The guy had no neck. I mean, seriously, no neck at all. He had this curly grey-blond hair shaved so close to the scalp that I had to wonder why he didn't just get it over with a go bald. Otherwise he looked the standard neanderthal type, low thick forehead, one eyebrow, little beady eyes, you know the type. I wanted to close my eye again but was afraid that if I did a possible concussion would send me off to comaville. I was debating the choice between having to keep on looking at the pug-ugly or slipping into a nice restful coma when the voice of an angel interrupted my cogitation's.
"I'm so sorry sir, Ivar was a little rough with you."
I cracked open my other eye and rolled my head back, she was pretty so kept them open. She was sitting on the seat opposite, smoky gray eyes stared at me from a face that would make a Methodist minister take to drink. Beautiful gypsy features; high slavic cheekbones, a long narrow nose, a square chin that begged to be nibbled, small full lipped mouth promising me nothing and everything, all of it framed by shoulder length feathery black hair. I faked a dizzy spell and kept on ogling.
She looked like she was dressed for dinner at whatever the Romanian equivalent of the Ritz was. A black strapless dress clung to her slim frame like it had been laminated on, shiny black silk accentuating the generous curves of her breasts and waist and hips. Her flawless white skin contrasted nicely with the black silk, the round tops of her breasts swelling above the perilously low cut dress with every breath, a king's ransom in pearls resting against the soft expanse of her chest. As if that weren't enough, her slender, smoothly muscled legs made my mouth go as dry as the Sahara. I was instantly in lust.
"That's enough sir."
The gorgeous woman's angle voice snapped me out of my reverie and I blushed like a schoolboy, the went pale as memories came flooding back. A blond amazon with massive tits, gut shot and dying. Jumpsuited models with submachine guns spitting death everywhere. Two lesbians, their bodies still slick with sex sweat, naked and dead on the floor. A pretty girl dying in my arms, giving me something...
My hand went to my pocket, drawing a little laugh from my gorgeous gypsy angel. "Don't worry sir, we've relieved you of the...object...poor Maritsa gave you."
I shook my head and summoned up my best repartee. "Wha...why..."
"You needn't be concerned sir." she said, her voice a Slavic lilt I could listen to all day. "It's a matter of national security and, unfortunately, you were caught in the middle. But you will be safe now."
I scoped her bod again, a glimpse of slim white thigh I could almost
taste. Yep, still in lust, but still groggy.
"Where..."
"We're on our way to the airport at Brasov. We have arranged for a plane that will take you to Berlin. You are perfectly safe now, I assure you."
The bruiser next to me hadn't said anything yet, but that was all right by me, I had plenty to look at. The little guy in my head mercifully slowed his tempo and a few stray thoughts crossed what passes for my mind. "Who was that back there? Terrorists? And what did that girl give me?"
The vision of loveliness in front of me looked a little shifty and recrossed her gorgeous legs to compensate. I wasn't fooled. Connections snapped in my brain, a dying voice, "...deliver this to my contact...", my angel's voice "...poor Maritza..."
"You were supposed to meet her."
The woman nodded somberly. "Yes. She was our agent."
A glance passed between the bruiser and my angel like she'd said something out of school. It dawned on me that I was in way over my head, maybe sinking fast. What did I know from international espionage? One moment I'm having a little cup of thick black coffee, the next I'm in a limo with two spy's, speeding away from the smoking ruins of the coffee shop. I shook my head again and glanced out the window, bare branched trees whipping past, cold gray snow on the ground, gray sky threatening snow. Where am I going? Who are these people? Why is everything in the damn country gray? Then the front end of the car exploded.
The car spun and swerved and rocked. The world became a blizzard of flying glass, rending metal, tires exploding like artillery shells. A piercing scream, the girl, a heavy body slamming me against the door, the bruiser. I banged my head, grayed out.
I grayed back in again, stretched out on the seat, the little guy working overtime on my brain. The big gorilla next to me was sprawled on the floor, headless, dusted with broken glass. The girl was pulling something from under the seat, disheveled but apparently unhurt, chest pumping up and down as she gulped air, glass shards twinkling in her glossy black mane. She gave a hard yank and suddenly there was a gun was in her hands. It had a folding wire stock, short muzzle, banana clip. I didn't know what kind it was, but it looked lethal in her little white hands.
She unfolded the stock and racked a bullet into the gun's chamber, then looked up at me with her gray eyes wide, holding back panic. "Excuse me sir." she murmured, breathless, a little tremble in her full lower lip. Then she was gone, squirming through the broken window, leaving a black high heel pump in my lap.
I brushed the shoe away and scooted over to the window. She'd kicked off the other shoe and was standing barefoot in the road, tiny perfect white feet. Her skirt was twisted up to mid-thigh height, giving me a view of well turned calves and a delicious sweep of thigh, her bare back shivered in the cold. Jumpsuits moving in the tree line only twenty feet away. I opened my mouth but before I could yell 'look out' she was already screaming and firing.
Her trim little body shook as the gun boomed in her hands, short bursts making the jumpsuits scatter. One green clad brunette shrieked and spun, blood spurting from high up on her chest, incredibly long legs kicking as she died. Then the ambushers returned fire.
My angel shrieked as a bullet tore a chunk of soft white flesh from her upper arm, shrieked higher as another slug creased the top of an elegant shoulder. Her gun chattered and another ambusher died in a flurry of long blond hair and blood bursting from the flat expanse of her belly. Bullets whizzed past my head, pattered into the car, I didn't care because I had to see this.
The dark haired agent grunted as a slug punched through her slim body, entering an inch below her breast bone and spattering her lower back with crimson droplets as it exited. Her finger spasmed on the trigger and her gun sprayed wildly. Another bullet caught her full in the chest, cutting off her scream as her slender white back exploded red. Pearls bounced on the asphalt. Her gun clicked empty and a trio of bullets slapped into the gently curving mound of her belly, opening a row of small holes an inch below her navel, doubling her over with a gasping whimper.
The empty gun clattered onto the road as she pressed her arms against her wounded body and slowly turned back toward the car. Blood poured from her ruptured stomach, painting her delicate white feet a glossy red. The slinky black dress was pulled down on her petite trembling frame, revealing a pair of lush brown nippled breasts thrusting from her chest, a gaping hole centered between the soft round mounds of shivering white flesh.
She took a staggering step toward me, her lovely face twisted in an agonized grimace. Another step and she dropped to her knees, silky black hair tangled and hanging over her face, her head level with the car window. One blood slick hand reached up to grasp the edge of the glassless window and she tilted her head back, gray eyes shining with tears of pain, blood painting her luscious lips a deep crimson.
As if in a dream I leaned forward, moving my head to hers, raising a hand to brush strands of black hair from her face. My lips closed with hers and she sighed, soft pliant lips moving against mine as I tasted coppery blood and doomed desire. Her tongue moved and writhed in my mouth, sending shivers straight to the root of my cock, making my heart thud in my chest. A shiver shook her half naked body and she surged upward, a last desperate taste of passion and suddenly she was gone, leaving me breathless with a hard little object in my mouth.
I spat the capsule into the palm of my hand and looked down. My angel lay dead on the cracked asphalt, trim white legs twisted to one side, pale stiff nippled breasts thrusting at the sky, pretty gray eyes open and staring, a half dozen bullet holes puncturing her petite body. My mind spun with desire and panic, lust and survival fighting it out in my pounding skull. I looked up and survival won.
Jumpsuited models emerged from the trees, one voluptuous purple clad woman leading a half dozen wet dream beauties armed with an assortment of lethal hardware. I scrambled back across the seat, pausing to yank a heavy automatic pistol from the headless man's shoulder holster. I spun on my butt and pistoned both feet against the door, kicked it clean off it's hinges, leapt out on wobbly legs.
A shock of cold air cleared my head a little, memories of the one target shooting class I took in college buzzing through my brain. I turned around and snapped a shot at a tall black woman in a powder blue jumpsuit, the gun thundering in my hands, my shot going wild. I fired another shot at a sleek little oriental girl in an orange suit, another at their purple clad leader. Ambushers ran for cover, unharmed but surprised. I guess they'd thought I was dead.
Seven of them and one of me made for bad odds. I ran for the trees, jumped a drainage ditch with a reckless leap, careful to keep the wreck between me and them. It was two hours and a five corpses later and I still didn't know what the hell was going on, but my dead angel had mentioned Brasov and a plane.
So I ran...