Fidelity

By Sonia Kirpalani

What if your husband cheated on you? What if someone offered to kill him?
Meet Claire Harris aka Lita- a vengeful hit-woman targeting unfaithful husbands.
Lita's childhood was shattered when she witnessed her mother kill her father upon discovering him in bed with another woman.
Alone and wretched; a young Lita found refuge with the kindly owner of a mixed martial arts gym and soon became his prodigy.
When he too meets an unfortunate end as the result of infidelity Lita turns her back on love, society and the law… Lita is re-born.
She becomes a kick-ass MMA assassin bringing her own brand of feminist justice to cheating husbands and abusive boyfriends.
Her dream is to move south of the border and open her own gym far away from the memories that haunt her.
But the law is never far behind and it becomes a race against time for Lita to amass her fortune and escape the US to freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Nov 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483421681

Book preview

Author

CHAPTER 1

(2012)

Damn this heat! Lita grumbled rolling down the last remaining window in her car, a pointless endeavour since there was no breeze what-so-ever to cool her.

Lita cursed herself for wanting a classic muscle car and giving no thought to the benefits of air conditioning. The car felt like a sweat box as she wiped several beads of sweat from her brow and pushed her hair back in an attempt to cool her face. Lita looked over at the courthouse and wondered how long she’d been sitting there, two hours at least. After getting there at ten, it was well after midday judging by the heat. Lita took in her surroundings, the dusty air and country smell you get in all small provincial towns. She began to muse over just how similar all little towns were as you travel from one to the next. After seeing so many rural towns of late they bored her. What she wouldn’t give for a good city bar, with decent music, killer shots and hundreds of people willing to leave you alone when you want to get drunk and kick back. Instead she was surrounded by introvert hicks that instinctively need to know who you are and where you come from- a major disadvantage if your profession demands that you keep a low profile.

Spitting her gum out of the window, Lita examined the dirt road that passed for a high street around here. The same quaint little shops selling hardware or home-made goods and the same slow pace. Even the same old people chatting at public park benches, bus shelters and anywhere else they could sit their miserable old asses down. Lita felt ashamed of her own bad temperament; this insufferable heat was making her irritable, although she never did have much patience when it came to elderly people. They drove too slow and held her up in traffic, used words like ‘jezebel’ and they asked far too many questions.

The problem was that Lita had never cared for any old people. Her grandparents on her mothers’ side had died before she was born, and after his death her fathers’ parents ceased all contact. Since they were much richer then her mothers’ family, they’d always said he’d disappointed them by marrying her at all. So they never really accepted the marriage or acknowledged Lita. As a result they never came to the hospital when Lita was born and only came to the wedding, it would seem… to spoil it, her mother had said. Needless to say; they did not approve of the relationship.

So it was no surprise really that the marriage ended, the way in which it ended however was something nobody could have ever predicted. Lita cast her mind back seventeen years to 1995; sitting in the sterile smelling waiting room of the county hospital on the night of her fathers’ death. She watched in horror as her mother was taken into custody by the police. The hospital staff staring in shock and sympathy at the scared thirteen year old girl who was sat alone, waiting for social services to pick her up.

Stop! Lita stop! she hissed aloud and gripped the steering wheel tight with her hands; as if somehow trying to squeeze the memories out of the leather and also forcing them from her mind.

Lita stepped quickly out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her. Her feet hit the dry gravel of the dirt road hard and sure; yet she moved with cat-like fluidness, a constant demonstration of her god-like prowess as a hunter. As she walked Lita flicked her long jet-black hair over one shoulder. Her nimble hand dropped down skimming her thigh as her slim hips swung in calculated rhythm. Lita was slender but statuesque, every inch of her body tight and toned like the girls you see on home fitness D.V.D’s … although she belonged more on one of those cage fighting movies instead.

Finally, Lita could see a few people emerging from the courthouse and envied them for the air conditioning they’d likely been sitting in while she sweltered in the heat.

She surveyed the crowd and saw a few lawyer types in their marginally priced suits with expensive cufflinks or tie-pins. Also a defeated looking middle aged Linda; with a stiff upper lip and painful look of disdain shot through her face. Her friend was supporting her as she walked down the steps. This was typical of a divorced woman who’d been given the shaft Lita thought to herself…

And then there was George; fake tan and hair dye. A middle aged man so desperate to cling to his youth that he’d abandoned a wife who probably loved him for decades, in exchange for a twenty year old gold digger and an overpriced Japanese car.

Lita could spot these ‘mid-life-crisis’, ass-hole types a mile off, after all her own bastard father was one.

Lita watched him as he walked toward her, she would have bet her favourite boots (Quite possibly the only knee high black stiletto boots in existence with steel toe caps, heels and a knife compartment) that the new red sports car with the suitcases in the back was his. (Lita figured he’d probably sold the Mondeo), and boy did she love and hate to be right!

Her self-satisfaction at her own Sherlock Holmes-like deducing abilities was quickly over shadowed by boiling anger and hatred. Obviously this man knew he intended on divorcing his wife, but still took full advantage of her hospitality in the marital home until the day of the actual divorce. He then happily packed his bags to take straight to his twenty-something year old girlfriends house; this way avoiding any adultery charges which might have afforded the poor woman any financial gain from the proceedings.

The two crossed paths, Lita listened to him as he chattered away on his mobile phone,

I’ll be home soon baby, yeah it went well nothing but the house As he callously laughed on the phone to his young sweetheart Lita fought the uncontrollable urge to kick his ass on the spot. She envisioned repeatedly slamming his head on the bonnet of his sugar-daddy convertible…

No! Lita muttered under her breath, for an incident now would ruin any chance of securing a contract later, and this man SO deserved it. Thinking back to all the man hours she’d put into this one; and all the despicable things she’d seen and heard… This scumbag (Lita knew full well his name was George but refused to use names. It was far easier to punish them for the dogs that they were without them) deserved what was coming to him. The heartless villain who visited his mistress on Valentine’s Day, his wife’s birthday and even their anniversary! Who cruelly ridiculed his wife over her age and the fact that she couldn’t get pregnant. All this was bad enough without mentioning his frequenting of so called ‘massage parlours’ where the owners don’t check the girl’s green card, age or even consent to work there.

Lita had seen these places thousands of times in her travels and had often caused trouble in them, they were physical evidence of sex trafficking and were thoroughly evil.

She cast her mind back to one occasion in New York several years earlier. Lita was stepping out of a bar in the early evening, it was beginning to get dark and the lights of the busy street had just come on. The air was still warm and the hustling boulevard was filled with chatter and the smell of different foods from various street vendors.

Lita walked across the street and saw a young girl sitting on a curb in a dingy back alley. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old and she was crying. Lita ran over to see what was wrong with the girl, but she was European and didn’t speak a word of English. However it soon became apparent what the matter was, as a burly Russian man stepped out of the doorway of a seedy building called palm beach sauna and motioned her back inside. Lita beat her to the doorway and kicked the ass-holes teeth out.

Lita snapped back to the moment as the red car roared off down the street leaving a cloud of dust behind it. Once again the quaint little road looked complete.

Lita turned her attention to where poor Linda had gotten to; she spotted her entering a coffee shop with a friend. Greggs tea room Lita repeated the name aloud as she surveyed the British-Victorian themed building. It was very antique-looking; with its ornate ironwork gates, tables and partitions. Its brickwork looked deliberately old and slightly askew, everyone was drinking hot drinks from glass mugs with delicate metal bases and handles. On a hot day like this coffee was the last thing Lita wanted, she sat on a table for one outside because she wanted to wait for Linda to be alone before she approached her. God knows the proposition Lita had in mind didn’t need any witnesses.

Coffee or tea madam? A young man was standing over her, wearing a rather emasculating apron and a white shirt with a black bow tie. He looked bored out of his mind to be there, Lita decided he must be working his way through school or something. With his spikey blonde hair pushed forward and to the side, ear piercing and the black outline of a tribal tattoo she could see on his chest through his thin white shirt. He most certainly didn’t look like he belonged in this pokey old town.

She looked at the name stitched in italic on his shirt Dylan.

Well Dylan… she replied in her most friendly manner, as she knew all too well the miseries of working for minimum wage

…Today is sweltering hot so could you bring me an iced tea?

Sure thing he replied quite taken aback by the first customer who had smiled at him all day, he also paused for a moment to admire her hazel eyes, beautifully arched eyebrows and long black hair. He looked away embarrassed when he noticed she had caught him staring, he hurried off to get her iced tea.

Lita laughed to herself, what a sweet young thing… too young for her however and far too innocent. As he returned with her beverage she made sure to thank him, but not give him any wrong impressions. Although he was an extremely attractive young man; being about six-one or two, with big shoulders and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He could not be more than twenty one years old, and Lita wasn’t exactly nice to the men she dated (or rather slept with as her deep hatred of men never let it get past that first night) so she let him leave, without making prolonged eye contact which may have led to conversation.

Instead she turned her attention to the corner table, where Linda was sobbing into her cappuccino.

Her friend had only left a second ago in quite a hurry, which would suggest children to pick up or some other important obligation.

This was her chance… Lita picked up her iced tea and made her way across the room,(which was filled with nattering grannies and their silent hen-pecked husbands) to the secluded table where Linda sat alone, sobbing with her head in her hands.

Mind if I take a seat? Lita asked politely as she pulled the opposite chair out. A bleary eyed Linda looked up and around in confusion, as there were plenty of empty tables nearby.

Do I know you? she croaked, trying to understand why a complete stranger would want to sit with a weeping woman… then it struck her that Lita probably pitied her. Suddenly aggravated she snapped,

I don’t need any sympathy you know!

Good… Lita quipped Because I’m not here to give you any.

Well what do you want then? I can assure you I’m not very good company right now.

Just to talk, and believe me you’ll want to hear what I’ve got to say Lita pushed the cold cappuccino to one side as she spoke,

But how ‘bout we talk over something a little stronger? You look like you need it

Sitting on the upper balcony of a wine bar, Linda poured herself a glass of cool white wine. She placed the bottle back in the ice bucket with shaky hands and downed half the glass at once. Linda exhaled slowly, her hands steadying as the alcohol entered her system, soothing her. She liked this bar and often drank here. She loved sitting out on the balcony relaxing, watching the world pass by on the street below. What a nice coincidence that her new acquaintance had chosen to come here, this was the first pleasant experience she’d had in months, perhaps even a year.

Linda looked across the table, at the stranger who had bought her the drink. She was no longer annoyed at the interruption of her lamentation, but thankful for the refreshing change of surroundings (and much needed glass of wine.)

So what was it you wanted to talk about? You realise I got divorced today?

Lita took a long slow drink of her wine as she considered her response and then she sat forward so she could keep her voice down.

I’ve got a proposition for you, but first there are a few things I need to explain. It may take a while and sound more than a little crazy but please just hear me out. Lita motioned to the waiter for a second bottle of wine and left the money on the end of the table.

In her mind Lita went back to the beginning, to the very first day she saw Linda’s husband a month ago. And from there; she recounted the events that led to the pair of them sitting together on the day of her divorce. Lita took a deep breath and prepared to explain everything.

CHAPTER 2

Three months earlier.

216 park side drive Lita looked at the piece of paper she had in her hand and then out of her car window at the large detached house, complete with veranda and white picket fence.

Hmm, pretty nice, She remarked and looked back at the paper;

George and Linda Rice

Several infidelities on his part

Wife visiting counsellor alone as husband refuses to attend…

You didn’t get this from me!

J

Lita screwed the note up and chucked it onto the backseat, then sat back with her hands resting on the steering wheel. She looked at her watch; eight pm just after.

Then she saw him, George Rice; walking across his drive and getting into his black Ford Mondeo. He was not a remarkable man in any way. Not particularly attractive… or unattractive for that matter. He looked about fifty years old, was maybe five-ten and brown hair which was obviously dyed at his age. He was clean shaven with a bit of extra around the middle, but not exactly fat… No, there was nothing special about George Rice what-so-ever, except his marvellous capacity for being a total scum-bag.

Lita watched his eager, clumsy movements across the lawn in front of his picturesque house, obviously desperate to get where he was going. He reminded her of an old cow stumbling towards the slaughter house. He was totally unaware of his impending doom and also completely defenceless and powerless to stop it.

Well… Lita muttered to herself, Your days of being a cheating pig, are well and truly numbered my man!

With that comment, Lita rolled her window up and put her car into gear.

It was Friday night and Lita had dressed to impress, she had a good idea of the sort of place he was heading to and she disguised herself accordingly. Lita wanted to get a good idea of exactly what this creep was up to, and who with.

He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a baby blue silk tie; his clothes were more like a twenty something year old stockbroker then a middle aged board member of a respectable and well known software company. Lita started up her engine at the same time as his, so as not to draw his attention.

George pulled backwards out of the drive and headed quickly down the quiet, dimly lit street. Lita followed him, keeping a safe distance until they reached a busy road, at which point she could turn her lights on and tail him without arousing suspicion.

George pulled into a multi-storey parking lot in the centre of a nearby town, Lita pulled in about eight spaces away. When he emerged from the car his hair had been styled with gel and his wedding ring was removed, Lita narrowed her eyes in disgust. It didn’t matter how many times she saw it, such behaviour still irritated her,

How lame you are! Lita sighed, she mused that perhaps men should be put down when they hit forty. That way this embarrassing, cringe-worthy behaviour could be prevented.

False eyelashes… check! Pink lip gloss… check! Tiny dress and padded bra… check! Lita had all her undercover gold digger disguise on. She’d blend right into the mesh of teenage skanks and middle-aged perverts that made up the patronage of the ‘Mojito’ bar across the street. Lita watched George closely as he made his way out of the parking bay and across to the bar. As she flipped the sun-visor back up into the roof of her car Lita caught a brief glimpse of her mothers’ picture that hung from the rear view mirror,

Honour thy mother… Lita whispered under her breath, staring longingly at the arched eyebrows and thick black hair that was so like hers. For a moment Lita softened, all her harshness and abrasiveness melted away from her face and she was vulnerable, frail and oh so lonely…

Her mothers’ image stared back, ever loving, smiling… unchanging.

Deep hazel eyes and tiny heart-shaped lips, Lita closed her eyes and felt her mothers’ arms around her again. She could hear her small voice and elegant British accent. Lita must have been young in this memory and very small. Her mother was holding Lita in her arms and spinning, she could still hear her mothers’ laughter and smell the perfume in her hair as it brushed across her face…

After a while her warm, nostalgic thoughts turned dark and bitter cold…

(1997)

Lita remembered being in the hallway of the foster home, fourteen years old and all alone. She stared numbly at the telephone in her hand. Her flesh was burning, as wave after wave of prickling goose bumps blanketed her arms and neck.

Cold beads of sweat felt like icicles. Searing the boiling hot skin on her forehead, neck and trickling down her back. The devastating words reverberated in Lita’s ringing ears…

I’m afraid you’re mother has taken her own life… The news was like a freight train, charging out of the receiver and boring into her skull. The gradual realisation of events was pulling Lita’s universe down around her She was found in her cell in the early hours of this morning…

Lita heard only pieces of the conversation after that; her mothers’ final appeal had been rejected… Spend the next twenty-five years at least in jail…She could not go on… Sincerest apologies…

The world around her spun and Lita crashed to the floor sobbing, paralysed by nausea and vertigo.

She wished an end to her miserable existence, completely without the desire to live another second. The broken teenage girl lay perfectly still on the cold laminate floor. Lita closed her eyes, held her breath and even willed her very heart to stop beating.

For a moment Lita believed she had died, as the whole world seemed to stop around her.

The rain stopped beating on the window above her, the grandfather clock stopped ticking in her ears. And even her own heart seemed to slow, to the point where she could no longer hear it beating in her head…

For a few moments Lita was a corpse laid out on the floor of the cold dark corridor- which even before now seemed like a morgue to her; with its laminated floor and institutional green paint. For a while Lita’s grief gave way to dreamless sleep.

After a few hours Lita opened her eyes, and to still be alive hurt more than she could bear and she cried out. Her heart breaking over and over as she wept, each painful sob piercing the empty silence of the room around her.

After what seemed like hours her grief subsided, replaced by a violent and much more powerful emotion than she had ever experienced in her young life…

The cold green hallway ignited and burned around her, there were no windows and no furniture.

Lita was plunged into a fiery inferno; into the deepest pit of her own personal hell- with no escape and no one to save her. Thick suffocating clouds of rage descended upon her until she couldn’t breathe for screaming. Every muscle in her body contracted and cramped, Lita no longer cried tears onto her cheeks. Inside she wept; tears of blood scorching their way into a raging river turning all before her into dust.

Screaming and lashing out at the world around her, Lita ran tearing through the streets into the darkness outside.

For miles the young girl ran, not caring where she ended up, she’d run to oblivion if she could. Lita raced across busy highways, hearing cars screech and furiously sound their horns; yet she carried on unconcerned. She sprinted wildly until her body couldn’t take another step.

Lita collapsed in the doorway of a rundown gym. Finally the spinning fiery tempest that had consumed her conscious thoughts, gave way to the numbing darkness of exhaustion and she fell into the deepest sleep.

(2012)

Lita snapped back to reality; safe in the present-day, sitting in her car. She checked herself in the mirror and quickly re-applied her lip gloss. Lita had serious work to do and she wasn’t going to get it done whilst sat dreaming about the past. That was for later, when she was alone in her hotel room with a bottle of scotch and a six pack. Lita paused as she thought about the ice-cold beers she’d left in the refrigerator, her just reward for a hard day’s work.

Lita looked at herself in the mirror and gave her best bimbo smile.

Hi I’m candy! she giggled to herself. Lita fished a switchblade out of her duffel bag and put it in her sparkly pink clutch purse. She slipped on her matching pink Stiletto’s and her teeny white figure hugging sundress. Content that she looked the part, Lita stepped out of her 1968 black ford mustang.

What a contradiction I must look, she mused for the hundredth time, wondering what somebody would think if they saw a heavily made-up bimbo driving a classic muscle car… She laughed for a second, Lita loved being as different as she was from other people.

With slightly hindered prowess due to the awkward attire she was wearing; Lita got out of the car. She walked quickly out of the car park and across the street to the Mojito bar. She could smell her own vanilla perfume and see her bronzed skin glitter under the street lamps. If Lita was completely honest with herself about it (which she never would be)… she quite liked dressing up like this, it made her feel feminine and pretty, which was a refreshing change.

The two gorillas watching the door noticed her immediately, they greeted her with blatant up and down gazes as she approached the club doors. Lita smiled sweetly and pulled her I.D out of her wallet; in doing so she was sure to keep her switchblade concealed in her fist in case they searched her purse. Lita coolly swapped her identification to the hand not containing a weapon before offering it to them; then let her fist hang closely to her side just out of their view.

The first doorman who took the I.D was older, probably mid-forties. He was an average height, with black hair, which was slightly receding. Not her cup of tea at all! Especially when he smiled; baring a gold tooth and forcing the skin on his forehead to crease, like one of those wrinkly old dogs. His colleague however, did fit the bill; being around twenty five, six-two at least with wide shoulders and dark Latino eyes. His hair which was cut short, accentuated his chiselled cheeks and jawline.

His ‘Hey, I’m an ass-hole!’ grin was the deal breaker, as Lita simply couldn’t resist taking jerks to bed. The best part was kicking them out (sometimes without their clothes) as soon as they had served their purpose.

Justice she felt, for all the women they had probably used in the same way- and then humiliated in their depictions of her to their idiot friends.

Lita flashed the ladies’ man a cheeky wink as they ushered her into the bar, thinking that she’d probably come back for him at a later date. She quickly pushed her I.D and switchblade back into her purse and looked around. The bar was typical of any mainstream singles bar, pretty much anywhere. The layout was a large rectangular room, dimly lit with