Page 44 of Sweet Lies

Running my fingers over my tools and knives, I make a show of examining each one and glancing toward his eye and other body parts. I let the anticipation eat away at him in silence.

“He’s in New York,” Francesco gasps out, his eyes widening at the words.

Why does it always have to be New York? Why not Canada or Mexico or, hell, even Missouri? But no, it’s New York, the one place I’ve been avoiding these past two years. It’s too close to her. I can already smell her scent and hear her voice.

I pull the gun from my back and raise it, and he looks at me with relief, realizing it’s finally over. Pulling the trigger, I end his life and make quick work of getting rid of the evidence.

Alessandro calls me as I’m finishing up. “Did you get the location?” his deep voice asks.

“Of course. He’s in New York. I’ll be there in the morning.”

“Good. See this business through and return quickly. I have some other work for you, since you’ve shown yourself so capable.” With that offer, he hangs up.

I’m on a plane to New York within two hours. Alessandro readied the jet for me the minute I told him the destination.

The attractive blonde flight attendant has been eyeing me for the last forty minutes. I catch her eye, and she giggles behind her hand before glancing away. If I wanted to, I could get up, take her by the hand and have her anywhere on the plane.

She rises from her seat with a drink in hand and slowly walks down the few feet that separate us. She grins at me, both of us knowing what she wants.

She hands me a glass while holding her own tightly. “You look thirsty,” she says seductively.

Taking a sip of my drink, I run my fingertips along the hem of her dress. Her eyes glaze over with anticipation.

“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t say ladies first?” I mutter.

“You’re not a gentleman,” she purrs.

I laugh at her observation. “True.”

Her hands slip to the hem of my pants and make quick work unzipping them and pushing the material out of the way so she can run her fingers over my cock. The action has the intended result, and I feel it hardening with each stroke.

I lean my head back, close my eyes and enjoy the sensations she’s creating. With my eyes closed, I pretend for a moment that it isn’t her hand causing my pleasure.

As if I’ve willed it to happen, the feeling of her hand is replaced by the warmth of her mouth. The difference causes a moan to escape.

I open my eyes and stare at the top of her head as she moves up and down—her hand grasping the base as she increases her speed.

I rest my hand on top of her head, my fingers lightly digging into her scalp. She increases her speed, and I allow myself to ride the ride as she draws pleasure from me with skilled actions. The wave washes over me, and I bathe in the pleasure of my release. Her lips pull away, and I release her head.

“Now it’s your turn.” I smile wolfishly.

“A man of such reputation, we’ll see,” she returns.

Chuckling, I pull her into my lap. “I don’t disappoint.”

She laughs. “I hope not.”

* * *

The flight attendant grabs my arm as I exit the plane, placing a small piece of paper in my palm.

“I’d love for you to be one of my frequent flyers. Call me,” she says, kissing me once more.

I smile as her lips leave mine, knowing she’ll never get that phone call. Still, I slip the number into my pocket.

Stepping into the cool air, I ready myself, and sure enough, as I walk down the steps, I’m bombarded with the thought ofherand our past. On the flight, I could hide from the truth, but now there’s nowhere to hide.

As soon as I find my mark I’ll be on the first flight back to Rome. There I could bury her once more and move on to the next flight attendant. Whatever happens, I will not see Rebecca Rossi.

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