Chapter 80: Codename: Aconite Chapter Thirty

I slide into the passenger seat of the rental car, cradling my delicious goodies, and shut the door. I open the bag of sugary sweet pâte de fruits and gleefully grab a piece from inside the bag, feeling like a child who has just been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s factory. I go to take a bite when I hear the sound of frustrated, heavy nose-breathing coming from my left and glance over at Silas, whose brows are dipped in a harsh V-shape as he glares out the windshield like he’s about to go to war with the protective glass screen of the car.

“What’s your problem?” I ask.

“You went out to get snacks? Seriously? We’re meant to be staking this booth out waiting for this alleged assassin to show up, and you tell me you need to go to the bathroom only to come back with French sweets,” he spits in annoyance.

“What crawled up your ass?” I scoff as I take a bite of one of my sweets.

“You go out and do something stupid by reaching out to The Tournament, and then you get kidnapped and dragged to a secret meeting that now has us sitting in a car in Paris, waiting to see if this alleged lead is even legit,” he says in frustration.

“Per l’amore di dio,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You are still upset that I reached out to The Tournament.”

“You could have died!” he shouts.

“I also could have died when you slammed my head into a brick wall or shot me in the fucking back, but you don’t hear me going on about it!” I shout back.

“That is not the same fucking thing,” he says through gritted teeth.

“One was a job full of risks, the other was taking a gamble that paid off very well. My idea worked. I got us a lead and I didn’t even get maimed in the process, so stop whining like a little bitch. It’s really not attractive,” I say as I finish the treat I was snacking on.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him staring at me. I can feel the heat of his stare boring into me like the heat from the sun on a clear day in the peak of summer.

“You are, without a doubt, the most recalcitrant woman I have ever met in my entire life,” he says in slow bewilderment.

I roll my eyes so hard they almost detach from my skull and roll onto the floor of this car. “What the fuck is with you and the big dictionary words? Congratulations, you know big words. What, do you want a fucking parade or something?” I snap, automatically switching to Italian. My parents pointed out long ago I tend to revert to Italian when I’m annoyed. I guess my Italian side has a shorter fuse than my Greek side.

He quirks his eyebrow and I can see the corner of his lip twitch infinitesimally like he wants to laugh, but he thinks better of it.

“Does my vocabulary bother you?” he asks, his voice betraying his composure as it drips with amusement.

“You are so incredibly infuriating, you know that? And for the record, I did go to the bathroom, but I was also hungry, so I went and grabbed myself something to eat, so there,” I say as I shove another sweet down my gullet.

“You’re sexy when you get irritated,” he says as he leans over and steals a sweet from my bag. I elbow him with the irritation he so kindly pointed out as he sits back and takes a bite with a teasing smile on his face.

“And you’re just fucking annoying, so I guess I can’t relate.”

“Greek women are feisty,” he chuckles.

“And Moldovan men are dicks,” I retort, but he merely snorts with laughter.

We sink back into silence, our eyes scanning the streets and the glass phone booths across the street for anything of interest.

“Why do you trust The Tournament? They could be setting you up,” Silas points out.

“I trust them far more than I trust the person who plotted to kill us. I’m not saying Ulrich is someone to be trusted, but I’m saying he has a reason to want to help us. For him, this is all about money, and someone is messing with his business. So, in this matter, it makes sense for us to be allies. The enemy of my enemy kind of thing. I don’t have to like Ulrich or The Tournament to agree that they have never operated outside the game. They created their own sick rules, but they stick to them. They have a code they follow just like we do. This Sathariel guy doesn’t,” I calmly explain.

He sighs. “I still don’t like it.”

“What you don’t like, is not being in control. But let’s face it, we haven’t been in control since we agreed to take the jobs that put us in each other’s crosshairs. This is our chance to get it back. So, can you please put your frustration aside and focus on the task at hand?”

“What do I get if I do?” he asks with a confident smirk.

With a sly smile, I lean over and slowly drag my acrylic nails up the inside of his thigh. I watch his eyes follow the path of my nails as his breathing becomes shallow with anticipation. As I reach the apex of his thighs, I cup his semi-hard dick and balls, giving them a firm squeeze through his slacks. He leans his head back against the headrest as a salacious, animalistic groan escapes his lips, and with him still at my mercy, I slowly run my tongue up his neck to his ear, sucking his earlobe into my mouth and tugging it with my teeth. I can see his heart pounding in his carotid, and I can feel him getting firmer in my hand. I trace the shell of his ear with my tongue as I give him another squeeze that has him reaching out, grasping my thigh firmly.

I brush my lips against his ear as I whisper, “Mmm you get me not poisoning you in ways you least expect,” I chuckle darkly, sitting back in my seat and plopping another treat in my mouth.

His head snaps to me, his eyes wild with carnal lust as the bulge in his slacks grows almost predatorily. His breathing is heavy – almost panting – as he reaches out, grabbing me by the back of my neck and yanking my body against him so we’re nose to nose. My breathing hitches as I look back into dominant emerald eyes speaking their silent promise of depraved punishments that could have my body crying for mercy, yet craving damnation.

His licentious breaths fan my lips, and I can taste his desire on my tongue. His hand holds me so firmly that my neck aches from his grip while the throbbing between my thighs begs for him to grip me tighter. I want to feel myself break under his commands. I want to feel that otherworldly craving he has for me. I want to feel his soul reaching out to devour mine the way it did when he was buried inside me. I yearn to be consumed by him.

“Why is it that you love to tease me?” he asks in a husky breath.

“Because you’re sexy when you get irritated,” I say with a smirk, quoting his own words back at him. I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. He loves this game as much as I do, and he plays it well.

“What’s to stop me from punishing you right here, right now?” he whispers in a deep sultry voice as his free hand slowly glides down my chest. His hand cups my breast, giving it a firm squeeze forcing me to mewl under his touch as my teeth sink into my bottom lip. Slowly he begins ever so lightly tracing his finger around my areola through the fabric of my shirt, and I can feel my nipple start to pebble in response as I feel my panties reach the point of no return.

As I prepare to let this man have his way with me, I glance at the phone booth across the street just in time to see our mark walking across the street and making his way to the booth.

“Showtime,” I say, jutting my chin in the direction of the phone booths.

Silas slowly looks away and out the window, only to mutter a curse under his breath. He looks back over at me. “To be continued,” he promises, releasing me from his grasp and getting out of the car.

I watch him adjust himself and close the door making me chuckle. I slump back and take a frustrated breath to calm my rampant hormones as I watch Silas casually walk over to the glass booths and step inside next to Haruspex. Silas is doing a good job at pretending to look like he’s making a call, but I know he’s really listening to Haruspex’s phone call.

Haruspex were people in ancient Rome who were proficient in haruspicy: a form of divination using the entrails of animals. In Greek, we’d call this hepatoscopy. This particular assassin gained his codename due to his method of disembowelling his victims. If that weren’t bad enough, then you can add the fact that they don’t die immediately. Most can survive longer than you think. In fact, a person can live for several hours enduring unimaginable pain before death finally frees them. I’m not saying my method of killing is more humane than his, but I can just picture watching yourself slowly die with your organs scattered around you. The pain and terror you would feel… An act of a true sadist if you ask me.

Our target’s call ends, and he’s quickly taking off and disappearing into the crowd. Silas waits a minute to finish his pretend call before walking over and getting back into the car.

“Well?”

“I guess Ulrich was right, this is his drop sight. He was on a call with a client, and lucky for me I could hear both sides of the call. The client had already hired Haruspex to kill a woman by the name of Camille Lefebre. Haruspex was confirming that the job is taking place tonight and expects final payment directly after, but he didn’t mention when or where this is taking place,” Silas explains.

“So, I guess the only way to find where Haruspex is going to be, is to find out who Camille Lefebre is.”

“I could reach out to some contacts,” Silas starts to say, but I tune him out as I reach into the backseat. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“You don’t need a contact for everything,” I say as I open the phone book that came with our rental car and look up Camille Lefebre. I smile proudly when I find her. “Sometimes a good old phone book is just what the doctor ordered. Camille is a private investigator,” I say, showing him her ad in the phone book.

Silas reads the ad and with a smile, starts the car. “Let’s go pay her a little visit.”