~~~~~
Marina sat on a lounge chair by the window, her legs crossed and a book in her hand. A glass of dark wine stood on a small coffee table at her side. She heard two sharp knocks from the doorway.
"Come in," she said, closing the book and placing it gently on her lap.
Kastner opened the door, freshly shaven and formally dressed, complete with long beige coat and matching hat.
"Kastner, you came."
Kastner stood in the doorway and looked around the apartment; it was the mirror image of his own: gray, plain, and spotless. But the view was terrible, with the double windows on this side of the building facing a skeletal parking structure. Only a thin slit of sky peeked in from above, darkened clouds announcing the coming dusk. "You keep your door unlocked?"
Marina smiled. "Why wouldn’t I? I’m not a killer, baby. I told you that. There’s no one dangerous looking for me. Except maybe you ..." She winked. Kastner stood in silence, watching her. "Well don’t just stand there. Have a seat, cowboy."
He sat down at the far end of the sofa, taking his hat off and placing it on the table. The smell of wine was strong. He looked at Marina, his eyes drifting down her body and then quickly up again. Her dress was different from this morning, green with golden swirls. It was also shorter, sitting high on her crossed legs and revealing knees and milky white legs. There was a star-shaped birth mark on her inner thigh. Kastner knew that this too was part of the job — she wanted him to let his guard down, to think about her thighs instead of her intentions. It was the oldest trick in the book because it worked. He looked her in the eyes, his face stern and unmoving. But his mind was on the birth mark, and on what lay beyond.
"Would you like some wine?" she asked, then jumped in before he could answer. "No, of course not! You’re more of a whiskey man, aren’t you?"
Kastner waved her off. "Nothing for me, thanks." He took off his coat and folded it in his lap.
"Let me take that for you." Marina said. She took his coat and walked down the hall. Kastner watched her go, watched how the dress hugged her hips as she walked. He imagined how smooth her skin would feel to his touch. When she returned, she sat on the couch next to him, crossing her legs again, adjusting her dress, smiling as the scent of her perfume reached him.
"I figured it out," Kastner said. "She plans to kill me tomorrow."
Marina nodded.
"She wanted me to open it. Why would she let me see?"
"She's worried. She doesn’t know how it works. Not many people do, but my employer does. He also knows about you."
"So he wants to help me. Why is that?"
"Because he knows your value, the value of your skills. The question is, are you ready to accept my help?" She smiled. The green dress matched the color of her eyes perfectly.
"Can I change it, then? Can I change what’s going to happen?"
"Yes, of course we can. And I sure hope we do; I’m starting to like you, Kastner. So, will you accept my help?"
"I guess I don’t have a choice. If I run, she’ll find me. And even if she can’t, your boss will. He found me this time, didn’t he?"
She nodded again.
"So what will it cost me?"
She smiled again. "Your retirement."
"You want me to work for you?"
"For my employer," she said softly. "Nothing that would take up too much of your time. He only needs you for the jobs no one else can do."
"How flattering."
"My employer has many resources at his disposal." She leaned in closer. "He will make it worth your while."
"I’m sure he will." Her presence provoked his senses; he felt her scent all around, felt a thirsty flame rising inside him.
She took a sip of her wine, then placed the glass back on the table. "So ... do we have a deal, cowboy?"
Kastner smirked, then nodded. "You help me stay alive, and in return I do your dirty work. In this profession, that’s really the only kind of deal there is." He looked at her, his gray eyes defiant. There was something else there — something like hunger. "But the thing is, I still don’t know who I’m dealing with."
Marina’s smile widened as her eyes narrowed. "I guess you don’t, do you?" Her voice was a purr. "You know, there’s something just so sexy about a man who’s supposed to die tomorrow." She leaned forward, her hands clasping his face and pulling him into her. He drank the wine off her lips.
Fiction Vortex - August 2013 Page 6
