by Nic Saint
“Hey, I like this story already.”
CHAPTER 20
Their fingers tangled, and he grunted with satisfaction. He’d been hornier than hell ever since arriving at the hotel last night. The asshole who tried to put a bullet in her brain had seriously messed things up for the both of them. He wanted her, and the fact that she wouldn’t give seriously pissed him off.
“Look, sometimes stuff will simply fall into your lap,” he began his story, then was reminded that she was still an employee of the same guy responsible for the windfall that had changed his life. He glanced over, and when he saw the smile on her face had to smile himself. He couldn’t deny her the story, no matter how reckless it was for him to trust her.
“I was trailed by this guy one night.”
“A contract?”
“Nope. Just a guy following me around, acting suspicious. So I figured him for a snitch. So we’re walking down this alley, and suddenly I turn on him and start knocking him around some.”
“Like you do.”
“That’s right.” He waved a hand. “Next thing I know the guy starts telling me he’s an admirer. A fan. Wants to be like me one day.”
“Imagine that,” she murmured, earning her a scowl.
“I ask him who he works for and he tells me Demiakov. So I tell him that if he really wants to be like me one day, he better think long and hard about his priorities, because working for Demiakov won’t cut it. He says he’s been thinking about turning tail and coming to work for me, and I tell him that’s a very bad idea. Guys like him don’t quit the business if they expect to live. The guy hems and haws and then suddenly says that if I can help him out he will reward me.”
“The plot thickens.”
“It sure does. Guy says he knows where we can get our hands on a big pot of gold.”
“Don’t tell me. At the end of the fucking rainbow?”
He grinned. “Hey, that’s exactly what I said. He tells me he’s for real. Of course I don’t believe him. Figure he’s either doped up or just plain nutso. He says he can show me the place. It’s a Monday night. I’ve got nothing better to do. I tag along while he takes us into Demiakov territory. Not really the best move for me, but I reckon I can take care of myself, and even if this is a trap, why would Demiakov want to take me out, you know?”
“I know.” She grinned as he made a face.
“So the kook takes me to this empty warehouse and imagine my surprise when he leads me to a small room at the back, opens a vault and points me to a stash of gold bars. I tell him this can’t be that easy. What’s the catch? Well, the catch is that the gold belongs to Mrs. Demiakov’s lover. Says the woman was screwing around on her husband, having an affair with some capo from another family. Demiakov found out and had both his wife and the lover iced.”
Emily frowned. “The story I heard was that Ailena returned to Odessa to spend time with her ailing mother.”
“She returned to Odessa, all right. Little Odessa, where she is the founding mother of the new overpass near Canal Street. She and lover boy.”
“Oops.”
“Oops is right.”
“And what about the gold?”
“Well, that’s the beauty, see. My new fan claimed that as Mrs. Demiakov’s personal bodyguard he was the only one who knew about the gold.”
“But why tell you? Why not keep it all to himself?”
“He was afraid someone would find out and come after him. In exchange for my ‘protection’ he agreed to split the money with me, so that’s what we did.”
“But don’t you think it’s bad karma, taking money from a dead gangster?”
“Honey, I’ve been taking money from dead gangsters all my life. It’s what I do. And the fact that this particular gangster had a pot somewhat larger than others never bothered me. I bought the house and figured it was the best use of those ill-gotten spoils.”
“And your family? What did they say about this?”
“They didn’t object when I cut them their check,” he said dryly.
“I don’t blame them,” she muttered, wondering what she would do if she suddenly happened upon a hidden treasure. She’d probably take the money and run.
He frowned. “Demiakov may be involved in this, you know. He may be the one trying to have you whacked.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“He’s devious, and would do anything for money, including ratting out his own. If this King Francois wants you dead, the best way to go about it is to hand Demiakov a thick wad of cash and ask that he take care of it himself.”
“Demiakov is like a second father to me. He would never do that.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” he muttered, not sharing her faith in the head of the crime syndicate.
CHAPTER 21
“Now that we’re sharing,” he said, “there’s something I’ve been wondering.”
“Shoot,” she said, then grinned. “Not literally, though.”
“What’s the story with this Prince Rudolph? You really wanted to marry the guy or what?”
“I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” One look at his unsmiling face was enough to wipe the grin from her face. “All right, I’ll tell you. But promise me this won’t go any further.”
“Seems only fair. I told you about the gold, you tell me about prince charming.”
“We met at a party. It was deemed the best way to—”
“Hook up with him.”
“Kill him.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re telling me the guy was a target?”
She nodded curtly. “He was. Demiakov wanted to do business with King Francois. Flood the French market with dope by bringing it in via Montinia. The circumstances were ideal. The border between the two countries is practically non-existent, and there were rumors that Francois was a man you could do business with.”
“Meaning he would do anything for money.”
“Correct. Only it turned out Francois wasn’t so easily swayed. And that’s where I came in. I was supposed to go in and take care of Rudolph. Soften the old man up.”
“By killing the crown prince?” Mike scoffed. “I knew Demiakov had a screw loose, but this is outrageous even for him.”
“That’s exactly what I thought, but orders are orders, so I went in to do my job. Only then I got the message that instead of killing him, I was supposed to seduce him, and get him to propose marriage. Talk about a curveball.”
“But order are orders,” he grumbled.
“Exactly. So I did as I was told.”
“So did you sleep with the guy?” he growled, his jaw working.
She glanced over, touched. So he really cared for her, did he? She took his hand again, and he looked up at the connection. Emphatically, she said, “No, I never slept with him. Princes apparently don’t do that sort of thing. At least not this one. We had a very nice dinner, a walk in the moonlight, and we kissed.”
“Kissed?” he grunted. “What kind of kiss?”
“Never heard of French kissing?” she asked with a grin.
He gave a disgusted snort. “I have,” he ground out, clearly none too happy.
“Well, he proposed to me, right on schedule, and was supposed to take me to meet his family in Montinia when something came up. He broke off the engagement, and I never heard from him again.” She shrugged. “C’est la vie, huh?”
“You don’t seem particularly heartbroken about it.”
“I wasn’t. It was an assignment. Even though Rudolph was a nice enough guy, I never fell for him.”
“But why were you supposed to marry him?”
“Demiakov thought he would have the country in his pocket. Rudolph is the next king after all.”
“His own private kingdom.”
“Something like that.”
“Didn’t that feel…wrong to you?”
“I didn’t think too much about right or wrong at the time.”
“Same here,” h
e muttered. “Just business, right?”
She shook her head slowly. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, Mike, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I want out.”
He looked surprised. “You want out?”
She nodded. “I’ve been doing this work for a long time now, and it’s starting to grate on me. All the killing… I’ve been wanting to turn my life around for a while now, but didn’t see a way out.”
“And now you do.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Perhaps life has given me a second chance? I mean, I don’t know how this will all pan out, but something has changed.”
“You can say that again,” he agreed.
After a brief hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him. She hadn’t wanted to, not until this whole mess had been sorted out, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt such a strong kinship, such a powerful connection that she couldn’t hold back any longer.
So she kissed him, and when he kissed her back, first hesitantly, then hungrily, she soon found herself engulfed in the heat they shared, and then she whispered against his lips, “About that mile high club…”
CHAPTER 22
“I’ll get this Rudolph out of your system once and for all,” Mike growled as he hoisted her up against the wall of the tiny lavatory, her legs clasped firmly around his waist. The heat engulfed her when he took her mouth, and she felt the now familiar tug in her stomach when their tongues tangled. The touch of his hands on her buttocks was firm and demanding, his fingers digging in.
She ripped open her shirt as his lips arced a wet trail along her collarbone, then down to her breasts. He cupped them with a low grunt and splayed his fingers across her lace-covered nipples, now hard as beads. When he nibbled them through the material, she whimpered, the heat rising in waves. Then he unclasped the flimsy bra and her soft flesh spilled into his hands.
She’d never thought sex could be like this. Most men she’d known in the biblical sense never bothered with her pleasure. They only took care of themselves and forgot about her the moment they’d had their fill. Mike was different. He took care of her, and not once thought of his own fulfillment.
She ground her crotch against the hard bulge in his pants, her need obvious. He responded by unfastening the snap of her jeans, pushing them down with a few brief jerks, his mouth trailing that wetness down along her belly. He kissed the scars she nurtured there, and she winced. But then he looked up, and murmured, “So fucking beautiful.”
She gasped, and had to hold back the tears that sprang to her eyes. Those scars, the result of a hit gone wrong a few years back, had been her shame ever since. “You—you think so?” she muttered.
He grinned. “You’re beautiful all over, princess.”
And as if to prove it, he flicked his tongue inside her belly button, then descended to her southern region to suck in her pussy lips through her slip. She was already soaking wet—had been wet for him from day one. He pulled her slip up and then his hot lips were on her and she gasped, arching her head back against the cardboard lavatory wall. When his tongue darted inside, plunging into that wet heat, she squeezed her eyes shut, bunching her fists in his hair, wishing he’d never stop. Sliding his fingers inside her, he pistoned into her pulsating cunt.
“Come for me, babe,” he prompted hoarsely. “Come all over my hand.”
As his tongue lapped at her swollen bud, his fingers drove inside her slick sheath and as she bucked her hips against his face, she suddenly felt a torrent of heat slam through her lower belly, her body undulating and bucking wildly. She doused him with her release and he lapped eagerly at her nectar. When he looked up, his eyes were hot and clouded, his lips wet. He rose slowly, unsnapping his jeans. The length and girth of his rock-hard cock elicited a gasp from her. He was huge, the tip engorged and leaking precum.
“Fuck me, Mike. Fuck me now,” she begged, wanting all that meat inside her wet snatch—wanting him to fill her up from pussy to womb in one agonizingly deep slide. She watched with fascination as he pushed the wide tip of his spear between her swollen folds, the veiny shaft sliding inside her throbbing cunt as if it belonged there, homing in on her center.
And then he was all the way inside, and she felt his glans kiss her cervix. She gasped, her breathing quickening as bursts of pleasure rocked her core. He dug into her buttocks again and hoisted her up against the wall, sliding into her to the hilt and then they were bucking and grinding, their sex connected. Her pussy was so wet she was soaking his ball-sac with her juices, the sloppy sounds of their mating reverberating around the small space, mixing with their grunts and moans.
Their lips met, and the wetness was hot and intoxicating, their tongues tangling in slow heat, stabbing and exploring. She cried out when in one fluid motion he descended on the toilet seat, and felt his cock rise up inside her as she rode him. His towering girth speared into her slick sheath, and she moved with a desperation borne from the ultimate pleasure as he filled his fingers with her breasts, swaying and heavy. His lips descended upon her nipples, sucking and wreaking havoc by nibbling, using teeth and tongue to draw her hard peaks into his mouth.
Cradled in his arms, she leaned back, his lips on her tits, his cock pummeling her cunt and her head arched back. She felt the tremors rise up in her belly, the orgasm surging until it engulfed her and she helplessly quaked in his strong arms, dousing him with her juices once again. Wetness and heat spread, and then he rose up and slammed her against the door of the small cabin, thrusting inside her like a man possessed.
They made no effort to muffle their grunts and moans, but she was beyond caring as he pumped into her over and over again, and then, as another tremor rose and spread like wildfire, she saw his eyes, hot and smoky, his pupils black, and he groaned, “Emily, fuck.”
He came as hard as she did, burying his hot lead deep inside her quivering body, and then he was adding his own juices to the mix. She felt him come deep inside her, hot spurts bursting from his majestic length. She panted, overcome with extreme pleasure, and then, out of nowhere, tears flowed and mixed with the sheen of sweat coating their bodies.
“Mike,” she whispered, as he tenderly stroked her damp hair, then wiped at her tears with his thumbs before kissing them away.
“Christ, Emily,” he murmured as he touched the corners of her lips.
A knock startled them, and then the stewardess’s voice came through the flimsy door, as clearly as if she were standing in the lavatory with them. “Is everything all right in there?”
They both grinned, and Mike hollered, “We’ll be right out. Just had a little, um, accident.”
She rolled her eyes. “So now I’m an accident, huh?”
“Uh-uh,” he said with a smile, then feathered a tender kiss on her lips. “This was no accident, honey. This was fate.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything. Whether it was fate or not, she knew she was falling for her burly companion, and the thought frankly scared her to death.
CHAPTER 23
The plane bopped down without a hitch, and Emily let out an audible sigh of relief. Mike knew she hated flying, and this was the second time in two days she’d been on an airplane, probably some kind of record. He gave her hand a tight squeeze, then let go. They’d held hands throughout the final stages of the flight, like an actual honeymooning couple, as he knew she’d drawn strength from his touch. Plus, he enjoyed the feel of that soft skin of hers under his fingers.
He could still feel her tight pussy spasm around his dick, and for a moment he’d even been tempted to drop the L word. Christ, he was falling for her, and falling fast and hard. The moment they’d both been rocketed into a simultaneous climax, he thought he’d seen the same emotion reflected in her eyes. And even though she hadn’t said it, he knew she’d felt it too. This was more than some sexual acrobatics for the both of them. Their hearts had become involved, and nothing scared him more.
She was an actress, trained to play a part, the honeypot gambit pro
bably her starring role. Did she really like him, or was she simply playing him? He had no idea. Did it matter? He wanted her, and not just her sweet pussy wrapped around his cock but in his life—all the time. Couldn’t imagine being without her.
He’d fallen for a contract killer, and not just a contract killer, but one working for the wrong family. No matter. He wanted her, and he would have her. All he had to do was watch his back, and make sure she wasn’t reaching under the bed for her stilettos when they were making sweet love again. He wouldn’t want to wake up with a knife planted in his back. Or not wake up, rather.
What if the whole thing was nothing but a ruse? What if there was some bigger game being played here? What if he was being played? A simple pawn in a much bigger game. Maybe she’d counted on him falling for her like a sucker, and any second now she’d pull the rug out from under him and announce he’d been set up from the start.
For one thing: why would this King Francois want her dead? It made no sense. He was a well-respected ruler of a small kingdom. Those kinds of people didn’t go around trying to kill people. And why would this killer fail twice: first the poison and then taking out the wrong woman at the restaurant? Either the guy was inept, or he was failing on purpose.
The plane jerked to a stop, and brought him out of his reverie.
He glanced over to Emily and saw that she was fully herself again, her face a mask of professional determination, her sunglasses already firmly in place and her lips tight and hard. The passionate young woman was gone and replaced by Stiletto Tonya, all business and ready to tackle any problem life threw at her.
“Let’s keep our eyes peeled,” he muttered, and she nodded once, then stepped by him without a glance. As he fell into step behind her, he felt the familiar twitch in his nether regions. He’d just had her and already he wanted her again. He watched as she sashayed in front of him and all he could think about was to bend her over one of these chairs, yank her panties down and take her from behind, pumping into her with all the ferocity of a horny teenager. Christ, what the fuck was happening to him? He couldn’t get enough of her—couldn’t stop thinking about being inside that soft and wet pussy for more than two seconds.
