A Hitman's Kryptonite

by Cage Thompson

  “It’s not like that, Ma,” he sighed, aware that he couldn’t stop her barreling train of thoughts.

  “Raine has stars in her eyes and Gabby clings to your every word—”

  “I did not ask for that but—”

  “You don’t have to when you give out mixed signs,” she chastened.

  He pressed his lips together in displeasure, not wanting to bare himself to his mother.

  “I see how you touch her and how you hover over them both as if in a constant mode of protection”

  “That is my job,” he grumbled.

  “Who here are you protecting them from?” she questioned. “Yourself?”

  “Alright, Ma!” he sighed heavily. “I didn’t start out with the intention that any of this would happen; I didn’t even want to work this case,” he blew out. “But I did and I love her!” he declared.

  “But what about after?” she asked.

  “But nothing, Ma; everything will work itself out,” he assured.

  “You haven’t been like this since Aiden—”

  “Mom!” he warned.

  “I just need you to be careful,” she breathed. “I don’t want you to get hurt and Raine is as fragile as they come; you have to ensure that you don’t crush her with your spirit.”

  “She’s stronger than you think,” he murmured. “She’s a whole lot stronger than anyone ever gave her credit for, but I know what you mean, Mom, and I’ll take care of her,” he commented.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.”

  —Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  Silence reigned at his height on the container as he watched Vince through the scope. The large, slightly rusty ship loomed over the Miami horizon as he counted the number of men on board. The raw scent of the ocean rushed up to meet his nostrils as the giant creaked while the waves crashed against her. Heavily armed men moved over the weather-worn deck as they guarded whatever they had brought in. He didn’t even know how they passed the coastguards with such a noticeable ship but with the government shutdown, anything was possible.

  He watched them move back and forth on the moored craft as Stephano’s pristine, white yacht danced a gentle ballet not far away. Thirty-six, he mentally thought as he took in the heavily tattooed Hispanic man. Archivaldo Sinaloa, Crew noted mentally as he took in the familiar face of the world-renowned-Mexican-cartel’s son. The shorter man carried out a rapid-fire discussion as he gestured towards the case that must contain the cash. Vince shrugged nonchalantly, cocky as usual, which only infuriated the other man. Sinaloa’s hand moved towards his hip in a threatening motion and Vince opened his coat to reveal multiple knives, guns, and other weaponry. He was way too confident in his own skin for Crew’s liking. Dabbling his foot in the drug and gun trade had given him an added boost that made him think that he was now invincible.

  A heavily tinted car pulled up on the dock and Sinaloa’s men drew their guns without his indication. Crew’s shoulders stiffened as he held the sniper rifle up straight. The driver door swung opened and out stepped Lieutenant Mario Gutierrez. The pudgy man dragged himself from the car before slamming the door. He placed a Cuban cigar between his fleshly lips before brushing down his overstretched jacket over his beer belly.

  Vince waved his hands and the men’s weapons receded as they started to move around like everything was normal. Someone handed him a brick as Mario trudged up the steep, metal staircase. With a touch to his watch, Crew connected to the old man’s phone to get an ear on the ground. He really wanted to know what brought the lieutenant out on such a busy night for Vince.

  “Mario, old dog, come taste a pinch of my success,” Vince murmured as the other man, huffed and puffed on his cigar, clearly overexerted from his climb.

  “I’ve seen the death toll from those kinds in South Florida,” the lieutenant murmured. “I’ll pass.”

  Vince blew the contents on the tip of his dragon blade knife in the officer direction, either way, causing the old man to cough. “So, what brings you here tonight, old boy?” Vince drawled as he passed the kilo off to a passerby. “And how did you even know where we were?” he asked as he threw Salvatore a pissed look.

  “I always try to keep my ears to the ground,” Mario murmured. “You never know what valuable information you can pick up along the way—”

  “Why are you here?” Vince questioned coldly, his patience obviously running out as Sinaloa tapped his Italian-leather covered foot against the old deck, his patience expiring too as his discomfort grew.

  “You can relax; the coastguards are stretched taunt right now and my department has enough on its hands to have the time to monitor you,” Mario reassured, not realizing the thin line that his portly body was dancing the rumba on.

  “I’m sure that you didn’t come all the way here to tell me that,” Vince murmured lazily as he wiped the menacing looking knife against the leg of his Armani suit.

  Mario obviously got a hint because he removed the cigar from his mouth to state the fresh news. “One of my contacts out West called me not too long ago and told me that he overheard his boss talking about Stephano—”

  “News flash; he’s dead,” Vince stated drily.

  “Stephano is but his twin isn’t.”

  Crew stiffened as Vince's ears perked up. “Come again?”

  “Johnny said that an MS-13 gang member mistook a man for Stephano and was snuffed out.”

  Vince grunted for him to continue.

  “Evidently his chief was saying that the man was Stephano’s twin.”

  “And the name?”

  “Some Captain Cole or something. Johnny didn’t get that part too clear.”

  Vince scuffed. “And where was this?”

  “In Amarillo, Texas,” Mario reported proudly.

  “Have you told Ignacio yet?” Vince questioned as he sheathed his knife.

  “No; I’m testing my money pot,” Mario stated frankly and Vince’s brows rose at his honesty.

  Vince beckoned to a teenager and the brick similar to the one he’d had not long ago was placed in his opened palm. “Make good use of this, will you,” he stated. “I heard that they’re going for about half a million on the streets,” he chuckled. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

  Mario’s face broke into a massive grin as he collected his trophy. “I knew that you were a generous man,” he laughed. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “Likewise,” Vince said as he flicked something imaginary off Mario’s collar.

  Mario patted his back in response and Crew cringed at the stiffness that passed through the other man at his touch. As soon as the other man’s back was turned, Vince nodded his head and a small pop sounded in the stillness of the night. Mario crumbled with a loud thud to the floor; the rustic wooden planks rushing up to meet his fleshy face.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Salvatore exclaimed as he turned to see what the commotion was about and saw the rapidly cooling lieutenant on the ground. “That was our mole!”

  “Where there’s a rat there’re always others,” Vince answered casually as he stepped over Mario’s legs. He plucked up the block of white substance before Mario’s blood could get to it.

  “Tie a block to his leg and through his butt over,” he instructed a passerby. “Hopefully the sharks will like the added fat.”

  Immediately someone started to do his bidding, though he had to call a few more to assist him with the body.

  “What the hell!” Salvatore exclaimed again in disbelief and Vince paused mid-stride, his arrogance knew no bounds.

  “I don’t like being swindled and I don’t like a second-in-command who doesn’t know their place,” his stated coldly. “I find that it’s rather easy to replace them.”

  Salvatore’s lips press together as Vince turned away from him and continue
d walking towards where Sinaloa had retreated, his warning clear.

  “I’ll deal with that intel later. Now, Archi, where were we?” he questioned as Mario’s body rolled pass them before it was thrown overboard with a loud splash.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ““On my honor”- what an ennobling phrase! Three short words, nine letters, but the summation of all we call character. From the Boy Scout’s Oath.”

  —Ezra Taft Benson

  Wyatt stroked her hair back as he washed his eyes over her beautiful face. “How was your first time with my family?” he asked softly.

  She covered one of his strong hands with her fragile one before smiling up at him tenderly. “I never felt more at home,” she answered. “And I noticed that there were things under the tree for Gabby and me.”

  “You noticed or Javier couldn’t keep his mouth shut?” he questioned, his mouth tilting from humor when a blush ran up her neck. “I’ll take that as the latter,” he chuckled.

  “I gave a Scout’s promise,” she murmured and his eyes twinkled.

  “Can I drag one out of you?”

  “And if I give it freely?” she panted as one hand moved to stroke her shoulder.

  “Have I reminded you lately how glad I am that Oliver dragged me kicking and screaming onto your case?” he whispered as he tilted his head forward; his dark locks fell against his brow and between her lower limbs became damp.

  “I think I need some protection right now,” she breathed, licking her dry lips even though her mouth had filled with water.

  His eyes flashed again and before she could draw a breath, his lips crashed against hers and she sucked in a breath as electricity tore through her slender frame. Her fingers combed through his hair roughly as she slammed her body into his rippled frame. Her mountain peaks puckered as they rubbed against his chiseled pecs and a moan couldn’t help but be ripped out of the depths of her soul.

  His powerful finger tunneled through her wild curls, taking the scrunchie with it. His tongue played a dance with hers that was old as time and her center throbbed in response. He fisted his hand in her hair just as he bit down on her lip hard. He ran his tongue over it in a comforting motion when she whimpered. Just as she was about to combust from the friction between them and the dexterity of his teeth and tongue, he yanked her unceremoniously back. Liquid, onyx eyes looked down

  “Kneel,” he commanded and she licked her lips, her eyes flashing with disobedience, loving the game that they were about to play.

  Her heart fluttered wildly in her neck because she was dying to taste him again but it wouldn’t be so easy.

  His fingers tightened some more and the mischievous grin that she tried to hide, split apart her lips. “Two can play this game, Raine,” he growled hotly against her ear.

  “But it’s the prize that counts,” she bantered back as his eyes darkened even more. Reaching between them, she stroked the front of his wooly pajamas. An uncontrollable shiver passed through his frame and she knew that it irritated him to give her such a large indicator. “The tent in your pants already counts against you,” she chuckled.

  “You’re acting like if I stroke my fingers between your nether lips they won’t be soaking wet,” he hissed.

  Her lip tilted in an answer as her deft fingers started their detangling progress of his drawstring pants. His fingers clamped around her wrists.

  “I’ll do that; all I need you to do is kneel.”

  “Yes, sir,” she responded, running her tongue slowly over her luscious lips. Painfully slow, she ran her hands over his thighs as she helped herself down to the plush rug that surrounded his king-sized bed.

  Quickly, he unraveled the chord which held the wool to his lean hips before chugging it to his knees. His turgid flesh bounced harshly before falling downwards, too heavy to tilt towards his navel without support. Without his permission, she leaned forward and boldly licked the salty bead which had formed at the tip. He hissed out a breath and his hand moved to cup her skull. Leisurely, she ran her tongue from the tip to the base and then back, tracing one of the many large, purple veins. His large ball sacks twitched as her breath rolled over them and something delicious gripped her gut.

  Moistening her lips, she stretched them as far as they could go in order to swallow him whole. He grunted, trying to hold back his excitement and she relaxed her throat to take him deeper. His fingers flexed in her hair as she made random patterns with her tongue, daring him to spill his essence down her throat. His knee trembled and her lips twitched around him as her confidence heightened. Slowly, she made her way up his thick shaft, her lips straining and slowly she made her way back down, breathing deeply when half way there his tip hit the back of her throat.

  “Nice and steady,” he murmured in encouragement as she continued down like he’d taught her.

  She hummed an answer around him and he jerked in her throat as the vibration traveled up his pulsing rod. Her tongue stroked his underside, licking up the salt from his skin along with the heady sandalwood from his body wash until the only thing that she could taste was his pure essence. Her jaws ached but she refused to bring her hands into play, keeping them resting against her thighs.

  “Raine,” he prayed as his knees trembled and she could feel his organ expand between her lips.

  Then suddenly, he dragged her back unceremoniously and her lips unsheathed him with a loud pop. Her eyes flashed as she looked upon him before running her tongue over her swollen, decadent lips.

  Instead of yanking her up and throwing her onto the massive bed as she’d expected, he slowly knelt in front of her. Running his knuckles lightly over her cheek, he gently caressed it before bowing to gently claim her tingling lips. She arched into his frame as his large, warm hands cupped her erect mounds. As his hands stroked lower, his lips followed and so he carefully lowered her to the plush rug. By the time he was finished with her, she was boneless and had totally melted into the forgiving material but it wasn’t over yet. Hooking her fleshy thighs over his hips, he lined himself up to her entrance as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  Gripping her hips, he pulled her onto his body, his heart pounding louder and harder as he watched her lips stretch over his bulbous head before swallowing it. His jaws clenched as her insides hugged him tightly and her body sucked him in. He could feel every beat her heart made through it as it stretched her muscles thin enough that her blood vessels were brought to the surface.

  “Wyatt,” she groaned as he started up a torturing pace. “Please,” she begged as he pulled back achingly slow.

  The veins bulged in his forehead and his jaws flexed as he tried to deny her request. Instead of pleading her case, she tightened her legs around his waist and surged onto his steel pipe. A cry of pure ecstasy ripped from her throat as he stretched her to her limit and then some.

  His fingers dug into her generous onyx buns as he tested his grip before dragging her off his body and surging back into her warmth. Grunts and cries filled the room and for the first time, he was glad for the added cushions in the wall that aided in muffling her sounds.

  Not much longer, he felt his organs pull up and his life essence came rushing forth to slash against her cervix.

  “Oh!” she gasped while her muscles quaked around him as she met him over the edge of the cliff.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “In the end, mothers are always right. No one else tells the truth.”

  —Randy Susan Meyers

  Raine watched Wyatt and Gabriella through the large sliding glass doors of the kitchen as they made snow angels. Their breaths formed white clouds as they laughed and she couldn't help but smile, hugging her large glass of hot chocolate drink closer.

  "Beautiful isn't it?" his mother asked wistfully as she slid beside her with her own large cup.

  "Yeah, and you have a nice backyard to play in it," she answered.

  "I wasn't talking about the snow, Raine," Beth stated frankly.

  She grimaced internally. “I kinda knew
that,” she said softly.

  “There’s no need to dread this conversation,” Beth responded, as she tucked some of her thinning blonde hair behind her pink ear.

  “I’m just not used to this type of conversation,” Raine replied honestly.

  “So, I heard,” the older woman murmured. “But that’s ok; I’m betting that we’ll be having many more in the future,” she chuckled as Gabby tackled Wyatt when he attempted to stand.

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Raine frowned, taking her eyes off the two dark-headed angels outside.

  Blue eyes, much lighter than theirs met her eyes. “I’ve never seen him this happy; not even when he found out about Aiden—”

  “We barely know each other,” she interrupted in a small voice.

  “It doesn’t take long when you find the one whom you’re soul loves.”

  A blush rose up Raine’s cheeks as she remembered the words he had whispered the night before.

  “I taught him well,” she chuckled. “But seriously, Raine,” she started, reaching out to touch the younger woman with a slightly wrinkled hand. “I am happy that he found you, even though the circumstances around it aren’t ideal,” she continued. “God’s willing, all this mess will soon be done away with so that you can have a semblance of a regular relationship.”

  “Nothing about Wyatt is regular,” Rained giggled as Gabby clobbered him with tiny snowballs.

  “Well, that’s true, but you know what I mean,” Beth chuckled.

  Suddenly, Wyatt pressed a finger to his ear and bent to say a few things to Gabby before she climb onto his hip. He said something else to whoever he was on the phone before his eyes flew to the doorway. From there both women could see that something important had happened.

  “That can’t be good,” his mother murmured at the panic that flashed through her son’s eyes.

  Raine reached for the door handle in a panic but Beth stopped her.

  “He’ll let you know; don’t cause Gabby to panic,” she advised.