Catherine looked angry, sitting with a book in a dark brown leather chair. Her crossed right leg swinging as she stared with a cold disappointment.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she asked the brunette, slowly sipping a drink at her personal bar. “You gave a cop, my card.”

“I’m trying to get Damien killed, actually.” Gina said, sighing. “He’s stubborn and persistent. He’s starting to make connections and I’ve tried everything. He won’t listen to me, his wife left him, he’s assaulting people for confessions.”

“Then kill him. Don’t bring him into MY group.” She scolded.

“I’m a detective, not a killer. I can’t kill another cop.” Gina sighed.

“You mean you can’t kill another cop you’ve been fucking for a year. Why didn’t you just ask me nicely for a hit? I have people in the group just itching for a kill, and some of them would take out a cop for the fun of it.” Catherine growled.

“Because if you said no, then I would have to. I can’t kill him myself. I don’t have it in me. I’m already regretting all of this, I hate what I’ve become, I refuse to kill another officer, especially a man I’ve gotten to know. I can’t pull the trigger, I can't make it look like an accident.”

“So you have a problem, and you decided to make it MY problem so you don’t have to risk any skin in this? How thoughtful. He’s dead either way. You just didn’t wanna get your hands dirty, and you think I like this? I do occasionally, on MY terms. Not yours. I paid good money for a detective, so act like one. I didn't pay you to risk my group to clean your messes. I could just kill you both, you know.”

“You’d lose your inside man.” Gina smirked. “Well, inside woman. I’m more valuable alive, he’s more valuable dead, if I make a mess trying to cut my teeth murdering a man I’ve fucked for a year, botching the evidence, then you could end up in hot water, if anything tied back to you. This way you can’t deny the problem, and it gets taken care of without argument. Tampering with evidence is one thing, killing another officer is above my level of expertise. You think I know what I’m doing? I’ve killed 2 people in 10 years, both junkies firing at me on duty, and it was self-defense like I trained for. I can’t cover a crime scene. If they suspect me, we all go down. Damien’s been investigating serial killers, one of them taking him out only makes sense. Hell, send the Lakeshot guy, he’s been hammering that case with obsession. Nobody will blink if he surfaces to silence him.”

“Lakeshot isn’t one of my guys, Gina. He's freelance. I’ll take care of your problem for you, but you can’t just act like you owe me and get away with it. You’re gonna have to understand your place.”

“I’ll make up for it.” Gina said, strutting to Catherine and slowly dropping the straps of her dress as Catherine stood up and approached her nose to nose.

“This isn’t something you can fix with that kind of favor. You broke my trust, you’re out.” Catherine coldly turned.

“What do you mean I’m out?” she asked, looking worried.

“I mean, you’re lucky I don’t shoot you for that, and you’ve done good work up until now on both of those kinds of favors, but this is about trust and knowing your boundaries. You’re no longer part of this organization. If you talk, you disappear. If you leave town, you disappear. I’m not kicking you out because I’m angry, I’m letting you leave because you provided me some amount of usefulness. Consider us even, and walk away while you can. The offer won’t get better if you stay and try to negotiate. So leave.” Catherine said, sitting back down and opening her book. “The door is that way.”

“Are you gonna kill me?” asked Gina.

“No…I should, but I promise I won’t if you walk away now and never show your face near my group, my job, or my home again. No calls, no emails, you never even knew my name, understood?” Catherine asked.

“I guess so.” Said a very hurt looking Gina, taking her purse and leaving. She froze mid-step in the doorway, the color in her skin going grey as she grew smaller in the distance, ending up on a laptop screen with the pause bars over her face.

“Holy shit.” Tanner gasped as Mike smoked his cigarette.

“Yea. Our friend mister Baker is about to get cooked, and his partner next.”

“Where did you get this?” tanner asked.

“I bugged her house.” Mike yawned. “One-night stand, one planted bug. God told me she was a problem, Now we understand what that means. Every time I got close to the Mayor, I always got side-tracked. I suspected she was working for him. I’m actually glad you went to the group without me and didn’t make it to the meeting. I may need you to go back.”

“What if Baker is there, and he spots me?” Tanner asked.

“He won’t be back. They’ll be on him pretty fast. If I know Catherine, lover or not, Detective Gina Garrett won't live much longer than him. I’m just not sure who she will send. She won’t do it herself. She’s retired. She’ll send one of the group members. The problem is that I don’t know who’s left. This is a group of killers, but not all of them professional. They tend to have a high turnover. New members, old ones disappear or get arrested. God told me to take down Catherine.”

“And you want me to be your inside man.” Tanner asked.

“Just once. One meeting. If you were in the parking lot, she probably knows it, it would look more suspicious if you never came in. So you’ll go back, nervously let me know who’s there, see if you can make a friend or two, and then decide the group isn’t for you. You’ll get the speech, just act like you’re not sure about it. You fly solo. You don’t need any help. See if you can get the attention of some of the new members, we can flip. Just one time. After that, it becomes too dangerous.”

“It’s not dangerous enough already?” she asked.

“I thought you liked danger?" Mike asked. “Just kidding. I’ll have eyes on the building and ears in your purse. If anything goes wrong, I’ll make sure you’re the only one who walks out.

“You’d do that for me?” she asked, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.

“Tanner there’s very little risk, you’re an independent woman who can take care of herself, and everything will be fine. But, if absolutely necessary, I’d bring the building down to get you out.” He said darkly. The kinda dark she loved in his eyes. The kind that made the dark little corner of her heart want to start something just to see him do it.

Tanner sat nervously in the folding chair with no name on it. 12 seats around her filled, 3 empty.

“First time Jitters?” asked a voice to her left. She turned to the young man, practically wearing a t shirt that said “serial killer” on his back. Slight chubby build, Curly red hair sprouting from a black hat and thick rimmed glasses, clean shaved say for the orange mustache, OD Green military jacket baggy enough to hide a gun, both sleeves rolled up. American flag tattoo on one forearm, punisher skull on the other. The picture of the absolute first suspect when a bomb goes off somewhere.

“Uh yea, first time.” She whispered.

“Don’t worry. Everyone here is like you. I’m Carl. We all have different addictions, obviously, but that’s my point. We all have some form of demon on our back, so we don’t judge. Love your tattoos. What do they mean?”

“I’m Tanner. Lotuses, on top of that, the Japanese symbols for love and hate.” She said, hiking her skirt just a touch to see them better on her thighs, just above the knees. “Little duality, also I just like Asian pop culture.” She smiled. “What about yours?”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Flag is pretty basic. Country first, founding freedoms, American ideal. This skull is just because I liked the comics growing up.” He said chewing on some gum.

“Hope you don’t mind me asking, what’s your addiction?”

“Sex addict.” He nodded. Looking back at her. “Just fucking with you. Cigarettes, hence the gum. That guy is the sex addict, I wish I was joking. He’s been staring at you the whole time.” He said giving a shitty grin to the other young man across the center, black beanie, overly tight T-shirt to show off his arms and his tribal tattoo, a single strip of beard from lip to chin that ran around the sides to the sideburns.

“Haven't…YOU been staring at me the whole time?” she said with an eyebrow.

“Me, nah. Would never do that. That’s rude. I don't stare. I’ve just been glancing repeatedly. Not a lot of girls here, usually."

“So what’s his problem, he just got out of prison and only allowed to go between the groups and the boy’s den?” she asked.

“Shit, he’s never been to prison. That’s Tyler Hurte. You’ll notice none of us have last names on our tags, that kind of defeats the anonymous part. He wears that name tag like he didn’t make up that last name to sound cool.”

“He looks scary.” She whispered.

“Scary like a bitch.” He said, rubbing his eye with a middle finger discreetly at Tyler, as he sneered a sarcastic smirk with a silent “fuck you” implied. “He’s mad that he sat down first, and you sat way across from him and then didn’t move when I sat down.” He joked as a third young man, approached, buzz cut with a flattened short Mohawk, toothpick in his mouth, scraggly buzzed beard and well-dressed in all dark blue and black.

“Is this joker bothering you?” the new addition asked her discreetly.

“Fuck, I really am popular today. No, I’m just fine. We’re kinda talking. Thanks for the concern.” She smiled as he nodded and returned to his seat, looking strangely distant and moving his eyes to everyone in the group as if scanning the room. Carl sighed nervously.

“Now That guy is scary. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll deny it. Goes by Deacon. He’s got the kinda eyes that say he’s seen some shit. Tyler’s all show and nothing to back it. This guy would back it. Says about 6 words every other meeting, just watches everyone, takes notes, weird fucker. I’m thinking ex special ops or something. The toothpick makes me think cigarette fix. You look more like an Adderall and Monster kinda girl."

“Oh I just kinda circle the whole addiction buffet and see what feels right. If I had a group for every single thing, I’d just stay around for the next tone to start and live here.” She joked.

“I dunno, you seem cool. Seem like you got yourself handled and taken care of. So do you collect anything?” he asked as if prompting targeted questions for his response.

“Butterfly knives. I got like 5. All pretty cheap. You collect anything?” she asked, taking the obvious bait.

“Actually yea. I got a pretty extensive gun collection. You gotta fixate on something in life. Between work and a little online FPS gaming, I just kinda grow the gunroom. Big fan of history, I love the backstory of it, the military collectibles. Old guns, new guns, man I just love the story behind it. Got this guy at work that’s just full of old war stories. Really cool guy. You like guns?” he asked.

“I don’t hate them, I’ve shot a few times, I think it was some kind of like, basic revolver. I dunno. It was kinda fun though.” she bluffed.

“I gotta take you out shooting some time. Not like a date, it’s just a shame you haven’t had more diverse fun at the range.”

“Yea, pretty limited.” she smiled.

“You know what gets the worst reputation? The VZ68 Skorpion. See, everyone thinks they only come in 32 caliber so they have no kill power. Not true. The 68 is a 9mm Makarov, just enough power to do the job, but quiet. They’re super fun little guns, flip out stock no recoil, easy to suppress. You’d love one. Such bullshit we can’t carry in here. I mean, what is the point of a free country when you voluntarily to go to an addiction group, and they always make it in a church where you can’t carry. I mean, this country was founded on the Second Amendment and the church, and you can’t carry in a meeting. Burns my ass, shit like that makes me want a smoke. See how good that works?” he chuckled.

“Seems like a safe enough place. I mean, it’s public.” She shrugged.

“Yea, until you leave the parking lot. Some asshole stabs you for your wallet. Bet your ass when I leave the building and get in my car, I’m armed. No such thing as too safe.” he said, chewing his gum faster and carefully mean-mugging Deacon.

“You’re not one of those guys that goes to Walmart with an Ar15 on your back, are you?” she playfully poked.

“Not a chance. Too hard to conceal and deploy. I don't want to display my hand. That’s a truck gun or a home defense gun. You carry something open, you’re making yourself a target. Beretta M9, best personal carry money can buy, aside from the Skorpion of course.”

“So what exactly is with this group? Seems like just a bunch of people talking about whether or not they slipped off the wagon or not, drinking coffee and clustering to mutter alone.

“Oh, you’ll see once it starts. It’s actually about you and Catherine. Most of us don’t even get along or talk, There’s some chummy pairing and groups that hang out, but mostly it’s just an excuse for Catherine to keep you up to date on the program. You know, addiction isn’t about quitting alone and being done with your demons. That demon is permanent, and all of us here have it. It takes different forms, but if you let it control you, it takes over and ruins your life, lands you dead or in prison. It’s about taming it and finding an outlet. Spreading out the urge and finding a healthy addiction to obsess over. It’s about not getting in trouble, not fuckin up. Meet me outside after the meeting in the parking lot, I’ll tell you the real meaning.” He said grabbing another piece of gum and adding it to the old piece.

He opened the tailgate and there was a rather large gun case anchored down.

“You know, most girls would get weirded out if you invited them to your truck to show them the meaning of addiction, and you just displayed a gun case. You might wanna lean to be more subtle.”

“Nah, fuck subtle. Is what it is. If you don’t like it, there’s the road. I’m doing this for your protection because we got our back turned to Deacon and I want him to see I’m not fucking around. You know there aren’t very many female serial killers…” he said, getting her attention and making her nervously reach for her knife.

“Interesting fact. Where is that going?” she asked.

“Oh come on. You know this isn’t an AA meeting it’s a place where dark addictions get tempered, and you’re playing innocent, but I read you. You’re the…we’re not supposed to talk about it but, come on. You’re the killer samurai girl.”

“Ugh, NO.” she objected.

“Everyone here is a killer, you’re here and scanning everyone like a damn computer because you’re trying to guess what they did and if you know them. So you’re not lost. The guns didn’t scare you, Deacon can smell a killer, and he’s on your scent. How many female serial killers, let alone under 25, let alone good-looking are in this state? Asian thigh tats, don’t know guns, but you know knives. I’ve figured out almost everyone in the group. When the autism isn’t fixated on guns, it’s fixated on studying the other players. Honestly…big fan of your work. Solo gal, maybe 18, what’s that like 5 kills? Brutal shit too.” he smiled.

“Okay, firstly Geisha, not samurai. Huge difference. Secondly, you don’t know anything about me." she scolded with an attitude.

“Everyone in the group knows who you are. We follow the police reports and the news. You walk into a bar and everyone noticed you because you’re cute and acting like you know it. You walk into the killer’s church with no fear, everyone assumes you’re the one female serial killer on the board and active. Sorry, you’re kind of a unicorn.”

“That…is kind of the best compliment I’ve heard all day and if I was not already sorta with a guy, that’s a good start to a pickup line.”

“When you plan to kill him?” he asked, grabbing another stick of gum.

“I’m not, it’s legit, and I like him, and it’s getting kinda serious.” she eyebrowed.

“So he’s a killer too?” he smirked. “Oh come on, either he’s a target or another killer. You wouldn’t get serious with some random asshole with a secret like yours unless you think he might understand or you, or he’s prey. Ex special ops dude, big 250 pound Marine sniper, can’t wait to get back overseas?” he guessed.

“Actually, that’s none of your business.”

“Which way do I wave? I don't wanna look stupid. He’s probably about 800-900 yards out, with a 338 Lapua, scope on my back, I don’t wanna look stupid, which way do I wave at him?”

“Okay fine, you’re basically dead on, and if I told you where to look he wouldn’t be hidden, so nice try.”

“I’m just playing around. Look, if you wanna hang out, bring the boyfriend, I don’t care. But if you got a man already, and this is recon, some of the others might get annoyed, some you could handle, some could be a problem. Never hurts to have friends. I’m just bored and sick of shooting alone. Call number is 616 7723, and that will change next meeting if you want the new one. Tell the boyfriend he’s invited, free ammo and beer.”

“He doesn’t drink.” She smiled, making her leave and strutting through the parking lot, noticing Deacon in the darkness staring like a laser beam at them.

“Fantastic, love to hear that! Offer it anyway, just to be nice...more beer for me. Still comes off as a good gesture and saves me money. Hey, call me. Gotta workout that trigger finger. Always a fun day at the range. Yea I fuckin see you Tyler. Blow me.” He said, shifting his tone and direction of conversation.

Tanner got her phone out and pretended to dial despite it already running.

“You get that, Mikey?” she asked.

“Every bit of it. Good work, van is a block down and left on a dirt road. Meet you there.”

“Meet me? You’re not in the van right now? Where are you now?”

“About…300 yards from the building, and up.” He said, disconnecting.

Tanner stepped into the kitchen, carefully making her way to the front door as the bedroom and reloading room rested shut. Sleeping or making bullets, he was done for the night, and she was just getting started. She grabbed her backpack and the truck keys and checked her GPS for the address.

“Sorry Mike.” She whispered, feeling guilty but out of her own control. But a girl’s gotta get satisfaction one way or another.” She added, dialing her phone. “Yea, it’s me. Date is still on, just a little late. I know, I’m super excited to meet you too after all week DMing. I know a place your wife won’t ever find. Hell a damn private detective would never find this place, it’s VERY discreet. Yea, bring condoms and vodka, that’s fine. GOD, I needed this so bad. I’ll see you there, here’s the address. Don’t tell anyone where it’s at, we don’t want anyone knowing you’re out. What the wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” She grinned as she hopped in Mike’s old truck and started it up, heading to the dentist’s office.