After a few tries she managed to swipe her holoband across the pad to unlock her room door. We tumbled inside and onto the crème-colored velvet comforter of the oversized bed. More clothes quickly littered the floor. The Mean Ol’ Broad thumped off the carpet without notice. A few heat-arousing kisses later she pulled back with a deliciously wicked smile on her face. Leaning in, she took my hands and raised them above my head.
I felt a stupid, drunken grin spread across my face. “I surrender.”
The handcuffs clicked into place at that exact moment.
I glanced at my imprisoned hands. “Think I might need to use those, darlin’.”
Still smiling, she slid down the length of my body in a way that made me gasp out loud. “My game, my rules, Mick.” She wrenched one of my shoes off. It hit with carpet with a thump. My other shoe quickly followed.
I lowered my voice. “I’m serious, Electra. Just in case something happens, if you catch my drift.”
“Something’s going to happen.” She yanked hard, snatching my pants off in a single motion. “I guarantee it. Now don’t go anywhere. I’m going to slip into something more comfortable.” She paused at the bathroom door. “Nice to see you rise to the occasion, by the way.” A fit of giggles shook her shoulders when she dipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
“C’mon Electra. I’m not kidding.” I gave a futile pull, but the cuffs weren’t the play kind and the bed had one of those solid metal lattice frames. I glanced out the window. The blinds were open, allowing anyone who cared to look a clear view of the goings-on inside. Of course that was the point, but I didn’t figure being handcuffed to the bed into the scenario. I kinda doubted Natalie would find it all that hilarious, but it still felt embarrassing to lay there in my boxers for all the world to see. Plus it reminded me too much of another uncomfortable situation with the Gutter Girls I tried not to think about.
“What do you think?”
My stomach sank to my toes when I turned. Electra had donned a latex catsuit so tight on her slender curves it looked like she dipped her body in glossy black paint. Her eyes were covered by cubed goggles fashioned after insect eyes, and a crimson hourglass glimmered from between her shiny breasts. A short-handled leather tasseled whip hung from her gloved hand.
The Black Widow had come to play.
I swallowed. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but—”
“Hush.”
I winced when the tassels cracked across my bare legs. It was more from the snapping sound than the actual sting, but it got an evil laugh from Electra anyway. She leaped atop me, grinding against my groin area in a fashion that proved quite distracting despite my humiliating predicament.
“Your mistress didn’t order you to speak.” She emphasized her point with a savage kiss that ended with her teeth pulling at my bottom lip. She released just at the point of drawing blood and grinned. “You be a good boy and this will go easier. You act up and things might get downright nasty.” She lashed the whip across my legs again. Her other hand produced the switchblade I came across earlier. The bayonet-style blade popped out with a click. I screwed my eyes shut and tried not to scream when her arm whipped down.
When I recovered from my terror I saw she had slashed through my shirt, not my chest and intestines like I figured. She purred like a kitten as her vinyl-gloved hand rubbed my bare chest. Her other hand brushed against the automated holster strapped to my forearm. “Oooh, what’s this?”
“Just a little insurance policy I picked up from the Sarge at Johnson Arms.”
“Well, try not to discharge accidently. This is going to be the night of your life, Mick Trubble. I guarantee it.”
My reply was cut off when the window shattered. The sniper’s bullet struck Electra before I could even register what happened. She never made a sound as her limp body sailed off the bed and hit the carpet at the same time as the splintered glass.
I struggled against the handcuffs as the outer door was kicked in and the tread of angry footsteps approached. Either I was weaker than I thought or the bed was purposely built for the sole purpose of BDSM. Either way I could do nothing to free myself from the shackles or check on Electra’s condition. She made no sound or movement, which pretty much told me all I needed to know.
Natalie entered the room, sweeping every corner with her eyes. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled back from her beautifully cold features and she was dressed to kill in combat fatigues reinforced with armor at the chest, shoulders, knees and elbows. She placed one hand on her hip. The other toted a Bond 953 special tactics handgun, which she pointed directly at me.
She made tsking sound with her mouth as she glanced at Electra’s fallen body, then back at me in all of my disgraced glory. “I am very disappointed with you, Michael. Very. Disappointed.”
Chapter 19: The Payoff
It’s difficult to conjure an air of nonchalance with a pistol pointed at you while you’re handcuffed to a bed, but I gave it my best shot. “Oh, it’s ‘Michael’ now, is it? What happened to Mick?”
“Mick Trubble is a cover you were supposed to lose when your mission was over. Your name is Special Agent Michael Trudo of the Secret Service. It’s time to stop playing games, Michael. This detour of yours has gone way over the top.”
I shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” The handgun boomed in her hand.
The mattress still rocked from the impact when I finally reopened my eyes. Fluff floated down from the fist-sized crater less than an inch from my goodies. I shivered as my pores broke out in a cold sweat, wondering what the hell happened to the security in the joint. Figured they must’ve been paid to take a hike. Or knowing Natalie’s reputation, they were all dead.
Natalie’s raised the weapon about an inch upward. “Now that I have your attention, let me ask the obvious question — where is Faraday’s god lode?”
I blinked. “What—?”
She leveled the gun at my head. “I think you’d better get your act together real fast, Michael. I know you have memory issues, but in a second you’ll have brain leakage. What — did you think this was all some ‘woman scorned’ act? Get over yourself. Faraday kept his most valuable data in the same thermal orbot you ended up destroying at Beck’s mansion.”
Sinn’s voice buzzed in my ear. “Keep her talking, Mick. I’m using the trajectory of the first gunshot to pinpoint the location of the shooter. Poddar is on location to take him out.”
I kept my attention focused on Natalie. “If you know about the explosion, you know his data card or whatever was in that orb went up in flames like the building did. Sounds like you made this trip for biscuits, toots.”
Her mouth thinned into a frown. “Don’t talk that New Haven slang to me, Michael. Do you know how ridiculous it sounds coming from you? You know the drive inside of the orb is nearly indestructible, don’t you? I’ve been trying to jar your memory since I got here. I can’t believe Faraday screwed you up this badly.”
“Jarring my memory by what — slicing and dicing innocent women? Pretty sick way to go about it.”
“Trauma is a time-tested method of both memory loss and recollection. You forgot about the drop from the city heights. We went through that in our Service training, remember?”
“Obviously I don’t. What happened to the trainees who didn’t get their crate to land?”
Her expression was as placid as if ordering dinner. “The Service can’t use an agent who can’t think on his feet.”
“So they die.”
“The weak have to be culled in order for the strong to thrive. It’s an absolute in any society.”