by Scott Cook
Yet here and now, with the sun beginning to dissolve into the distant horizon, the relaxing smoke and the effects of the bourbon were beginning to tell. Her frustrations were still in place, but the razor’s edge was beginning to dull noticeably.
That’s why when a thick rope suddenly fell from the balcony above and curled into a small pile just inside of her railing, Andrea nearly leapt out of her skin. It took her shocked mind a full two or three seconds to realize that it wasn’t some slithering jungle snake coming to lie in the fading sunlight on her veranda but rather a heavy length of triple-twist nylon rope.
“What the hell…” She gasped, more bewildered than frightened now.
Were the upstairs neighbors playing some weird sex game?
When a figure dressed in sneakers, jeans and a Guiabera shirt appeared above and slid smoothly down the rope to land like a cat before her, her bewilderment once again leaned toward fear. Fear and something else…
The man was tall, at least six foot two. He had broad shoulders and a trim waist. His clothing hung well on a body that Andrea could tell was lean and well-muscled. The thick muscles of his forearms bulged like cables as he’d slid down.
He had short dark brown hair and blue eyes very close to the shade of the darkening Pacific below. His face was handsome and rugged looking and the smile he directed at her was white, even and sexy. She guessed him to be about thirty or maybe thirty-one.
“Good evening, Miss Wellesley,” he said, still grinning, “I hope you don’t mind my dropping in on you like this.”
“Are you kidding me?” Andrea asked, her fear rapidly evaporating in the face of his facetiousness, “What the hell… what do you mean by… by roping onto my balcony. What is this?”
He reached behind his back with his right hand. When it reappeared it held a large black pistol. Andrea’s blood surged with adrenaline once again, her fear returning.
“Relax, Miss Wellesley,” The man said in an even tone. His smile was gone but his face didn’t seem to hold any malice, “I’m not here to harm you. On the contrary. I’m here to stop anyone from harming you.”
Andrea inhaled a good inch of her liquor and took a long, steadying pull on her cigarette. She blew the smoke out slowly and eyed the man slowly from head to toe. Maybe her prayers had been answered. He’d certainly fit the bill. A fine specimen, in fact. Young, strong and brave. She began to wonder what he’d be like once she got him out of those jeans.
“Now who would want to harm me?” Andrea asked smoothly, getting control over herself once more.
The man scoffed and strode into her suite like he owned the place. Over his shoulder he said, “How about Miles Palmer for one?”
Andrea laughed, “Miles doesn’t have the balls. Ask me how I know. Mix yourself a drink and join me. We can watch what’s left of the sunset and you can explain what’s going on here.”
She saw him check the main door and then turn to come back onto the veranda, “Maybe another time. I’ve got to keep my head clear. They should be here any minute now.”
Andrea stood and faced him. She was fairly tall, about five foot nine. In heels, which she liked to wear when she was out on the town, she was over six feet tall. It was good to see that she had to look up at him. She liked to feel dominated all the while doing the dominating.
“Who are you?” She asked.
‘No one of consequence,” The mystery man stated.
She sighed, “Who hired you?”
“That’s not important right now,” He replied.
He ejected the magazine on his weapon, looked into the ejection port, nodded and slapped the bullets back into the grip. He then slid the barrel back and she heard the unmistakable click, clack of a bullet being loaded into the breech.
Andrea heaved another sigh of annoyance, “Okay… then who’s coming to get me and how do you know?”
“Two men,” Her enigmatic guest said, “Both Costa Rican. Local talent. It’s easier to hire local guys for international hits because it avoids all the hassle of visas, passports, customs and other legal issues. Not to mention that it’s pretty tough to get a weapon on a plane for some reason. Hell, it’s hard to get a flight ever since that damned beer virus panic.”
She smirked at that. He was a little amusing, she had to admit, “OH? And how did you get into the country with a weapon, big boy?”
“Borrowed it,” He said, “This isn’t mine. Lot of ex-pats in this little paradise. As for flying, well… I’m very trustworthy.”
“I see,” She said, “That’s a relief, considering that I’m a helpless single woman alone in a room with a large man with a big gun.”
This last she said with just the right hint of hopeful question in her voice. He tilted his head and gazed at her for a moment, his right eyebrow cocked.
“I’m glad to see my intel on you was accurate,” He commented.
“Intel?” She asked, “And let me guess… I’m a grade-A bitch, right?”
He grinned, “Among other things. And that you have the sex drive of three teenage boys. I was supposed to be especially careful about that.”
She snorted derisively, “That so, tough guy? You not man enough to handle a little woman?”
He laughed, “You’re not a little woman.”
She frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He rolled his eyes, “If you’re going to ask me if I’m saying you’re fat… please don’t. It’d just be stupid. We both know you’re gorgeous, so don’t act like you’re unsure of yourself. Aside from your sex drive, I was told you don’t lack for self-esteem or confidence.”
She laughed then, “I wasn’t going to say it. So you think I’m gorgeous, huh? That mean you’re not afraid of me?”
“I’m not,” he said, “And you are. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to bed with you.”
“We’ll see,” she said, licking her lips sensually while meeting his eyes.
There were a series of odd sounds. A couple of metallic pings or clinks and then a thundering boom as the front door, now relieved of its dead bolt, flew inward. Two men crowded into it, their silenced weapons at the ready.
Andrea could only discern all of this through her ears, for even as the first muffled shot slammed into the lock, the big man pulled her up against his chest with his left arm and then threw them both sideways behind the big leather sofa. By the time the door flew open, he was lying on top of her, his groin pressed to hers almost as if they were dry humping one another.
She closed her eyes tight as his own silenced pistol made a rapid puff, puff, puff, puff sound not far from her left ear. A man cried out, there was a crash as something heavy slammed into the bar and sent several liquor bottles to the tiled floor where they promptly shattered and another strangled scream, as if someone were trying to shout with their mouth full.
Andrea was breathing hard and only partly due to fear. She didn’t scare easily… but she did arouse easily. His weight on her, his hard body on top of hers and the heat of his crotch pressed against her own with only a flimsy sun dress and dungaree between them was triggering her animal desire.
Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing them closer together. His reaction was both immediate and gratifying. She felt the pressure of his tumescence growing against her pubis.
“It’s all right,” He whispered in her ear. His mind hadn’t quite registered what was happening between them, so focused was he on his targets, “They’re dead.”
She moaned and bit him right at the juncture where his neck met the thick muscle of his shoulder. He let out a small involuntary gasp as she felt him grow larger against her now moistening womanhood.
He jerked back and rose onto his knees. His eyes were intensely blue now, seeming brighter than the sea blue they’d been only moments before. His face was flushed and she knew it wasn’t entirely from the excitement.
“Endeavor to contain yourself, Madame,” He said half-jokingly.
She smiled a predatory
smile at him and looked down slightly, “Hmm… I think it’s you who needs containment, big stuff. Or… maybe not?”
“Let’s stay focused,” he said.
She chuckled, “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”
He drew in a deep breath and turned away, adjusting his pants. He then went over and inspected his handy work.
“These are our boys,” he said, all trace of humor gone from his tone now.
“So I’m safe then,” Andrea observed, coming over to take a look.
Both men had two bullet holes in them. Both were of a bit less than average height and build, brown haired and brown eyed. A pair of ordinary Costa Ricans who nobody would give a second glance. One man had two holes almost dead center in his chest, the other one in the throat and one above his heart.
“You’re very efficient,” Andrea commented with little feeling.
He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. He stared down at his handy work with a smile on his face and a touch of sadness in his blue eyes. She felt something then, something more than the animal lust he’d sparked in her.
This was a strong and brave man but not a killer. At least not a man who enjoyed killing. He’d do what was necessary but had enough heart to feel pity for his enemies. She felt some kindness for him and also a sense of safety for herself.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” She said hesitantly, “It’s just that when you were on top of me, pressed so close… it’s been a while since… well, you’re very attractive and I just got carried away.”
He treated her to a glimmer of a smile, “I’m not offended. How could I be? It’s not every day a beautiful woman… well, no apologies necessary.”
She grinned back, “Oh, I know you liked it, at least physically. Still, I don’t want to give you the impression I’m some sort of sex starved whore. I don’t fling my legs around every man that crosses my path… even if they are very attractive.”
“Good to know,” He said, beginning to rifle the men’s clothing, “I don’t board every elegant lady ship that crosses my hawse, either. Not lately, at any rate.”
She laughed while she watched him work efficiently, “You sound like a sailor.”
He nodded. He sat back on his haunches, having found nothing, “Empty pockets. Not even a pack of smokes. Not surprised, really…”
He was talking to himself, she knew. He inhaled, rose to his feet and turned to her, “Miss Wellesley, my name is Scott Jarvis.”
