The International Assassin A Sexy Times Crime Thriller (7 page)

Nick scowled at him which got me even more excited. He could be so forceful and manly.

Nick flicked through the paperwork angrily.

“You have contact details for him?” he asked Bertie.

“Possibly at the office.”

“I want them.”

“I’m sorry, client confidentiality,” said Bertie. 

Nick looked annoyed.

“We can do this the easy way. Or the way that involves you going home crying and getting therapy,” said Nick.

“I really can’t!” replied Bertie.

Nick held out the clipboard for me. I skipped over to relieve him of it, excited to be action-mans sexy sidekick P.A. As soon as I had taken it and with a seemingly single action Nick shot a leg behind agent Bertie’s legs, with his arm he pushed him backwards so he fell to the floor, grabbing his collar as he fell with his left arm he took his pistol out with his right. By the time agent Bertie was on the floor Nick had his pistol pointed at the centre of his forehead. 

It was terribly exciting. For me at least. But not for Bertie.

“You are going to tell me everything I want to know or things will start to go very badly for you Bertie,” Nick told him.

Bertie’s bottom lip quivered. 

“Who are you?”

“Someone you want to co-operate with.”

“Mmkay. What do you want from me?”

“Firstly I want to know where the ladie’s furniture and belongings are, second I want all the contact details for your vendor and third you aren’t going to show anyone around or sell this apartment.”

“But that’s my job!” Bertie protested.

“Not any more Bert. Now you work for me and my friend Mr. Beretta. And you don’t want to upset Mr. Beretta or he is likely to do something to you that will give you a nasty physical impediment.”

“Okay,” whimpered Bertie.

“If you sell this apartment Bertie. I’ll kill you.” 

Bertie looked terrified. On the cold delivery of Nick’s final threat a damp patch appeared around Bertie’s crotch before a small puddle of piss formed underneath him. Nick shook his head in disgust.

“Tsk tsk tsk.
Dirty
Bertie!” I told him disapprovingly although I can’t say I blame him.

Despite having been somewhat of a handy assassin I didn’t ever manage to deliver the chilling menace that Nick seemed to possess. Being with Nick I would actually feel safe to use the London Underground. Even visiting somewhere exotic like Clapham.

“Okay. I’ll do everything you say. Please don’t hurt me!” Bertie sobbed.

“As long as you co-operate you have my word. Although you’re an estate agent so you probably don’t want to push your luck,” Nick smiled and released him. “Get up Bertie. And clean that mess up. You’ll stain the parquet. And get on the phone Bertie. Time is money.”

Bertie got up and hobbled to the bathroom. I tilted my head to a side in an endearing manner and gave my new hero a smile.

“Very effective. Would you really shoot him?”

“No. That would be illegal. But he doesn’t know that. Although he is an estate agent so rules are made to be broken.”

I looked through the paperwork on Bertie’s clipboard.

“He’s sold all my belongings to some house clearance outfit in Battersea. Cheeky sod sold the whole lot for less than my shoes are worth.” I read through the inventory list. “No mention of Foxy though,” I looked at the estate agents papers. “My apartment is held by an offshore trust, he’s forged the trustee signature to have it transferred to a new holding company in the British Virgin Islands.” I shrugged my shoulders. “What the hell am I going to do?”

“Find Johnny and get it back,” replied Nick.

Bertie returned from the bathroom, he had obviously attempted to clean up his accident but made things worse. His suit trousers were even wetter than when he had pissed himself. He handed Nick a piece of paper.

“This is everything we have. These are the contact details.” 

Nick studied them and then handed it to me.

“He’s staying at my house on Lake Geneva,” I told Nick as I checked the address. “He has obviously stolen that as well the scoundrel.”

Nick smiled and patted Bertie on the back.

“You’ve been very helpful. You can fuck off now,” Nick told him. Bertie nodded nervously and scurried away. “And don’t bother calling the police. If you do I’ll find you!” he yelled after him. Nick looked thoughtful. “We better at least get your clothes back. You can’t run around in your party dress for the rest of the week.”

Nick held out his hand, I took it and he gave it a gentle squeeze. 

If there was one good thing that had come out of the whole sorry debacle, I had finally found a man whose hand was worth being squeezed by.

Chapter 6

WE LEFT
in Nick’s car and headed over to the house clearance companies address on an industrial estate in Battersea.  My mood had at least improved since Nick’s detective skills had solicited some decent leads. God only knows how I would have managed without him but then I would have still been locked up and probably ended up in Holloway.

“So tell me about you? The things I don’t know,” he asked me as he fiddled with the stereo.

“What do you want to know?” I replied.

“Why did you get involved with Johnny?”

“I was bored. Tired of the usual trust fund chinless Rupert's on Kings Road. He had a certain charm. I was young…I thought he loved me.”

“You didn’t think to ask him questions? Meet his mother?”

I shook my head.

“No. It wasn’t that sort of relationship. He wasn’t that sort of guy. I wish I had met you ten years ago.”

“I wouldn’t have known what to do with you ten years ago,” he replied with a smirk.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re an attractive woman. A man has to be a certain age to handle that the right way.”

“And what’s the right way?”

“Knowing how lucky you are.”

“Good answer.”

“So Johnny was your type?”

“No not really. Not in retrospect. Young girls fantasy.”

“So what is your type?”

“I like a mans man. Someone who doesn’t use hand cream and worry about having botox. Who is just happy to be a man and let me be a woman. Someone who makes me feel protected. Cares about me, doesn’t make me cry too much and can make me orgasm three times a night.”

“Not much then.”

“I think Nick Salinger can manage it. He seems to be very capable so far.”

“Are you always this forward?”

“Only when I want something,” I said and smiled. “Does that intimidate you?”

“No, not really.”

“Some men don’t like it. They like to chase. They don’t like to think of themselves prey of a cunning cat.”

“I’m not very good at that sort of thing.”

“It’s just as well I’m doing the chasing then isn’t it or we wouldn’t get anywhere.” I smiled coyly. “It makes a nice change. Johnny was Chelsea’s answer to Henry the Eighth.”

“So who does that make you?”

“Ann Boleyn probably.”

He smiled.

“How many women have you slept with?” I asked him. He looked slightly shocked and drew breath. “If we’re going to get married have children and live the rest of our lives together it’s better to know.”

“You’re very certain of that.”

“You haven’t said no.”

“I’m not sure I want to answer that.”

“Okay, I’ll go first. Four. Although the first didn’t really count. He was a virgin as well and he got so exciting he came in my hand when I put the condom on. The second wasn’t really much better. In the back of his mothers Mini-Metro. I wasn’t even sure he had put it in. Third was a drunken night with some chap from Eton that turned out to be very unsatisfactory. He became a homosexual. He’s an MP now. And the fourth, well that was Johnny….”

“And?”

“I suppose he was adequate. It’s hard to benchmark after the first three.” 

“Only four?”

“Women don’t really get into their stride until they hit their thirties and I was with Johnny by that point. And now you, so how many?”

“Thirty-two.”

“
Thirty bloody two
!” I exclaimed in shock. “I thought you said you weren’t good at this sort of thing!”

“I said I wasn’t good, it doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

“Jesus! You are like a man-whore! Explain yourself you filthy sex maniac!”

“I started late. And then I was with a girl for four years who just didn’t like sex. Not just with me but sex in general. After she smashed my heart to pieces I just become emotionally shut down. Got drunk a lot. Things happened. Then I grew out of it.”

“Why?”

“I was in bed with a girl, Daniella I think her name was.”

“You think?”

“Like I said, drink. And she was nineteen, beautiful, everything you could wish for. The sex was perfect and I didn’t feel a thing for her. I realised how shallow and pathetic the whole situation was and decided that was it. I got dressed and left and never saw her again. Or anyone else.”

“You turned gay?”

“No, I didn’t see anyone. I took a sort of celibacy vow. The whole meaningless sex thing wasn’t for me so I decided the next person I would have sex with would be
the one
.”

“The one?”

“That one special person that I wanted to grow old and share my life with. A relationship based on friendship and something deep, meaningful - not just sex.”

“I’m surprised you’ve not worn your fuckstick out,” I said. 

Nick laughed.

“I nearly broke it a few times.”

“I hope it’s still working.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“It better be.
Thirty-fucking-two
! You dirty man slut! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“I’m not proud of it.”

“So why didn’t you lie? You’re a bloody spy. You could have said six. Six would have been acceptable. But thirty bloody two!”

“You did ask.”

“I didn’t expect you to be such a wanton shagging addict!”

“Are you jealous?” he asked me in surprise. 

“No,” I pouted with a sulk.

“Yes you are! You’re jealous! Look what’s the difference? You were with Johnny the same amount of time and God knows how many times you shagged him. So in terms of miles on the clock we are probably level pegging.”

“The difference my dear Mister Shagaholic Salinger is I’m a carefully driven four owner with full service history and you are a Hertz daily rental!”

“I didn’t love any of them.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better? Correction, you aren’t a Hertz, that would require you checked their driving license. You are a stolen and recovered.”

“So what is an acceptable number?”

“Six is an acceptable number. It means that you are experienced enough to give pleasure and not so experienced you can play women’s bodies like Mozart on a piano with your eyes closed. You
dirty
boy.” I shook my head at him. “Well all I can say is you better be the most mind-blowing, multiple-orgasm-inducing go-all-night and make-my-toes-tingle blow-my-socks-off sex-machine who pleasures me beyond all measure or I’ll be
most
cross.”

“What makes you think I want to have sex with you?” he asked demurely. 

I raised my eyebrows.

“I think we have established that you are not exactly fussy so if you turned me down I would be bloody insulted to say the least.”

“But that would mean you are my forever girl.”

“I
am
your forever girl. I’m your last one. I think you have had quite enough variety and practice mister. It’s time you show some restraint and monogamy.” I shook my head. “You utter man slut.”

He took my hand.

“If I’d met you I wouldn’t have slept with any of them.”

“So it’s my fault is it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well you
implied
it! That because you didn’t meet me then you decided to drop your pants for any tart in range.”

“It wasn’t like that! I can’t believe we are having this conversation!”

“If you so much as look at another woman I’ll bloody kill you. I’m keeping you locked up at night. You are clearly some sort of sex addict.”

Nick pulled over the car and put the handbrake on. 

“Why are we stopping?” I asked him.

He sighed and looked at me quite seriously.

“Do you know what love is?” he asked.

“Yes” I replied.

“Really?”

“Well…no.”

“Love is waking up in bed every day with the same person and the first thing you see is their smile, the last thing you hear when you go to sleep is them breathing. Knowing you are always going to be with that person until the day you die. And you are never apart even when you are not together. That’s love. I’ve never had that.”

“You did have a lot of sex though.”

“And I would have traded all of it for just one day of knowing that feeling to love someone like nothing else mattered. I wish I had met that person. I wish my memory wasn’t stained with all those casual experiences. That’s regret. And until you learn regret you can’t value love.”

Nick ran his fingers through my hair.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever met. You are crazy and odd but very cute and endearing. I wish I hadn’t wasted half my life not knowing you but I have. And here we are.”

“Parked illegally on a red-route,” I added with a shrug of my shoulders.

“What would you rather have? One night like they had, or the rest of your life?”

“The rest of my life.”

“Then you have nothing to be jealous of what they had then have you?”

“Maybe not.” I nodded. “You are going to be good for me aren’t you Nick? After all this business with Johnny. I don’t need any more of that.”

Nick caressed my cheek with his hand and nodded. We kissed. I’d known him less than twenty-four hours and we’d already had our first row. It felt quite therapeutic.

“It’s not hard to fall in love with someone like you.”

“What do you mean
someone like me
?”

“Someone who I could spend the rest of my life looking for and not find anyone quite as special.” 

I had to hand it to him, he knew how to push my buttons so it was easy to forgive his excessive past carnal indulgences but if he ever stuck his man sausage in another girl I would cut it off and Fed-Ex it to him. We kissed and made up.