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Marie aka mnreign
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Date Posted: 07:24:42 02/10/02 Sun
In reply to:
Marie aka mnreign
's message, "Downtime, Sometime NC17 Ch 1-6" on 07:16:13 02/10/02 Sun
15.
Eventually, the need for sustenance of another sort demanded the lovers leave their bed. Nikita had awakened before Michael after their last love fest. Nikita could see that the sun was lower on the horizon, and the shadows were long on the balcony above the sapphire surface of the Mediterranean.
One thirst temporarily sated, Nikita became aware that her throat was parched. Had she been on a desert safari? No, her safari had been to a higher plane, but now the body’s more mundane needs asserted themselves. Nikita eased from the bed. She intended to take full advantage of the Jacuzzi to rest and recuperate from the strenuous exertions of the day.
Nikita stood looking at her lover. She had seldom seen him so relaxed, so unaware of anything around him. It had often been an amusing thought of hers that Michael slept with one eye open, always ready to spring into action should Section call. The idea of Michael actually closing both eyes and being lost in the world of slumber was endearing.
Nikita looked about for something to drink. Luckily, she soon found a small refrigerator masquerading as an ornate gilded cabinet. Nikita opened the door and removed one of the small bottles of water. She drank from it, downing the entire cool contents in a series of unladylike guzzles. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked to see if she had awakened Michael with her behavior. Apparently not. He hadn’t moved. Nikita was tempted to crawl back into bed with him, but the Jacuzzi seemed to be a siren, and it was calling her name loudly.
Reluctantly, Nikita returned to the luxurious bath to perform her ablutions. Once the Jacuzzi had filled to her specifications, Nikita added the scented bath oil. Suddenly, the heavenly scent of frangipani filled the bathroom. Nikita intensified the frangipani scent by lighting the candles so thoughtfully provided by the staff of the Hotel de Paris.
Nikita twisted her hair into a informal pony tail and eased her overused body into the fragrant bubbling water. “Ahhh, this is wonderful.” Nikita could not keep from sighing as the warmth began to soothe her aching muscles. Nikita rested her head on a bath pillow and allowed the pounding jets of the Jacuzzi to do their work. She was drifting on a pleasant plane of memory, when she felt a hand at her breast. “Michael, you’re awake. I didn’t disturb you, did I?” she asked with more than a little guilt. This was his vacation, too.
Michael’s jade green eyes bore into hers, leaving no room for guilt. Nimbly he stepped into the Jacuzzi and sat behind her. “Did you think you I would be able to stay away from you, ma chère?” he asked, as he began to knead the muscles in her neck and shoulders.
Michael’s hands were like magic to Nikita... even better than the jets of the Jacuzzi. They were gentle but strong. He seemed to know exactly which muscle groups needed attention before she knew herself. Nikita relaxed in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He reached forward to caress her breasts, while she teased him by stroking his long, well-developed thigh muscles. There was an immediate response.
Nikita giggled, “Did I do that? I must say, Michael, that I’ve never known you to be so, so--- what is the word I’m looking for? Oh yes, excitable.” Nikita gloried in the effect she had on him. Any woman would.
“Excitable? You think I’m the excitable type, Nikita?” he asked in a soft seductive voice.
Nikita squirmed, rubbing her bottom against his manhood. “Oh, yes, I do.”
Michael’s teeth gleamed as he grinned at her. “I suppose you have evidence to support your point of view?” he asked as he spun her to face him.
“The evidence is here for all to see,” she replied, casting a knowing glance at the topic of discussion.
“No, not for all to see. Only you.” His eyes seemed to want to memorize her face, and his hands were everywhere, stroking her cheek, teasing a nipple, following the slender line of her waist.
“Mmm.” she murmured. He pulled her toward him, wrapping her legs about his waist.
“You talk too much, Nikita.” Michael whispered, scorching her lips with a searing kiss. Nikita cupped her breasts and offered them to him. First one, then the other rose-tipped breast was kissed, suckled and laved with his tongue.
Nikita’s pulse started to soar again. She had never needed anything so much or so often as she needed this one man. Her head went back, exposing the long line of her white throat. “Michael, now, please,” she gasped.
Michael made a minuscule adjustment in position, cupped her buttocks and lifted her slightly, allowing her to capture his manhood within her silken prison. Once again, Nikita joined with Michael in delicious abandon. Nikita rocked and Michael thrust, each stroke sweeter and hotter than the one before until they scaled the summit of their desire.
**********
16.
Michael sat in an aqua and ivory brocade Louis XVI-styled Bergère, watching Nikita as she rushed around doing female things like make-up, rearranging her hair at least five times. He’d never seen her like this, so typically female. She was apparently unable to decide between two pairs of earrings, holding one of each pair to her ears, then turning her head from side to side in an attempt to see which effect she liked better.
She turned toward him, “Michael?”
Michael shrugged, but he knew an answer would be required. “The sapphire?” he suggested, knowing she would probably choose the opposite.
“Hm? Really? I think I like the opals better,” she said as she fastened them to her ears.
Had he not witnessed the same behavior from Elena on one of their rare occasions of going out to dine, he would have been totally mystified by the nearly religious significance of the rites performed by both women, so different in back ground and in personality.
He was completely dressed and had been for over forty-five minutes. He shot his cuffs and flicked a bit of non-existent lint from the sleeve of his tuxedo. The most important and holy of the rituals had yet to begin--that of choosing the perfect gown for the evening. He knew each dress would be perfect for Nikita. He ticked them off in his head--long beaded white, midnight blue slit up the side to show her perfect legs, ballerina-length pale blue lace, a dangerously short gold lamé, and a full-length silver dress that had a strapless bodice and swirling graceful skirt that would shimmer and float about her like a cloud when she walked.
Nikita had finally settled on styling her hair in a soft chignon at the nape of her neck. Her makeup was flawless, accenting her high cheekbones and incandescent blue eyes. The silver-mounted opals dangled at her ears. Michael watched her while she studied the effect of each choice in the ormolu mirror. She seemed to be in a world of her own, occasionally turning to him for his tacit approval. The skimpiest bits of lace covered her breasts and sex. Nikita had no idea how enchanting she appeared to him. Or maybe she did, and that was a part of the dressing ceremony. A tiny and insubstantial lace garter belt and sheer stockings were all she wore, in addition to her bra and panties, if indeed they could be called by their rightful names. They were a scandal was what they were.
Nikita had already been to the armoire several times, eyeing the gowns in a casual way, but now she was ready to initiate the rite that would take heaven only knew how long. Michael certainly didn’t. Carefully, she lay each one on the wide bed, where only a short time before they had made splendid love. The significance of their love seemed to pale as she began her obeisance to each creation, pausing before it, studying it, before moving to the next. The ritual called for occasional glances in his direction, but his role in the rite was a minor one, mainly relying on his patience.
He couldn’t refrain from commenting, although it was not part of the ceremony.... or was it? “The white one is nice.”
Nikita stopped and glanced in his direction. “Yes, it is.”
She held it against her body, then replaced it and repeated the same procedure with each of the others. She still seemed unable to make a choice, but it was early in the ceremony. Each would have to be tried on before a real decision could be made. Michael began to regret that he had arranged for Nikita to have so many choices, but all he really needed to do was enjoy the fashion ceremony.
Nikita tried on the gold lamé first. She was a vision, if not a saintly one. It was quickly eliminated with a brief sniff. “Really, Michael. We’re not on the vice detail.”
Michael knew the appropriate response. He merely nodded in agreement.
Both blue ones failed Nikita’s tests as well. It was down to the beaded white and the swirling silver strapless. She made an elegant statement in either. Now, it was time for him to offer his opinion, but.... not until asked. She looked at him again.
“Both are lovely on you, Nikita. You choose.” He was learning.
Nikita beamed her wide smile at him. “The silver, want to know why?”
“Yes, why?”
Nikita’s opalescent blue eyes looked into his. “Because the dress makes me feel like a princess or movie star, and here in Monaco, that’s how being with you makes me feel, Michael. I feel like Grace Kelly must have felt when she first met her Prince.” Nikita’s eyes sparkled with tears. “Now see what you’ve made me do,” she said pulling from his arms and rushing to the vanity.
At his puzzled look, she responded, “My mascara, it’s about to run.”
He sighed. Nikita was magic and mystery and totally woman.
**********
17.
Dazzling lights, beautiful women in splendid gowns and jewels, handsome men in their sedate tuxedos made a perfect backdrop for the most beautiful of them all. The tall blonde beauty accompanied by an equally beautiful green-eyed god was winning at the roulette table. She was hot. Her excited squeals had drawn the attention of many jaded passers-by. The men remained, attracted by her fresh beauty. The women remained attracted by the sensual power of the man who stood smiling beside her. They wondered what he saw in her and assumed it was merely physical.
The croupier spun the roulette wheel. Nikita held her breath. The pile of colorful chips had grown enormously as she continued to win. She’d never gambled before. It was a heady experience to say the least. Michael had explained the significance of the variously colored chips, but his tidy explanation was lost in the fever of the moment.
“Un rouge impair manqué,” the croupier said. Nikita had won more chips.
She had been playing fairly safely and allowing the chips to grow in steady fashion, but decided to change her method. She placed a square bet. The chips lap on a two lines intersecting four numbers--17,18,21,20. She had no idea how much money she had, but judging from the interest around her, she assumed it was a tidy sum. She looked at Michael, who watched her with amusement, but gave a tiny shake of his head as he glanced toward the black. “Let it ride on the black?” she asked for clarification. A tiny imperceptible nod was his response.
Nikita considered for a moment, shook her head and let her bet stand. The wheel spun. “Trois, rouge, impair, manqué.”
A uniform gasp escaped the crowd around her. She had lost all her pretty chips. She looked at Michael, who gave a rueful smile, took her hand and kissed it. The onlookers about them applauded his gallantry in the face of a great loss. Nikita allowed Michael to lead her away from the roulette table before asking. “H--How much did I lose, Michael?”
A twinkle appeared in his emerald green eyes. “You don’t want to know, Nikita.”
Nikita inhaled sharply. “That much?”
“Oui.” Michael continued to lead her from the main gaming hall.
“Oh, Michael, I’m sorry. I mean it was your money I lost.”
“Nikita, it is only money.”
“I should have listened to you and let it ride on black,” she protested. It must have been an enormous amount of money, but Michael acted as if it were nothing.
“No, no. Red won, you would still have lost. It was only a game for our entertainment. You enjoyed yourself, and I enjoyed watching you.”
“It’s not like we’re going to need it for our retirement, is it.”
“Probably not, Nikita. Probably not.” In order to evade thoughts of the future, Michael asked, Are you ready for dinner? I made reservations while you were doing your makeup. There are several restaurants here in the hotel, but the Louis XV is the finest.”
“It sounds wonderful, Michael. Now that you mention it, I am a little hungry.” Nikita added with a grin.
Together they entered the fine restaurant, Michael’s protective hand at her waist. Two lost souls in paradise, each hungering for what the menu did not offer. Freedom.
***********
18.
Michael had not been able to keep his eyes off Nikita throughout the entire seven course dinner. She was an original, enchanting creature. Her impeccable manners reminded him of their first outing, her graduation exercise. Somehow he had managed to consume a few bites of the delicacies placed before him, but his overwhelming hunger had been for the woman who sat beside him in the banquette.
Nikita had been right to choose the silver gown. Indeed, she did look like a princess, born to royalty, destined to live a life of ease. Her blue eyes sparkled with reflections from the candle light. The silver evening dress shimmered, and the pale opals and sparkling diamonds at her ears were a perfect complement to her ethereal loveliness.
Michael studied his cappuccino, while holding and caressing the back of Nikita’s hand at his side. He wished this night could last forever. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss in the palm. He felt her tremble in response. The awe he experienced in the knowledge that this incredible woman had chosen to love him left him overwhelmed in gratitude. The providence that had lead Section One to recruit her had saved him... physically....emotionally.... spiritually... more than once.
Nikita deserved to hear the words from him. Just as he needed to hear the words from her. A simple tenderness.... He could see the tears that sparkled in the corners of her eyes as a result. “Nikita....” he paused, gathering his courage. He would say the words. He watched her azure eyes grow wide in anticipation. Then Nikita’s head turned in the direction of the casino. They could hear the sounds of breaking glass and.... of screams.
* * *
Nikita watched as Michael pulled a 9mm from his jacket pocket. “You’re armed?”
she asked needlessly. She could see the gun. “Thank heaven, me too.” she added as she opened her jeweled evening bag and removed a small pearl handled revolver. “I guess old habits are hard to break.”
“We have to get out of here. Analyze the situation before we undertake any intervention,” Michael responded tersely, slipping into mission mode before her eyes.
Silently the lovers, now operatives, moved in unison as they slipped from the banquette. Michael’s panther-like grace was never so evident as he moved around the periphery of the room. Nikita followed, as others were now becoming aware of the situation in the casino. Excited female voices rose en mass in alarm.
Michael and Nikita had barely slipped behind a service panel when the Louis XV was invaded by two tuxedoed waiters wearing masks and carrying Uzi machine guns. The taller of the two ordered, in a European accent, “Cash and jewelry on the table, now! Anyone who hesitates will be shot.”
“It’s only a robbery, Nikita,” Michael said in a whisper. “We shouldn’t get involved.”
“Only a robbery, Michael. How can you say not get involved? We have to do something,” she insisted. People’s lives were in danger. How could he be so blasé?
“Shh, we can’t afford to get involved. It could bring attention to Section One.”
Michael’s voice was intense with the effort it took to control Nikita’s compassionate inclinations. He took her arm in an attempt to keep her from rushing headlong into the fray.
Nikita jerked her arm from his grasp. “You can cower back here if you want to, but I’m going to do something.”
Michael’s steel grip fastened around her wrist. “What are you going to do? You’re going to get yourself and some of these people here killed, if you don’t listen to me.”
********
19.
Madeline into Operations’s office aerie with an air of urgency. “There’s an unusual situation brewing in the Principality of Monaco. I think we need to send a team.”
“Really? I wasn’t aware we had any pressing interests in Monaco,” Operations responded dryly, as he looked at Madeline with interest. She looked lovely this morning. Her short wavy hair flattered her features, emphasized her fine brown eyes. Her mannish suits did her no credit, but her elegant figure wasn’t difficult to see, if one were interested.
“A team of twenty thieves has taken the entire Hotel de Paris hostage.”
“You want to send in a team because of a robbery?” Operations asked in disbelief. “Are they threatening our national interests?”
Madeline paused. She had expected his protests. After all, Section One did not normally become involved unless national interests were involved or unless Section One was threatened. “There are two Section One operatives among the hostages. They need to be extracted from the situation ‘before’ the local authorities become aware of their background.”
“Or eliminated,” Operations said dryly. “Who the hell is in Monte Carlo, Madeline? Do I have to drag every little detail from you?” he asked sitting on the window ledge.
Madeline’s look was solemn as she responded, “Michael is one of the operatives.”
“Michael? He was just here yesterday,” he protested, standing in surprise.
“Yes, and he’s down today and tomorrow, and he’s in Monte Carlo registered at the Hotel de Paris as Michel Therrien.”
“And the other operative? No... don’t tell me!” Operations shook his head in dismay.
“Nikita. You must remember I warned you there was nothing to keep them apart now.”
Operations began to pace back and forth. “Why wasn’t I aware of this sooner? Why did you know this, and not I?. Surely, not some girlish confidence of Nikita’s?”
“Hardly. I noted some unusual activity on Michael’s computer. Lear Jet rental, a limousine, accessing expensive boutique sites, various cues that he was planning something. With Michael’s intelligence and resources, if he ever attempted to skip Section, he might just succeed. I’ve had Systems place certain flags on his usage. What I discovered was not a flight from Section but instead a ‘little vacation’ for him and Nikita. They are both down, and they are apparently taking full advantage of it.” Madeline folded her arms as she delivered the news. “I told you this could happen.”
“Ugh! I don’t want to hear anymore. You should have told me about this ‘vacation’ sooner” Operations wanted to gag at the thought of Michael and Nikita ‘together.’ Nikita had been a thorn in his side ever since he had allowed Michael to talk him out of canceling her at the end of her training. Nikita was responsible for weakening Michael’s devotion to Section One. There were little signs--but nothing concrete that he could have used to punish Michael and made him conform to his will again.
“A couple of days downtime spent together is not an irrevocable bond. As you said before a system of rewards and punishments. You forget that it was Nikita’s loss on the Brevich mission that brought Michael back to us. She does have her uses.... And she is an excellent operative, in spite of her propensity for compassion.”
“All right! I’ve heard enough about Nikita’s virtues. Organize a team and extract them.” Operations waved his lighted cigarette in the air.
“Extract ‘or’” Madeline asked.
“Eliminate them, Madeline. You know the drill. I don’t want to lose Michael, but if we have to, then send Housekeeping as well. I want no traces of Section One remaining in this mess.”
Madeline nodded, “I’ll call a flash mission, and start the profilers working immediately.” She turned to leave.
“Fine!” was all Operations could manage to say. Dammit! Why was Nikita always in the middle of any complicated situation, complicating it further, he asked himself for the hundredth time in the last four years.
*********
20.
Blue eyes blazed into green ones. The emerald or jade sparkle that had been so evident during their excursion was noticeably absent. Section One’s ultimate operative stood before Nikita, ready to do whatever it took to control her, even if he had to render her unconscious.
“Dammit, Michael, I know you’re right. What do you want me to do?” Nikita asked, as she rubbed her wrist.
Michael exhaled in relief. Nikita’s training... the training he had instilled in her... had not failed. “We have to determine the number of thieves, how well they are armed, and I need to get to a computer. We have to notify Section One.”
“Why bring them into something that is as you said just a robbery.”
“We’re here. It could get complicated, if we are detained by the authorities. It’s likely they will hold everyone hostage, while bargaining for escape vehicles.”
Michael began to move cautiously into a service hall. He and Nikita had escaped detection by the terrorist/thieves, while the remainder of the restaurant occupants had been herded into the casino. The casino was the only area large enough to hold the entire assemblage of gamblers and hotel guests. By keeping the hostages in one area, Michael knew they would be easier for their captors to control.
“I’m not exactly attired for a mission, Michael. I need to get back to our room and change.” Nikita hiked the skirt of her silver evening gown and demonstrated the stiletto heels she wore.
Michael shook his head. “You’ve been in worse situations. We can’t risk your returning to our room. They are probably combing the corridors now and pulling the rest of the guests from their rooms. I want you to access the balcony area and give me a head count on our targets. I’ll find an office computer and meet you back here in ten minutes. Ten minutes.” he emphasized softly.
Nikita nodded and moved to assume the point position, while Michael eased his way down the hall in the opposite direction, checking for the office areas. Lady Luck was with Michael that night. The third door he opened proved to have exactly what he needed. Automatically, he began keying in the code that would access Section One.
* * *
Birkoff hated flash missions. Too many things could go wrong. Michael and Nikita were in the middle of a robbery/hostage situation in Monte Carlo. Who knew! The thought of Michael and Nikita actually spending some downtime together brought images to his mind that he would rather forget. The beginning transmission of them making love on the Armel mission. He’d had to look away. It looked too real.... too personal. It also brought to mind images and sensations of Nikita, no Abby, making love to him in the Ready Room. Geez, what an idiot he’d been.
An errant signal beeping on his screen jerked Birkoff away from his mental video. He hit the intercom to Operations. “Someone is accessing Section from a insecure system. What do you want me to do?”
“It may be Michael, let it go through,” was Operations’s terse response.
“It is Michael,” Birkoff announced.
“Michael, what’s the situation,” Operations asked as Birkoff typed.
“At least twenty men, with Uzi’s and semi-automatic rifles. They are pulling all the guests into the main casino,” was Michael’s typed response. “Nikita’s on reconnaissance now.”
“Tell him there’s a team on the way and to not interfere.”
“Yes, sir,” Birkoff replied as he complied with Operations orders.
“We’ll try.” was Michael’s brief and enigmatic response.
“What does he mean he’ll try?” Operations asked in outrage. “Tell him that’s an order!”
“He’s aborted the connection,” Birkoff said quietly.
“Damn!” was the only coherent word that Birkoff could understand from Operations channel.
******
21.
Nikita crouched as she eased into the multi-columned balcony that surrounded the main casino on four sides. “Fine time to be nearly 6 feet tall in a silver dress and stiletto heels,” she could not help muttering to herself. I couldn’t be anymore conspicuous that the statue of old Louis whatever outside this damn place. The conversation continued internally. I wanted to be a princess or a movie star, and here I am creeping about like the lowly Section operative I really am.
Nikita could hear the cries of dismay, some whimpering that seemed to come from a few of both sexes. The camouflage-clad terrorists, (and in her mind, she had no doubt as to what they really were) milled about brandishing their weapons in order to intimidate their captives. Terrorists quite often used similar tactics to ‘raise’ funds for their nefarious activities. Maybe not on such an opulent scale as raiding a Monte Carlo casino, but money was always needed, and their methods usually involved violence of one sort or another.
Nikita could count ten terrorists in her line of vision. She had no idea how many others were currently retrieving guests from their rooms, however, this early in the evening there probably weren’t that many guests in their rooms. Gambling, dining and being seen were the main activities in Monte Carlo. The multitude of precious gems that Nikita could see from her place on the balcony would keep the fences of Europe occupied for weeks.
Nikita checked her watch and knew it was time to reconnoiter with Michael. She regretted only bringing one firearm with her and no back up ammunition, but she did have a silencer. Hell, she hadn’t known she was going to end up in Monte Carlo on a love-fest- turned-hostage situation. She had planned on spending a quiet day with Michael. She’d had no idea that he would sweep her away on this romantic jaunt. She might have to kill a few terrorists if she had the chance. They had spoiled the most romantic night of her life. Michael had been about to say something... something important from the look on his face and in his crystal green eyes. Focus, she told herself. I have to focus.
The sound of an automatic gun’s mechanism being engaged behind her brought her back to reality with a crashing lurch. Not bothering to think, she acted on reflex, spun, brought her gun up and fired. The terrorist’s face had a look of surprise as the red stain blossomed on his chest. Without a word, he fell. Nikita crept to his body, checked for a carotid pulse and finding none, grabbed his 9mm and left the balcony without attracting further notice. She stopped long enough to lean against a wall and catch her breath. Adrenaline surged through her bloodstream. She was glad to feel the familiar kick as her heart rate increased, pumping more oxygen into her muscles, increasing the speed of her reflexes.
* * *
Michael returned to the rendezvous point. Nikita was not there. A stab of fear struck Michael in the heart. Had she been discovered and taken hostage? He shouldn’t have left her. He knew it was crazy to think that way. Nikita the operative was well able to handle herself in any situation, but he was here with Nikita the woman, and it was for the woman that he feared. His initial inclination was to take Nikita and run. That was the most sensible action for the two of them. The thought of Section becoming involved by sending a team had an ominous overtone. If the team could not retrieve them, the team would be under instructions to cancel Nikita and him to prevent discovery.
Nikita slid into the service hall, still shimmering and beautiful, but it was obvious to Michael’s discerning eye that she had seen some action. Her respirations were quicker, and he could see the pulse bounding in her throat, her lovely, alabaster throat.
“What happened?” he asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.
“One of them surprised me, but I took him out,” Nikita replied, swallowing the lump that still remained in her throat.
“Are you all right?” he asked. She obviously was, but he couldn’t keep from asking or touching her.
“Fine,” she nodded, then launched into debrief mode. “There are ten in the main casino. The one I shot makes eleven. I didn’t see any of the others. They are armed with Uzi’s, and semi-automatic rifles. Plenty of 9mils, and there’s enough ammunition to outfit a small battalion. This is going to be a blood bath.”
Michael hated to agree, but nodded. “Section is sending in a team.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Nikita asked, puzzled at Michael’s apparent unease.
“Not necessarily. Their orders will be to extract or ..” he paused, not wanting to verbalize his fears.
“Eliminate us. Thank you very much, Operations. That man would mess up a wet dream, Michael,” Nikita blurted, then looked at Michael to gauge his response.
“Correct on all counts, Nikita,” Michael replied. Leave it to Nikita to put it so succinctly and bluntly.
********
22.
The leader of the terrorists was a tall man with a barrel chest. His musculature was massive, but it was his face that inspired the most terror. While he had been considered quite handsome as a youth, his face had matured and hardened with deep lines that ran from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth. His brown eyes were flat. Pity did not reside in them, nor in him.
Jorge Anselmo strutted around the room casting fierce looks at his captives. He did not fear being recognized. He wanted to be recognized, for recognition would carry power in his future endeavors. He hated the cowering jet setters huddled in front of him. He hated them for their privileged lives, the ease with which they moved through those lives, and for the fear they so plainly displayed at what was likely the first time they had ever experienced it.
It would be his honor to divest them of their money, their jewels, and their lives, if it would further his cause....the cause of the underprivileged everywhere. The herd of sycophantic cattle grazed in comfort while there were masses who went to bed hungry every night. The jet-setters played in luxurious hotels, while millions had no roof.
His late mentor René Dian had instilled in him the fire of the revolutionary. Jorge burned to clean the slate of inequality and institute the same privileges for all, instead of a fortunate few. He was the only surviving member of Dian’s cell. He would have died with his mentor had he not been delayed that evening by a redhead. While he had lingered in Kira’s warm embrace, René and the others had been betrayed and killed by the mysterious Michel.
Jorge remembered René’s excited call the year before. His old friend from University had resurfaced after supposedly having died in prison fourteen years earlier. Michel was going to join them in their mission of death and destruction. L’Heure Sanguine would re-emerge to world prominence with Michel’s added dedication and strategic skills.
It had taken a year for Jorge to assimilate a new group, and it would not have been possible without the lovely Kira’s generous bank account or her tenuous ties to a Red Cell faction. Jorge lived for two things... to realize the mission of his mentor and to repay the treacherous Michel in the same coin that he had so cavalierly paid René.
Jorge had been unable to locate any intelligence on the whereabouts of the elusive Michel, but the day would come. He had plenty of time, and he would have plenty of money. René had once shown him a photograph of the traitor. It had been taken years before, but he could not have changed that much. He would never forget the piercing green eyes or the long chin on the sincere face of Dian’s protégé.
One of his men rushed to his side. Remy Arneau was short and slight, but he had proved his usefulness and bravery. “Someone has taken out Rico. I just found him dead on the balcony,” he said breathlessly, pointing upward.
Jorge looked about in anger and shouted, “One of you has killed one of my men. Search them for weapons,” he demanded. “If I find that anyone here is responsible, that life is forfeit, as well as,” he paused for effect, “the ten people standing closest to him.”
The hostages began to look at each other in alarm. Several began to weep, and not all were women. One elderly woman attired in mink and diamonds clutched her heart and collapsed with a wail. Her husband begged as he knelt beside her, “We need a doctor!”
Jorge walked to their side and pistol whipped her husband with his 9mm. “Another word and you both die,” he shouted, pointing the gun at the elderly man’s head.
He gave him a kick to the ribs for good measure before striding away. “Anyone else want a physician?” he threatened, holding his gun high above his head.
************
23.
“At least I got another gun and some extra ammunition,” Nikita said, producing the shiny 9mm handgun from her voluminous skirt.
“Good. That really evens the odds,” Michael responded with a quirked half smile.
His relief that she was all right was palpable. This had to be the reason Section frowned on bonds between operatives. He was having difficulty separating his emotions from the woman he’d held in his arms only two hours before. He ordered his mind to focus, but it was useless. All he wanted to do was get her the hell out of there and to safety before a Section housekeeping team took care of the problem....namely him and Nikita.
“Well, it’s better than nothing,” she hissed at him.
“Shut up, Nikita,” he said, pulling her to him for an unprecedented embrace. His arms shook. His entire body shook with the effort it took not to lose himself in her scent and warmth. His words were soft, but intense. “Look, we have a choice.. We can get out of here and let the authorities and Section do whatever they will, or we can try to distract them, and pick them off one by one.” Please, please, pick the first choice Nikita, his eyes begged. I want you to leave. I want you to be safe while there’s still time.”
“Right, I’ll distract them, and we’ll pick them off when they come after me,” Nikita said. “They won’t send that many at a time, because they’ll need the bulk of their crew to control the hostages. It should be a cinch.”
Michael sighed. He had known Nikita wouldn’t run from the fight. She was brave, his woman. She always had been. “I don’t like using you as bait. It’s dangerous.”
“Duh, Michael. It’s not the first time I’ve been used as bait. You’ve never batted so much as an eyelash before. Why I could name....”
“Later, Nikita,” Michael interrupted. Damn! This trip wasn’t supposed to end like this. Two days, two days! That’s all he’d wanted was to spend some uninterrupted downtime with her, loving her, treasuring her, and now they were engaged in a life or death struggle with the added complication of their new deeper relationship. It made him want to zone out every time he saw her. Visions of her perfect body as it lay open to him, and the sensations of sinking into her silky warmth kept his mind working overtime, when he should be shoving her out a back door into the clear night air.
“Michael, are you with me?” Nikita asked.
Michael knew his distraction had been obvious. Fear gripped him again. He was not 100%, not where she was concerned, but he forced the separation in his mind through a familiar mantra. This is a mission. Nikita is an operative. Innocent lives are at stake.
He snapped into reality with a sudden jar. “Of course. Let’s move.”
*******
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