The Contract Read online

  “Good girl,” I croon as I pet her hair, consoling her. “That was a damn good fight and I’m impressed.”

  She topples me hugging me and her smile is a ray of sunshine. She looks like she is so pleased I am impressed with her fighting abilities. It is the truth—the girl can fight. Her training is coming along much quicker than I ever anticipated. I am relieved she can defend herself. I actually feel sorry for anyone who would dare to cross her—she is turning out to be a force to be reckoned with.

  The crowd cheering pulls us both from our hug and our thoughts. She has done enough training for the day—out of the bedroom that is. It is time to go home.

  Training isn’t just about fighting and learning about how to physically defend herself, it isn’t even about sex. She needs to be trained psychologically. She has to learn her opponents and that means that she will have to pay close attention to detail.

  There are so many things that go along with being a hit man. Much to my dismay, some of those things can only be learned in the field—hands on. The first jobs are some of the most dangerous time periods for trainees; it’s a time many of them are killed. Those first few marks are the most revealing. They separate the men from the boys, or in this case, the women from the girls. They are the moments of truth that let a trainee know if they are cut out for this line of work. I find myself hoping she is—she’ll be the hottest partner I have ever worked with, that is for damn sure…

  Chapter Five

  Stormy

  It is amazing to me how much I have changed in just the last couple of days. I am not the only one who has changed—Miller has as well. He deals with me differently now. He is unpredictable and I find myself constantly on guard with him. It isn’t in a bad non-trusting sense, but there is an element of danger where I am concerned now. The rules of the game have been changed, that is for sure.

  I fiddle with the key in the door and make my way into what I consider to be my refuge. I never see it coming.

  My arm is painfully twisted behind my back as Miller slams me chest first into the wall. I attempt eying him in my peripheral vision with my cheek smashed into the wall, speaking through fish lips. “What the fuck, Miller?” I growl.

  “Shut the fuck up! You just waltz in here and don’t even do a visual sweep?”

  “I pay a door man to monitor the place. It’s one of the reasons that I moved in here.”

  “Oh yeah, like the one your ex-husband paid off so he could kidnap you. Yeah, I can see why you feel so safe—I’d feel real safe too.”

  His voice drips with sarcasm and he still hasn’t let up off of the hold on my arm.

  “You’re hurting my tattoo,” I lie.

  “Liar!”

  I scream as he reaches up, moving my hair out of the way with his free hand, and rips the band aid off of my neck with intentional force.

  “Now that hurt. I can tell by the tears that are coming down your cheek. I like tears. If you are going to lie about the tattoo hurting, then you are going to pay the consequences and experience some pain.”

  He grinds his cock into my backside and I know that it is his way of letting me know my pain turns him on.

  “I’ll do better.”

  “No, I don’t think that I’m going to let you off that easy. Let me see…Hmm…Get those fucking jeans off.”

  He lets go of my arm long enough for me to shimmy out of my tight jeans and the boy shorts I’m wearing.

  “Palms. On.The. Wall. Now.”

  I know what he wants and I flatten my palms on the wall. I am still facing the wall and he pulls my lower half out, bending me at my hips. My back is as flat as a table and my legs are straight and spread out behind me.

  “You stay just like that, bent at the waist and ass jutted out with your legs spread—and by the way, you’re on speech restriction.”

  He leaves me like that and I can hear him pilfering around in the kitchen. I know he is trying everything he can to get me to change my mind about working with him. His sadistic side he has been keeping separate from me is now allowed free rein—to train me. If he can wear me down, he will. What lover-boy doesn’t realize is he is only pissing me off and the anger only fuels my determination to work with him.

  He bends down beside me with a glass of water filled to the brim and a smart ass demeanor and looks me in the eye as he speaks. “I need you to be my table and hold my glass and you better not spill one fucking drop of it.”

  Fuck you, Miller!

  “Oh, and by the way…He jams a finger into my opening with no warning, causing me to jump. “I’ll be fucking you while you hold my water for me.”

  Bastard!

  “Good thing that water wasn’t up there yet because you get a lash with my belt for every drop that gets spilled. Me, being the nice guy that I am, I’m going to give your tat time to heal, but your twat, I’m showing it no fucking mercy. Ready or not, here I come—pun intended.”

  I feel him place the long stemmed wine glass on the flat of my back. My body begins trembling just because it knows that it can’t.

  Bastard!

  As if reading my mind he speaks. “No, no, no, I bet you’re cussing me out on the inside, but you better not let me find out about it.”

  I hang my head down in front of me between my outstretched arms on the wall so he can’t see my expression. He is too good at reading me and what I am thinking right now is sure to warrant an ass whipping. My palms are held flat and steady against the wall, as if it depends on me to hold it up. Once again, as if reading my body language, he speaks.

  “Mm, hmm, trying to hide that rebellion that’s seeping through your expression from me. We’re going to work on that poker face of yours you don’t have. It’s very dangerous for a hit man to be readable and you, young lady, are an open book.”

  I have just steadied the glass and he starts in on me.

  “Mm, what do we have here? A tight little hole—open and vulnerable. I can see everything from back here.”

  For some reason I hadn’t thought about the fact that he can see everything with the way that he has my body positioned. I can feel my face burning with the humiliation that washes over me. The noise of his zipper coming down interrupts my thoughts.

  “So wet—you’re such a kinky girl. You should be very careful; your legs are starting to shake. I bet the way that I’m running my big stiff cock up and down that sweet little slit of yours is making it so hard not to tremble.”

  A guttural groan of agony escapes my throat as he slowly slides into me and slowly pulls almost all the way out, only to repeat the process. Fuck, this man takes sex to a whole different level. Agony overtakes my being at not being able to speak or move—I simply can’t vent. I listen as he speaks.

  “See that’s the thing, there could come a time when you’re hiding in a man’s closet and a big ass fucking spider comes crawling down the wall—right in your face. Then you notice that you can see the hair on its legs and everything in you wants to scream, run, fuck you’ll want to do something… anything…just smash him and kill him, but you can’t…because if you do…that sadistic Colombian drug lord is going to pull you out of the closet and there is just no telling what kind of fun that he and his friends might want to have with you. Then…when they get done…if…you’re still alive…it’s off to the barrio and sold as a sex slave for you.”

  Suddenly a light goes off my head. This isn’t a game. No wonder he is being so brutal with me, he is being my hero before the fact. He has seen the brutality of his job. He is realistic; it only takes one mistake to die. As a woman I stand to face more horrific torture than he does as a man. I settle in my heart that I am going to listen to the man who is attempting to save my life—before the fact.

  My core clenches as he pushes deeply within it and drives himself around the walls of my very essence. The strokes that he has been using as he fucks me, have now turned into a deep rotating. I know I am going to come if he doesn’t stop tormenting me. If I do so without asking his permis
sion, there will be sure, swift punishment. His sadism goes far beyond physical pain and into the realm of psychological sadism. He enjoys putting me in situations where I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Entertainment for Miller is coming up with new ways to fuck with my head—Master of the mind-fuck is enjoying toying with his prey…and I am his prey.

  “All you have to do is ask and you can come.”

  I shake my head no and my hair sways with the motion. I just keep shaking it, convincing myself not to give in.

  “Oh, you’re going to spill that fucking water though. I may not be able to control what comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours but your body is mine!”

  He grabs my hips and begins fucking me with a fury that I know comes from the fact that he can’t break me.

  “You’re in trouble if you come without my permission too.”

  The water crashes to the floor and I scream on the inside with a noise that comes out like Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

  I am so pissed off I can’t control anything, anything but not opening my mouth right now. As if that isn’t enough, I come. My core clenches around the man who is determined to brutalize me into submission. I come so fucking hard that another agonized groan emits from my chest.

  “You’re in trouble,” he laughs. “Somebody has an ass whipping coming. You won’t know when or where, but it’s coooooooming.” He strings the word out just to be an ass, but I still don’t speak. His speech restriction has become my control and power. By not giving in, I have still maintained some control over this training session.

  I jump when he smacks my ass and against my own will, an “ouch” is out of my mouth before I can stop it. He leans down and pulls my head up by a handful of hair and speaks.

  “You may have the illusion of believing that you maintain control by using my sessions against me, but it’s just that…an illusion.” A tear rolls down my cheek as he makes his way into the shower, whistling as he goes. How does he always know what I am thinking?

  My palms remain against the wall as tears run down my cheeks and his seed runs down my inner thigh…

  Miller

  The warm water running over my body feels good as it washes away the sex I just had. I’m a hard ass and part of me hates myself for what I’m doing to her, but the bottom line is: I’m scared to lose her.

  Pampering her so one of these crazy mother fuckers I deal with can take her captive isn’t an option. Though I would spend a life time saving or redeeming her if she was abducted and shipped off to some third world country, the death of her child wouldn’t even begin to touch the surface of the trauma that she would be subjected to. She would never be the same. I have seen it first hand—women who have been sold into slavery against their wills become a cowering shell of who they once were. Yes…being a bastard is a necessity—a necessity I most certainly don’t mind accommodating the young lady with.

  I grabbed the towel and began running it over my sore muscles. I smile as I think about why they hurt—the little hell cat worked me over in that ring. I am glad we have the issue of fighting and shooting a gun out of the way because I’m on a time crunch that no one else is aware of.

  The biggest issues I see with my little trainee are the facts she is too innocent, too trusting, and too damn naïve. Yes, I am just the bastard to take the attributes that most would consider good traits out of her.

  It feels good to pull the cotton briefs over my clean body and I know she is cussing me right now for not being allowed to move yet, but she had better hope those hands of hers are still holding that wall up and she damn sure better hope that she cusses me out in silence. After all…she is still on speech restriction…

  Stormy

  I feel his breath on the back of my neck but oddly enough, it’s his smell that invades my system first. The Clive Christian 1872 citrus spices waft through the air invading my senses and it’s making me want to beg for a shower—but there is still that issue of speech restriction.

  “I bet you have cursed me under your breath a thousand different ways but you sure as fuck better hope I don’t find out about it—and don’t think I won’t. Today’s date and the timestamp when I told you to hold onto that wall and shut that pretty little mouth of yours are imprinted on my memory—they’re also imprinted on surveillance tapes.”

  Fuck…I never thought about that. How could I forget that he is a surveillance nut? He takes the word hacker boy to a whole new level.

  “Watching you squirm is fun, Stormy. Always remember men with power and money always have surveillance, you either go into a man’s abode in a disguise, a ski mask, or seducing him. Oh, and if you kill him you had better remember to get the tape. Just sayin…”

  You’re such a smart ass, Miller!

  He is still leaning over me, hovering in my ear, and invading my space—dominating me. I only shake my head, halfway answering and halfway reprimanding myself for the fact that I want him to fuck me again. He just got done humiliating me and I want more. What the fuck is wrong with me? Oh well, I like it so I don’t care.

  “Go get a shower, you’re off speech restriction.”

  I push off of the wall never even looking at him due to the fact that I’m pissed. I jump as I hear his voice slice through the air, “Now would be the time for you to say, yes Sir.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  I don’t bother to turn around and look at him—I am too pissed. If it weren’t for the fact that I wanted to work with him, I’d tell him to kiss my ass and hit the fucking road. I never let people push me around and I damn sure didn’t let men do it but there was a method to my madness and it is working side by side with a killer.

  I resist the urge to slam the bathroom door and lock it, but I can’t resist the locking it part. I quietly turn the lock and inwardly gloat. The shower will feel good washing away the memory of standing against that wall for an hour but it won’t wash away the lessons I am unknowingly being taught by a man who is a professional in every sense of the word.

  By the time Miller gets done with me, I will be a trained professional. I will master things only known to killers and highly trained military personnel. Miller is both.

  Miller

  I open my desk drawer grabbing a burner cell phone and though I am not looking forward to making the call, it is necessary.

  “Glazov, Sir.”

  “I was wondering if you were going to call. A man with impeccable manners such as yours should have the decency to inform a fellow colleague when he has killed one of his marks, no? This is true…is it not?”

  Fuck, he’s pissed. His Russian accent is heavier.

  “With all due respect, sir, it was unavoidable.”

  “This woman you are training, she knows nothing of me da?” (yes)

  Shit, this isn’t good at all, now he was using the Russian word for yes. A heavy accent and intermingling of languages is never a good sign with this crazy mother fucker.

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Maybe I want to meet the woman you’re training, the woman who will kill by your side one day. You want a woman beside you to kill, to be your partner in crime? This is smart but dangerous. Time will tell us if it is wisdom, nyet?” (no)

  This phone call is not going as I had anticipated—at all.

  “Sir, I appeal to your domestic side; I only did what you would do in similar circumstances. If it were a member of your family…”

  A sinister laugh rings in my ear as he speaks, “No, I cut off body parts first.”

  “My apologies, sir, for not informing you of the hit before it occurred but, as I stated, it was unavoidable.”

  “I forgive you,” once again a sinister chuckle can be heard on my end of the line, “had you not informed me I would have been very disappointed in you. Now go train your Laura tomb-raider girl.”

  The line went dead and I found myself wishing that the clenching in my gut would also. It is evident Glazov has been watching us and using the term Laura tomb raider girl is only his way of letti
ng me know that he knows her real name. There are very few people that I respect in the business and even fewer that I fear…Glazov falls under both categories…

  Black Rose

  Well, well, well, the plot thickens. This is the first time I have ever witnessed you being led around by your cock, Miller. Though it isn’t hard to understand why a man wouldn’t be deterred by a woman who looks like she does.

  Hmm, I can’t quite decide if I like her innocent look or that whole sexy ‘I’ll chew you up and spit you out’ thing she has going on now.

  I do believe I may have just found your Achilles heel and I’m going to enjoy using it against you. I never thought I’d see the day you didn’t fuck a different woman every night. Up until now you have been smart enough to know emotional ties are nasty little encumbrances that only give openings to our enemies. Until one of us is dead, you, young man, have a life-long nemesis. Even though I don’t like you, the blood brotherhood we share keeps you safe…for now.

  I toss the photo I had printed off onto the desk and make my way out the door with a renewed spring in my step. Suddenly I have a new motivation for living…my soon to be captive. Enough of Miller and his issues, I have my own little pet to deal with.

  Chapter Six

  Stormy

  “Everything okay, babe?” I asked as I made my way out of the shower. He looks worried and it isn’t something that I feel good about, pissed at him or not.”

  “As okay as it can be, being my ass isn’t being served up on a platter to Glazov.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “We’ll leave you out of the loop on that one, little girl.”

  “Come here and crawl up in my lap and tell me how much of a bastard I am.”

  “You are,” I agree with him, sitting on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.”

  “Guilty as charged, baby girl, but there is nothing I love to do more than to think up new ways to mind fuck you.”