Assassin's Haiku

by Cynthia Sax

  Although Diego didn’t move, the muscles in his body tightened until all of him was as hard as his cock. He breathed deeply, and Haiku suppressed a smile. His control was frayed. She touched him, stroked him, subtly pushed him toward his breaking point. When he snapped, would he kiss her again, or would he do more, much more? Would he unzip those leather pants and take her right there on the table?

  That was a fantasy of hers. Diego would strip her naked, rip off her clothes, unwilling to wait for buttons to be unbuttoned and zippers to be unzipped. He’d force her down on her hands and knees and spread her legs so everyone in the poetry-sex bar could see her glistening wet pussy. They’d want to fuck her, all the men with their hard cocks in their hands, but they wouldn’t approach her. They wouldn’t dare, because she was with Diego, the fiercest warrior in a room filled with fierce warriors.

  Diego would slap her bare ass with his flat palm to get her full attention. He’d be wearing his gloves, and the black leather would sting, the impact making her pale flesh red and her wet pussy even wetter. He wouldn’t waste time with kisses or foreplay. He’d take that big cock she was stroking and ram it right into her, his size tearing a scream from her lips, his aggression making her nipples tighten to the point of pain. He’d pound into her again and again, battering her pussy into submission, and her body would sway with his assault. But he wouldn’t relent, because he wanted her. He wanted this fucking too much to be gentle. Her pussy would hum and throb, and she’d beg shamelessly for more, for Diego to fuck her faster, harder.

  Haiku stroked his leather-covered cock in time with her fantasy fucking, swept up in her erotic imaginings. Diego groaned, bringing her thoughts back to the present.

  “Not here.”

  He stopped her playing and placed her hand back on the table. But he didn’t release her like she expected him to. He continued to hold her hand, his coarse thumb moving in slow circles over her skin. Warmth and happiness spread from his touch.

  His hand on hers told her they had progressed past two strangers sitting at a table, listening to poetry together. They were together, they were a couple, and they would eventually consummate their union with wild fucking. Haiku wanted him, desperately, wantonly, but she was willing to wait for the right time, the right place.

  The next poet took the stage, unaware that Haiku’s world had changed. The bearded midget wore a neon green tutu and a black mesh tank top, and the words coming from his mouth were equally colorful. Light and smooth, they floated through the air, but Haiku couldn’t catch them. All she grasped was the wisp of Diego’s skin against hers, the glimmer of his black eyes, and the heat of his body. He was her anchor, her only connection to the world.

  They sat in silence, while around them men and women lustily moaned and groaned their sexual fulfillment. Yet Haiku doubted any of those participants could be as satisfied as she felt at that moment. If she could freeze time, she’d make the minutes last forever, a never-ending poem filled with endless rhyme.

  She couldn’t freeze time, and as with all great poems, the moment ended too soon. Diego straightened and removed his hand from hers, taking away his heat and the pretense of safety. He tapped his ear with his fingers, his head tilting to the side, his expression grave and concerned.

  “They’ve breached the perimeter.” Diego stood, casting a shadow over her, his broad body blocking the overhead lighting. “They’re coming.” His voice was flat and emotionless.

  Haiku scrambled to her feet, not needing to ask who they were. The Agency, their enemy, had found the bar. “I’ll warn Beth.” The two of them were known to the Agency, and if they were captured, there’d be no mercy. They’d be tortured or killed or worse, and it was the worse that truly frightened Haiku. Some of the children had told her horrendous stories of mysterious men in white and their cruel experiments.

  “Hurry.”

  Diego opened his jacket, revealing an assortment of weapons, and heads turned their way, with the more observant of the club patrons disentangling from their partners. When a professional killer moved quickly, prudent soldiers noticed.

  “Beth.” Haiku pulled her friend’s hand away from the cock she was gripping. In her panic, she was too rough, and the man yelped in pain. “We have to go. They’re here.”

  Beth pushed another man off her, ignoring his protests. Even with her blonde hair in disarray and her golden body covered with perspiration and cum, she was gorgeous.

  “How do you—”

  “I know.” Diego’s deep voice rumbled from behind Haiku. “Are you coming with us?”

  He said us. Haiku’s heart squeezed, joy cutting through the fear as she placed her hand in his. He had his leather gloves on. Jaw clenched, he stood with his legs braced apart. Her warrior lover-to-be was prepared for battle, and this time she would be by his side. The thought should frighten her, not thrill her.

  “Beth is coming home with us,” a pair of dark-haired men chimed in unison. The twins were regulars and two of Beth’s favorites. They were also resistance soldiers, well able to protect themselves and others; the Bazooka Brothers carried guns that could stop armored trucks.

  “I am, darlings?” Beth threw a flirtatious gaze over her shoulder, and they grinned back at her. “I guess I am.” She shrugged, the graceful movement making her bare breasts bounce. “Though our party won’t be the same without you, Haiku.”

  “You’ll manage.” Haiku had long suspected that Beth’s claim of her presence heightening her sexual satisfaction was her friend’s way of not making her feel like a third or, in this case, fourth wheel. “But be careful.” She hugged Beth tightly. “And send me a message that you’re safe.” The encoded message would be deliberately vague, in case the Agency intercepted it, but at least it would allay some of her fears.

  “We must go.” A grim-faced Diego tugged her away, hustling her through the side door.

  Haiku looked back over her shoulder, her face heating with embarrassment and anticipation as Beth gave her the thumbs-up, her smile wide. She was going home with Diego.

  He set a grueling speed, taking the stairs two at a time. With her shorter legs, Haiku had to double-time her steps to keep up with him. Although her calves burned and her lungs ached, she didn’t protest his pace, determined not to slow him down. She would prove herself worthy.

  “No talking, and keep behind me,” Diego instructed as they slipped through the exit door.

  He squeezed her hand, silently signaling that he had her, that he wouldn’t let her go. Haiku squeezed back, telling him that she understood, and she would follow him wherever he went.

  The dark alleyway stunk of refuse and urine, garbage swirled around their feet, and a black nothingness stretched above their heads. Clouds drizzled unnatural acidic rain upon them, burning her skin, but there was no time to protect her face. Diego darted down the deserted side streets, keeping to the shadows, following a map that existed only in his head. After the fifth abrupt turn, Haiku lost all sense of direction. She didn’t know where they were going, and that was okay with her. As long as she was with Diego, she was safe. He’d protect her.

  Chapter Three

  Any rebel deaths tonight would be his fault, because he’d fucked up royally, putting everyone at risk. Diego silently cursed as he led Haiku through the dark streets. Ranked Agency enemy number one, he was the person they hunted with the raid, and the Agency dogs had found him. His patterns had become too predictable.

  He'd become predictable because Haiku was predictable. She haunted the same clubs on the same nights. She worked at the same place every day. She associated with the same group of people. Predictability was bad, as it allowed the enemy to anticipate their moves, to set traps to catch them. If they were to have a relationship, he’d have to teach Haiku to be more spontaneous.

  If they were to have a relationship… What hallucinogens was he injecting? Diego mentally snorted, disgusted with himself and his fairy-tale thinking. He was an assassin, a killer, and while at the moment, Haiku found tha
t thrilling, no normal woman would settle down long-term with a killer.

  Haiku accidentally kicked a piece of metal, the sound ricocheting across the alley, and Diego grimaced. Knowing the Agency was hunting him, it would have been wiser to leave her with the twins. He had considered that option for a full five seconds, until he thought of them touching her. Fuck no. He might not be able to keep Haiku, but he wouldn’t give her to another man, not while there was still breath in his not entirely human body.

  They moved through the night, once again engulfed in silence yet entwined in their shared goal of survival. Diego was achingly aware that he no longer played his life-and-death game alone, that Haiku followed an arm’s length behind him, trusting him to lead her to safety. Her hand was small and fragile in his, and the taste of their first and last forbidden kiss lingered on his lips.

  As they rounded a bend in an alley, a hum filled the air. Diego turned his head, trying to locate its source. That sounded like…

  “Behind me.”

  They couldn’t outrun their robotic tail, so he backed Haiku against a brick wall and covered her completely with his body. She trembled against him, her fingertips fluttering on his shoulder blades, her breasts rubbing against his leather jacket. With GLOCK 2090s in both hands, he faced the potential threat.

  A flat black disk, undetectable to human eyes, slid along the alleyway.

  “Fuck.” Diego stomped on it with his boots, breaking the tiny robot into pieces. “A sniffer.” They hadn’t much time. The Agency would be there within minutes.

  “They’ve tracked us.”

  Diego heard the fear in Haiku’s voice. However, it wasn’t them they tracked—it was her, as it was impossible to track him. Fuck. Connections got assassins and everyone they cared for killed. He knew that.

  “I’m sorry, Haiku.” He holstered his guns. They were now a team, whether she liked it or not. He was Agency enemy number one, and she was the bait they could use to catch him. That relationship would bind them together forever.

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  His generous woman’s automatic response warmed him, even as it chilled him. It was his fault, and she would eventually hate him for taking her life away from her. But he didn’t have time to think about it now. He had to get her away from here. Diego quickly ran through their limited options, dismissing her place as it wasn’t secure enough, which left them with his underground bunker. The thought gave him a moment’s pause, as he had never brought another person to his home before. Haiku would be the first.

  “Climb onto my back.” Diego crouched down, his gloved fingers braced against the dirty pavement. Sniffers couldn’t track her if she didn’t touch the ground.

  He felt the heat of Haiku’s body as she straddled his waist, her pants-covered pussy pressing against his back. Her sweet womanly scent filled his nostrils, making his nose twitch and his cock harden. Her arms looped around his neck, her soft fingers linking in front of him, her breasts flattened between his shoulders. He took pleasure in the contact, as it was a rarity in his solitary world.

  Diego straightened with a grunt, surprised by how little Haiku weighed. He’d carried guns heavier than she was. Grinning at that thought, he ran so quickly, their surroundings blurred around them. He didn’t need to see the streets, relying instead on smell and hearing to warn him of danger, as well as his memory for direction.

  Diego ran for hours without tiring. He had always been strong and fast, as that was how he had been designed, but he had never been this strong and fast, not even after an adrenaline-pumping fight. He pushed that observation to the back of his mind for future contemplation. Haiku’s safety was his top priority.

  Diego paused in a dark alcove located in a rebel-friendly district far from his home. “Check your messages.” His softhearted girl would want to know her friend was safe, before she disappeared off the face of the earth.

  “Here?”

  Haiku slid off his back, her feet thumping on the pavement. She’d never see the outside world again, not without him by her side, because if she did, she’d die. She was too noisy to last long as an Agency target.

  “Here. You’ll have no access where we’re going.” Although his home was in the middle of the bustling city, it was disconnected from the rest of civilization, since connections, as had been proven tonight, were risky.

  Haiku rested her cheek on his shoulder as she looked at the communicator’s tiny screen. Diego liked that, that she leaned on him, and he put his arm around her, marveling at how tiny her waist was. He could span it with his hands.

  “There are two messages.”

  He heard the sharp intake of her breath, the sound triggering protective instincts he, before tonight, had never known he had.

  “What is it?” Yesterday, Diego wouldn’t have asked, respecting Haiku’s privacy, but today she was his responsibility, and he needed to know the answer to keep her safe.

  “One message is from Beth, and she’s all right, more than all right. She’s having the time of her life.”

  Haiku attempted a smile, but Diego wasn’t fooled. She was worried, and that worried him.

  “And the other one, an earlier message, is from a coworker with a numeric code, signaling that they have relocated to a safe location and all the children are fine.”

  “Everyone you care about is okay, then.” Diego batted down the envy writhing in his gut. He’d put her life at risk with his selfishness, and he certainly didn’t deserve her caring. “We should go.” Rebel-friendly area or not, staying still for too long aboveground was dangerous.

  “No, we shouldn’t go, Diego, because it wasn’t a planned relocation. That message only goes out if the center is evacuated.” Haiku frowned, her plush lips drooping downward. “The Agency hit both the center and the club tonight. A sniffer was sent after us. Oh God, oh God, oh God, it’s me they’re after.” She stepped away from him. “You should go, Diego, alone.”

  She pushed him with both hands, but he didn’t move, as Haiku had all the power of a raindrop.

  “We shouldn’t be together.”

  She was rejecting him. Diego knew it would happen eventually, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. “It’s too late for that. They know you are…” He couldn’t say it, that she was his weakness. He couldn’t explain that because the Agency knew he cared for her, they would use her as bait. He couldn’t confess that she was the one person in this harsh, unforgiving world he had feelings for, and he had put her in danger. “Climb on my back, Haiku.”

  “No.”

  She shook her head, that wonderfully stubborn chin of hers protruding.

  “They’ll catch me before they catch you, Diego.”

  Her fingers shook as she stroked his cheek, her gentle touch making his stomach flutter and his brain melt, which explained why he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

  “Go. You’ll be safe.”

  He’d be safe. Diego stared at her, the pavement unsteady under his feet. He’d be safe, he repeated, trying to make sense of her words. “Haiku—”

  She covered his lips with her fingers, thankfully stopping his sure-to-be incoherent next thought.

  “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.” Her gaze shifted from his, and color bloomed on her high cheekbones. “I care too much.” She bit her bottom lip.

  She cared…for him. Diego blinked, feeling light-headed. She cared for him, she worried for him, and she offered to sacrifice herself for him.

  A rustling of newspaper brought him back to the present. It was nothing, only the night wind tossing garbage around, but it could have easily been a legitimate threat. Diego had allowed himself to become distracted. He gave himself a mental shake. He was a seasoned assassin, and the street wasn’t the place for revelations, earthshaking though those revelations were. “Get on my back, Haiku.”

  “But—”

  Diego didn’t have time to argue with her. Her breath whooshed out, and her protests stopped as he slu
ng her over his shoulder. He wrapped his hands around the curves of her calves, securing her small form, and sprinted, not feeling the extra weight against his back. His mouth was set in a thin line, while inside he rejoiced. She cared for him. He needed to get her to safety.

  Chapter Four

  While Diego activated the multiple door locks, Haiku circled the underground bunker, exploring his home. Diego’s private space was impeccably neat and clean and secure. Video images from the security cameras were projected upon the stark white walls, and the white tiles covering the floors smelled of bleach. It could have been anyone’s home, as there were no personal items interspersed with the sparse, modern furniture, but it wasn’t anyone’s home; it was Diego’s, and he had opened it up to her.

  “Well?” Diego leaned back against the door, watching her, his arms crossed defensively.

  “It’s absolutely beautiful. I love it.” Haiku beamed at him, and Diego’s normally grim lips curled upward. “Though it’s so clean, I’m afraid to touch anything.” She had removed her grubby boots at the door, but the rest of her was just as dirty from creeping through the alleys. She didn’t want to track grime across his white apartment.

  “I require all visitors to shower immediately upon entering.” Diego’s grin spread, taking years off his handsome face. “Come.” He strolled through an equally white bedroom to the bathroom, appearing almost eager.

  “Do you have many visitors?” Haiku followed, noting with interest the massive bed. They’d sleep in that bed together tonight, naked and exhausted, after a bout of hot, sweaty sex. Diego looked back over his shoulder, and she hurried to catch up. The bathroom was as large as the bedroom and covered with the same glaring white tile. The entire bunker must have been designed to be dosed from floor to ceiling with cleaning agents.

  Diego removed his gloves, placing them on the counter. “You are my very first visitor.” He turned a tap, and water trickled from a showerhead.