calm pond, and she fell to the bench seat. She scrambled and reached for her clutch purse, but he jumped on her, his weight easily pinning her down.

DeWalt flipped her around. “You’re not going to say anything to anyone, you understand me?” he ordered.

She swung the clutch around, the force of impact meeting his face with a resounding thud. He recoiled sharply, feeling the sharp edge tear through the tender skin beneath his eye, crimson blood staining the air with an undeniable sense of consequence.

“You fucking bitch!” he roared and clamped his hands around her neck.

“Rich…” she gasped, her hands flailing helplessly, their feeble strikes making no dent on his solid forearms.

His jaw locked, teeth bared in a grimace as his fingers tightened. She had driven him past reason, pressed him against the wall of his own restraint, and now there was no retreat.

Her resistance drained away. Arms sagged, lips parted, and her gaze fixed on the ceiling with a hollow vacancy, as though her spirit had already stepped outside the room. Still he held on, the pressure climbing, his hands trembling with the force, the fragile column of her throat threatening to give way beneath him.

Footsteps closed in from outside, steady and unrelenting, but they could not pierce the murderous fog that gripped him.

The door flew open. A gust of cold air surged through the cabin as the overhead lights brightened, spilling a harsh, theatrical glow across the struggle.

DeWalt jolted back into himself. His head snapped toward Candy, his stare crashing into her vacant eyes with feral intensity.

Rain hammered against the windows. Rich froze in the doorway, his glance flicking from Candy’s lifeless expression to DeWalt’s glacial glare. Then, with a sudden twist of instinct, he spun and bolted toward his car.

“Get him!” DeWalt boomed. “Don’t let him get away!”

Stepping through the relentless rain, the guards opened fire. Bullets hammered against the car’s bodywork as Rich flung open the door, but two found their mark, and he crumpled into the car. Igniting the engine, he jammed the gear into drive and slammed his foot down on the accelerator pedal just as another bullet found its deadly mark.

The vehicle surged forward, leaving a trail of shattered glass and twisted metal in its wake as it hurtled into the night. Yet, just as it had surged forward, the acceleration died, and the vehicle limped toward its unintended destination: a looming brick wall, where it came to a gentle nudge.

Content with the outcome, DeWalt eased the limousine door shut, the muted click swallowed by the rain outside. He sank back into the leather seat, its comfort wrapping around him as if nothing had changed.

From his pocket he drew his phone, thumb sliding across the screen to a saved number. His eyes lingered on Candy’s vacant stare, her lifeless pupils reflecting the dim cabin light, while the line rang in his ear.

The call connected. DeWalt spoke first, his voice steady, stripped of hesitation.

“I have a situation,” he drawled, inspecting the knuckles on his hand.

A woman’s voice came on the line. “Another one?”

A moment of silence, then, “Yes.”

“How bad is it?”

“How bad does it need to be?”

A suppressed sigh. “I’ll make arrangements.”