Wild Horses

Crash courses in love and war

At Bucciarati's house, Lira helped Mista sharpie tiger stripes onto his pants. They were in the backyard, laying in the grass with big markers, and Mista's pants were off. "Great," Bucciarati rolled his eyes when he saw Mista in his underwear.

Bucciarati had shit to do, so he sat at the kitchen table, where he could keep an eye on the backyard, and opened his laptop. An email from the caporegime, Pericolo, popped up on his screen with the computer saying "You've got mail," in its tinny voice. Bucciarati opened the email:

B,
Your team has done well with accidents lately. I want you and your accident-prone team member to meet me at a mountain cabin outside of the city in two days. There I will give you a special assignment for another accident. I've included directions below.
P

Bucciarati sighed and put his hands over his face. Lira's not a recognized part of the team, he thought. But he couldn't get around it. He looked out the sliding glass door into the backyard to see Lira chasing Mista and spraying him with the garden hose. The Sex Pistols were zooming around chaotically. Bucciarati couldn't deny that it was pretty cute, even if Mista's tan muscles were glistening wet and he was in nothing but boxers in front of the object of his affection. He watched as Mista wrestled the hose out of Lira's hands and turned the nozzle on her, spraying the water in short bursts as he pulled the trigger like it were his gun. She crashed to the ground in screaming laughter, soaking wet in the red sundress.

"Stop, stop stop! Mista stop, I hurt myself," Lira said as she pulled her leg in to reveal a bloody knee, still laughing. Both Mista and Bucciarati hungrily bit their lips as they watched her laughing at her own pain.

"Ohh no, I'm sorry, gattina, I was playing too rough," Mista purred as he knelt beside her. Bucciarati came outside and eyed Mista up and down, suddenly making the goofy gunslinger feel as naked as he actually was. "Hey look, Bucciarati's here," Mista took the hint before grabbing his clothes and heading inside.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?" Bucciarati asked as he looked at her knee.

"No," Lira said while squeezing water out of her dress.

"Ok, gattina," he mocked Mista's nickname for her and picked her up in one swoop and carried her inside, smiling as she began laughing again. "This isn't necessary," she giggled as he sat her up on the counter. He leaned one hip on the counter between her legs and dabbed the scrape with peroxide. She hissed and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

Bucciarati stiffened. "You're getting me wet," he said.

"Is that a problem?" she purred in his ear. He relaxed into her and muttered, "No." They stayed like this for a minute, both of them soaking up the rare intimate moment between them. Lira thought about kissing him but wondered if he'd even let her. He was so hot and cold, so guarded all the time.

"Lira," Bucciarati breathed her name and slowly broke the silence. "I have a special assignment in two days which I have to go meet the caporegime for."

Lira loosened her embrace. "Is it dangerous?"

"Probably, it's a hit. But," Bucciarati paused to make eye contact, "he wants me to bring my team member who's been so good at making accidents lately." Lira's jaw dropped, followed by a scoff. "You have to come with me," Bucciarati said.

"But I'm not in Passione!"

"Yea," he paused again and placed a hand on her bare shoulder. "It'll be fine. The caporegime is a pretty nice grandpa-type. He won't mind as long as the job gets done."