Guerrero's Stalker

Guerrero found himself in a rare moment of indecision. He had a problem. Her name was Laura. Every second of his years of experience told him he should put a bullet in her head, ditch the body in the bay and chalk the whole thing up to a lesson painfully learned.

But he couldn’t.

No, scratch that, he could very easily do it, but he didn’t want to and that’s the thing that was really bothering him. He really didn’t want to kill the woman who’d been making his life so difficult for the last week. That was highly unusual for Guerrero. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate long enough to really feel one way or another about eliminating someone who got in his way and she’d done more than that…. So why was she still breathing?

He looked down at her sleeping form, curled comfortably in to a foetal position, her hair a tangled mess of dark curls that his fingers itched to push away from her face. How the hell was she even relaxed enough to sleep? That was part of the problem, she didn’t seem believe that he would harm her in any way, despite the all trouble she’d caused him.

Guerrero closed the trunk of his car on the sleeping woman, hating himself for doing it gently so as not to wake her. He was well aware of the idiocy of not wanting to disturb the woman lying tied up in the trunk of his car but tried not to dwell on it.

He got back in the driver’s seat and adjusted the rear-view mirror so he could examine the angry looking bruise that was turning his jaw an interesting shade of purple. That one had been from the fire extinguisher to the face, the latest of a litany of injuries he’d suffered in the last few days caused either directly or indirectly by Laura.

It wasn’t uncommon for a man in his line of work to run in to a rival assassin working the same job. What was unusual, however, was for the rival assassin to gracefully offer to back away from the hit then proceed to stalk him across two continents, causing him as much grief as humanly possible. The woman was unhinged, even by assassin standards.

In the last week he’d had to deal with booby trapped hotel rooms; exploding cars; sabotaged weapons and equipment; his IDs stolen and cloned; contacts arrested, abducted or disappearing without a trace; and one memorable incident at Austrian customs that was going to make any return visit to the country very complicated…

He sighed and started the car, half expecting it to explode in to a ball of flame killing both him and his stalker. When it didn’t he flicked on the headlights and began the long drive to the lake house. He was going to need somewhere private and isolated to deal with the problem currently sleeping in his trunk. He would have to kill her at some point, he knew that, but the truth was she intrigued him. Why had she spent so much time and energy on pursuing and antagonising him? Why bother? What was she hoping to achieve? And how was she so confident that he wouldn’t just kill her?

When they arrived at the lake house several hours later Guerrero left his captive in the car whilst he performed all his usual checks to see that nothing has been disturbed since his last visit. Satisfied that things were as they should be, he lit a fire in the kitchen’s wood burning stove and went down to the basement to retrieve his tackle box. The heat from the stove soon burned away the slight chill in the night air and Guerrero went back out to the car to retrieve Laura.

“Are we there yet?” Laura asked as Guerrero opened the trunk. She asked the question casually, as if she hadn’t just spent over three hours tied up in the trunk and as if it made no difference to her if she stayed there for another few hours. He’d hoped that some time in the trunk would have softened her up a bit, but no such luck. He silently clenched his jaw, literally biting back words of frustration.

He cut the thick cable ties binding her feet very carefully. He already had a couple of bruised, possibly even cracked, ribs that testified to the fact that she could kick like a mule if she wanted to. This time, however, she behaved her self and waited demurely for Guerrero to haul her upright by her still bound wrists. He shut the trunk and locked the car, watching Laura very carefully for any signs of trouble. She seemed content to have a good stretch and await further instructions. She made no effort to run, which unnerved Guerrero a little.

He pushed her ahead of him as they walked up to the back door that lead directly in to the kitchen, giving her an extra little shove when she paused to admire the view of the lake. Once inside he sat her down at the kitchen table, out of reach of knives, pans and any other tempting improvised weapons. He stood at the other end of the rough hewn wooden table, one hand resting on the tackle box he’d brought up from the cellar. It was a sight most guests to the lake house found ominous and intimidating, his interrogation techniques were legendary among his peers. His current guest, however was not sticking to the usual script.

“Awesome! Is that the tackle box?” she leaned forward to get a better look, her eyes bright with interest.

Guerrero frowned. If she was familiar with his reputation why was she so enthusiastic about the contents of the box?

“You’re a very strange woman, Laura. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She laughed.

“Oh, please! My name isn’t really Laura any more than your real name is Guerrero!”

Guerrero shrugged, conceding the point. He’d used the name Guerrero for so long now that sometimes he forgot that he’d had another one, one given to him as a baby and used to track him through childhood in so many official records. He’d discarded that name so long ago that it held no real significance for him anymore. In fact it had even less significance than some of the aliases he’d used before finally settling in to being Guerrero.

“What do you want me to call you?” Guerrero asked.

“Laura is fine. For now.” she replied. “Although it’s not nearly as good a name as Guerrero. Guerrero…” she repeated his name slowly, drawing it out and rolling the Rs seductively. “It’s such a good sound. More of a snarling sound than actual name, I always thought.”

“What do you want, Laura?” he asked, deciding on the direct approach as the contents of the tackle box seemed to be lacking their usual powers of persuasion.

“Just this.” She smiled.

“Just what?”

“A conversation.”

“You don’t think we could have had a conversation a week ago?”

“Not really, no. A week ago you would have just killed me for the sake of convenience or maybe you would have ignored me and I would have killed you out of spite. But I did things my way. I made myself interesting to you and here we are enjoying a nice civilised conversation.”

Guerrero sighed. She was right of course. His curiosity over her odd behaviour had led him to bring her here to talk rather than dump her body in the bay where she belonged. He moved the tackle box to the floor and retrieved a bottle of Johnny Walker and a couple of glasses from a cupboard. He sat down opposite Laura and poured them both a drink. As he was pouring, Laura slipped out a small blade that had been concealed within the dial of her watch. She cut through the cable ties that were binding her wrists before clicking the blade back in to place. Guerrero smiled at the simple effectiveness of the trick and slid her glass across the table to her. They raised their glasses in a silent salute and drank.

“So what was so important that it deserved all this effort to arrange this conversation?” Guerrero asked.

“I wanted to meet the man who murdered my father.” She said it so calmly that Guerrero was unable to read whether she considered her father’s murder a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’ll need a bit more than that to go on. I’ve killed quite a few men with daughters.” He smiled.

She laughed. “Of course you have! But look closely, I have given you clues!”

Guerrero sat back and studied the woman carefully. She was attractive, that went without saying. Her round hazel eyes peeped out from behind the tangled mess of her bangs. Her mahogany coloured curls fell to just below her jaw line, short enough to easily tuck away under a wig or a hat but long enough to tie back in a pony tail if need be. She was of slim build, good for agility and stealth, always a plus for an assassin. Guerrero carefully steered his mind away from her rather inviting cleavage and tried to glean further clues from her clothing. There wasn’t much he could determine about her from her tight, high-street label jeans and v-neck jersey top, other than she knew how to dress nondescriptly. Her sneakers were of a good make but nothing flashy.

Laura smiled, seeming to enjoy Guerrero scrutinising her. She took another sip of her drink and his gaze was drawn back to her watch. Suddenly the small blade concealed with in the watch triggered a forgotten memory. Guerrero smiled, positive that he had correctly identified Laura’s father.

“So, who am I?”

“You’re the daughter of the Gadget Man.” He replied. She rewarded him with a laugh and a mock round of applause. He responded by raising his glass and giving her a nod of acknowledgement.

“I haven’t thought of him in years.” Guerrero mused. “Although I still come across some of his work from time to time.”

The Gadget Man had been famous amongst certain circles for a while. He had a gift for concealing weapons in almost any household item imaginable, a gift that criminals from all walks of life had paid very well to take advantage of until Guerrero’s services were employed to shut down his operation. The Gadget Man had been too good at designing and making new weapons and not good enough at discerning which people to sell them to. The time eventually came when he supplied both sides of a gang related conflict with the same “exclusive” weaponry and someone decided that it was simpler to just eliminate the man than deal with him again.

“And why would you think of him?” she asked. “ His death was just another job to you. Done, dusted and forgotten over a dozen years ago.”

“Something like that.” Guerrero said, watching her carefully over the rim of his glass as he took another sip. He remembered the job quite clearly. Taking out a man with such a flair for unusual weaponry had not been an easy task and several attempts had already been made on his life before Guerrero was called in, making an already dangerous target even more so.

“His death was rather more… significant to me.” She said, looking a little distant.

Guerrero raised an eyebrow, still searching her face for some clue as to how she felt about this. She gave nothing away and they sat in silence for a moment or two.

“He wasn’t what anyone would call a good man but he was my father.” She said eventually. “He was always driven by personal greed rather than any desire to take care of his family. My brother and I always wondered who it was that ordered the hit. Do you remember who it was?”

“Does it matter?” Guerrero asked.

“No.” she sighed. “I suppose not. I used to think it did but…” she shrugged.

Guerrero was still unsure as to what to think. After his experiences over the last week he had no doubts about her claim when they first met that she too was an assassin. She obviously had no problem with the concept of murdering people for money as a concept. He was just unsure how she felt about him murdering her father in particular.

“Has it taken you this long to find me?” he asked. By his calculations she would have been about seventeen when her father was killed.

“No,” she laughed. “It took me about a year to find out your name but I’ve never actively been looking for you. It was sheer coincidence that I should run in to you on a job. I know of you by reputation of course but to suddenly find myself face to face with you was a shock to say the least.”

“I was kind of surprised to see you too. I had no idea the target had more than one hit out on him. That’s the kind of information I like to have before hand.”

“Oh, there was only one hit out on Markus. He knew there was a contract out on his life and he hired me to ensure that anyone who tried to kill him was prevented from doing so. I was actually there to kill you. ”

“So why didn’t you?”

“One of Markus’ men ID-ed you. Once I realised that the man I was supposed to kill was Guerrero, the man who killed my father, I couldn’t do it. I decided to pretend that we were there for the same reason. It was a rare opportunity to watch you work.”

“It was a simple enough job.” He said frowning. “Or at least it was until you started messing with everything.”

“I needed to make sure I had your attention.”

“So, you have my full attention. What now?” Guerrero asked.

Laura didn’t reply. She knocked back the rest of her drink and stood up. Still unsure as to the woman’s intentions, Guerrero mirrored her actions, downing his own drink and standing up. He stood in a neutral stance, mentally preparing for whatever she was planning to attack him with.

“I killed your father a long time ago. What do you plan to do about it now?” he asked, hoping to finally provoke a reaction that would give something away. She stepped closer. He tensed.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for the longest time.” She said with a softness that was totally unexpected.

As he looked at her standing there, close enough to touch he realised that the clue he was looking for was right there in front of him. Although he stood tensed and ready for a fight, Laura was still just as relaxed as she’d been lying in the trunk of his car.

“I really, really hated my father.” she said reaching out and laying on hand gently against his cheek.

Guerrero couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was being played somehow.

“Yeah, but he was still your father though.”

She laughed, moving even closer to her wary captor. “Not a very good one though. He was a bit to keen on beating his kids for my liking.”

She moved closer still, until their faces were only a couple of inches apart. Although he tried to remain focussed on being ready for any sign of aggression on her part, his mind was definitely starting to wander. She was close enough now that her scent, a blend of tea rose, jasmine and gun oil, was becoming very distracting. He found his eyes trailing down to the neck line of her top, hypnotised by the quickening rise and fall of her breasts that told him either she was a seriously good actress or she too was aroused by their close physical proximity.

“I’m not here for a fight Guerrero.” She murmured. “I’m here to thank you.”

She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. When he didn’t respond she pulled back, letting her hand fall away but Guerrero quickly cupped her face in his hands, preventing her from moving away. He looked in to her eyes and saw her pupils were fully dilated, her lips were slightly parted and her breathing became fast and ragged as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. He still didn’t trust her but that didn’t stop him wanting her…

He pulled her to him and they kissed, deeply this time as they touched, tasted and probed each other. Her arms reached around his neck and his hands dropped from her face to her hips, crushing their bodies together. She went to move a troublesome strand of hair and Guerrero winced as her hand accidentally grazed against a cut on his forehead, another reminder of the incident with the fire extinguisher. She giggled and ran her fingers down from the cut to the bruising on his jaw, making him flinch again. He retaliated by biting her lower lip and she in turn tugged painfully at his beard.

Guerrero grinned and picked her up, depositing her roughly on the table. He pushed her on to her back, her legs dangling over the edge of the table, and pinned her hands by her sides. She laughed, but didn’t fight back, enjoying the feel of Guerrero’s body pressed against her own.

“You are so going to pay for that, dude!” He said, grinding against her slightly.

“I’m not a dude, Guerrero,” she laughed, grinding back against him. “I’ve got girl parts…”

“So I noticed…” he moaned, kissing his way down her neck. He released her arms and quickly stripped her of her top and bra.

“Yup, definitely girl parts.” he murmured as he cupped her breasts in his hands, teasing her nipples with his thumbs making them stand out and drawing an excited little moan from Laura. He leaned in and swiped his tongue over her right nipple and groaned as she shuddered against him. He did the same to her left and she shuddered again, this time running her fingers through his hair and pulling at it. As he rubbed, licked and gently bit at her breasts, she delighted in the contrast between the warm wetness of his mouth and the ticklish scratchiness of his beard. One of his hands slid slowly down from her breasts and across her stomach before reaching the waistline of her jeans.

She gasped as Guerrero popped the button of her flies open and slipped his fingers in to her underwear. Her jeans restricted his fingers’ range of movement but somehow, with only small movements and alternating pressure he brought her dangerously close to coming already. Sensing this, he withdrew his hand and went back to teasing her nipples. This made Laura groan with frustration.

“I was so close!” she moaned.

“I know. Why do you think I stopped?”

With one last kiss to her breast he straighten up, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of the half-naked woman sprawled on his table. Laura sat up and pulled him close for another deep, penetrating kiss. He loved the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest and just as he was thinking how much better it would feel is his shirt wasn’t in the way, Laura began unbuttoning it and tugging it off him impatiently.

He was right, the feeling of her breasts pressed against his bare chest was infinitely better. She wrapped her legs around his waist, forgetting Guerrero’s damaged ribs. He swore as her leg pushed against the injured area and backed away a bit.

“What’s wrong?” she asked before she noticed his hand clasped to the ugly bruising on his side, the bruising she’d given him not even forty-eight hours previously, “Oh, shit! My bad. I guess my brand of foreplay was a little rough on you.”

“This week was foreplay?” Guerrero asked incredulously.

“Well… kinda. It got us here didn’t it?”

“Fair enough.” he laughed pulling her close for a kiss. Laura carefully trailed her hands down his chest, being especially careful when she touched an area that was bruised, scratched or sore. She felt Guerrero relax a little as she proved to him she could be as gentle to him as she was violent but couldn’t resist the urge to pinch his nipple, which made him moan and dig his fingers hard into her hips.

“You so cannot be trusted.” he growled pushing her back so she was leaning back on her elbows. He pulled her sneakers and socks from her feet before tugging her jeans off so roughly that she nearly ended up on the floor. He leaned down kissing her hard on the mouth and then left a trail of much softer kisses from the side of her mouth down her neck. Then as she was letting out a contented little sigh, he bit down hard on the side of her neck making her cry out in both pleasure and pain. She surprised Guerrero by pulling him closer as if urging him to do it again. He grinned and bit down again, this time on her shoulder and sure enough, she writhed against him and called out his name.

He ran his hands over her squirming body and when they reached her hips he hooked his thumbs in to her underwear so he pulled them off as he stroked his hands down the length of her legs. She moaned as he stood back to admire her now completely naked body. He smiled as a thought occurred to him. He pulled up a chair and sat between Laura legs. She grinned as she anticipated what was coming next.

He gently kissed up the inside of her thigh as she lay back, hands gripping the edge of the table. When he reached the top of her thigh he stopped and began again on the other side. When she started to complain he bit the sensitive inside of her thigh which only managed to excite her further. He laughed and leaned in to kiss the one place she was aching to be touched.

“Oh my God! Guerrero!” she called out, calling his name over and over as his mouth teased her closer and closer to the climax he’d earlier denied her. Her cries grew louder as he slid first one then two fingers inside her finally pushing her over the edge in to ecstasy. As her body bucked against him he eased back to kissing the insides of her thighs.

He kicked the chair away and stood over her, stroking the hair from her flushed face as he gave her a moment to recover. He soon realised that he needn’t have worried when she sat up and pulled him into another breathtaking kiss, her hands already tugging at his belt. He helped her and they soon had his jeans open and pulled down far enough for their immediate requirements. As he slid in to her, she wrapped her legs around his waist and this time neither of them stopped to consider his injured ribs. They were both far too caught up in the moment to notice or care.

Guerrero felt it later though, as they lay in bed together sharing the rest of the bottle of Johnny Walker. They agreed that the kitchen table had been fun but a soft bed and warm sheets held the promise of lots more possibilities as well as being considerably more comfortable. So they had adjourned to one of the bedrooms where they entertained each other for most of the night. Eventually Guerrero’s painful ribs put an end to their fun and so they lay there drinking and talking.

“How did you know I wouldn’t just kill you and dump your body?” He asked eventually.

“I didn’t know you wouldn’t try.” she replied. “It would have been a shame if I had to kill you. I still might, you know. I haven’t quite made up my mind.”

Guerrero laughed and ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh making her moan.

“I think I’m safe for the time being.” he said, deciding that maybe his ribs could stand just one more round.