"Nikita" (closed)

[Alice2015]

Nikita took note of the opened shotgun in Conner Callaghan's arm, noting that she could just barely see the rims of the shells loaded in it. Should anything concern the man to the point of violence, he could have the weapons closed and loosing its deadly contents in a fraction of a section.

"CeeCee, how nice to see you, too," she returned, using the nickname by which so many knew him. At his question about Hans, Nikita answered, "Just some local driver I hired for the trip. No one of concern. Fuckin' Canuck doesn't even speak English. Who the hell up here doesn't speak English? You'd think we were in a French speaking province or something, wouldn't you?"

"I have a guest you expressed an interest in talking with."

Nikita was happy to hear that. Asking Conner to locate and invite this particular guest on such short notice had been a stretch, but promising him what she called an appropriate incentive seemed to have gotten the job done.

After looking back to Hans and giving him an inconspicuous, two part gesture that told him to wait there but be vigilant, Nikita followed Conner into the house. It was far more impressive inside; outside, it looked as if one strong wind would take it down, but inside it was elegantly appointed with lots of skillfully stained wood, professionally mounted heads and bodies of nearly every mammal and game bird in Western Canada, and beautiful, comfortable furniture that was arranged for a nice, large get together in front of a big screen television with a huge fireplace behind it for warmth and comfort.

"You've really done the place up well, CeeCee," Nikita complimented as she made her way slowly through the living room toward the kitchen, where she expected to find her guest waiting. "I'm impressed."

"Well, you paid for it, with that last job in Winnepeg," he reminded her. "Still haven't figured out why you gave me your cut of the job."

Nikita only smiled and winked in response to the man's comment. CeeCee had no idea of just how valuable the take had been. While he and the third man had been cleaning out a vault on one side of the store, Nikita had been emptying one on the opposite wall … a safe containing nearly $330 million dollars worth of uninsured gems and jewels, mostly diamonds but rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones as well.

But, for Nikita, the jewelry heist in Manitoba's capital and largest city hadn't been about money. Well, not about personally gaining money. It had instead been about depriving someone else of money, the owner of the high end jewelry business.

Derek Henders had been importing conflict diamonds for years, with millions of dollars being diverted to a variety of ruthless dictators and violent extremist groups, including several who had anti-American views and had committed acts of terror against the U.S.

Henders had just taken possession of the largest volume of stones he'd ever handled, and before he'd even had a chance to fully implement his added security measures, Nikita, CeeCee, and their crew had liberated him of the rocks.

Henders had gone into hiding in an effort to keep his head on his shoulders. He'd failed; Nikita let his location get out, and a few days later, other such merchants who were turning such jewels into cash began receiving Henders's body parts in the mail as a warning not to make the same mistake he had.

The Program's mission had been successfully completed, a bad man was dead, CeeCee had renovated his home in the style about which he'd dreamed for ever, and -- though no one else knew this -- Nikita had secretly kept enough of the stolen stones, more than $18 million dollars worth, to ensure that if she ever needed to truly disappear, she could do so without fear of ever being found.

"Hi, Max," Nikita said as she entered the kitchen and smiled to a man tied to a dining room chair there. Plastic film stretched from wall to wall and even climbed the counters in two directions, a splash guard to keep the new tile and oak wood clean should this get together get bloody. She reached up to remove the gag from the obviously scared man's mouth as she got to the point with, "Where's Carmen?"

Words flowed from the panicking man as he simultaneously swore that he knew nothing about Nikita's friend and also begged that she not kill him, invoking some past thefts on which he'd helped the woman. Nikita was slowly encircling the bound man in a slow pace, listening but not hearing anything of value coming from his mouth.

"CeeCee honey?" she called out toward the living room where the home owner was doing something out of sight. When he poked his head around the corner, she asked, "Can you do me a favor and go retrieve my driver for me?"

Nikita knew Conner hadn't bought the story about Hans being a local Quebec driver, so there was no reason to keep up that charade. As the big man departed Nikita's view, she turned back to face Max, smiling at him politely. Then … she reached to her belly and began unfastening her jeans.

"Remember than night in Ottawa, Max," Nikita recounted as she stepped out of her shoes and peeled the jeans downward. "We fucked for, what, an hour … two … on that veranda of that house we were robbing because the owners came home early and we were trapped forty-five feet above the ocean cliff. It was, what, ten Celsius outside … we held each other close, sharing our body heat waiting for them to fall asleep … but they sat there watching television instead … and you joked that cuddling might not produce enough body heat … so I sat you in that deck chair … and sat in your lap … put you inside me."

By now, Nikita's jeans were off, lumped on the floor beside her. Her lower half was now in nothing more than ankle socks and a pair of baby blue boy shorts. And a noticeable bulge had developed in Max's lap, something he'd been unable to prevent despite being bound to a chair and possible living his last moments on Earth.

Nikita moved close to the man, leaned in to kiss him, then began undoing his pants as well. She pulled back the front of his slacks and looked down to the tenting of his underwear and smiled to him. Still looking at his groin, Nikita said, "Well, hello there. Long time no see."

She heard footsteps behind her but didn't turn to look. Instead, Nikita moved up into Max's lap, shifting herself forward until her panties and his jockeys were together, separating her pussy from his cock yet not preventing either of them from enjoying the feel of the other's privates.

"Tell me about Carmen, Max," Nikita whispered ever so quietly into the man's ear as she began to rock her body against his. "Tell me what you know about Carmen … where is she … who's got her … and instead of putting a bullet in your brain … I'll put your dick inside my pussy. And when we're done driving each other crazy … like we did that night on the veranda … I'll put half a million dollars into your back account to make up for whatever it is that CeeCee is paying you to pretend you're here against your will."

Nikita was no dummy. Even though she didn't want to believe it, there was a very good chance that the reason Conner had so easily found Max was that they were working together on this. She could be wrong, of course; for all she knew, Conner was being totally legit and loyal about helping her here this day. But she couldn't take the chance that she was wrong. And if it took a lap dance to get her answer, hell, that was nothing.

 

[TiredFingers]

Conner followed Nikita just far enough into the house to see her make eye contact with Max Rheems. He listened to the pair talking -- or Max talking -- for a minute or so before Nikita asked him, "CeeCee honey? Can you do me a favor and go retrieve my driver for me?"

He answered her question by giving Max a sorrowful look, then turning to head back for the door. He glanced off in six different directions within the living room as a simple reminder of the firearms or bladed weapons he had hiding there should the need for them arise, then stopped at the door to pull out his cell phone. There was a message already typed into a group text: close.

Out on the porch, he waved to the driver in the car and called out, "Your patron would like your presence please.

…………………

Hans had been using casual side to side head movement and inconspicuous adjustments of the electric side mirrors to survey the fields, forests, and buildings surrounding him. So far, he'd positively identified at least 3 men hiding within a ten second run of the front porch. And as with the old warning about rats in your barn or cockroaches in your kitchen, where you saw one -- or in this case 3 -- there were sure to be far more than that.

Opening the center console from which he'd removed the burner phone he gave Nikita the previous day, Hans pulled a semi-automatic pistol out from under a folded over Province map. He casually lifted his ass off the seat to slip the gun into the small of his back. Combined with the Beretta already on his hip, the subcompact Springfield on his ankle, and the two clips for each of them in a belt pack on his left side, Hans could now fire 77 rounds before he had to start looking for another weapon. It was overkill, of course, but he'd rather have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.

The owner of the house stepped out on the porch, still carrying the broken shotgun. He waved and called out, "Your patron would like your presence please."

Hans nodded, then waved his phone out the open window and he lied, "Let me finish this call."

The man on the porch hesitated, then headed back into the old farm house. Despite the glare on the door's glass, Hans could see that that the man had stopped just a bit inside and was waiting. Quickly, Hans opened a message to a contact listed as Holly, who in his contact list was identified as his wife, complete with her birthday and their anniversary. Holly was, in fact, Henry Lee, Hans's ever-ready assistant back at the Program, to whom Hans sent all of his in-the-field requests for information and other tasks and from whom Hans got a never ending feed of answers that, in some cases, kept him alive.

All Hans typed in was Check the mail for my paycheck. It was a cryptic message that meant Hans was stepping into a questionable situation, and if he didn't contact Henry within an hour, it was to be assumed that he'd run into some serious trouble, or was dead.

Han slid out of the car, inconspicuously ensuring that his coat hid all the weapons and clips, then headed up and onto the porch. He made eye contact with Conner through the window, nodded to him, then raised an extended finger in a wait one gesture. He half turned and tapped his shoots against a railing post, pretending to be concerned about tracking in dirt. In actuality, he was peeking off toward the guys he knew were watching the house. And sure enough, two of them were already on the move closer to the house, with the others out of Hans's sight and presumed to be doing the same.

Inside the house, he followed a politely smiling Conner toward the kitchen, arriving just in time to see Nikita mounted upon a bound man's crotch, giving him a slowly churning lap dance. He looked over to Conner, who was smiling widely now, and thought, Okay, not what I was expecting.

…………………

Max's heart was beginning to beat hard and fast, though, he couldn't be certain whether it was because he was afraid he was going to be killed or because he was getting a lap dance from a sexy jewel thief with whom he'd had an incredible unforgettable night of fucking or because he was bound to a chair by a not sexy at all jewel thief who'd taken him from his girlfriend's home at gun point and then tied him into a chair atop a layer of blood catching plastic film.

He listened to her threat of violence and then the counter proposal of sex and found himself honestly unable to choose between the two. Conner had promised Max that if he didn't do as he was told when he encountered Nikita, his girlfriend, ex-wife, and three children would all be hunted down and killed before he himself was then killed. But if he did do what Conner had demanded, Nikita would kill him instead. Oh, sure, Conner had promised that he'd prevent that, that he'd either talk Nikita out of killing the unimportant thief or would, if necessary, kill her first. But, could he really trust the man. Really?

As good a thief and killer as Conner was, Max knew Nikita to be even better. A job in The Bahamas that they'd pulled together a handful of years ago had gone wrong with the sudden arrival of six sub-machine gun toting thugs or bodyguards or soldiers or whatever they were. In a flash, Nikita had taken out two of them with her bare hands, men who had outweighed her by double and were a foot taller than her. But it didn't end there, as she turned one of the men's guns on the other four and killed them all before any of them even got off a shot.

As he felt Nikita's pussy massaging his cock and listened to her promises of sex and money, Max knew there was only one way to go with this. He gestured his head to lure her ear down close, then whispered to her, "I don't know anything about a woman named Carmen. But Conner's gonna kill you and your friend."

Max might have lived to one day feel his cock deep inside Nikita again if he hadn't then looked over Conner's direction. The man must have known his ploy was blow because he flipped the shotgun closed in a flash, and with it leveled at Nikita's back began pulling back the trigger...

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita was well aware of the two men behind her; she'd not only heard them enter but could see their general shapes in the reflection of an antique flower vase sitting in the middle of the table behind Max.

Her concern, however, was on the man to whom she was giving a lap dance of sorts. He's always been a sexually weak man; many women had taken advantage of him long before Nikita had, luring the family man into a handful of heists in which he should never have played a part.

She could see in his eyes that she had him when he told her, "I don't know anything about a woman named Carmen. But Conner's gonna kill you and your friend."

Nikita instantly turned her attention to the reflection again, just in time to see Conner adjust his position and hold on the opened shot gun. In a flash, he jerked the butt of the weapon upwards, then downwards, snapping the gun closed as he maneuvered his finger to the trigger.

Nikita instinctively pushed hard and fast against Max's chest while also leaning to the right. The force threw her toward the kitchen's hardwood floor while tipping Max -- still tied to the chair -- backwards a few inches. Being more than twice Nikita's weight, Max might have remained upwards, the chair teetering back to all four feet...

...if it hadn't been that while he was teetering, the blast of gun powder sent nearly a hundred small steel pellets into his chest at over 400 meters per second. The blast sent him and chair over and he crashed to the ground...

...as Nikita was rolling away toward a hall that she knew led to toward the laundry room. She would have liked to have pulled the little pistol from the small of her back and blown a few reciprocating holes into Conner's chest, but realistically -- presuming he hadn't hit Max with both barrels -- the odds were that Conner would get her even if she did start putting rounds into him.

 

[TiredFingers]

Max saw Conner slam the shotgun closed, then felt himself being pushed backwards, and that was the end for him. He barely had time to register what was about to happen, let alone protest against it, before the shotgun exploded. The steel pellets ripped into his body as the blast pushed him the rest of the way over. He wasn't quite dead yet when the chair and his head slammed to the wood floor, but it would only be a few more seconds before his heart came to a stop.

But even before Max died, another would perish before him, and if he'd known this, that would have pleased him at least a bit.

……………………

Hans had been wary of the situation, not understanding why Nikita was giving the man a lap dance while the home owner stood behind her with a loaded though not entirely ready to fire shotgun. But he hadn't been on guard enough to prevent the big man from blowing the smaller one away.

Later, when Hans had time to reflect on the incident, he would question whether his feelings about Nikita had costed the bound stranger his life. Hans would realize that he'd taken his eye off the armed man who had obviously been the danger to watch his protégé pleasuring the bound man who had been no danger at all. Feelings like these were why fraternization -- let alone true feelings, and even love -- between handlers and operatives was frowned upon in the Program, as well as in most other agencies and organizations of a dangerous nature.

In a flash following the gun blast, though, Hans was in action. He simultaneously ripped the Beretta out of the holster on his hip and stepped in closer to the man with the shotgun, who -- obviously enough -- had actually been trying to kill Nikita and had been willing to risk the other man's life as well.

……………………

Conner was disappointed that he'd missed his true target, but like the man behind him, he was a professional and on guard. Even as Max was slamming to the floor and Nikita was rolling away toward the hall, Conner was turning and stepping back away from the supposedly hired driver. His finger moved from the shotgun's front trigger to the back to fire the other barrel, but as he was tensing on it, the man who'd surged at him lifted the barrel into the air.

Simultaneously, the shotgun exploded and sent its deadly pellets into the ceiling while the gun in the other man's hand started firing as well. Conner would never understand that he'd been shot, though. Unlike Max, he was dead before he hit the ground, with three 9mm rounds ripping through his heart.

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita had rolled away from the imminent carnage and then hurled herself forward into what she knew was a laundry room from her last visit here. Before she'd come to a stop on her side and pulled the little pistol from the small of her back, the shotgun had fired a second time, followed immediately by three quick shots of what sounded like a 9mm semi-auto … presumably Hans's.

She aimed her weapon back the way she came but remained on the floor, ready to put the five shots rounds through the big man's heart if he stepped out into her view.

Nikita's heart was pounding furiously and quickly, as would be expected under the circumstances for anyone, even a professionally trained killer like herself. And although she didn't think she'd been hit by the shotgun blast, she had a searing pain in her left arm that was obvious but not so debilitating that she couldn't put Conner down if he was still standing and breathing.

 

[TiredFingers]

Hans left his Beretta trained on the big man even as he was falling, just in case the well placed rounds hadn't finished him off. But as the home owner hit the ground, it was obvious that he was finished. Hans looked to the other man, who was coughing up blood and only seconds from death. Then his brain went directly to his true concern.

"Niki!" he hollered. "Niki! Sound off!"

He looked over his shoulders to the windows behind him as he waited for some sign of Nikita's condition. He couldn't see any of the other men he knew were on the property, but he had no doubt that they were coming.

 

[Alice2015]

"How many times have I told you … don't call me Niki!" she responded said with a growl in her tone, letting Hans know she was still alive and well. She rose to her feet slowly, looking both ways out of the laundry for any other dangers before calling, "Coming out."

She stepped cautiously into Hans view, her revolved gripped tightly in both hands and aimed safely at the floor between them. She looked to Max and found him silent and still, blood leaking from him torso and mouth and slowly creating a pool around his body and head.

Niki felt bad for the young family man, but looking to the second corpse, she had little sympathy at all. She said quietly, "Never liked that man."

A flash of movement beyond the kitchen window caught Niki's eye, and she quickly -- though probably unnecessarily -- informed Hans, "We've got company."

She moved closer to the window for a better view, then looked to Hans. Flashing the little revolver at him, Niki said with a tone she knew he'd understand, "I have five bullets. What about you?"