by Nic Saint
He wanted to feel her writhing beneath him again, and already he was hard as a rock. Shaking his head, he told himself to get a grip. Maybe she’d been right back there in Paris. On a mission like this they needed to keep their cool—not lose their focus. If the killer had been on the plane, he could have easily walked in on them as they were bumping and grinding back there. Put a bullet in both their heads.
He raked a hand through his tousled mane and gritted his teeth. Get a grip, asshole. This is a life or death mission, not your fucking honeymoon.
Then he caught sight of her behind again, and he groaned as his agonized cock pressed achingly against the zipper of his jeans.
They stepped from the plane into a blazing sun. Though the temperature was only in the low sixties, the sky was a clear azure. Immediately, he scanned the tarmac for any signs of danger, and so did Emily. When nothing attracted their attention, they walked into the terminal building, their senses on high alert.
Emily turned to him, and whispered, “I don’t see him.”
He shook his head. “Too many people. He’ll wanna wait until we’re alone before making his move.”
“He didn’t wait back at the restaurant,” she hissed. “Cool as dammit walked up to that woman and fired his shot.”
Yeah, he had to admit the man had guts. “I bet we won’t even recognize him,” he offered. This killer was probably a master of disguises.
“I’ll recognize him,” she assured him. “I’d recognize that face anywhere.”
He hoped she was right.
CHAPTER 24
The taxi ride to the hotel was uneventful. As the yellow cab made its way uphill, it wound through narrow cobblestone streets, and Emily was soon entranced by the fairytale quality of her surroundings. The houses on either side of the road were small and cozy, and painted in bright pastel. From time to time she caught a glimpse of the castle situated on the promontory overlooking all of the small kingdom. She wondered again how a lovely country like this could ever have spawned a murderous bastard like the one who’d been gunning for her.
She still had a hard time believing it was really the royal family that was after her. The international scandal that would erupt if word of this leaked to the press would tear the country apart at the seams. A murder plot, hatched in the highest circles? It was like something from a bad thriller, and she still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. All evidence was pointing to King Francois, though, and she feared the unthinkable must be true after all.
She glanced over to Mike, and found his face as inscrutable as her own. Ever since her surprise induction into the mile high club, he’d been reticent and withdrawn. She wondered what was going through that head of his right now. But then she reminded herself they were here on business. Theirs was first and foremost a business association. Mike was her associate, not her boyfriend or her lover. They were partners, something she should always keep in mind lest she allowed herself to be sucked into a maelstrom of heartache and disappointment.
His hand snuck over to hers and took a firm grip. She looked up in surprise. Just when she thought he couldn’t care less, he did something like this. She allowed her hand to rest in his, and enjoyed the feel of this small physical bond.
She was yearning for him—aching for his long cock to slam into her again, filling her up from snatch to cervix. She felt the twitches and tremors in her belly, the deep urgent need—the desire that had her soaking wet. She heaved a torturous breath as she wondered how she was going to survive the next couple of days. There was a killer out there gunning for her, and all she could think about was Mike taking her from behind. Fucking her pussy in any position imaginable, taking her wherever, whenever…twenty-four seven.
She wanted him now, right here in the backseat of this taxi, heat pooling in her panties and automatically she parted her legs to allow the fire to disperse. It did little to relieve her from the pressure building inside—the smoking hot need.
What had happened to her? She’d never needed a man like this before, had always prided herself on her independence, and now suddenly she couldn’t live without having him inside her. It was pathetic, and tragic. Stiletto Tonya would never have allowed herself to become so dependent on anyone.
The taxi drove past small shops, tourists milling about, and the sun reflected off picture-perfect red roofs spreading below like a mosaic. In the distance she could see the shimmering aquamarine of the Mediterranean, the golden beaches, and the luxury yachts bobbing in the marina. In spite of herself, her heart lifted at the sight of all this beauty and splendor. High up on the hill awaited the royal palace, their next port of call. But first they’d go to the hotel and freshen up.
She needed a long hot shower, so she could plunge her fingers between her folds in a bid to release some of the tension building there. She needed to come, and perhaps then she would be able to focus on their mission.
When she glanced over to Mike, she saw that he was studying her intently. Though his expression was unreadable, she thought she felt some of the tension that was building inside her coming off him as well. Could it be that he felt the same yearning—the same aching need?
The taxi passed beneath a stone archway and entered a small courtyard. It drew to a stop in front of a picturesque hotel. While Mike dealt with the driver, she crossed the threshold and stepped into a small but cozily decorated lobby. She walked up to the desk to announce their arrival and was greeted with a joyful smile by the young desk clerk.
“Honeymooners?” the girl asked pleasantly.
Mike had joined her and placed his arm around her shoulder, then a kiss on her lips. “That’s right,” he replied. “Mr. and Mrs. Parker.”
“You’re Americans!” the girl cried. “I love Bruce Willis. Yippykayay, motherfucker.” She had to laugh at her own horrible accent, and Emily gave her such a wide smile she thought her face might crack. Before long, they were checked in, and a freckle-faced bellhop appeared out of nowhere and lifted their suitcases.
At last their journey was coming to an end, and soon they would find out what lay at the end of the rabbit hole. She just hoped it wasn’t a gruesome death here in this idyllic tourist’s paradise. As if he could read her mind, Mike enveloped her hand in his. As they were riding the elevator to the third floor, he gave her a look that made her heart skip a beat and her pussy clench wildly. It was a miracle she could function, she thought, what with the surges of heat that man managed to send through her slender frame.
They arrived at their room, and after generously tipping the bellboy were finally alone again. For a brief moment they stood gazing at each other, and then Mike drew her into his arms, and placed a devastating kiss on her lips. “Before we do anything else, let’s christen this hotel room,” he breathed huskily. “I can’t stand not being inside you and pumping away at your pussy.”
“Oh, Mike,” she moaned when his fingers closed around her aching breast, her nipples hard as pebbles.
Then, just when his tongue darted into her mouth, and she sighed in relief, a harsh voice rang out behind them.
“Enough of that, you two.”
Spinning around, she saw that the killer was standing before them, a gun in his hand. It was trained on them, and his face revealed his utmost focus and desire to kill.
CHAPTER 25
So this is it, Mike thought. They’d come this far only to be bested by this scrawny little man. He was, by far, the most unimpressive operative he’d ever seen, easily a full head smaller than him. With his thinning hair, bespectacled face and gray costume he looked more like a civil servant than a contract killer.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he boomed, his fingers itching to get a good punch in.
“Over there,” the man said, gesturing his gun to the bed. “Sit down, both of you.”
They did as they were told, Mike sending bolts of lightning through his eyes that might have killed a lesser man.
“Now let’s have ourselves a little chat, shall we
?” the killer suggested. He gave them a pleased smirk.
“Who are you and who are you working for?” Emily demanded hotly.
He tsk-tsked. “All in good time, Miss Fox. Let’s just say I’m a contractor. Much like yourselves. And I’ve been tasked to make sure that you never reach your destination.” He shrugged. “Looks like I’ve failed, doesn’t it? You’re here now, and a murder in the heart of the kingdom would undoubtedly attract all kinds of unwanted attention.”
Mike frowned. What was the little louse talking about? “Just tell us what you want.”
The man sighed. “What I want is peace and happiness for all mankind, but since that’s probably a pipe dream I won’t even go there.”
“What do you want with us?” Emily put in.
The man raised his eyebrows. “Ah, now that’s another matter entirely. First of all, I’m glad you two have finally resolved your differences. For a moment there, back in Paris, it was looking bleak, with Mike trying in vain to get Emily to submit to his particular…needs. But that all changed on the flight, didn’t it? That little ruckus you caused in the lavatory?”
Mike eyed the man with surprise. “You were on that flight?”
“Of course I was,” the killer confirmed, looking quite pleased with himself. “Of course you wouldn’t have recognized me. I was keeping well out of sight. That and a small disguise I decided to put in place helped me retain my anonymity.” He gestured with the gun. “But please enlighten me on your technique, Mike. How did you convince Miss Fox to play ball, as the expression goes?” He chuckled at his own little joke.
“None of your business, asshole,” grunted Mike irritably. It was bad enough that they were being held at gunpoint, he didn’t need any attitude from the killer. “Who are you working for? What’s this all about?”
The man rolled his eyes. “Patience, patience, Mr. Petrov. You’re in Europe now. We don’t go around shooting people before we have a nice little chat first.” He leaned back in his chair, cool as dammit. “Now, as you might have surmised, my mission is an obvious one. One of you is supposed to disappear.” He waved his hand like a magician. “Forever.” He directed a pointed look at Emily. “Can you guess who?”
“What do you want with me?” Emily asked icily.
The man shrugged. “Simple. You’re both invited to join His Royal Highness of Montinia at his humble home. How’s that for luck, hein?”
Mike shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us. Apparently the king has had a change of heart. Whereas before he wanted nothing more than to see you delivered to an unmarked grave, now he wants to meet you face to face and thrash this thing out once and for all. As I said, a killing on kingdom soil is a big no-no.”
“I think you’re full of shit,” Mike snapped. “Why don’t you just get this over with and stop blabbing?” He never could stand talkative killers. In his career he’d iced plenty of guys, and had never made a big fuss about it. Just get the job done and don’t spend your time shooting your mouth off. What did the guy think this was? A bad James Bond movie?
“Yeah, if you’re going to do this, better make it quick,” Emily chimed in. “Though first I’d like to know why. Why me? Why now? I never had any contact with Rudolph after he walked out on me five years ago.”
“Ah, but Rudolph has been reaching out to you, hasn’t he?” the little guy told her.
“He has?”
“He has indeed. Once he realized you were the love of his life, he’s been quite the busy bee. One letter each week, for the past five years. Unanswered, of course, for the letters were never delivered to you in the first place. Then emails, also blocked at source, and then there were all the lavish gifts. The jewelry, the dresses, the flowers…” He sighed. “Your little romance has caused quite a bit of trouble.”
A pang of jealousy shot through Mike at the thought of some prince sending Emily a bunch of presents.
“What are you talking about?” she said, wide-eyed.
The guy spread his arms. “The prince is still infatuated with you, young lady. Surely you must have realized by now that it was not his choice to break off relations. His father induced him to. Can’t have Stiletto Tonya as the future queen of Montinia, can you? I mean, European royalty has really gone downhill in the last decade, plenty of commoners joining the ranks. We have a swimming champion now, a fitness instructor, even an exotic dancer married into one of Europe’s leading royal houses. But a contract killer for the Russian mob?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Even though I’m an admirer, Miss Fox, I’m afraid the king is not.”
She looked confused and a little dazed, Mike thought. “Cut the crap, asshole,” he growled. “Just tell us what’s going to happen next.”
The man arched his brows. “Always the elephant in the room, aren’t we, Mr. Petrov? Well, I already told you what will happen next. You’re going to meet the king.” He checked his watch. “Ah, we better get going. Montinia’s supreme ruler doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“So you’re telling me the king is the one behind this whole charade?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Impossible!” Mike vociferated.
The man hitched up his shoulders. “Believe what you will, Mr. Petrov. I can assure you that the king does whatever he deems necessary to preserve the royal house of Montinia. And if that involves taking out one or two undesirables, so be it.” He grinned. “We all have a job to do, Mike. You know that as well as I do. Now if you will be so kind as to follow me. And no sudden movements, if you please. I might not have clearance to take you out, but that doesn’t mean I can’t cap you one in the knees or shoulder.” His lips tightened. “I can assure you I’m a very good shot.”
He gestured lightly to the door, and Mike and Emily reluctantly rose from the bed and made their way over. He couldn’t believe this was happening. What happened to the royals in this place? Had they all gone mad? Just to prevent a bad match they were resorting to murder now? He still found it very hard to believe. But there it was. Apparently this King Francois had been watching too much Game of Thrones, and thought he still lived in medieval times.
He wondered what the press would make of this if they ever found out. But then they wouldn’t, of course. And even if by some miracle they survived this, no one would ever believe them. He could hardly believe it himself.
CHAPTER 26
Emily thought about the predicament they were in and didn’t like it one bit. She didn’t believe a word this guy was telling them. First of all, why would the king of Montinia try to have them killed? No king of any country would ever go as far as trying to have people killed. Secondly, Rudolph wasn’t mad enough to woo her for five consecutive years and never once reach out to her. If she hadn’t returned his letters, why didn’t he simply hop on a plane? It just didn’t make sense. And third, why would the king suddenly have had a change of heart and want to meet face to face?
No, she thought, there was something else going on. She was starting to think that this whole Montinia business was simply a ruse, a trick to get them out of the country and set up some sort of elaborate trap. And then they’d done just that. She and Mike had been so blinded by lust and desire that they hadn’t seen this coming. They'd been so wrapped up in each other that they hadn’t even noticed the killer on the plane. And they sure as hell hadn’t expected him to walk in on them like this.
She wondered where he was taking them, but didn’t wonder about the fate that lay at the end of the road: he would kill them both, she knew. Instead of the royal palace, he would take them to a killing ground where he could easily dispose of their bodies, and then it was over and out for the both of them. She reached out and touched Mike’s arm. They had to make one last attempt at escape, even if it killed them. They were as good as dead anyway, so what did it matter if they made a break for it now?
He looked over and she thought he understood the intent in her eyes, the message she was
silently signaling to him. They would pounce on the killer and take him by surprise.
She gave the first nod. On three. Second nod. Third. They suddenly turned on the guy, and while Mike threw the first punch, she went for the gun. It skittered across the floor. She reached for the weapon and the moment she closed her fingers around the grip discovered that it was too light. No bullets! What the hell?
She flipped it up anyway, and aimed it at the killer. He made a sudden dash toward her, and in a reflex action she squeezed the trigger five times in quick succession. The gun spat, the recoil reassuring and her aim true. She watched as crimson bloomed on the man’s chest. Bullseye.
Then, before her surprised gaze, he shook his head and brought a hand to his chest, then burst into laughter. “Christ! You guys are good, aren’t you?”
Stunned, she stared at the man. What the hell…
The killer winked at Mike. “I like your style, Petrov. Though next time you might want to put a little more swing into that right hook of yours. I only felt it all the way to my back teeth.” He turned to Emily. “And you, young lady? Quick action on the trigger and perfect aim, just like I’d expected. Though perhaps next time you might want to make sure your gun is loaded before you start blasting away.”
She checked the gun, released the clip, and saw…blanks. What was going on here?
“What the hell is this, asshole?” Mike thundered, grabbing the guy by the lapels and hoisting him off of the floor.
“Please put me down,” he grunted, suddenly serious again. Blood was dripping from his damaged nose where Mike’s fist had connected. When Mike released him, he said, “Just come along. I already told you, we’re late for our meeting.”
