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“Francine Fontaina wants her home swept for bugs before we go, too.”
“Woman hiding something?”
Leaning back, he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s a distinct possibility, boss, but I’m just relaying the information to you.”
“Got it. They’re paying high. You’ll each get a bonus for this.”
He grins. “Works for me.”
My phone buzzes again, this time with Violet standing in front of her full-length mirror wearing nothing but a thong and a bra.
This work? I can move pretty freely dressed like this.
I’ll be right there.
An hour later, she’s dressed in a slinky navy gown, with a slit to high heaven that allows her to run if need be but paired with knee-high boots to hide her weapons.
I stand behind her in the full-length mirror and rest my hands on her hips, ignoring the way my cock strains the closer I get to her. I pull her closer to me, and when her ass presses up against me, she grins.
“My, my, Mr. Master. If I didn’t know you had the gun in yourholster,and not your pocket…”
I lean in and drag my lips across the shell of her ear. Inhale her. Close my eyes and relish this brief moment in time when everything’s perfect. “Behave yourself, woman. You move one more inch and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you right here, right now, against this wall, and then we’ll be late.” I shake my head with mock regret. “And I’ll have to punish you for that.”
Her eyes roll back and her head falls to the side, giving me full access to the creamy skin at her neck and her full cleavage. Ismack her gorgeous ass, and she gives a little yelp, then a moan. “That’s supposed to stop me?”
A knock sounds at the door. With a groan I pull away from her and adjust myself. “Yeah?”
“It’s me, boss.” Claude, tall, with a shaved head he’s had since his time in the service, comes in with a matte black box in his hand. He’s dressed like me in a charcoal-gray suit custom-made to hide our harnesses and weapons.
“Oh, you brought us pressies,” Violet says, her brilliant amethyst eyes lighting up. She loves weapons like other women love jewelry.
I take the box from Claude. “Give it here. No other man gives my woman weapons.”
He grins at me. I open the box. Nestled on the left are sleek black earpieces with mics, but on the right are new, custom-made thin Tantos. I take the slim one made for Violet and give it to her. The silver blade of the throwing knife sparkles like jewels in her slender hand.
I made her learn to shoot because a knife can only go so far, but Violet’s real skill lies with a blade. “Show me, baby. Target, ten o’clock.”
She wields the knife with the skill of a master, the silver blade flashing in the overhead lighting. She takes her position gracefully like a dancer, and with a flick of her wrist sends the knife soaring into a target we have on the wall for this purpose. It stabs like a dart, straight on the mark.
Claude whistles. “She could slice the hair off my balls and leave ‘em intact,” he says.
“You keep your fucking balls away from her or there will be nointact,” I mutter.
Violet grins. “Aw, babe, I love when you get all territorial on me. Gonna piss on me before we hit Monstraut?”
I reach for her, drag her over to me, and stab my fingers in her hair. “Don’t tempt me.”
“And, that’s my cue,” Claude mutters. “I’ll leave you two to suit up and see you tonight, then.” The door clicks shut behind him.
“Aw, honey, you keep embarrassing the children.” Her eyes twinkle at me. “Now, leave me alone so I can fix my hair. We’ll never get there in time.”
“Your hair’s perfect as is.”
Still slightly damp, it hangs about her shoulders in gentle waves.
“You like the beach wave look?”
“I like every look.”
