Agent 47: Because that suitcase holds perfectly my blazer sniper rifle, two.45s and a gag for talkative, irritating little girls like yourself. Do you want me to stop and get it out?
Nika Boronina: I don’t know-Do you think we have time for foreplay?
– HITMAN
The sound of the door of the stove creaking woke me up, and the first thing I noticed was that I was in the wrong bed and naked. The second thing I noticed was that I was alone. As I shifted under the covers, the scent of Ronnie’s body gave me a drunken sensation of pleasure.
Ronnie was bent over the stove, feeding the fire. She wore nothing but her underwear, and as a result, I became hard as a brick. Raising myself up on my elbow, I watched her in silence before she noticed me and ran back into my arms.
Her skin was chilled and I did my best to warm her up. The panties came off with a flick of my wrist, and within moments I found myself deep inside of this woman. Words could not express the sensations I felt as I moved slowly within her. Ronnie’s throaty moans only drove me harder and faster, and it seemed that we both came too quickly. Damn.
“Think we can play hooky today?” she murmured.
I laughed at her choice of words. Was everything related to school with her?
“I suppose I earned my stripes yesterday…” I answered.
She giggled and the sound went straight to my cock. “You earned more than that last night.”
My arms circled her body. I wanted nothing more than to just hold her beneath the warm wool blankets in a tent in the middle of nowhere. It seemed so perfect.
“Is that your phone?” Veronica turned her face up to mine, and I realized that a phone was in fact ringing. She reached into my boot and pulled out the cell Missi had given me yesterday. It was playing “We Are Family” by Sister Sledge. Cute.
“How in the hell do you have a phone that works here?” Ronnie sat up as I pulled the cell from her grip. For a second I was distracted by the sight of the blankets falling off of her breasts. Sigh. They were certainly magnificent.
“Yes?” It took all my willpower to focus on the phone.
“Squidgy!” Mom squealed on the other end.
Veronica mouthed the word Squidgy with a sort of glee that told me I was a dead man later. I got out of the bed and walked to the other side of the ger.
“Hello, Mum.” I thought I heard Ronnie giggling behind me but chose to ignore it. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to get a report and make sure you were warm enough out there.” This, I knew, was code for the job. But anyone overhearing would just think my mother was concerned.
I looked back at the lusciously topless Veronica as she held herself to keep from laughing out loud.
“Don’t worry, Mum. I’m keeping warm enough.” This proved to be more than Ronnie could bear, and she burst out in howls.
“Squidge,” Mum said slowly, “are you with a woman?” Good old Mum. She knew how I operated and yet avoided calling me a man-slut.
“Yes.” I don’t know why I bothered with the truth. It was certainly more than I’d ever given her before when she’d interrupted me with a woman.
Her voice changed. “You are with someone?” She said someone as if she were really saying my future daughter-in-law and mother of my many, many grand-children.
“Yes.” No point in giving the woman too much information or she might start ordering her mother-of-the-groom dress.
“So does that mean-” she started.
“It means I can’t really talk right now,” I cut in.
I could hear Dad yell, “Go get her, m’boy!” in the background. Lovely.
Mom hung up without saying good-bye. It was probably for the best, considering she’d be texting me soon for the correct spelling of Ronnie’s name for the wedding invitations.
Bombays are a strange lot. As suspicious as we are about outsiders, nothing seems to thrill our killer mothers more than the idea of their children marrying and settling down to make more assassins. Maybe it’s a business thing.
“How is Mum?” Ronnie asked with a grin.
“Mum who?” I said as I slid back into bed. The last person I wanted to think of as I dived beneath the covers for Ms. Gale’s lovely pussy was my mother. Fortunately, I had no problem forgetting she ever existed.
“Cy?” Chudruk called from outside the tent a few hours later. I was too exhausted to answer. Ronnie turned out to be tireless in the sack. Much as I didn’t want to leave that cot-ever-I figured I needed to replenish some vital bodily fluids or I would die.
“Are you dead?” My friend read my thoughts through the thick felt.
“Just a minute,” I called as I carefully slid out from underneath a sleeping Veronica. I guess she had to recharge somehow. After putting on a T-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes I quietly joined Chudruk outside.
“You look like hell.” He smiled. “Rough night?”
“And morning,” I answered, running my hands through my hair. “Sorry I missed training.” I looked back at the door. “I was detained.”
Chudruk nodded. “It’s okay. Everyone’s taking the day off. I was coming to offer you the comfort of my goats, but I see you found other entertainment.”
I laughed. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll need goats for a while.”
“Well, the offer still stands.” He held out a clothwrapped bundle. My stomach growled in appreciation as I opened it to find bread, cheese and milk. I nodded and took the bundle inside to give my sleeping woman breakfast in bed.
Ronnie pushed her hair away from sleepy eyes. “Was that Chudruk?” She smiled when she saw the food.
“Yes,” I answered as I handed her the cup of milk. “He had a tempting offer, but I told him I was giving up goats for you.”
“Wow. It’s good to know I can hold my own against a couple of smelly goats,” she said between sips.
I scratched my chin. “Oh, I don’t know. These are cashmere-producing goats. Very rare and very expensive.”
“Come on!” Ronnie rolled her eyes. “They’re just goats.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “Not really. You see, cashmere only comes from Mongolian and Chinese goats.” I stroked her stomach. “The hair on their bellies creates pure cashmere. These goats can’t live anywhere else in the world. And over the course of a year it takes three to four goats just to produce enough for one sweater.”
Veronica looked at me strangely. “How do you know that?”
I swallowed my food before responding. “Knitter, remember? And I love working with cashmere. It’s really expensive, though.”
She said nothing for a moment. “You know, every time I think I’ve got you pigeonholed, you completely freak me out.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” If I had hackles, they would have been rising about then.
“When I say ‘freaking out,’ I don’t mean to insult you,” she started.
“I don’t like the idea of being pigeonholed. Now, that’s insulting.” I kissed her on the forehead.
“Why would that insult you?” Veronica frowned as she got out of bed and started dressing.
“Because nobody should be a textbook anything. People are complicated. There’s no black and white.” I reached for Sartre, who began wheeking loudly, presumably for breakfast. “The fact that you thought you had me pegged when you first met me shows how wrong you turned out to be.”
“Wrong?” There was an edge in her voice that was hard to miss. “There are entire behavioral sciences built around categorizing people. Just because you are so different doesn’t mean the majority of people are.”
“Different? You mean because I’m an overeducated carney who likes to knit and study different fighting styles? You know more about me than almost anyone else, and you still don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
She was getting mad now. It was obvious in the way the large carotid artery throbbed in her neck. “Oh, I don’t know you, do I? Even you are predictable in some ways.”
Oh, really? Would she even guess that I’m an assassin?
I watched her as she pulled out some notebooks and opened them on her cot. Apparently she was ending this conversation with the last word and planning to engross herself in her work to shut me out.
“People aren’t predictable. We just like to think that because it makes us feel safer.” I walked over to her cot and picked up a folder. “Take this guy-Senator Anderson. I mean, what do we really know about him?”
Ronnie snatched the file out of my hands. “Senator Anderson was a great man! He was going to change the world!”
Wow. She went from zero to white-hot in seconds. Apparently I’d touched a nerve.
“His life was an open book!” she sputtered. “Unlike you!” Veronica slammed her notebook shut just before she stalked out of the ger. I picked up her file on Anderson, then looked back at the door.
Within just a few hours, I’d managed to seduce this girl and piss her off to volcanic proportions. I really did have a way with women.