The Pawn Shop

Briebaker Street was a shithole, plain and simple. Junkies in the doorways, whores in the corners waiting to sell themselves so they could buy from the junkies, and cops who got tired of arresting the same johns for fucking the same whores who paid the same junkies. "I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane into hostile territory to protect..this?" I thought as I walked. A sneer split my face.

A sign in bright green neon, of course, said "Greene Loan and Pawn" in flashing letters. I tossed my cigarette away and toed the door open. Typical pawn shop. Rings, necklaces, kitchen gadgets. The dreams of love sold, probably for a half grain script of M. I was looking for the parasite that fed off them. No one at the counter. I hopped over and saw a door that was cracked open. Muffled sounds, like someone with a hand over their mouth, came thru. I drew my .45 and edged closer.

When I looked inside, Greene was sliding his cock in and out of the throat of a dough-eyed little thing, no more than 19, with a paige boy haircut and nothing on but her stockings. "That's it. That's it." he said as he grunted. "You want the wedding ring back, you suck it good. Might teach you not to fall behind on your bills." His hairy stomach was glistening with sweat. He pulled the girl up to her feet. "Now bend over." he said, pushing her against the desk.

"You said I wouldn't have to..." she said, a worried look in her eye.

"You love your husband? Huh? You want him to get back from Korea to find you without your wedding ring cause you couldn't pay off a fucking car loan? No!" he screamed and **** his prick into her from behind. She held herself against the desk, gasping as he pounded into her. He was going fast and hard, knocking stuff off the cluttered desk as her smooth, young body bounced against it. I watched his hairy cock push into her, listened to her squeal and gasp as his prick punched into her again and again.

She was a looker. Slim build, brunette, pretty eyes. Not as busty as Pris, but then who is? Nice curve of the back and long legs. I waiting for the right moment. Greene shifted his hands so he held her by the hips and started grunting. Wouldn't be long now. "You like that fucking cock, huh? Tell me you like that cock!" He was about to get off. If I didn't get finish early due to this case, this dirtbag most certainly wasn't.

I pushed the barrel of the .45 against the back of his head and chambered a round. The silence that followed was deep, all encompassing, complete. "Hello, Greene. Mind giving me a minute of your time?" I said, striking a match off his face to light my cigarette. The girl gasped, and pulled herself off of him. Her clothes were in the corner. She gathered them up quickly. "Oh, and give the girl her ring back, and honey, if this piece of shit ever so much as looks at your number in the phone book and thinks of getting anything else out of you, give me a call. The name's Reilly. Mike Reilly." Greene scrambled to pull his pants up, and pulled a ring from a drawer and handed it to her. She blushed and smiled at me as she left the office. I nodded.

"Not bad, Bryce. A little young, isn't she?" I said, drawing on my cigarette as I slid the gun back into its shoulder rig. "Don't answer. I want to know about a tough. Gambler named Grayden Dumas." Greene grunted, and took a swig from a Brandy bottle.

"You got a lot of nerve, Reilly." He said with a high pitched voice. "Dumas runs with some weirdos. Freemasons or something. They take care of him, so the story goes. He's in town every day or two, goes to The Rochester. He takes out a loan occasionally, but always pays up. Never done business with him personally, but he's got a good rep in town."

I nodded. "Oh, and Greene..." he looked up at me "if you touch her again, I'll blow your balls off." He stood there with his mouth open as I left. The dame was half dressed with her back to me. I watched her slide her dress back over her head. She turned and had a teary eyed look going on. The ring was back on her finger. She straightened her hair, and walked slowly over to me. I let her do it, just like they always do. She collapsed against my chest and started sobbing. Dames. I patted her shoulders, pushed her back a little, and looked down into those doughy, glistening eyes.

"Stay legit, kid. He'll be back soon enough, and if he isn't, that's okay too." I said, and kissed her forehead before walking out of the pawnshop. I hailed a cab, and was at the Rochester in a little under 20 minutes.