Three persons on the ladder. On top, a bodyguard with a gun, almost on the ground my target, and between them a muscleman in a tight tank top.
My last bullet was for the shooter at the top. Thereafter, I tossed the emptied pistols aside and tried to focus on the Capo.
Instead, I had to dodge quickly, so that the downward jumping muscleman didn’t smash me with his body mass alone.
“Big mistake, little woman.”
Confident of victory, he attacked me frontally. Sure—judged by the comparative weight, I’d stand no chance against such a chump. He’d easily counter lever grips or throws, and blows would only tickle him. This guy probably would even take a hearty kick in the balls, as long as he could get hold of me in exchange.
I quickly slipped to the right—and he followed my move with surprising swiftness. Next, his left hand clasped my left upper arm with iron-hard grip and tried to squash it.
There, he’d picked the wrong subject.
His grasp was my support—I jumped up and around and served him a quick, hard kick to the temple.
With no effect. That guy shook the paralysis off as if it had been a gentle slap.
—Metal-reinforced skull—
His counterattack followed in the form of a swinging blow that would crush a dainty woman like me to pulp—if it had struck home. But I dived under it.
Okay. Without tricks, I could forget about the fight against this mountain.
He gave me an ugly grin and squeezed his left paw a bit more, but my tough skin showed resistance.
With a likewise ugly grin, my claw sliced through the tendons at his wrist—and through his artery. His grip immediately came loose, and he just barely managed to push me away with a rough curse.
The wound was potentially lethal, he knew that. Nevertheless, he tried another attack with a mean kick.
My parade severed the tendons at his ankles. That way, his mission was ultimately doomed to fail—I didn’t even have to kill him.
He recognized that, too, let his arms drop and waited for my final strike.
Which didn’t come. After a brief nod, I turned my attention toward the Capo. He meanwhile had managed to draw his own gun and level it at me.
He had time for one shot, so while I was heading toward him, he pulled the trigger—and the bullet smashed with painful force against my body armor. His aghast look was priceless—but I didn’t reach him. Instead I had to zigzag quickly to dodge the first plasma round volley!
If I hadn’t heard the safety clicks, I’d have been grilled now. Did I already mention that there existed way too many of these thingies?
Jump aside—the shots now were cutting off the way to my target. To pull the mission through now was simply too risky. I could call myself lucky if I got away unhurt! A leap carried me across the fence, where I threw myself flat on the ground and then wound away under cover of the low wall.
Crap.
Chapter Thirty-eight
If I wanted to save the mission, I had to think fast. What would I do in his place?
I wasn’t in his place, so I had no clue. However, I still had another address—a cottage near Pompeii, with spacious gardens, easy to defend, a good hour by car away from here. Wouldn’t that be first choice, until his police had cleaned up here?
When I saw the young man with his electric scooter stopping at the curb, I had an idea.
I hurried toward him, and before he knew what was happening, I hung from his neck and kissed him passionately. My breasts were rubbing at his arm, so he couldn’t help but enjoy the surprise.
“What?” he asked once I granted him a deep breath.
“I need your scooter, sweetie. This was the advance, in three hours you’ll get the rest. Wait here.” Saying that, I plucked him from his seat, slipped behind the handlebar and drove off.
I heard a “Hey,” and then I took the next corner.
His cottage could have appealed to me, too, located on a gently-sloped hill, shielded from curious glances by tall cypresses, and yet with a stunning view over the landscape up to the coastline. A large outdoor pool was framed by a U-shaped building, which could be completely opened to the inside.
The wheels of multiple vehicles came to a halt on the fine white gravel with slight crunching. Steps disappeared hastily into different directions—short calls assigned the small group of bodyguards to their positions.
“Just stay in the car until the boys arrive with the doc. Padrone, do we go inside?”
“I want to see this damned rat on a spit! Hear me? On a spit! And then I want to hear her scream while she’s slowly roasted! What does she think who she is?”
“Yes, Padrone. Here, please.” The entrance door moved.
“Call the Iceman. He’ll do that for us.”
“Yes, Padrone. One moment, please.” The speaker poked one head through the door to the office. “Okay. Please, Padrone.”
The agitated Mafia boss allowed himself to be pushed into a chair by his bodyguard.
“A glass of wine, Padrone?”
Padrone took a deep breath. “Yes, fine, Silvio.”
Silvio turned to the antique-like cupboard and fetched a large wineglass. The adjacent open wine shelf provided a bottle. Again from a drawer in the cupboard, Silvio procured a corkscrew and opened the bottle.
Disapprovingly, he flipped the cork into the waste basket next to the sturdy desk. “Plastic cork. Bah.”
He poured only a little sip into the glass and handed it to his Padrone. “Please.”
“Thank you, Silvio.”
“I’ll have a look for the boys. They should be here soon.”
“Okay, Silvio.”
The wine seemed to be soothing. He smelled at the glass, swayed it a bit, held it up against the light, smelled again, and then he drank.
I was willing to grant him that much, and a bit more.
I dropped my camouflage. Nude, I stood before him.
His gaze wandered from my naked toes up my legs, hesitated at my crotch, hurried on to my breasts and finally captured my face.
“Who are you?”
“Velvet.”
One step forward, one reach, one jerk, and he was past it. I caught the glass before it could drop, drank the noble wine’s remainder, and placed it on the desk.
Then I left him. I had an appointment now.
Chapter Thirty-nine
The young man gazed at me in amazement when I parked his scooter at the curb before him. His two mates, one with goatee, the other with curly hair, made grim faces. All three were actually young enough to be my sons. Well, then.
“You came back indeed.”
“You’ve indeed waited for me.”
“Where should I’ve gone to?”
“And your friends?”
“What about them?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Do you need help to collect my payment?”
“Uh, what?”
“How well do you know them?”
“Forever.”
“Well enough to share your girl with them?”
“Huh?”
Pointless. I turned to his neighbor with the goatee. “Have you three ever fucked a girl together before?”
“Wha—no!” Too surprised to lie.
“Well, in that case, today’s the premiere.”
When I saw the worn-down camper goatee led us to, I felt a suspicion rising that my idea hadn’t been that good. When I saw the wide bed and the speckled sheets, I knew that my offer had been too gracious. I should have left it to a quickie in the backyard.
Now I’d also have been better off without my refined Dragon senses—I didn’t want to hear the scratching and scurrying behind and under the built-in furniture!
No, a promise is a promise. Moreover, the three young men’s pants already showed promisingly large bulges, and after all, I was at the top of the food chain and not the cockroaches.
So, when I hear
d the door shut, I pulled my tank top—still with a black-scorched hole in its front that attracted curious glances here and there—over my head and placed it on a cupboard handle. With my arms stretching over my head, my tits were nicely presented, so this maneuver earned me approving whistles.
I let my shorts follow without turning away. Yes, my little bush was blonde, too, as that was part of the disguise.
The camper was too narrow, except for the bed behind me. To my right were the dishes-packed sink and the upper cupboards, from the handles of which my clothes were hanging now, and to my left a greasy table and two seats—nevertheless good for a little show for the three young men who squeezed in between entrance and plumbing unit before me. I supported myself on table and kitchen sink cupboard and pulled my legs up into a crouch. Then I unfolded my knees only and pointed at the scooter driver’s crotch with my toes. “Take off!”
Still unsure, he nevertheless quickly reached for his belt buckle and the buttons and let his trousers drop.
“Take off.”
His briefs followed. His pointer was still hanging down indecisively, even if a little bit swollen.
Without using further support, I swung both legs outward as far as the available space allowed. My labia parted nicely and unveiled the shining-wet true pink.
Now his penis rose to a salute.
My feet found rest at both sides.
“Put it in,” I whispered. “I’m ready.”
“Really?” Goatee asked.
“Really,” I confirmed and pushed him back on the bed. Then I sat down backward on his erect cock and pumped a few times up and down until he was slippery enough, before I took him into my ass.
“Come,” I prompted Curlyhead and pulled my labia apart with my fingers. He followed obediently and entered me, too. Only now, I pulled Scooterboy close and began to suck his best piece.
“Oooooh!” he began, only to soon cheer at higher keys. His two mates had no reason to complain, either.
Three guys at once—how long since I’d done that? Even at Eva’s shop, this constellation had been extremely rare, as it simply hadn’t matched her concept well. But occasionally, with the external jobs, when I had accompanied a good client to a party—often his own—and several guests really got along with each other well, such a little gang bang might have happened—after all, in such a case I hadn’t wanted to favor or disfavor any of the men, so I’d had to do them all together.
Of course, after a while positions were swapped. It had been that way in the past, and it still was customary.
There was only one difference—back then, nothing had happened without rubber, this time, nothing happened with one. I had none, needed none, and the boys didn’t miss it.
As much as it should be fun, it was hard work. My hips had to pump so that the guy under me got something from it, my tongue shouldn’t slow down, my pelvis muscles shouldn’t relax, and at the same time I had to make sure that neither of them came prematurely, and I myself wasn’t lost in the course.
I’m the best, I told myself, and I lived up to the claim.
Even if none of the boys had enough stamina to stand on his own legs afterward, it became a successful evening.
Chapter Forty
“G’night, boss.”
“Ciao, little one.” His gaze fell on the bullet hole in my tank top’s chest area. “Where did you mess around?”
“Played with bad boys. As you can see, I’m fine. The bad boys aren’t. Can I have another such tasty pasta plate?”
He looked around. Neither of his numerous guests seemed to take notice of me or our talk. So he pointed at the stool before him. “Take a seat. Something to drink, too?”
Perhaps I should stick to the brand from this morning? “Do you have an Ornellaia?”
Had I said something wrong? His eyebrows were frozen in raised position.
“Anything wrong? I can afford it!” As a proof, I placed two hundred-Euro-notes on the counter, which the Capo’s petty cash in his cottage safe kindly had provided me with before his arrival. Allowances, I had told myself, as that way I’d spare Davide and myself the paperwork and the Italian state the expenses. “No?” I raised to three-hundred Euro.
Now he let the notes disappear. “Do you know anything about wine?”
“I can distinguish flavors well,” I admitted. That didn’t match my role as street rat in any regard, but it quite well matched the top-fee high-class prostitute I once had been. “From the past.”
“Fine. And one serving of Pasta Mista—or two?”
“One by one. That’s too good to let it get cold. And leave the bottle under the counter.”
“Yes, that’s probably better.”
He reported my order to the kitchen, nodded at a young waitress and then disappeared behind another door. This wine seemed not to be ordered frequently.
While my meal and wine were being processed, I gazed across the guests. Neither of them appeared in any way conspicuous.
Quite opposed to the five guys who just came in and recognized me as quickly as I recognized them—the protection fee racket from the previous night!
Their leader clearly showed his disapproval about our reunion by letting two switchblades spring forward. With them, he instantly advanced toward me.
“You wanna play?” I commented and quickly slipped down from my stool. His knives couldn’t harm me, but he couldn’t know that.
Instead, his gaze now fell on the bullet hole in my tank top, and his motions froze. His mates stared at me, too.
“You?” he uttered.
As I didn’t know what exactly he was referring to, I only smiled at him. One of his mates started to operate a mobile phone—when I focused on him, he let his hand drop down. In my back, the side door sounded. Boss stopped in the doorway.
“You’re due!” the knife-hero threatened and grinned. “You’re unarmed. The reward’s already mine!”
Oh, that way the wind blew! “A dead Capo won’t pay any reward. May he rest in peace.”
Perhaps it was such a macho thing again, but he simply couldn’t give up against a single short woman. “Lie down flat on the floor and reach your hands forward. Manuello, give me your belt.”
“Forget it,” I advised him.
“Do I have to decorate your pretty face first?” His face turned red, and he attacked me with his knives.
With two quick kicks, I disarmed him, a slap sent him to the floor, and one of the knives picked from the air now stuck in the window frame right next to the ear of the fellow who just had been about to use his phone again.
“Place your phones on the floor, and kick them over. Then you’ll sit down at the table over there and keep quiet.”
Thereafter, I arranged their leader in a recovery position and climbed back on my stool. Hum. I’d like to have eyes in the back of my head. Or—why not, actually?
—Confirmed—
Thanks.
Boss placed the wine bottle on the counter before himself and fetched a corkscrew. “What do those guys know that I don’t?”
“The Padrone was looking for a blonde woman, about one-fifty tall, in boxers and tank top, who drove him out of his city villa this morning.”
“A single woman drove him away? And his guards?”
“Sixteen of his men are dead. Thereupon he induced retreat. Only, he wasn’t safe in his cottage, either.”
“He wasn’t?”
“The last he saw, smelled and tasted, was a glass of an exquisite Ornellaia.”
Boss glanced at the bottle in his hand, then back to me, and tried to understand.
“Boss, I’m here to clean up, and that was the first step. The Cartel’s, or the Mafia’s, ruling of Italy, respectively, is over.”
“And that’s the achievement of a single woman by taking on all Mafia killers alone?” He seemed to have made the mental connection, but he didn’t voice my code name.
“I’m only helping the
Carabinieri a bit. What about the wine now?”
He pulled the cork, put the tool aside and placed a wineglass in front of me. I nodded, and he poured.
—Finished—
My vision blurred for a moment and was covered by the wall behind me. I focused on my mind and moved the additional image, relayed by a tiny nano eye in my neck, to the side of my virtual field of vision. The four guys behind me were gazing at each other helplessly.
“Would you serve the four back there a glass of house wine each, on my tab?”
Chapter Forty-one
“This again was delicious,” I praised boss’ kitchen, placed the cutlery on my plate, and took another sip of the fine red wine. Two servings were just sufficient to compensate for my missed lunch.
“I’ll have to say goodbye soon. It’s safer for you and your guests if I don’t come back.”
“That’s a pity. But I wish you good luck.”
The new hindsight somewhat needed getting used to, but it was extremely useful. Only three times, I had to advise the racket gang not to try anything foolish, and no, a visit to the bathrooms was out of the question.
In any case, I saw the two policemen the very moment they entered the venue, just as they spotted my back instantly. Short stature, tank top, boxers, barefoot, blonde—everything matched.
One of them very cautiously approached the woman whom he knew had taken out sixteen Mafia bodyguards very efficiently this morning. He already had his hand at his pistol grip.
“Leave it holstered,” I advised him. “I don’t mean to attack you.”
“I have to arrest you. Please come with me.”
“You don’t have to.” I turned around and conjured a small ID up. “I’m Commissaria Giovanna Meier on a special mission for the ROS. My field of activity also encompasses corruption and collaboration of the police with the organized crime. But at the moment, I don’t have any evidence that could cause me to act. Correct?”
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