High Voltage (3 page)

Dino winks at Hayes and then gestures for me to
walk through the door. I know he’s planning to grab my ass, so I hurry past
him. His hand still makes a reach for my left cheek, but I smack him away.

“You need to jack off more or take a pill.
Something needs to be done to get your dick under control,” I growl at Dino
while we walk past the crying chick and out of the office.

“My dick is just fine. Though if you’re really
concerned, feel free to check it out real close and personal tonight.”

“How have you not been killed yet?” I ask, arriving
at my SUV.

Smirking, Dino slides a hand through his thick
black hair. “By you? Oh, I think we know the answer to that.”

“You’ll get me killed then.”

“No way, baby. These banjo-lovers won’t get the
jump on a sexy assassin like you.”

“I’m not an assassin anymore.”

“Right,” he says, laughing. “Because we’re just
here in Hickville to play detectives.”

I roll my eyes even if he isn’t wrong. Ditching him
without another word, I drive to the Hampton Inn where Dino and I check into
adjoining rooms on the second floor. I use the alias Jane Stouffer, while he
announces himself as Anthony Martin.

The short ride up is awkward with me staring at the
ceiling and him staring at my tits. Once the elevator doors open, Dino reaches
for my suitcases.

“Don’t be a gentleman now,” I mutter, dodging him.

“I’m always a gentleman. It’s how my mama raised
me.”

“She did a piss poor job then.”

“What did I tell you about talking shit about my
mama?”

I smile at him over my shoulder. “Maybe if you
stopped talking about fucking me every second, I’d learn to pay more
attention.”

“I doubt that’ll help with your flakiness. I mean,
shit, you were bouncing all over the place at Beef Tip’s office.”

Unlocking my door, I shove my bags inside. “Me?” I
balk, nearly shutting the door on him before his foot jams it open. “You kept
pissing him off.”

“So what? He’s just some guy.”

“He’s a killer.”

“So am I, babe,” he says, leaning against the door
and grinning at me. “I’m not even retired like you.”

“Stop calling me babe or Apples or slice of sex. If
not, I’ll give you a nickname.”

“I like Linguini. No, Spaghetti is better. Yeah,
call me that and I’ll call you Apple Pie.”

Balling my fists again, I glare at him. Dino
refuses to be afraid. I know he must feel pain, but he won’t back down even if
I hurt him. The guy is incorrigible.

“This is my room. You are next door.”

“I’ll unpack and shower before we have dinner and
start trouble,” Dino says, weaseling his way into my room. “Make sure to wear
something hot. Red is good.”

I shove him out of my room. After grabbing his card
key, I open his door and shove his crap inside.

“I’ll wear red if you’ll shut the fuck up for an
hour and leave me alone.”

“You’re so easy,” he says, laughing. “I would have
given you two hours for a shot at seeing you decked out in red. Gotta learn to
negotiate better, Apples.”

I shut the door and lock it. Just to be safe, I
prop the chair against the knob to keep him out. The guy is driving me crazy
and not only because he’s dangerously hot.

An hour without his mouth running will be a blessing.
With a little time away from Dino, I can pull myself together. Set up the
security in my room. Catch up with my emails. Change my panties after having
him pawing at me on the way up in the elevator.

Soon I’ll have no problem handling dinner and
troublemaking with him afterward. Yes, I just need an hour without him bugging
me.

Dino isn’t wrong that I should learn to negotiate
better. In fact, just to show him I’m a quick learner, I won’t wear red
tonight. Dino needs to learn that his smooth moves won't work on me.

~ Dino ~

Honky-tonk Hell

C
ountry music plays everywhere we go. Even at the
damn Italian restaurant, the radio is stuck in a Johnny Cash loop. I ask the
girl serving us if she can put on something else, and she looks at me like I’m
fucking nuts. When I ask if she’s even heard of Dean Martin, I think she hurts
her brain trying to decipher the words coming from my mouth.

“They’re not changing the music for you,” Minka
says, eating a big serving of twice-baked lasagna. “They listen to country
music here. Just accept it.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” I explain before shuddering
as a new horrible song twangs itself out of the speakers and into my
unsuspecting ears. “What in the hell is wrong with Johnny Cash in this song?”

“That’s not Cash,” Minka says, avoiding eye contact
like a sassy bitch. “It’s Hank Williams.”

“Don’t tell me you listen to this trash?”

“No, but my dad did.”

“Did? Past tense as in he’s passed on?”

“Yes.”

“Mine too.”

“I’m not hugging you,” she mutters, but I catch her
fighting a smile.

“I’m looking for more than a hug, and you know it.
Besides, now ain’t the time. I’m eating.”

Wearing black rather than red like she promised,
Minka studies me with the sultry, dark eyes of a nymph stalking her prey. “Big
fan of spaghetti, huh?”

“My mama makes the best spaghetti. When I was sick,
she made it for me every day. If I were ever on death row, spaghetti would be
my last meal. So, yeah, I like spaghetti.”

Minka nods, glances around, and frowns. “I was
thinking about how to cause trouble.”

“Your big brain is extremely sexy.”

Mouth tightening, she continues talking about work.
“That strip club where the prostitute complained sounds like a good place to
ask questions and see if anyone gets nervous.”

“How did your dad die?” I ask, not giving a crap
about this job.

“He was a fool. Doesn’t take a lot to get them
killed.”

I wait to see if she’ll ask about my father. She
stares into my eyes, knowing I’m waiting. She doesn’t ask, and I realize I
don’t want to tell her. Not when she’s still playing this temptress game.
Later, once she’s wrapped around my little finger, and big cock, I’ll share my
personal stories with her. She’ll tell me her secrets too. Soon Minka will open
herself to me as she’s never done with anyone else, and I can’t wait to see
what I discover.

“So the strip club is our next destination?” I ask
when she falls silent and eats.

Tomato sauce at the corners of her mouth, she only
nods while reaching for a napkin. I’m desperate to lick off the sauce, except
if I taste her lips, I won’t be able to stop. Minka will end up on this table
with her tight ass in the air and my cock drilling into her until we’re both
spent. Though tempting, this scenario seems inappropriate for a family
restaurant.

“I like the chase,” I say, giving her a wink, “but
eventually I’ll catch you. I’d suggest you prepare for that.”

“Don’t worry. My Taser is set to stun, the safety
on my gun is off, and my knee is ready to smash your balls. You feel free to
catch me, Sausage.”

Smiling, I can think of many ways for this
conversation to end. Her black shirt looks flimsy, while her jeans aren’t too
tight. I bet I could get Minka naked in thirty seconds and fuck the frown from
her grumpy face. Once again, the family restaurant setting douses my hard-on
with ice-cold reality.

Her silence holds for the rest of dinner. To avoid
listening to the awful music, I let my thoughts wander.

A few weeks ago, Minka claimed to be from Massachusetts, and I see no reason for her to lie. It’s not exactly a lie that’ll impress
anyone, so I believe her even if she ought to come from somewhere more exotic.

Since my first day on the job, I’ve signed up for
any assignment where I can get cozy with Minka. Most were boring as hell
bodyguard assignments, and she always managed to cancel on them.

The only other job we did together, Minka forgot to
bail on because she overslept. Picking her up at her apartment, I found Minka
sleepy-eyed and with a serious case of bed head. No woman should look so
intoxicating only to turn around and act so disinterested in the reaction she
creates. Soon, I’ll call out her bullshit.
Not yet.
First we need to
work. Well, she can work. I’m only here to enjoy her company.

Walking into a strip club ought to make Minka feel
out of place or on display. Okay, so I don’t know what a chick feels in these
situations, but Minka ought to reveal something beyond the coolly indifferent
expression she sports.

“I might look but no touching,” I say, leaning up
close to her.

“Don’t fucking care.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” I tease even though a
little part of me wishes she was a little territorial. “These girls have
nothing on you.”

Minka glances around before focusing her gaze on a
blonde shaking her ass on a secondary stage. “I’d do her.”

All the blood rushes from my brain to my now
painfully hard dick. “You’re killing me.”

“I can live with that.”

When Minka walks to the bar, I mosey up next to her
and sniff her fragrant hair.

“You remind me of a dog I had,” she mutters, barely
audible over the sound of Poison blaring from the speakers. “We got him fixed,
and he settled down.”

“I know how to settle me down,” I say, sliding my
leg against hers. “And it doesn’t involve snipping off my nuts.”

Minka ignores me and smiles at the brunette
bartender. Her nametag says “Ruby,” and her dark expression tells me she’s
tough for a broad likely in her twenties. Minka’s smile isn’t returned.

“Can I get you a drink?” Ruby asks.

“Malibu Rum for me.”

“Amaretto,” I say, standing so close to Minka that
her ass bumps against my stiff cock.

Glancing back at me, she mutters, “Really?”

“Don’t blame me, Apples. You brought this one on
yourself.”

“Do you want anything else?” Ruby asks after we pay
for our drinks.

Minka nods. “Do you know Stacey Brooke?”

Ruby’s expression hardens. “She’s dead.”

“When she wasn’t dead, did you know her?”

“Not really.”

“Are you sure? It’s a small town.”

“I don’t live in Common Bend.”

“Where are you from?”

“I live in a little place called none of your
fucking business. Now, do you want anything else to drink?”

Minka smiles at Ruby and walks away. I follow my
dark-haired vixen to a table. She sips her rum and glances around the club.

“I have a confession,” I say, taking her hand.

Minka yanks it away immediately. “Is all of this
bravado your way of overcompensating for being lame in bed or having a small dick?”

“Don’t worry about me satisfying all of the hot
desire you’re nursing for me.”

“You’re overcompensating again.”

A smile slowly spreads across my face as I imagine
us in bed. I wonder how loudly Minka will moan when I make her come. No way is
she the quiet, shy type.

Minka pulls me away from my fantasies. “So, what’s
your confession?”

“You make my dick hard.”

“I already knew that.”

“I guess you do, but do you know I haven’t stuck my
dick in another woman since we met?”

Minka stares at me, and I swim in the darkness of
her eyes. She finally snorts.

“Is this your way of asking me to get you medical
attention?” she teases, but I hear something besides mockery in her tone.

“You’re crazy about me,” I say, winking at her. “I
don’t blame you. A woman like you probably doesn’t often meet a man worthy of
her lust.”

“You don’t travel much, do you, stud?”

“I travel plenty. What’s your point?”

“I’ve met a lot of men worthy of my lust.”

“Any of them capable of handling you in bed?”

Minka bats her eyes at me. “Oh, any man can do
that. I’m a real pussycat between the sheets. Don’t even use my claws.”

“You’re sexy when you lie.”

Finally giving me a fucking smile, Minka kicks my
leg and then stands up. “We’re here to do a job. I’ll endure your tiny dick
when we get back to Houston.”

“That wasn’t my secret, remember?” I grumble while
standing and following her.

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Sure, Apples,” I say, slapping her ass as we
return to the bar.

Minka grunts when my hand makes contact, and I
expect a punch in retaliation. Instead, she sidles up next to me at the bar
stools.

“We’re back,” Minka tells Ruby.

“So I fucking see. What do you want?”

“We have concerns you’re the one who sold out the
Chatty Cathy prostitute. Why’d you go and get a mom killed like that?”

Ruby’s expression twists into something between
rage and guilt. I glance at Minka, who never looks away from her target. I find
her fascinating to watch, and soon worry my dick might suffer permanent damage
from staying hard for so damn long.

“Look, I told Stacey to keep her mouth shut,” Ruby
whispers, barely audible over the loud music, “but she was drunk off her ass
that night, and she wouldn’t shut up.”

“Did you snitch her out to her killers?” Minka
asks. “I can see the benefit to you to tell the powers that be who’s publicly
bitching about them.”

A flustered Ruby glances around. “I didn’t need to
rat out Stacey. Everyone heard her.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“Deputy Teller’s brother was sitting by the main
stage when Stacey hit her highest, drunkest notes.”

Minka nods. “Where did they find Stacey’s body?”

“She died out on State Road 34 by the mile six
marker.”

“Thanks,” Minka says, leaving a twenty-dollar bill
on the bar top.

I watch the entire interaction without having the
least bit of interest in joining in. This job bores me, but I’m happy to endure
Honky-tonk Hell to spend time alone with Minka.

Likely sensing my lack of interest, Minka doesn’t
mention the next part of her plan. After taking the car keys from me, she walks
out of the club. We drive past the spot where Stacey’s car ended up. The place
is located on a wooded slice of nowhere. Unless her car died, no way would even
a wasted chick stop here.

“Tomorrow, we’ll stop by the prostitute trailer
parks and ask around,” Minka says when we arrive back at the hotel. “We’ll see
if anyone wants to rat out the happy sheriff and his horny deputies.”

“Nightcap?” I ask, leaning into her while she
unlocks her door.

Sighing, she mutters, “Come back in an hour and
we’ll see.”

Minka gives me a bored expression, but I don’t buy
her indifference to a night of hot fucking. The woman’s radiating an energy
that makes my dick nearly tear free from my black slacks.