“You’re a good woman, Minka.”
Blinking rapidly, she looks a little teary-eyed. I squeeze her hand and distract her by whining about my wig again. Minka smiles appreciatively. Neither of us wants to lose sight of the day’s plans.
26
Minka
Bang Bang Bang
If I ever have henchmen, and they know the enemy is on the move, I’ll be sure to instruct the idiots not to get drunk. Black clearly didn’t have this talk with his deputies, since they’re wasted an hour after arriving at the blond one’s house.
“These dipshits love blowjobs,” Dino says as if he isn’t talking about every guy ever.
While sliding on my boots, I bang my knee on the dashboard. “Crap! Stop distracting me with your whining.”
“You seem tense. Want a pussy massage?”
I can’t help laughing at his earnest expression. “Once the prostitutes leave, we’ll get the job done. I’m sick of this fucking car.”
Dino smiles at my frustration. He’s already wiggled his way out of the old man outfit and into his all-black commando clothes.
“I love you,” he says, his tone startling me. “I’m not worried about us making it out of this job alive. I still want you to know that I do love you, and this trip hasn’t been an elaborate game by a bored retired hitman.”
“Did you purposely make that declaration sound like you might be playing an elaborate game?”
“No. I just have a way with words.”
Taking his hand, I press the palm against my cheek. The gobs of makeup keep me from truly feeling his touch. I reach forward and rest my hand on his chest so I can feel his heartbeat.
“I love you too. No man has ever gotten close to making me love them, and you did it in four days.”
“When it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen despite the redneck atmosphere and your unwillingness to accept my perfection.”
“I did fight it.”
“Not for long.”
“I don’t believe in wasting time.”
Dino gives me a great smile, and my heart beats too fast. I even worry this might be our goodbye.
“You’re going to have my kids, Apples. No way can you do that if one of us doesn’t make it through the night,” he says, sensing my fears.
“Well, there’s that.”
Dino takes my hand from his chest and kisses the palm and then my wrist. This gesture makes me frigging blush.
“Gets the girls every time,” he teases.
“If you’re hoping I’ll change Italian Sausage to Don Juan, it’s just not happening.”
“I already have a suave real name.”
“That you do,” I say.
“Hookers on the move.”
Still holding Dino’s hand, I watch the two prostitutes leave the house. They look in a hurry, likely hoping to find paying customers.
“No neighbors out and about,” Dino says, looking through the night vision goggles. “Looks like the assholes are watching porn and opening up a new six pack.”
“Ready, Mister Sausage?”
“Yes, future Missus Sausage.”
I lean over and kiss him. Our lips want more. My body still hums from our last romp hours earlier. Work comes first. Tonight anyway. In the future, I can imagine the world shrinking to only Dino and me.
The street feels empty, and I worry about an ambush. If Black planned to hit us, he’d have done it while we sat in the car for the last hour. No, the street is quiet because the place is on edge.
Dino does move like a jaguar. Fast and fierce, he hurries to the back of the house. I’m right behind him. Our weapons at the ready, he nearly soundlessly opens the back screen door. We enter the house where our every noise is muffled by the loud TV.
Does anyone want to die with their dick in their hand? Blond deputy suffers this indignity when Dino fires into the back of his head with the other deputy’s stolen gun.
Rushing past Dino, I focus on the dark-haired deputy. He leaps for his gun, which is halfway across the room, but I kick him backward. He flops on the ground, scrambles around, and again lunges for the weapon. I punch him twice in the face. The first breaks his nose while the second makes a mess of his lower lip.
“Don’t,” he says, putting his hands up. “I have a family.”
“Better have a life insurance policy then,” I reply.
Dino yanks up the guy and forces him to walk to the couch. I take the dead deputy’s hand and rub it against the crying deputy’s bloodied face.
“They fought. He shot his buddy.”
“No, wait,” the drunken deputy mumbles.
Dino drags him into the kitchen where his broken nose bleeds on the counter. I tear off the deputy’s shirt and dump it into the sink and add bleach.
“He tried to clean up the evidence,” I say.
“He realized there was no way out. In a stupor, he took his life.”
“No, wait,” the deputy says again because he’s too drunk to say much else.
Dino maneuvers the deputy onto a chair in the adjoining dining room. He fires once against the side of the deputy’s head and then allows the body to fall. Looking over his work, he frowns.