There was time, once that I pretended I was something I’m not. I became everything I had previous despised and whereas normally I would have something to gain from any given situation; I gained nothing but heartache and pain. It was a lesson I intend never to have to learn again. I suppose I got swept up in the moment or something and then before I could do anything to stop it things spiralled out of control. I’d gotten too deep and walking away wasn’t an option. Certain people saw a different side of me and one of those was Montana, I guess that’s why he looks at me that way sometimes, like he knows who I really am. And sometimes that look makes me want to gouge his eyes out with a spoon. Don’t get me wrong, I need him in my life but it just pisses me off how he seems to know me so well without me ever having shown him more then I show anyone else.

                I met Montana years ago; I may have already mentioned that. He was working undercover and Monroe was too thick to realise. Montana had been working with Monroe for a few weeks before I actually saw him and I swear to god I almost fucked him right then and there. Montana is beautiful, I know that’s more a feminine descriptive word but it’s the only one that could do him justice. Montana’s family were Mexican so he had their colouring, their dark chocolate eyes and long black hair. Years of working in the Special Forces meant his body was certainly something to behold. He was a little older than me and sometimes if he was stressed and hadn’t been sleeping it would show in the fine lines around his eyes. Montana now worked on and off for the filth, mostly he did his own thing and helped when he had to or it benefited him. I always said he was the male version of me, except he was allowed to do the things he did, or even if he wasn’t sometimes his superiors would just turn a blind eye. Montana has done some terrible things and I suppose the difference between us is that he feels guilt and I don’t.

                It was probably about three hours after meeting properly; I mean like two years after he sorted my little problem out that we started a hot steamy affair. I was still with Monroe and it wasn’t the best time of my life to be honest. I didn’t love him anymore and was only with him because I had to be for reasons its best you don’t know. Montana was everything a girl could want; sexy, rough around the edges but soft inside and shit hot in bed. To be honest I didn’t really care about the rough edges or the soft centre, mostly I just cared about his cock and then stupid emotions got involved and he fell in love. Then shit happened, bad shit in fact the worst kind of shit you could ever imagine. Monroe and I split up, that wasn’t the shit by the way and then Montana and I were free to have a proper relationship only things don’t ever turn out the way you want them too. It would have been pretty handy for me to be involved with him; he would have been able to help me with my work, without ever really knowing that was what he was doing. Only I couldn’t commit and after a year of ups and downs it was time to call it a day. There was never any real bad feeling and so every now and then our paths would cross and he would end up in my bed.

                Recently he seems to ending up in my bed a lot more than usual, I get a feeling he’s trying to keep an eye on me. It worried him that I was trying to set up Monroe because he knew exactly what Monroe was capable of and I guess he didn’t want to see me end up like all those others; tortured to death agonisingly slowly. If I’m honest, I don’t really feel much like ending up that way either. I would kill myself before I ever let Monroe or anyone kill me. In my choice of lifestyle getting killed in shower of police or gang bullets is a reality and luckily I’m pretty good at playing people and so most believe they need me for some reason or another. Monroe didn’t need me, I mean killing me would make certain things little awkward but not so awkward that I warranted being alive. It wouldn’t be long before he realised either what I was up to or that he actually didn’t need me and when that moment comes, I’m not going down without a fight.

                G seemed happy that things were back on track, I have to admit that I wasn’t. It meant that I had to go back to being Monroe’s little bitch. To do everything he asked without saying a word and to suck his cock on demand. I know that maybe some of you get excited thinking about my lifestyle but the grass isn’t always greener on the other side; I mean hell I know my life can be fucking amazing but when its bad, its life threatening. When your life gets tough you will probably survive, I could get murdered. It’s a cold reality to the criminal world that I emerge myself in but I wouldn’t want it any other way. Everyday I wake up and I don’t have to answer to anyone, well except for my current situation but that isn’t normal. I am my own boss and I get the respect I deserve. Now before you all go thinking getting into the criminal world sounds fun and lucrative, think again. Mostly I don’t think a lot of you could deal with your conscience and if you can then I very much doubt your smart enough to not get caught. You might get into my world but you would never make it out alive. So how am I still alive? Well darlin that’s my dirty little secret…