Forced Assassin

by Sam Crescent

  Bishop paced in front of the desk for the whole half an hour. He had the sudden need to visit the toilet—what he was doing was against every rule—but, fuck, he’d waited long enough. He went over everything in his mind. Six months had passed. The solicitor business was a good cover. If Huntington or some other agent had listened to his call to Fallan, they could do some digging and find nothing untoward. Her parents were dead—there was no reason why an inheritance shouldn’t be due. No reason why a few visits to this office weren’t in order. Bishop hadn’t thought beyond that, hadn’t made plans for how they could meet after the time when his supposed business of giving her the inheritance was complete. He hoped together they would come up with something that would keep them safe.

  The sound of the outer building door opening on squeaking hinges had him jumping and smoothing down his suit. Sweat dampened his palms, and he took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. What if she’d got over him? What if seeing him again hurt her more than keeping away? What if he’d royally fucked up? He’d have to take it as it came, get a feel during the meeting. He didn’t have to tell her right away he was Bishop—his disguise and voice would keep his real identity safe.

  A knock sounded on his office door, and he quickly went over to the desk and yanked open a drawer. He took out some papers and scattered them on the desk, then grabbed a laptop and placed it in the centre, lifting the screen and switching it on. As the chime for Windows began, he cleared his throat and walked to the door.

  She’s here. Jesus fuck, she’s here.

  He swung open the door.

  “Hello, Bishop.” Huntington stared at his agent.

  Oh, Bishop was good, could very well have pulled this scam off, but one thing had let him down. He’d switched his pay-as-you-go phone on in his residence all those months ago, setting off alarms on Huntington’s surveillance equipment. When a call had finally been made on it—even in another location—following the trail had been a breeze. Huntington could only assume Bishop had been blinded by his need to contact Miss Jones again and hadn’t realised his mistake. Still, he’d realise it now.

  “Uh, I think you have me mixed up with someone else,” Bishop said, maintaining his Scottish accent.

  “I think not.” Huntington pushed past him into the office and sat on the chair behind the desk. He waved impatiently. “Shut the bloody door, man. Great mask, by the way. Did you use government supplies?”

  Bishop closed the door, and, instead of the slumped shoulders of defeat Huntington had expected, his agent faced him squarely, remorse absent from his fake face.

  “I needed to see her,” Bishop said, accent his own. “It wouldn’t have done any harm. I waited, gave her enough time to find someone else. Enough time for her to prove she wasn’t going to say a fucking word. She hasn’t, right? She’s kept her end of the bargain.”

  “Yes, she has. You, however…” Huntington waved again. “Sit. You may need to.”

  “Why? Easier to have me killed when I’m off my feet, is it? Got men outside ready to do the job once you’ve left?”

  “Oh, stop being such a petulant brat, Bishop. Honestly, you sound like a lovesick fool.”

  “Good. I am one.” Bishop plonked himself in the chair opposite the desk and began removing his mask.

  Huntington enjoyed toying with him, would enjoy seeing his face when another agent walked in here soon. Bishop had done exactly what Huntington had predicted—he really did love Miss Jones, and, despite the threat to their lives if Bishop contacted her, the man had done so anyway. Huntington wasn’t a complete arsehole. He understood love, knew what it could do to a man, but the government came first and always would. He couldn’t allow Bishop to fuck everything up because of his dick, his feelings. When his other agent walked in, everything would fall into place. Or not. If Bishop fucked up again, if he didn’t obey the rules he’d be given, he would be terminated.

  Bishop winced as he tugged the last of the mask away. His skin looked a little sore where the glue had been, but that was nothing compared with how sore another part of him would be, come tonight. If things went to plan.

  “So get on with it,” Bishop said, his face showing no emotion whatsoever. “I’m busted. I can’t do this shit anymore without Fallan in my life. I tried, it sucked, it hurt. So take the pain away, will you? Sooner rather than later.” He puffed out his chest as though creating an easier target for a bullet.

  Huntington smiled. “You were a fool to think I wouldn’t know what you would do. Granted, I didn’t think you’d go into such an elaborate set-up, nor did I think you’d wait so long, but I should have known an agent such as you wouldn’t do anything by halves. Except you made a little mistake, and, if it wasn’t for that, you’d possibly be fucking Miss Jones on this desk right now.”

  “Fuck!” Bishop rubbed his forehead. “Where is she? What have you done to her?”

  Huntington chuckled. “Nothing.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Don’t take this out on her. She didn’t know it was me. She thinks I’m a solicitor. Thinks she’s coming here to set an inheritance into motion. Don’t kill her, Huntington, she doesn’t deserve to suffer for something I did. I was stupid, yes, and, however I fucked up, I don’t want to know but—”

  “Oh, but I’m going to tell you, just so you know. You set up the mobile phone from your home.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yes, shit. A shit move, something I expect my agents not to make. However, I can understand how your feelings got in the way back then, and this is precisely why I didn’t want you seeing Miss Jones after the Waterman mission. Being with someone outside the company isn’t a good idea, Bishop. You knew that, knew what it would entail. You took the job on the understanding you’d have no serious relationships with normal citizens because of the ramifications, the questions that would inevitably be asked by your partner as to your whereabouts, what you did exactly for a living. It would lead to slip-ups. And, although Miss Jones knew what you did, she didn’t quite know the full extent of it, did she? Yes, she could have been understanding—knowingly living with a killer, knowing her government did things she hadn’t thought possible—but she wouldn’t have actually known all about it to the degree she needed to. That is why, six months ago, you couldn’t have continued your relationship with her.”

  Bishop winced, realisation dawning, Huntington suspected. The truth had hit home at last.

  “The thought of not seeing her again…” Bishop swallowed. “Just kill me and be done with it. It’s better for everyone.”

  The door behind Bishop opened, and Huntington smiled at the agent. Bishop didn’t turn to see who had entered, but twisted his chair so the agent had a clear shot at his back. Bishop closed his eyes, no doubt bringing the vision of Miss Jones to mind, and Huntington felt a pang of sorrow for the man. He nodded at the agent then stood, walking to the door.

  “Better for me, Bishop?” the agent asked, tossing something into his lap.

  Huntington watched Bishop pick up a crystal key, jump out of the chair and swivel to face him and the agent.

  “Fallan?” Bishop croaked.

  Huntington smiled. “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted. Miss Jones—or Terri Fields, as she’s currently known—has a lot to tell you.”

  Huntington stepped out into the foyer and closed the door.

  Sometimes you had to have a little faith in love. He only hoped placing Bishop and Terri together as an agent team would work. If it didn’t…

  Well, he’d deal with that later down the line.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Terri glanced over at Bishop. She had got used to her new name. Fallan Jones was dead and would never be coming back. She’d made a phone call to Huntington that night six months ago and since then she’d undergone intense training to bring her up to the standard of a secret agent.

  She’d been taught how to shoot a firearm and look after herself. Been shown the art of disguise and to use the technology they gave her.

  “You kno
w, plugging that phone in from home wasn’t the brightest idea,” she said, “and if you’d done your research you’d have found out Fallan Jones died in a car crash. Seems she drank too much one night and with all the mounting debts she just wanted an out. I still have the same phone number and address, but Terri lives there now.” She walked around the office, secretly impressed with the detail he’d put into getting in touch with her.

  “Whose idea was that?” Bishop asked.

  “Huntington’s. He thought you wouldn’t be that into checking the local papers. He was right.”

  “So why do you still have your old number and you’re ‘dead’? If Fallan doesn’t live there but Terri does, neighbours will still see you as you,” he said. “Moving to a new location would have been better.”

  Terri turned and looked at the man she’d changed her entire life for. He appeared so tired, so not himself. Her heart pounded hard. Had she made the right choice in answering his call? God, she knew how much she wanted him, but how would he take the fact that she was an agent? Would it change things between them now she fully understood how dangerous his job was? Now she’d have jobs like that of her own?

  “Huntington thought you might get in touch and I was instructed to wait for your call, to live in the house until you made contact. Why did you wait so long?”

  “Why did you agree to be Huntington’s pet?”

  So many questions. Didn’t he like the effort she’d put into being with him?

  “I’m not his pet,” she told him and placed her hands on her hips.

  “No? Looked to me like you’ve become a favoured pet. Huntington, as always, gets what he wants.” He sounded so pissed off.

  “What is your fucking deal? You left me at that house six months ago. You left me with nothing to keep me going except memories and emotions. I was told you’d be killed if you came after me but they didn’t say anything about me coming to you as an agent.” She pointed at him. “I couldn’t live without you. I love you, Bishop. I didn’t set out to fall in love with you but, fuck me, I did. I’ve never hurt so much in my life as since the last time I saw you.”

  Terri put her arms by her sides and waited for Bishop to respond.

  “You didn’t have to go to him,” Bishop said. “I was finding a way out. A way we could be together.”

  “You stupid, stupid, stupid man!” she shouted. With each word, her voice grew louder. No longer happy with the gap between them, she stormed up into his face. “They would have killed you. When are you going to realise you’re not invincible? You would be dead right now if it wasn’t for me changing the game. As soon as they knew you’d called me someone would have taken you out.” She reached inside her pocket and pulled out the letter he’d sent her. “This…this gave me hope with every part of my training. I worked my arse off so I could be with you. If it wasn’t for your note I would still be dying inside. You walked away and I couldn’t deal with it, so in order for us to be together I did the only thing available to me.”

  He caught hold of her arms and brought her close.

  Terri pulled away. “No. No you’re not going to stop me from doing this. You’re not—”

  With one swift move he picked her up and sat her on top of the desk.

  She gasped and helped him rid the desk of all obstacles in their way. The laptop landed on the floor and the papers scattered around them. Bishop opened her legs.

  He slammed his lips down on hers and she moaned as she got the first taste in what seemed like forever of the man she loved. She’d been without him for so long she growled and wrapped her arms around his neck, refusing to let him leave her wanting more. He thrust his tongue between her parted lips and she tasted him, meeting his tongue and lips with everything she had to offer.

  “Fuck, I want you. I want you so bad,” Bishop said.

  “Then take me. We’ve got a couple of weeks. I finished my training the other day and I want to celebrate. You’ve got me for a hell of a lot longer than a fortnight, though, Bishop.”

  “Shit. The best news I’ve heard in months.” He tore her jacket from her shoulders, followed by her blouse. “I want you so bad,” he repeated, groaning next to her ear.

  “I want you as well, Bishop.” Terri nibbled his ear and ripped off his suit jacket. She wanted his hard body naked and against her.

  “Fuck, I won’t last. It’s been too long…”

  “Do I look like I care? Make me come and I’ll forgive you for being so lax in contacting me like that.” She took his shirt off and pressed herself to him as he removed her bra.

  “You’ve got such gorgeous tits.”

  They clawed at each other until she was flat on her back with her trousers on one leg. She panted, needing him to fuck her. Bishop eased away from her long enough to let his own trousers fall down to his ankles. His cock sprang out, long, hard and proud. He coated the head in her juice then pierced her with his throbbing length. She screamed out her pleasure and sunk her nails into the flesh of his arse.

  “Fuck, you’re so tight and hot.”

  He grabbed her waist and pulled her further onto his shaft. Lust consumed her with need. His hold on her bordered on the point of pain but Terri wouldn’t give up being in his arms.

  “Love me, fuck me… Just do me, Bishop,” she cried out.

  His cock felt so good pushing deep inside her, and she wanted him using her body any way he pleased, bringing both of them to a mindless orgasm as had happened in the past—one where she forgot everything but the man on top of her.

  “I love you, Fallan.”

  He eased out of her cunt then plunged back in. He was so thick, each inch he pushed inside caused her to moan and gasp for more.

  “Fuck me.” She watched as he withdrew all the way out, his cock wet and slick with her juice. Having him between her thighs felt amazing. Her own dirty film as he rammed inside her.

  Terri stopped watching and kissed him. He cupped her neck and brought her closer to kiss her harder. Their fucking increased and the desk moved with each thrust of his hips. She held on and gasped as he stared into her eyes, touching a fingertip to her clit, bringing on her orgasm. His thrusts got harder and faster until his cry rent the air and she felt the hot spill of his seed.

  Bishop collapsed on top of her and Terri held him close. Finally, he was in her arms. All of her hard work was worth these precious moments.

  “I don’t want to pull out,” he said.

  “Then don’t. We’ve got time to indulge. The rest of our lives.” Agreeing to be Huntington’s agent bitch had brought about many more possibilities.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. He kissed her shoulder then gazed at her face.

  “I did this for you,” she told him.

  “I know that now.” He kissed her lips.

  A tear fell from her eye as another one gathered.

  “Please don’t cry, baby. I’m not upset that you want to be with me. I just wish I could give you more and you wouldn’t have to live with this agent crap at all.” He cupped her cheek and tilted her head back. “I love you so much and this job is high risk. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

  Her heart melted over his concern. He wanted to be with her. Was more concerned about her welfare than anything. She touched his cheek and tried her best to reassure him.

  “Would you rather us be apart? You planting fake offices and wasting time, money and resources to find me each time I was warned to move on?”

  “I needed to see you,” he said. “I couldn’t think of any other way.”

  “And I needed to see you. We both got what we wanted, and, if my safety is such a big issue, protect me. Look after me and never leave me.”

  Bishop kissed her again and picked her up to carry her across the room to a sofa. “I just want to hold you.”

  Terri snuggled against him and let herself be held, his scent and presence easing the months of worry in her heart and mind.

  “So how’s your aim with a firearm?” he asked.


  Terri laughed. “When I first shot an airgun in practice I caught a guy walking away in the arse. God, I was so awful I thought Huntington was going to let me go on the first day.” Terri began to tell him about her time in training.

  “How long did it take to shoot a target properly?”

  “Over two months. After the first few weeks, though, Huntington got so pissed off at me shooting people and not targets he got a paintball gun. For ages I was forced to train with that.”

  Bishop laughed and it made her aware of his cock stirring back to life.

  “You like being inside me?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

  She sat on him and lowered, pushing his half-erect cock inside her.

  Terri cried out. “How can you be so close again?” she demanded.

  “I’ve got the woman of my dreams in my arms. I don’t want anything else but to be with you. So stop stalling and tell me more about your training.”

  “I look hot when I fight, even though there are some moves I haven’t mastered yet. And I love dressing up in disguises. They’re so bloody good.”

  Bishop stared at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You sound so excited about all of this.”

  “I’m with you and I want to be excited. Speaking of excited, don’t forget Huntington has given us your usual two weeks’ grace between projects. How cool is that?”

  Terri kissed him and began running her fingers over his arms and waist. She didn’t want to talk about her training anymore. She wanted his body and his attention on other things—far more enjoyable things.

  “Sweetheart, you’re messing with fire,” he warned.

  “Then burn me.” Terri thrust her breasts up against his face and waited for him to nibble on them.

  He stared at her for a few seconds before he opened his lips and took a nipple between his teeth. He suckled then pulled away. “You’re doing this to shut me up, shoving your tits at me.”

  “Nope. Just don’t want to be swapping work stories when we’ve got other important matters at hand. Like catching up on six months’ worth of sex. I’ve not had another lover since you.”