Wednesday, April 8, 2015

The Post-Retirement Shooting Party...and I Wasn't Invited.

The following is a hit that takes place between the events of Les Recidivists and the upcoming third sequel to Chance Assassin: The Inauspicious List.  Readers who haven't finished book two yet may want to turn back now.  Here there be spoilers.

We'd kissed the dogs goodbye and hit the road, traveling to the south of France with a new hit and a new handler to officially get back to work. Unfortunately I was not allowed to bring my new rocket launcher but I did pack my sniper rifle even though Frank was still giving me, and it, a look like we'd conspired against him to save his life and give him my new favorite scar.

I set our bags down, looking around the cheap hotel room that was just slightly bigger than the hotel bathrooms in America. “Well this is a nice change of pace,” I mused. “Shitty European hotels.”

“Don't even pretend that you aren't loving this,” Frank said, the light in his eyes proving I wasn't the only one pleased with our unpleasant surroundings.

“I said it was nice.” I draped my arms around his neck, barely containing my excitement but determined not to show it. My first hit in years, my first hit in Europe, I was older, wiser, and undoubtedly more attractive. It just wouldn't do to scream like a girl at a Justin Beiber concert. At least not until the job was done.

“It is nice,” Frank agreed.

“And shitty.”

He looked into my eyes, a smirk crawling across his lips. “So...”

And that was all it took. “OhmyGodwe'rebacktowork!” I squealed, jumping up on him and nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Thank fuck,” he sighed with relief, spinning me around and then flopping down on top of me on the bed. “God I love you.”

I gave him a quick kiss, since we were both smiling too much to properly make out. “I can't wait to shoot him.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Who says you're shooting him?”

“It's a sniper job, it's mine.”

He gave a noncommittal, “Hmm,” and moved off of me, that expression on his face like I was about to find out he'd eaten the last of my ice cream.

“What?” I demanded.

“Nothing. It just wasn't really a set rule—

You said, and I quote...” I paused, since quoting Frank didn't actually account for much. “Well, you said 'yes' when I asked if all sniper jobs were mine. Or at least you nodded. But you did agree!”


I punched him in the arm, since that particular “Hmm” was clearly Frank-not-speak for Vincent is wrong. “And you killed Silva after promising I could do it.”

It was a special circumstance,” he said broodingly.

And now it's my turn.”

When are we meeting Joe?”

I allowed Frank to change the subject so he could salvage some pride over his obvious defeat. The job was mine and he damn well knew it. “He's coming over tonight.”


I know it's not the way Charlie did things but sometimes we have to accept change.”

He forced a smile. “Yes, dear.”

I pulled him back down on top of me and his smile became genuine. “Anyway, I believe you were just saying how much you loved me.”

Mmm hmm,” he purred, leaning over me and sliding his hand under my shirt only for a knock at the door to totally kill the moment. “This would be why handlers are not invited to hotels.” He got up and pulled the door open, gesturing with annoyance for Joe to enter.

I'm on time,” Joe said defensively as he came in.

Next time, be late.” Frank shut the door behind him.

I propped myself up on my elbows, enjoying the increasingly uncomfortable expression on Joe's face as it dawned on him what he must've been interrupting. “Hi, Joe.”

Vincent.” He nodded to me, glancing nervously over his shoulder at Frank, who was still standing by the door, making no attempt at subtlety. “I'll make this quick.”

Thanks.” I grinned and expectantly held out my hand.

We already knew who the mark was; his photograph had been on our fridge for weeks. We knew how we were going to kill him. We even had our money. All we needed from Joe was the where and when, and he handed over a slip of paper with an address. “You're all set for Saturday.”

Frank opened the door again.

Joe just chuckled. “Call me if you need anything. Otherwise I'll see you in Genoa.”

Bye, Joe,” I said chipperly.

Frank said nothing, barely letting the poor man get out the door before shutting it on him.

How far away is Genoa?” I asked excitedly, thinking myself quite the world traveler for having been in all of four countries, not to mention that I was an international superassassin who'd saved everyone's lives.

Few hours.”

Oh. Right” I still couldn't get my head around the fact that countries in Europe were so close together. It took longer than that to drive the length of Illinois.

Frank sat beside me on the bed, taking the slip of the paper and looking it over for just a few seconds before sparking his lighter and setting the corner on fire. I leaned in closer, watching the address burn away and then blowing it out. Frank glanced sideways at me, a dumbstruck grin on his face and the charred remains of the paper still between his fingers. “I think that is quite possibly the sexiest thing you've ever done.”

Of course Frank would get off on fire. I obscenely licked my lips, then moved forward to lick his. He grabbed my hair, tugging my head away and sucking on my neck. “Fuck me until Saturday,” I panted.

Frank stopped just to torture me. “We have work to do.”

We are working.” I pulled off his shirt, then mine. “See? Wardrobe.”

Smiling widely, he slid my pants down over my hips. He stopped to kiss my scar before he took them off, messily folding them and tossing them aside. He stood up, unfastening his belt as he kicked off his shoes, being extra cautious with his left foot since it was still healing from being shot by Casey and stomped on by me. I was unabashedly drooling by the time he took his own pants off, standing at attention in all his nude glory and declaring, “Wardrobe complete.”

Supplies,” I said once I regained brain function.

He nodded, sauntering over to our bag and taking out lube. Then he reached back into the bag and I sat up with anticipation, watching eagerly as he removed a black silk Hermรจs scarf we'd stolen from Bella. He came back to the bed, gently draping it around my neck and collecting the ends underneath my chin in his fist. He pulled it towards himself and I obediently rose to my feet, my eyes on his. “Surveillance,” he said.

I shuddered, my face flushed. It had been a long time since we played this game.

Frank released one end of the scarf and I backed away from him, the silk slipping across my bare shoulder. I gave him a coy smile as I turned around, stepping into his boots for the much needed extra height it would give me to prolong our position.

He replaced the scarf and I led the way, stomping most elegantly to the bathroom with him trailing just far enough behind me to constrict my breathing. I watched him in the mirror as I leaned over the sink, standing on my toes in his too-big boots and beginning to stroke myself for his pleasure. He tugged the scarf as he entered me, catching my moan in my throat. I braced myself with my other hand on the mirror, but it did little to keep me in place with the force of him fucking me as hard as he could. The scarf did the rest, holding me to him when I nearly collapsed in the brief moments that he permitted me to breathe.

My legs were trembling even before I came, and I stopped jerking off right as I was getting close so I would come for him instead. I nearly fell over, breathlessly crying out for him, the world spinning and my body spent.

Frank placed his hand over mine on the mirror to keep us both from falling as he tightened the scarf one final time and gave me all the strength he had left. I gasped for air, meeting his eyes in the mirror, his grin even wider than mine. Frank laughed and kissed my head, letting the scarf fall to our feet. “Now, we're back.”

I was so excited on the night of the hit that I had to make the journey up the stairs to the roof twice to burn off some extra energy so my hands would be steady. Frank just smoked a cigarette.

“Maybe I should start smoking,” I said as I aimed my rifle.

“You start smoking and I'll kill you.”

“Maybe you should stop smoking.”

“If I stop smoking I'll kill you.”

I looked away from our mark to petulantly roll my eyes at my husband. Frank moved closer to me, lying halfway on top of me so he could look out the scope. Somehow I found no cause for complaint. “What do you suppose the next job is?” I asked, admiring the way the moonlight created shadows across the angles of his face and counting the seconds until our next rest stop.

“Hopefully not a sniper one.”

“Don't mope, this is a happy day.”

“I'm not moping. You are.”

I was about to contradict him since I could've only been happier if his cock was in me at that exact moment, but he pulled the trigger and instead I just gasped and punched him in the nose. Frank quickly held his face to staunch the blood before it became evidence on the rooftop but he got no sympathy from me. “You fucker you took my shot!” I seethed, but despite my usual penchant for getting overly emotional I was able to contain myself enough to start putting the rifle away since he obviously had his hands full.

“You got the last two,” he muttered from behind his hand.

I scoffed, but I couldn't really object because he actually admitted for once that I was the one to save that day. At least, I couldn't overly object. “That was a special circumstance.” I pouted.

“Yes,” he said, giving me the most winning smile someone with a broken nose could manage. “And sometimes we have to accept change.”