Thread: [â] eyes as candles - {dream+nymph}

As Gerrit was not the true brains of this operation, he was not surprised. Nor, did as they all assumed by his attitude, was he dumb. See boys. Like it or not, I'm just following orders. As much as her brother hated his life from what it did to him, it also created them. She's got a shit ton of money waiting for her. But the catch is... she has to 'inherit' his job. And 'cause I was the second man as it was, I have to keep her in line until it gets up again. Gerrit fixed the mirror to look over to the three men in the back, Don't fucking talk to me that way, swine. He spat, looking at them. Gill never understood Gerrit, in fact, Gerrit's fast talking, smooth lips never really caught on with him. So they just avoided each other. Richard and Gerrit though.. they were close, when not in the 'boss and employee' mode. They both had the same type of humor, way of talking.. the works! Though Gerrit didn't like the youngest, the vile tongued one, he was rude, and didn't know his place in the world, or even in this gang. This gang employed the meanest, most vile, best gun slingers, and more cruel ... anything. They weren't too picky, they'd find you a spot somewhere. But their goal was not drugs like most would assume, not sex or prostitution as the other populace assumed.. but the reselling and distributing of fire arms. They sold their guns and ammunition to the Taliban and other such organizations. No, they were not warmongers, but in the words that Gerrit and the late founder agreed on All must be fair, in love and war. And without them.. there would be no fairness. Men working for the U.S. government were also working for them, posing as business men with wives and children, which they did. But these wives worked for them too, all willingly. No one came without the want to, until now. They needed her. She was the key. She was what he had told them to replace him with on his death bed. Gerrit needed Johnta. And he would have her. ---------------------------- The father of the young woman on the bed was very powerful. His father's father's father had been the founder of a company. A very wealthy and powerful company, one that made lots of problems for gangs like Dante's. They were detectives. Ones who were trained rigorously along side the elite police. Ones who were usually... very intelligent. Though Emily never had anything to do with it, she was the only child of this man, though he'd only ever wanted a son. His wife died while Emily was being born, and had yet to find another woman to take his side and conceive him a son. Nor would he let his daughter, his baby, his angel ever take on this line of work. Her future had already been secured as an animator. And she wanted nothing less. Even though she was spoiled, Emily did her best to fit in, she went to public schools, she got her own job, she tried to convince her father to stop giving her money.. she only ever wanted to be normal. Then her father busted the largest drug scandal of the century. Dante's. Now his baby was locked in this wreck. A groan left her soft but dry lips, her tongue rolled over them to moisten them back up. A hand rose to her forehead, brushing back her bangs. Where... am I? She asked aloud, blinking open her pretty blue eyes. That wasn't her ceiling. She tilted her head. That wasn't her bedding either. Emily sat up, looking down her body. Her dress was torn and dirty, her ankle wrapped precariously, though she could see the ooze from her wound. She winced as the pain from shifting it ran up her leg. A loud gasp left her, her fingers grasping the white supposedly romantic looking comforter. Now she was terrified. Emily began to hyperventilate. Her long hair was falling loose of it's pins to her head, strands falling onto the bed, over her face and onto her breasts. Clenching her teeth to ignore the pain, she sat up further in the bed, her back against the pillows. She brought her good leg up to her chest, and clutched at herself. Tears began to well up her her eyes, threatening to spill over. She was confused, this was not her home, this was not her bed, this wasn't even on her part of the city by the looks out the window. listulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistu