"Yes, but that's it, just
She hugged him again as
she said, "I don't understand. I really thought that this was a way for us to bond."
Noah felt really hot inside.
He hadn't had sex in six months and this woman was really tempting him, unknowingly. Even so, he would try to keep her from giving in, but he felt a really big bulge in his veins. He was about to explode. Suddenly, his knees got weaker as he kissed her. He stopped all of a sudden and said, "Jessica, you don't know what we're doing," and walked out of the bathtub. "We're total strangers and I'd be taking advantage of you if I did this."
"If you did what?" she said, innocently.
"You mean you don't know anything about sex?" he said, astonished and looking at her with bulging eyes.
"Sex?" she said as she came out of the bathtub. "Yes, I know about sex. I know about sex and reproduction. That's how I was born."
He looked in the mirror as he held on to the bathroom sink with both hands and said, "Yes, well, what we were doing; we were initiating a sexual encounter."
"I didn't know that," she said, standing right beside him. "We weren't touching or having oral sex or anything." Noah had felt fire in his veins, but he hadn't gotten an erection. It was as if she had never come into the bathroom and gone into the bathtub with him. He wanted to have sex, but not with her. He firmly believed that Jessica deserved someone better; someone that would love her for who she was, and who wouldn't have protected sex with her for fear of getting her pregnant and having a mentally challenged baby. He wasn't afraid to have a baby with her, on the contrary, if her baby inherited her condition, he'd learn so much from him or her. It would be a new journey for him. He would've loved to have a mentally- impaired child, but he wouldn't use a mentally-impaired woman to conceive him. If he had him, it was because the child was born that way for unknown reasons, and because fate gave him no other choice. What he didn't want was to take Jessica knowing that he'd never love her the way that she deserved. He knew that Jessica wasn't completely alone during her endless adventures in the wild.
Someone was watching her and that someone wanted her for himself. That someone didn't care if she was mentally-impaired. He knew it very well, and he didn't give a care. He knew her very well. He'd been watching her from his window of the second story of his two-story house for all of these years, since she first went there when she was two. This girl was not for him, as Noah realized. He didn't know if Jessica would eventually fall for him and have sex with him, but he didn't want to force her to do it; to fall in love. Right now, she didn't know what she was doing! It felt horrible to take advantage of her. Besides, he didn't get excited with any woman. He knew whether he wanted to have sex or not because his best friend told him so. If there was no excitement, it was because he didn't want to and if a woman had sex with him anyway and forced an erection on him that would surely be rape. Every woman that had seen Noah in person and knew who he was, she fell in love with him somehow, even though most of the time it was just admiration. There was one problem, however, and that problem was his very powerful and preeminent family. All of the women that were infatuated with him; they knew that the moment that they raped him, they'd either put themselves behind bars or signed a death sentence. Scott had a hit man that would kill whoever messed with a member of his family, just with one phone call.
That hit man was none other than Didier Guerrero, Dr. Rodrigo Guerrero's younger brother. Dr. Guerrero was the most solicited plastic surgeon in all of Florida, and one of the five best in the entire nation. Didier had killed five people for Scott. He didn't do it for the money; he did it for the pleasure; because it felt good. After all, the first woman that Scott had him kill, an attorney that had gotten bribed into betraying him, she wasn't the first woman that Didier had ever killed. Didier started killing when he was five. He was born to kill. Killing, to him, was like drinking a glass of water. He only did it when Scott ordered him to, but he felt nothing when he did it; it was like he had no heart.
Becoming a hit man was the best way to quench his thirst for human blood. However, Didier wouldn't kill because he was evil; he would kill because since he was born, there was something seriously wrong with his brain.
Numerous MRI's showed throughout the years that Didier's brain was not normal, and his family knew it. However, they never even imagined that this abnormality caused him to kill. Every six months, his neurologist would perform an MRI and an EEI on him to see how his brain was evolving. Every six months the tests showed that the brain had more and more holes. Doctors didn't understand what was happening. He showed no physical or mental deterioration. They'd also do those tests to see if a mental illness was developing. It showed nothing; no signs of a mental illness whatsoever. His body was the same also; every time. The more they saw the test results the less that they understood. He was the real Jason Voorhees of Friday the 13th, except instead of killing hundreds of people day by day, he would kill every three years or so. Unfortunately, now it was time to kill someone knew; Hayley's sister, Gwen. Gwen was the publicist that had betrayed the Spears family and the other stockholders by stealing over three-million dollars and taking off to Spain. After three months, thinking that she was safe, Gwen returned. Scott trusted her, thinking that not all of the family members of a hateful person had to pay for what that person did.
However, Gwen and Hayley had machinated an evil plan, and Gwen never imagined that by executing it, she'd signed her death sentence. It was three hours since she arrived home from the airport. It was twenty after eleven in the morning. Since he would go to sleep at three o'clock in the morning, and get up at eleven, he was preparing his brunch; a deluxe chicken salad that he had made with his own hands.
After chopping an entire small green lettuce, a whole cubed fried chicken, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and one pound of the best shredded cheese, Didier was pouring his one of a kind ranch dressing, a ranch dressing he made also, and a ranch dressing that he would make millions out of if he named and patented. Just when he was almost done pouring the dressing, the phone rang. He turned his face, looked at it, and walked to it. It was on the kitchen cabinet, right by the side-by-side, black refrigerator. He saw Scott's mobile number on his caller ID and picked up the phone. "Yes, Mr. Spears."
"I called you to make you two extremely important announcements. The first one is that you're getting 'hooked up' with new doctors; new neurologists and neurosurgeons. We have to come up with a way to keep your brain from continuing to deteriorate because if it does, you'll no longer be able to work for me."
Didier turned serious and said, "That's right. Besides, you will not have to perform that many tests because I am starting to manifest symptoms of a neurological disorder."
Worried, Scott asked, "Is it mental or physical?"
"It's physical."
"I'm starting to notice it in the way you talk. That's a great sign, well; it's great because the disorder is starting to show. Well, now we're going for the second important announcement." Rubbing his hands together, and holding on to the phone with his shoulder, Didier said, "Who do you want me to kill now?"
"Gwen Johnson..." Didier smiled and said,
"Did you finally find her? Where is she?"
"My private investigator just informed me that she just got home from the airport, and since there's no way to prove her fraud..." said Scott and smiled.
Smiling, Didier said, "She has to go."
Smiling, Scott said, "That's right. I want her wiped out of the face of the earth right now."
"I'll get right on it," said Didier. "Thanks, Mr. Spears, for giving me a new chance to have real fun," and hung up. Chapter 16
Didier took a quick shower and went into his room. He accommodated the clothes that he was going to wear on the bed. His across the street neighbor was watching him from her bedroom window. She'd been in love with him since he moved to that house that Rodrigo bought for him back in 1990. The house was fully paid for. While Didier put on his boxers and his long pants, she kept watching him. Although she was looking at him from a distance and in a secluded place, he noticed that someone was looking at him. He went to the window, shirtless, and looked out, exposing half of his sculptural and voluminous body. He looked at the neighbor for a few minutes as the neighbor smiled at him sweetly. "After twenty years, I'd finally give you some of what you want, my attention, but I've got work to do," he said and closed the curtain. Finally, he went back to the closet, got a blue t-shirt, and his leather jacket, and put them on very weekly. Finally, he took off his necklace so that his next victim wouldn't have anything to identify him by. He grabbed his leather mask that had a whole in each eye, a little hole on the area of the nose for him to breathe, and no hole in the area of the mouth. He could breathe on his nose very easily, so he didn't need to set his mouth free. He grabbed his black leather gloves, got an unregistered gun out of one of the boxes of his nightstand and headed out. He opened the door, walked out of the room, closed the door behind him, walked the hallway to the living room, walked to the front door, opened it, walked out, and closed it. Then, he ran out to his car, unlocked the door with his keyless device, opened the driver's door, got in, closed the door, buckled his seatbelt, started the car, and slowly pulled out of the driveway. Finally, he turned to his right, took the road, and sped away. Didier would have
no problem finding Gwen. He'd had her home address since the moment that she left town. He needed no directions to get there. He knew exactly where to go and how to get there. Forty-five minutes later, at broad daylight, Didier pulled into Gwen's driveway. The license plate was covered with a black mesh that no one could see through. None of Gwen's neighbors would recognize the car. He painted it a totally different color than it really was with spray paint, which would be easily scraped off with a tool that wouldn't damage the car's paint.
The brand of the car and the model number were also concealed.
Didier had a registration in the car at that moment that was under the name of a man that was out of town. However, this man wouldn't have to worry about being incriminated because it was as if the car had never existed---at least that car that Didier was showing to Gwen's neighbors and passersby. After making sure that no one was passing by at the moment and that none of Gwen's neighbors were looking out the window, Didier unfastened his seatbelt, opened the door, got out of the car, closed the door, and ran to the front door of the house. He was masked, so Gwen would know that Scott had sent him, and she wouldn't let him in, at least willingly. Therefore, he repeatedly smashed the door with his whole body until the doorknobs broke, and broke in. Gwen was in the kitchen. She was drinking a cup of coffee to go to a new job, a job that she'd taken under Jessica's name, knowing that Jessica existed. She was using Jessica's identity everywhere that she went, but she wouldn't use it for long. Didier pointed his Uzi five-millimeter at her, and before she even turned around, shot her on the back twenty times at close range. It was a silent gun, so no one heard the gunshots. Finally, Didier ran out of the house, closed the door behind him, ran to his car, opened the door, got in, closed the door, fastened his seatbelt, and pulled out of the driveway. The motor was still running so he didn't have to start the car. Just when Gwen's sixty- one-year-old across the street neighbor started looking at passersby out the window, Didier was long gone, so she didn't see anyone at Gwen's house. When Didier was thirty miles away from Gwen's house and eighty miles away from his own house, at a solitary rural place that was completely apart from civilization, pulled his mobile phone out of the pocket of his jacket, right above the side of his pants, dialed Scott's mobile number, and pressed "send" to start the call. Scott answered the phone before it finished ringing for the first time. "Didier," he said, anxiously, "did you do it? Tell me that everything turned out as usual, please."
did."