Page 80 of Hard Target

I nod, excited to go on my first official mission. “That Westlake asshole should’ve stayed on his vacation.”

“Agreed. Let’s make him pay for his hubris.”

* * *

Everett

So, Rafi and I are in the hills above Westlake, checking out the rich asshole who likes to buy little boys. Rafi’s job is, for the most part, backup. We prefer an up-close-and-personal disposal method, but sometimes things go sideways, and it’s helpful to have someone handy with a sniper rifle.

Lying prone, while peering through the scope, he’s wearing fitted combat gear that looks damn good on his ass. While I am fully enjoying his revitalized sense of civilian style, a combination of Austin hipster and Arab fashionista, my favorite look (after total nudity, of course) is his tactical savoir faire.

Not moving from his position, he asks, “What’s the score?”

Fuck, he’s so sexy wrapped around a gun; I lose track of what we’re doing for a minute. He clears his throat, and I smile, making my way down to the ground with a grunt. Caressing his cute little ass, I kiss his temple. “I’ll wait in the pool house and grab him after his nightly swim. It should be an easy takedown, but we need to be especially careful to make this traceless.”

He leans up and accepts a kiss from me, sweet and seductive all in one go. “This means you can’t leave any marks on the body, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It has to have the appearance of a heart attack.” I trace a line around his jaw, which makes him smile and give up another one of his sweet kisses.

“But we know where he keeps all his money, right?”

I grab his little ass again and let my fingers drift down between his thighs, resting on his sac. He adjusts himself, then smacks my arm. Knocking his hand away, I repeat the move, this time getting enough of his balls to make the come-hither motion with my fingers. He turns bright red, giving me a half-exasperated, half-turned-on look as he points to his earbud.

I pop my eyebrows at him and smile, loving the way he seems to melt at the simple gesture. “Yes, but, more importantly, we know who all his buddies are and we’ve cut off their supply, meaning we’ll get to see where they try to go next.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together and settles back into place on the scope. “Can’t we just kill them all?”

“Patience, young Padawan,” I say, simply unable to keep my hand off his ass. “One heart attack amongst the rich and filthy is an anomaly and easily explained. Seventeen heart attacks are a little harder to get around, so we’ll follow where they go and hand them over to the proper authorities.”

“What if they get away with it like he did?” he asks, making a minute adjustment on his brand-new night-vision scope.

“Then we will find seventeen unique and fun ways to take out the trash.”

Keeping his eye on the target, he smiles brightly. “I really love my new job.”

Parker’s flat droll crackles through the comms. “If you two are finished with your pillow talk, there’s a child rapist to murder tonight and some poker to be played.”

Rafi grumbles in way that means he’s unbelievably happy. “Our new logistics officer is a little bossy, don’t you think?”

The line crackles again. “If you think I haven’t noticed you haven’t returned my hat yet, you are sadly mistaken.”

“I take it back,” he says, wiggling away from me because my hands keep finding his ass in this position. “Our new logistics officer is awesome and makes sure all of our murdering takes place in a clean and efficient manner.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

Jake’s voice comes on the line. “Y’all, while this is asecureline, maybe don’t admit to murder in the middle of an operation.”

I slide my hand under Rafi’s slim little hip, crowing when I find his hard, tortured prick. He looks back at me, gritting his teeth. “I might just let him kill you if you keep on doing that.”

His little hitching breath says he’s all hat and no cattle, but weareon an op. I straighten his junk into a more comfortable position and stand up with a new chorus of grunts and groans.

Rafi leans back for one final kiss and whispers, “You aresogoing to pay for that tonight. Your ass ismine.”

The line crackles again. “Oh god, they’re being gross again.”

“Five bucks says he can’t get it up tonight.”

“Five bucks says they don’t even make it to the car.”

“Nah, they’re classy gays. They’ll fuck in the car. Bet.”

I tap my comms, admiring my beautiful man. “Oh, come now, gentlemen. Jealousy is never a good look.” Giving Rafi a wink, I whisper back, “And as for my ass—it was always yours.”

* * *