Lewd language drifted from Sheila’s parted lips, and her grinding grew more intense. The seductive words were Luca’s undoing. The tightness in his loins bordered on painful, and there was no time to strip down and do this properly.
Sheila bucked against him. “Luca!” she cried before the powerful spasms of her body stole her words completely.
“Fuck, Sheila!” he roared into the crevice of her neck and shoulder, his release hitting hard. Sparks exploded behind his eye lids as he ground against her unhindered, the undeniable sounds of their extreme pleasure blending together and echoing out into the crisp, open air. Even though they had been fully dressed, Luca had never come so hard in his life.
Time seemed to stop, engulfing Luca in a cocoon of surreal bliss. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something magical had just transpired, advancing their friendship to a whole new level. Such abandonment was utterly out of character for him. But he didn’t sweat it. There was no turning back or room for regrets from the state that he currently found himself in. He’d never felt so damn good in his life, and suddenly knew, without a doubt, he would hold onto this woman forever.
They clung to one another for some time, allowing their breathing to stabilize. Reluctantly, he lifted up on his forearms and gazed down at her. His heart dropped when he saw Sheila’s eyes darting about frantically, indicating all was not right in their special universe.
“What's wrong?” he asked, gently brushing the back of his fingers across her cheek. The contact immediately stilled her roving eye movements.
“Nothing. It's just…”
“Just what?” He rested his forehead against hers.
“We probably shouldn't have done that.”
“Yeah, not with our clothes on anyway. My goddamn balls are sticking to my underwear.” A second later, Luca found himself looking at the sky as the flash of pink lightning that he knew to be Sheila tried to scurry away from him.
Damn, she's strong!
Lucky for Luca, he had speed and size to his advantage. In one swift motion he managed to catch Sheila’s leg and pull her back to him, placing the she lion between his parted legs as she fervently struggled to get away. When she further resisted, he encased her in a firm bear hug, effectively pinning her back tightly against his chest.
“No! I don't know exactly what I said or did to piss you off, but you're not going to run from me like that.” The dejection he felt from her actions surprised him. It was physically painful.
“Everything's a joke to you, isn't it?” Sheila huffed, doing her damnedest to avoid his gaze.
“Okay, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the state of my balls, but you were acting weird before I said anything. You gonna tell me what’s going on, or what?” Using the tips of his calloused fingers, he started rubbing small circles on her exposed arms and rocking her ever so gently. He kissed her temple before resting his cheek in her soft, wavy hair.
The tension appeared to leave Sheila’s body as Luca continued to hold her. Once she seemed completely relaxed, she turned her face toward his. A dull ache began in his chest when he saw moisture had gathered in her pretty eyes. At that moment it clicked. They were sitting in the same spot where he'd come across her bawling her heart out. That day seemed so long ago, but it stirred his anger against whomever or whatever had brought it on nonetheless. That crazy desire to protect her sprung up from nowhere, momentarily startling him. However, fear–filled or not, he wasn't going to walk away from her this time.
Dropping her gaze to the ground, she began to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. “I'm sorry, Luca. It's just I've never experienced anything like that before. And the things I said…” A slight pinkish hue gathered under the honey–brown rim of her ear. “I guess it kinda scared me, not to mention how embarrassing it is to admit such a thing at my age.”
Placing a finger under her chin, Luca raised her gaze to meet his. “First off, I'm forty–six, and I've never experienced anything like that before. Sheila, you don't ever have to feel embarrassed around me, especially when it comes to something this intimate. We're friends.” And you are my woman, he secretly added. “Don't ever be afraid to confide in me when something's bothering you, okay?”
The impact of his words caused those big cat eyes of hers to perk up. Once again, his lips found hers. This kiss was much gentler than the previous ones, and it was intended to soothe the ache he felt emanating from her and add credence to his words. He couldn't help but question the man he was becoming since Sheila had entered his life. Experience warned him he should proceed with caution. But his mind and heart were too befuddled to heed the warning. Falling in love in his line of work could be dangerous. However, he knew it was too late.
Chapter 8
London, England…
The musty smell permeating every dojo Aiko Worthington had ever had the privilege of stepping into greeted her as the heavy doors drew open and she walked inside. Only at this hour, the scent carried the putrid aroma of fresh blood. She stepped to the left, barely avoiding a collision with the limp figure that flew past her. Her eyes trailed it until it landed with a thud a few feet from where she stood. Moving to stand over the mangled body, Aiko allowed her gaze to flow around the modest–sized room, taking in the six other adversaries who had suffered the same fate before him. Those that were still cognizant held onto various body parts while undoubtedly willing their minds to advance above the physical pain they must be feeling.
The blood they sacrificed blended happily with the red and white color scheme of the dojo, adorned with bold black and gold kanji and hiragana symbols. The words and names the symbols represented always conjured the pride she felt for the Japanese half of her ancestry. With a slight bow, she paid homage to the two guards at the door and their sheathed swords, knowing they would protect her legacy with their last breath if the challenge arose.
“Tsk, tsk. Poor bloke probably had no idea what he was getting himself into by volunteering for this stint, did he?” she said, gazing upon the unconscious figure at her boot–clad feet.
“Not that you really care, but he will be well compensated for his sacrifice,” the large man in the center of the room stated in a deep baritone.
Aiko watched in awe as he glided toward the front of the room, his massive bare back to her as he gave the proper respect to the dojo. She admired the elaborate tattoo etched on its well–defined surface, a clandestine symbol of the bearer’s status unrecognized by most in their world of powerful assassins. Those who happened upon it often mistook it for a Harley Davidson tattoo.
However, those familiar with it also held the knowledge that only three other men and one woman in existence bore it proudly. Aiko held high aspirations of becoming the second woman. She furtively squelched the prideful grin that attempted to cross her lips every time she happened to enter this room for a meeting with the man before her. Not everyone, especially females, chanced coming face to face with one of the world’s deadliest men and managed to live another day.
“What've you got?” the man gruffly inquired, finally turning his attention to her. He raised a bottle of water to his scrumptious lips, replenishing the sweat dripping from his ripped body causing his rich dark skin to glisten. Even in the harsh florescent lighting, his beauty shone. He was way out of Aiko’s league, but a sight to behold nonetheless.
“I received this a few days ago.” She progressed toward him with caution, never knowing how or when he’d take advantage of a misstep and use it as a training maneuver. With much discipline, she resisted the urge to rub the phantom ache in her arm from their last encounter as she closed the short distance between them. Remaining vigilant, she handed him the crumpled piece of paper and watched his steady stoic expression while he read.
“Interesting,” was his response. “Do you have any idea why?”
“No, Sensei. But it would appear the Patinas have propositioned the Moriattis to do the job. Word out is they specifically requested Luca. No doubt the Patinas are still fe
eling the grudge over what happened in Italy.”
“Luca? That brat,” the man said twisting his lips in disgust and showing the first sign of emotion Aiko’d ever witnessed from him. “Why not Drago or that crazy ass, Rie? They were all up in that mess, as well. Besides, I thought they'd all retired, or some shit, and Nico was running the show.”
“Luca’s an easier target. He’s practically separated himself from the others, whereas Drago and Rie have surrounded themselves with nutters almost as loony as themselves. Either way, I've just been requisitioned as backup if he refuses to do it.”
Aiko noted the miniscule increase in the rise and fall of his chest as the man attempted to stare her down. Drawing from her astute training and the memories of his last lesson, she evaded falling for his trap. At the first sign of weakness, he'd be on her. She lifted her chin, meeting his glare dead on, while inside she trembled with the knowledge of what he could do the moment her guard should falter. Outwardly, she projected a mask of steel, showing not one iota of fear. Relief flooded her when he turned his back to her and kneeled in the center of the mat.
“I guess you have to do what you have to do.” Folding his large frame cross–legged on the floor, wrists on knees, the man appeared to slip into a deep state of meditation.
No words were needed to signify the meeting was over. Taking advantage of the fact that her limbs were still intact, Aiko turned on her booted heel and quickly left the man’s presence. He was a great teacher, and she carried nothing but the utmost respect for him. That is why she knew, without a doubt, she had to do right by him.
***
The Saturday before Thanksgiving was a chilly one in Limington, Maine. Luca had risen at his usual dawn–breaking hour to complete his morning workout and care for the horses. Workout complete, he stepped out onto the porch with mug in hand and breathed in the crisp, cool air. The air seemed much more invigorating now that he was following the proper sleep hygiene tactics Sheila had recommended. Admittedly, he also had more to look forward to each day.
With newfound pep in his step, he headed out to his barn. He didn’t get far before the faint shrill of his landline stopped him. Knowing it was important, he quickly returned to the house to answer it.
“Ayuh,” Luca greeted, knowing full well who it was.
“Ayuh! What the fuck have I told you about that? You’re a New Yorker, damn it! Answer the phone like the educated individual I paid a fortune for you to become,” Nathan ranted in his native Italian dialect. Use of the foreign language added an extra layer of precaution against the average eavesdropper.
“Hey, Pop, what’s up?” Luca responded in the same language while getting a good chuckle from his father’s reaction. As the middle child, he took delight in razzing his pop from time to time. “You know that term has nothing to do with one’s education level,” he continued in Italian. “People up here have been saying it forever.”
“And I’m sure it sounds fine coming out of their mouths because they know when and where to use it. Coming from yours, however, it makes you sound like a moron.”
Luca laughed harder.
“Is this an appropriate time to discuss a new contract?”
“But of course, boss.” Although assignments were far and few in between these days, Luca had assumed this was the reason for his pop’s call. The landline had been installed and secured specifically for these assignments, even though they always relayed details about assignments in code. Nonetheless, he had prayed that it would be something else, like senility making the old man use the wrong phone to call and say “hello” or “I’m so proud of you, son.”
What Luca really didn’t want was the logistics of a job encroaching on his time with Sheila. They hadn’t officially solidified their “friendship”, for lack of a better term, but he kept faith that it would happen any day now.
“The bid is for a contemporary design. They want the lines as clean as possible,” Nathan stated.
“Cool!” The false enthusiasm was an effort to conceal his silent moaning. A clean hit meant getting to know the target, which usually equated to more time away from home. Great! Not only am I going to be away from my woman, I have to find someone to watch the horses, he inwardly grumbled. “Ready for the info.” Forcing his frustration aside, he prepared to memorize the coded information.
“The dimensions are, W–P–L–I–M–I–M–E by 10–15. Got that?”
“W–P–L–I–M–I–M–E by 10–15. Got it,” Luca repeated. “Deadline?”
“February twenty–first. But it would behoove all involved if you’d get this drawn up sooner rather than later. These customers are a pain in the ass to deal with, and I’m already beyond wanting to be done with them.”
“Sure, Pop. I know how you feel,” Luca agreed, even though he had no idea who the clients were. The longer an assignment stayed open, the longer it took to get paid, not to mention the unsettled feeling that it conveyed. That was another reason he preferred “traditional designs”. He liked to hit and run.
Luca ended the call and decided to decipher the code later. Right now he was in a good mood and wanted to get his morning tasks out of the way so he could head on over to Sheila’s place. He knew she would be asleep after working all night, but he needed to reapply the weather stripping around her front door. Knowing Sheila would do it herself if he took too long, he had gone out and gotten the supplies as soon as he found the problem.
Lately he’d begun to grasp onto any excuse to be around the sexy woman in hopes that things would deepen between the two of them. He’d volunteered to wait until she was up in hope of inconspicuously lingering after the job was done. But stating she didn’t want to be a burden, Sheila had assured him coming by while she slept would not be a problem. The disappointment from her simple statement was less foreign now, but bothersome nonetheless.
He was beginning to understand what his father and cousins had been telling him all these years about the power their wives held over them. All those years of snickering and making digs about how whipped they were now seemed to be coming back to bite him. At least those men could blame it on the sex. Technically, Luca hadn’t gotten that far with Sheila since she wasn’t quite divvying out the goods. Karma really was a bitch.
It didn’t take him long to complete his morning chores and tackle the weather–proofing project. The pervert in him wanted to peek in the bedroom to see what she slept in, if anything. With difficulty, he managed to be a good boy for once. With the new weather stripping in place, Luca locked and secured the front door, making a mental note to get Sheila’s boiler checked. The tiny house was freezing, and he didn’t want his baby to be cold.
My baby. No doubt he’d claimed her, at least in his own mind. Restful nights now consisted of vivid dreams, which kept reviving their intimate encounter by the pond and those glorious feelings that came with it. Only in his dreams he managed to confiscate her underwear, which was full of her precious juices. He’d awoken the last few mornings with wet sheets on his face, stained with saliva after having been sniffed and licked all night. How lame.
“What the hell kind of spell has this woman cast on me?” he couldn’t resist saying out loud, honestly not caring what magic Sheila was using. Nor could he hold back a huge grin. For the first time in a long while, Luca was truly happy.
The trek back across the field didn’t take long, and before he knew it, the large structure he called home loomed before him, the sight of it causing his shoulders to slump. As of late, the house had begun to feel too big. Images of coming in from the barn to Sheila’s southern cooking — minus the pork, of course — kept popping in his head when least expected. Funny thing was, Sheila had never stepped foot in this house or cooked for him.
Shaking off the image, he immediately went to his study where the decoders were kept. Using his psychological training, he managed to push the vision of Sheila in her underwear away and swung into professional mode. His fingers danced across the binds of the multiple, recently upd
ated phone books that lined the walls of his study, searching for the right one. Anyone else would assume that they were the usual books provided by the phone company. However, these books were specifically made and updated on a regular basis for this task. They contained classified information that most phone providers would be envious of.
A moment later, he plucked the one for Limington, Maine off the shelf. The fact that the assignment was in his own backyard was an anomaly, one he’d have to question Pop about later. Rarely were assignments given so close to home because they were too dangerous and left little room for error. Luckily, Luca was one of the best of the best at what he did. At least there would be no traveling.
Sitting down at the desk, he began to whistle an old Italian tune while thumbing through the white pages of the small book. Let’s see, ten, he thought, recalling the numerical sequence his pop had given. A good memory was key in this line of work. Continuing to whistle, he quickly located the appropriate page. Now who is line fifteen? His large calloused index finger cruised down the pages, quickly coming to a rest at his next target. The name and address that his finger landed on literally sucked the breath out of him.
“No. It can’t be,” he whispered in agony. Discomfort started in his chest from the increased intensity of his heart. Placing his finger at the top of the page, he deliberately skimmed downward again, silently counting off each line before stopping at line fifteen again. The pounding became downright deafening when the name that his finger landed on remained the same. A quivering hand he hardly recognized as his own ran through his hair at the realization that Sheila Leigh of 19 RR, Limington, Maine, was his next assignment.
Chapter 9
“Seriously? They had white hoods on and everything?” her brother, Calvin, asked, seemingly unable to believe what had just been conveyed to him. Sheila’d missed his last monthly video call from Afghanistan, having been at the fair.
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