The Complete Contract Series (22 page)

Miller & Stormy

I eye Miller as he sits on the bed next to me cleaning his gun with great care.

“I’m worried about the woman we saved last night.”

“She has a name and it’s Melanie.”

“It doesn’t change the fact I am concerned about her.”

“She’s fine.”

“Oh really, how would you know?”

“Do I detect some jealousy on your part?”

“Maybe.”

“She’s not my type and she is being well cared for.”

“How would you know?”

“You are jealous, I’m flattered.”

“Tell me how you know. You’re pissing me off, Miller.”

“Better than being pissed on.”

“Fuck you, Miller.”

“I think I will,” he growls, as he slowly sets the ammunition for his gun on the nightstand and checks it to make certain it isn’t loaded.

He rips at the skimpy underwear I have on under his long shirt I’m wearing, and shreds the buttons off of it, laying it open as I listen to them pop off of the surfaces that they hit. My mouth is hung open in disbelief.

“Get those fucking legs back and your hands better not come off of your ankles. That’s it, pull them back and hold them by your ankles.”

I gasp in disbelief as he presses the long nose of the gun into my opening. He is scaring the shit out of me.

“Right here is where I’ll shoot you if you ever fuck around on me. Fuck that gun girl, give me a show. That’s it, good girl.”

I watch as he pulls his cock from his jeans and slowly strokes it while he talks dirty to me.

“Fuck it, baby,” he moans as he pushes it deeply into me grinding it in circles. “Play with your clit, it’s so swollen, you’re such a dirty girl. You enjoy the way I defile you and I damn sure enjoy doing it. Fuck it baby, that’s it, grind those hips, baby girl. Come on, baby, come for me.”

He is rapidly pulling at his cock as he watches me fucking his gun. My nipples turn to hardened peaks as I cry out in the sheer ecstasy of doing something this dangerous—fucking the gun which is used to kill people who don’t deserve the breath of life. He groans as cum spills out over his hand and onto the jeans he is wearing. I push the unloaded weapon out of me and reach over to hand him a baby wipe. I’m still not finished with the conversation about the waitress.

“I won’t tolerate you fucking around on me, Miller!” I say it before I lose the courage.

He surprises me by chuckling and giving me the answer I hoped for. “I don’t want another woman. I want you…all of you.”

“Then why are you keeping tabs on her?”

My intentions are to make sure she doesn’t have any memory of what happened last night. It seems our little damsel in distress has caught the interest of someone else.

“Who?”

“Black rose…”

Black Rose

I watch her on surveillance as she walks around the bedroom in wide eyed wonder. It is every little girls dream to be rescued by a knight in shining armor and my little Rose is no different. I guess if I note any difference in her, it is that she truly needs to be rescued. I do too. I just haven’t decided if I want to be rescued yet.

I want her; I do know that much. The cross of fear and wide eyed wonder in her expression is making my cock hard. She has no idea who I am, or why I would show any interest in a cast off of society. She doesn’t deserve what life has dished out to her and I am going to be the change she so desperately is in need of. The thought of her son growing up in that cesspool of a neighborhood he has been subjected to is unbearable to me. He is the perfect child to be inserted into my life because I have no desire to spawn offspring with serial killer DNA.

I will be very displeased with her if she takes the child I have already become attached to back into that neighborhood. She will not go unpunished if she displeases me in any manner.

I will let her get settled in before I introduce myself. For now it is imperative I remain a mystery. I can’t wait to have her in my clutches—to feel her warm skin beneath my fingertips and her pulsing jugular beneath my lips. She is so beautiful…so innocent…and she is so mine…

Agent Turner

I eye my partner, my partner who I just happen to be fucking. I’ve always had a weakness for redheads and this girl fits the stereotypical redhead perfectly. She is feisty, smart, and hot as hell. I knew as soon as they brought her in six months ago I wouldn’t be able to resist her—I had just hoped she would feel the same way and damned if she didn’t.

Her voice pulls me out of the daydream of all my reasons she is perfect for a fucked up man such as myself.

“David?”

“It’s Agent Turner on the job, Rene.”

“David,” she speaks again ignoring me.

“This is nothing more than a case of a dope dealer getting shot down in a field. Hell it could have been a drive by, from a rival gang banger for all we know.”

“This guy isn’t drive by material, nor is he a dope dealer. Look at him, the guy looks like a pansy, some office worker nobody ever notices. Not to mention the fact he was killed execution style. Now the only question is why someone would put a hit out on a man who has no connection to drug addicts, much less dealers.”

“We don’t know that, he has drugs on him. You’re the one who always says if you hear horse hooves, don’t look for a zebra. Why are you second guessing this when the evidence says he was dealing drugs? Nobody has packaged up dope—dope set up for individual sales—if they aren’t selling drugs.”

I take the baggy she is referring to and count out the individual sealed off baggies—ten to be exact. Nothing about this guy says he was involved in the drug culture and nothing she can say will convince me otherwise.

I curse the rain from the night before that has washed away evidence I would normally be privy to. I make my way over to the side of the dilapidated building and take a chance there may be footprints, and sure enough, under a cheap piece of metal which at one time served as an awning, is a footprint.

“Rene, somebody was here last night and it wasn’t a man by the looks of the sizing on this shoe print. Get CSI out here and have them get shots of this. And one more thing, it’s time for you and I to do some good ole fashioned leg work. Somebody saw or heard something last night.” I point to the projects across the street. “The streets have eyes and in the hood they have x-ray vision.”

“I can already see I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this.”

“Nope, I’m like a dog with a bone, girl.”

She leans in and whispers, even though no one else is around, “No, you’re like a cop with a boner—a perpetual hard on.”

“You are such a dirty girl.”

“You have no idea.”

“By the time I get done with you girl, I’ll know all of your dirty little secrets.”

“Sounds like fun to me, but in the meantime let’s get these boys out here processing evidence so I can say ‘I told you so’ when you find out this guy was peddling dope. With unemployment the way it is, law abiding citizens are turning to breaking the law to pay the bills.”

“Good luck with that girl, because my gut instincts have never been wrong yet, and my gut is telling me there is a hell of a lot more to this than what meets the eye.”

“Well my gut is telling me I’m hungry.”

“Oh no you don’t, you just finished breakfast. We are knocking on doors before people start getting too high and paranoid to talk.”

“Yes Sir,” she answers me, rolling her eyes.

I like the sound of that, because there is nothing I would love more than being her
Sir
…

Stormy

“Why do I keep feeling like I forgot something in that field last night?”

Miller chuckles and speaks, “That’s why they always say criminals return to the scene of a crime. It’s also the reason I don’t permit you to wear jewelry or anything else that could be jerked off in a struggle on a hit.”

“I’ve gone through everything in my mind as far as getting caught, anything that I could have missed or forgotten, yet when I search my heart for guilt, I have no remorse about killing that guy. I’m more concerned about not getting caught than I am the fact I’m a cold-blooded killer.”

“That’s the true mark of a hit woman. On another note, that’s the reason you jumping out of the car like that was stupid. I can’t tell you if you left evidence because I wasn’t there to monitor the kill shot.”

“You’re not making me feel any better, Miller.”

“You need to think before you act. I hope you learn a lesson from it.”

“What if there’s footprints or something?”

“It rained, silly.”

“I stood under that awning for a second in muddy shoes, Miller.”

“That is why we burn clothing in an incinerator after a kill.”

Even though he is saying all the right things, it isn’t making me feel any better. I am scared. I don’t want to go to jail, but I also don’t want to let Miller down. He was doing perfectly well without me and I sure don’t want to be the reason he could get caught. He will be in prison for life if they ever find out who he is and what he is doing for a living. The thing that scares me the most about either of us going to jail is the fact that I can’t imagine my life without him.

This is the first time in my life I can ever remember needing someone the way I need him. It isn’t in a needy, whiny, weak way; it is more like I don’t want to lose my partner. I don’t want to lose my best friend. He makes me feel safe. Ironically enough, this is the most precarious manner I have ever lived my life. Before Miller, I was safe in my self-made cocoon, yet always scared. Now I am living life on the edge, and the only thing I fear is losing my partner in crime.

It is settled—I need to train hard, pay attention, and be careful to do what he says. He has been doing this a lot longer than I have, and he has been trained by the best—the military. They had no idea they were training a man who would not only kill for his country, but also for the inhabitants of his country after his return home.

Whether it is abroad, or on American soil, Miller has every intention of protecting his fellow man, and I have every intention of protecting… my man…