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The Harem on the Hill (Part XCIX)
🕑 Added 2024-09-24 21:24:30 +0000 UTC
“We still could be.”
Tina rolls her eyes, but at least she doesn’t pull the trigger. “Oh, come on. You never trusted me. You just like to keep your enemies closer than your friends.”
“I trusted you. Even after you escaped, I didn’t look for you. And you know how I feel about loose ends.”
“As opposed to big ones?”
You’re not in the mood for flirty banter with a woman holding a gun to your head. “Why did you come back anyway? You were scot-free. You embezzled enough money for you and your dad to be set for life.”
“I deserved severance pay.”
“I wasn’t bitching.”
Tina lowers the gun, and you suddenly feel better about your chances.
“Half of it was guilt. Dad treated me like I was a different person.” Tina strums her fingers against her belly. “I suppose I was. The problem is, he never wanted the money. He wanted his daughters back.”
You nod. “And the other half?”
“I missed you. Or at least I thought I did. But then I realized what I missed was what we did. To Tabitha. To Morgan. To Anastasia.” Tina smiles a smile that could only be categorized as sadistic. “I’ve had lots of fun with them the past few days.”
“What about Jada Jenson and Sophie Mitchell?”
“I had fun with them, too.”
“At my expense.”
“It satisfied my guilt and my urges in one fell swoop.” Tina makes a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Killed two big fat birds with one stone.”
Tina leans back in the overtaxed armchair, wedging her hips further into its confines.
“Admittedly, my methods weren’t as fancy as yours,” she continues. “Just an old-fashioned funnel, a tube, and some high-calorie weight-gain syrup I purchased on your account and had delivered. Did you find it in Jada’s garage? I was surprised that shit has such a short expiration date.” Tina smiles her sadistic smile again. “Fortunately, Jada’s was shorter.”
“And Sophie?”
“Shorter still. Of course, I worked fast with her. I was worried either you or the police would burst in at any second.” Tina shakes her head. “Had I known how clueless you both were I would’ve taken my time. Ruining that sexed-up gold-digger’s tight little body was nirvana. Still, it’s nice to know that Helen bitch got hers, too. Too bad she was still slim and open-casket sexy.”
“She took a shovel to the face. It wasn’t pretty.”
Tina closes her eyes, no doubt picturing Helen’s smashed-in face. “You always know just what to say to a girl.”
“That’s why we should be partners.”
“Two years ago, I would’ve agreed, but I don’t need you anymore. Besides, you’ve got too much heat on you now.”
“There’s heat on you, too. You’ll need my means and connections to get out of it.”
“You’re half right. I’ll need more money, but I’m better off without you and your connections. You can’t disappear. I can. As you know, my appearance can change pretty drastically.” Tina raises the gun back to your head. “And with you out of the picture, nobody’s going to care about me.”
“POLICE DEPARTMENT, SEARCH WARRANT!”
The booming megaphone voice is accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. You’re not sure why the police waited until you got home to enact their warrant—maybe they figured you were a flight risk; maybe they were worried about boobytraps; or maybe they just wanted to catch you red-handed—but regardless they’re here and they aren’t waiting for an invitation.
The second Tina glances toward the commotion, you dive from the sofa just before she buries a bullet in the drywall behind where your head had been. The murderous maiden follows you with her aim as you roll behind an end table. It isn’t great cover, but it blocks her view and forces her to stand—something that proves difficult wedged between the chair’s vicelike arms.
“Son of a…”
By the time she’s freed herself, you’ve reached the sliding glass doors leading to your back porch. Unfortunately, you’re unable to undo the lock and scurry through before she levels the gun at your head once again--
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
You fall to the floor, expecting to be mortally wounded, but you’re uninjured. Instead, it’s Tina who falls face-first into your leather chair before rolling like a boulder onto the floor. As her limp arms strike the ground, the Walther PPK flies from her hand and lands beside you just as five helmeted policemen in bulky body armor rush into your living room. You’re impressed. You didn’t think the Podunk precinct had that level of manpower or equipment.
Glancing back at the pistol, you have a final decision to make—
