Big Beautiful Assassin

by Vivian Leigh

  “Get the bags,” Corwin said.

  Kris grabbed them and followed him to the gate. He worked the combination lock and pulled the gate back for her to enter.

  “I don’t have much in the way of explosives on the boat, but it’s enough to break it up,” he said. “We’ll add some gas cans to make sure it burns.”

  Corwin strode down the darkened dock. Most of the boats bobbed on floats that kept their hulls up out of the water, but a few sat low in the water. He stopped at a boat that was on the small side for the rest of the dock.

  “This is us. We’ll get a zodiac for making it back to shore.”

  “Okay. I think I can handle that.”

  “Let me get this in the water and we’ll take it around and fuel it.”

  It took another half hour to maneuver the little yacht around to the pumps and fill the tanks. Corwin borrowed more gas cans from other unlocked boats and filled those, too. He disappeared around the far side of the main marina building and a minute later an outboard engine rumbled to life. The low, black boat putt putted around the dock and stopped by the yacht.

  “Toss me a line. We need to tow this behind us,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “We’re going out to the end of the bay. It has to look convincing. Once we get out by Pocomoke we’ll set the charges.”

  She helped him secure the zodiac, then untied the docking line for the yacht and started the motors. The yacht idled out for a few minutes, then Corwin pushed the throttle wide open. There wasn’t much point in conserving fuel.

  It was cold on the bay. Colder than she had expected. She snuggled against Corwin, enjoying his warmth. His arm wrapped around her and he held her close. Everything was moving so fast, she was running on instinct. It seemed ironic that the Agency’s training was helping her run from it.

  “Where do you want to go after this?” He had to yell over the roar of the engines.

  “You said you were working for Israel?”

  “That’s an option. They wouldn’t turn us away.”

  “But you don’t want to live there.”

  “Not permanently.”

  “Do we have to live anywhere permanently?” It felt strange to ask a question like that. They weren’t married. They hadn’t even been planning to be married. It felt like a natural question, though.

  “I guess not. It may not be a bad idea to keep moving every few years. Less chance for the locals to get tired of us and start asking too many questions.”

  They cruised on until the first hints of pink tickled at the horizon.

  “I think this is far enough,” Corwin said. “I’d rather not take the zodiac ashore in full light.”

  He cut the throttle. The sudden absence of the engine felt shocking. The quiet slap of waves made for a muted replacement.

  Kris splashed the vials of blood around the cabin while Corwin set the explosives in the engine compartment. When he finished, he poured a can of gasoline over the deck.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  No. Not really. Not to start a new life. She didn’t speak the words. She didn’t dare speak the words. Instead, she nodded.

  “Start the zodiac,” he said.

  She jumped down into it, nearly losing her footing and falling into the bay. The engine started up easily. It roared louder than the yacht’s motor.

  Corwin jumped down after her a moment later. “We have ten minutes. Let’s move.”

  He took the tiller and set them a course for land somewhere north of Newport News. The boat roared behind them. A fireball rose, competing with the morning sun. Flaming debris pelted the water, and the main part of the hull sank out of sight. It was going to be hard to miss.

  As they eased into the short, the sun rose in pink and golden glory, radiating across the bay and over the hook of land ahead of them, casting everything in shimming light.

  She followed him up onto land, wondering what other surprises he had in store.

  ***

  A gentle breeze rocked the hammocks. Surf crashed into the shore a dozen paces away. Kris sipped her caipirinha, dozing in the shade of palm trees.

  “Do you want another drink?” Corwin asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “You sure? The jeep won’t be back for an hour.”

  She turned to her side, supporting herself with an elbow. Her eyebrow arched. “An hour?”

  “I’m getting two drinks. Be right back.” He rolled out of his hammock and jogged around the screens that protected them from view from behind. His bare feet left deep footprints in the sand.

  “So what was that question about the hour?” he asked, when he came back.

  Kris slurped down the last of her drink. The rum at the bottom burned on the way down. “How about you come over here and find out.”

  She reached behind her back and unfastened the top of her swimsuit. The hammock rocked as Corwin climbed in. A month on the run with flights back and forth across the Atlantic hadn’t softened the hardness of his body at all. She let him spoon behind her and nestled in against him. He cupped her breast with one hand and let her head rest on his other arm.

  “Do you think Langley will even care?” she asked. “The internet called it a tragic accident with unknown loss of life.”

  “The agency will move on. Control will care, though. He’s not the sort to forgive and forget.”

  “He’s not here now, is he?”

  “Certainly not.” Corwin’s breath was warm on her neck. “And we’ll just make sure we stay out of his sight.”

  His hands swept over her hips, and his thumbs hooked in the waistband of her swimsuit. She let him slide it down her legs, then turned toward him to help him out of his shorts. Judging by his erection, he had the same idea for killing the next hour that she had.

  He slipped her over to her back and crouched above her. The hammock swayed dangerously, threating to deposit them both on the sand. The breeze gusted, carrying the scent of salt. It felt cool on the moistness between her legs. The coolness wouldn’t last long. She slipped a finger to her folds, rubbing her nub, spreading herself.

  Corwin knew how to take a hint. He lowered himself to her, his magnificent cock pressed against her. He grinned as he rubbed over her clit, taunting her with his manhood.

  “Maybe we should just take a nap,” he said.

  “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll call the American consulate and tell them I’ve caught a fugitive.”

  He winked and slid himself inside. Kris’s breath hissed out, a gust of pure pleasure. He balanced his feet on the corners of the hammock and slipped his elbows under her. They pressed together, her breasts flattening against his chest. The hammock groaned as he worked back and forth.

  He groaned louder.

  The palm leaves overhead clattered against one another as they made love in the warm afternoon. Kris ran her hands over Corwin’s back, feeling the muscles and the scars and the knots. Her new life was better than she’d ever imagined possible, and in a few more minutes, she knew it would be even better still.

  ###

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