Vicious Punks by Madeline Fay

Franco

“Helen,” I whisper with longing, her touch warm underneath my hand as it strokes down her spine and back up to slide through her long, silky brown hair.

“No, Franco. It’s me, D-” She trails off with a long, drawn out moan.

Her voice is different, not so soft and quiet. I stroke deep inside of her, making love to my beautiful wife. Her hair is shorter, just below her shoulders… Helen always wore her curls long and wavy because she knew how much I loved to slide my fingers through it. Her beauty knows no bounds, her smooth Italian skin that makes her light brown eyes shine and show every vulnerable emotion that crosses her face. The sun to calm my storm, my everything.

Something isn’t right. This is wrong. Her smiling face blurs around the edges when she turns her head to the side. Flashing blue and red lights reflect off her skin as her dull eyes stare off into the distance, not blinking. Gone. My heart speeds up and sweat drips down my naked back as my pace slows until I’m barely moving and having to shake my head to clear the image.

“Franco, what’s wrong?” Diana asks breathlessly, getting to her knees, trying to look over her shoulder at me.

Pain slithers into my heart every day. It hurts so much that I feel colder and colder inside, until I’m numb and lost. My memories of the past blend together with the present. Never being able to get the last image of her out of my head.

“Did I say you can move? Get back down on all fours.” My voice comes out harsh and drained of emotions.

I watch her swallow hard, a drip of sweat rolling down her temple from her fake blonde hair, her dark brown eyes wide as she slowly lowers back down onto her hands with her back arched.

The tattoo at the base of her spine holds my attention, the design of a joker surrounded by thorned roses. It reminds me of the day I had to watch my wife die - what felt like a thousand times - through a surveillance video. The symbol of the tattoo visible on her murderer's forearm, a gang stamp on his skin. That day, my hope died, my future turning in a different direction when the Chief pulled me into his office to stop me from looking into something that would get the rest of my family killed. I was pulled off the case and watched it get put into the evidence room, where it would just collect dust. I knew becoming a cop would be a dangerous job, but going undercover as a rookie came with a price I never saw coming. I knew who her murderer was, but could do nothing about it. It all came back to the cartel gang on the east side and I was ready to go in guns blazing, to take down their leader for putting a hit on my wife. I was willing to die to be with my Helen again, but I never made it that far.

I drive aimlessly around for an hour, feeling the pressure of the semi-automatic gun on my passenger seat. Logan is in the back in his carseat, sleeping peacefully with a bag of goldfish clenched in his tiny fist. I pull the car over, place my head against the steering wheel, and feel my world fall apart around me. My own son doesn’t fully understand what’s happened to his mom, but he knows she won’t be coming back.

What kind of father am I to just let his mother’s killer keep walking around freely? Not when he could be taken down, so he can’t harm anyone ever again. For once the law isn’t on my side, so I have to take it into my own hands. But what if I don’t make it out of this alive? What will happen to my boy? Will I become a monster just like them?

My choice stared right in front of me, the drug house I was watching for six months straight, where Alejandro has his cocaine made down in the basement. I was about to take him down, and had most of the evidence that we needed, but that was before he sent one of his men after me. He destroyed me without causing any physical harm to my body, and I am about to return the favor. Making my decision, I glance at my boy one more time in the rearview mirror and then open the door while grabbing my revolver from the passenger seat.

It is raining, and within seconds I’m soaked to the bone, but I couldn’t care less. Revenge is fueling me, making it easier, step by step, as I walk across the wet grass that silenced my black boots when I got closer to the house. I’m a man on a mission, to carry it through no matter the outcome, but I don't make it that far. Just before I make it to his front steps, a hand comes over my mouth and I am being dragged to the side of the house. Shoved up against the peeling paint, I blink rapidly against the rain, making it difficult to see. Fighting instincts come over me, but as I try to swing my fist at his face, he blocks me and holds his forearm over my windpipe to restrict my breathing. With his face so close, I take in his pale skin, tall form, and almond shaped brown eyes that are laughing at me.

“Franco Russo, Los Angeles cop, a father, and now a widower… Do you think this is a good idea storming into the lion's den? Don’t you seek full vengeance, and climbing to the top without dying?” he asks me, releasing the pressure on my throat and stepping back.

He looks like the devil dressed in a business suit, just waiting for me to sign a contract that will forever leave me soulless.

“Who are you?” I croak out.

“My name is Jin and I’m going to make sure you have your revenge, Franco. You and I are going to help each other.”

Years later and I think Jin is still the devil in disguise, but he kept his word as he watched me cut off Alejandro's head, my dead wife’s killer's blood staining my fingers. It was only the beginning. I left his boy alone, Dom, who now runs the cartel, but I don’t give a shit as long as he stays on his side of town.

“Franco, please. Deeper,” Diana groans out loudly from under me, panting like a bitch in heat.

I thought marrying a woman who was completely the opposite of my Helen would make her disappear from my memories. So that she doesn’t haunt my every waking moment, but she’s still here. She’s everywhere. I feel myself starting to go soft, the thought of my dead wife always does that. Movement by the door catches my attention and my hips jerk deep into Diana at the sight that greets me. Dark brown hair, expressive big eyes and it’s almost like Helen is standing right there in the doorway. Blinking rapidly, the vision of her is gone and replaced with Diana’s daughter, Tillie. She looks frozen in the doorway, not knowing what to do with herself, but she hasn’t glanced away.

There’s something about her, a lost hope, no way out but a warmth you can’t help be drawn to. Without breaking eye contact, I pound into Diana harder, rattling the bedframe and wishing she wasn’t the one under me. To feel that smooth, warm caramel skin under my fingertips, her big perky breasts bouncing at every thrust of my cock into her tight cunt. My breathing picks up, feeling myself coming closer to the edge and seconds away from coating her mother’s cunt with ropes of cum. I notice movement over Tillie’s shoulder and see the burning hatred of icy blue eyes staring back at me just before the door suddenly jerks closed with a slam. Diana doesn’t even notice as she screams out in pleasure, but the image of Tillie’s big brown eyes staring at me helps send me over the edge.

Breathing heavily and collapsing onto my side, I lay there staring up at the ceiling as Diana cuddles into me. What kind of man am I? Suddenly craving a woman who reminds me of my dead wife because she radiates a warmth that a moth seeks. I’m that moth. I can fix her, that damaged piece which no doubt comes from spending time with the Demon Jokers. I was looking for a replacement who was the exact opposite of my late wife, but I’m starting to wonder if I chose wrong.

“Let me up. I have to get ready for work.” I’m already pushing Diana away from me as I get out of bed with a quiet groan.

I’m beginning to wonder just how far a man like myself will go before enough is too much.

What more could I break that isn’t already broken. You can’t put back together a shattered man, unless he’s willing to help pick up the pieces. There isn’t hope for me, I’m already a lost cause.