Chapter 4 Chapter Four
She shook her head, “You’re a junkie for danger Derek Silva.” She went on her tiptoes and gave him a quick—well what started as quick and was quickly escalating to a strong need to get naked again— kiss before she pulled away and quickly moved to the door. “See you soon spook.”
“We are going to have loads of fun Kitty Kat. Don’t let anyone else touch that sexy body, I promise I’ll make the wait worth it.”
She looked at him one final time and saw the promise in his eyes that made her tremble, “I don’t believe in promises but… I might make an exception for you.”
Once the door was shut behind her, Derek quickly grabbed a long sleeved black shirt that clung to his solid frame. He slid on his gloves then his ski mask, but he didn’t pull it over his face. He opened the door wide enough to spy through. He had a room close to the elevators and stairway emergency exist just in case shit went down and he needed a quick exit. Katarina stopped at the furthest elevator. She pressed the down button. It was a few minutes wait before the doors opened and she stepped in. Immediately the doors closed, he ran for the stairway and ran down nine flights of stairs to the ground floor. He stopped at the door, hands on his hips and bent over his waist breathing heavily. He was hot and sweaty too, two more reasons why he hated running. Once he got his breathing under control, he stealthily made his way out of the building through the service entrance. He’d just stepped out the back door and stayed in the shadows of the alley when he spotted Katarina, sliding into a black 2009 Porsche 911 GT3. He whistled as he admired the luxury vehicle. It was Porsche’s latest model and not even released for delivery to the public. He was still waiting for his own. Company funded of course. Anything to keep him happy and loyal. That’s why he liked being the best agent available.
How did Katarina get her hands on one of these babies so soon?
He had a crush on Jackie the Ripper ever since their first crossing a year ago. She was sent to kill someone he was protecting in-transit to the home office to give the Company all his dirty little secrets, just like Cornelius. He’d managed to protect that shithead until they got to American soil. But just a day after Derek had handed his custody over to the CIA, they found him dead in his cell, a knife sitting pretty in his spinal column. It killed him slowly as he lay there paralyzed, helpless and afraid and Derek just knew it was her. Since then, if there was a mission that involved killing or protecting human scum like Cornelius, he always made sure to throw his hat in during selection. His crush on her had grown ten folds after their roll on the carpet a few minutes ago and now, seeing her slide into the driver seat of that beautiful creation, he was going to be in constant heat for her.
The other woman who’d vacated the driver seat, dressed like Katarina in tight leather, came around the back of the car to get to the passenger’s side. He could only see part of her profile and the back of her head. Her hair was held in a thick long braid that stopped in the middle of her back. It actually added to her sex appeal.
Is she the White Widow? And is it a requirement for the Black Widows to be so damn hot?
She opened the door and slid in. Once her door was shut and her window wound down, she stuck her hand out and waved back at him.
“Damn it!” Derek stepped out of the shadows and waved back.
“Derek.” His team member’s voice came through his earpiece, “We have a problem.”
“Don’t I know it,” he whispered to himself as he watched the Porsche’s taillights. Katarina made the car purr then accelerated and skidded onto the main road.
Georgetown January, 2015
Derek clenched his teeth tight as pain shot up and down his entire left leg, mostly centering on his knee. He was drenched in sweat and his knee hurt like a mother- but there was no way he was going to give up. It helped that his anger fueled him on. He needed to heal fast and his doctors timetable just didn’t work for him. Eight months they’d said to just get half of his normal mobility back in his knee. Well, he’d already hit half that time and he could already jog with minimal pain. By the time month eight hit he would be sprinting. He used to hate running—he got too sweaty, a little smelly and it was just too exhausting. But now that he was faced with the possibility of never being able to run again, it was like being doused with cold water. You never appreciate what you have until it’s taken away. Once he was fully back on his feet, he was going to run every day for the rest of his life.
He pushed again stretching his knee determinedly. When month eight hit he was going to Damien’s cabin, the one he’d bought after spending the best months of his life in—his words—and run the trails along the stream and in the back woods each morning. Then he would swim in the stream each night before dinner, probably pull a girl or two in with him and fool around with the setting sun at their backs. Tasha would hate that last part, him using her wedding gift for debauchery, but Derek was determined to go back to his old self. He wanted to feel whole again and he needed a fully working knee to do that.
He missed his life. He’d been out of the game six months now. First it was just a few weeks for some rest and relaxation after a particularly hairy mission which he’d caught a bullet in the gut. Then a day before he was set to return to active duty, that bitch walked into his apartment and put a bullet in his knee. And if that wasn’t enough, she blew his cover. The latter hurt a fucking lot worse than having his knee replaced.
His rage climbed a degree higher and he pushed his leg harder. When, not if, but when he found her, he was going to strangle her! Wrap his hand around her swan-like neck and squeeze.
