To Kiss A Man Silly

Chapter 18

"I know I have some strange effect on women but I think inducing suicidal tendencies, is a first for me," Claude said straight-faced as he moved to strap himself in the car beside me.

Ignoring his blithe opinion of the mortal dilemma I faced, I set about restoring the ignition of my Toyota to full throttle. The body of the car rumbled along with the purr of the powerful engine. Modified by a friend in mechanics, the torque on this machine belied its facade.

To me, the decision between losing my virginity and taking Claude's father's life carried an equal weighting. Both were of equal importance. One lending support to the other even. The mafia kings death would hand me Claude on a platter. Mine to do with as I wished. I could delay his death indefinitely. The father was the better mark than the son. Uncle Anthony would understand that. Appreciate it even.

I swung the car right onto oncoming traffic than did a loop back the other way, ignoring the honking threats all the other road users showered on me.

Life is a barrel of laughs, it's just that not all of them was really funny. Glancing over at Claude's incredible good looks, I had to tighten my grip on the steering. It was almost criminal to take his face off the plane of this earth. He was literally too beautiful to die. But I wasn't blinded by his sparkles as Uncle Anthony supposed. I knew the deadly strength beneath the exquisite facade was real. He was more than capable of executing me... and executing me first.

Somehow that little inconvenience didn't really bother me. That it didn't matter said a lot about my state of mind. In my field of work, it really was a case of life or death, my prey's or mine, as the case may be.

Perhaps Uncle Anthony was right after all. I have been hoodwinked by a splendid specimen of manhood. I stopped at the traffic light and tapped a series of instructions to my contacts. I needed information. And Claude's dad had too many of the wounded trailing around doing naught but keeping an eye on him. Waiting for an emissary from heaven to drop in their laps and do the needful. They were more than willing to divulge the necessary intel.

It didn't take long for my contacts on the field to get back to me on the whereabouts of my prey. A dossier as thick as a dictionary flooded my inbox with A to Z intel on Claude's dad, as soon as I was parked and ready, on a hilltop view of the mafia's sprawling mansion.

Claude appeared pensively silent as he too gazed down at what was once his home. I was surprised that in running far and wide, his travels had taken him right back here. I supposed he thought he could hide well enough in the same city as his dad as he could elsewhere. In a way, he was not wrong. But then again, if I could find him so could anybody. Still, hiding in plain sight may not have been the best bet. 

He was lucky I had my own nefarious uses for him. It stopped the bullet that would have torn right through him, without him even knowing. Perhaps he was as uncaring about death as was I. 

I tore my gaze, from where they had come to rest on his person, to stare out the window. My hand reached into the glove compartment in front of him to pull out a  compact binoculars. Rummaging past a gun, a grenade, and several knives, I also tugged out a notepad and a pen. A packet of maltese rustled beneath my searching fingers and I tugged that out too.

Claude watched my preparations with avid interest, and when I was finally settled in my seat to spend the next few hours staring aimlessly at Claude's home, he spoke.

"I guess there's no time like the present to get on with your lessons." 

I turned confused eyes to peer up at him. The close proximity of his overpowering masculinity caught me tongue tied, again.

So that, I was slow to react when, I watched his elegant, long, artistic fingers, reach down to settle on his belt buckle. His movements swift, and economic, he had the flap open and his impressive length exposed to my gaze a shocking moment later.

His eyes caught my startled gaze on a shocked gasp. But the keen intensity in his steely depths didn't waver. Enunciating each syllable clearly, he commanded with just one word.

"Taste it."