Louisiana Stalker Page 11
He didn’t answer. His mouth was dry as she teased her own nipples with her thumbs. She then squeezed her breasts in her hands, and moaned.
“Milly, look—” he started, but his voice caught in his throat. The woman standing before him was completely wanton, and she had his attention.
“Don’t worry, Clint,” she said. “I won’t keep you waiting long. I won’t keep me waiting long.”
She got to her knees in front of him and began to pepper his naked thighs with hot kisses. He tried to concentrate on something else, but then her mouth was on him, and suddenly he was into it. She was hot and wet and she sucked him avidly, her head bobbing up and down in his lap. He stared down at the top of her blond head and damned his own body for having a mind of its own.
She sucked and sucked him until he was hard as a rock, then she stood and straddled him.
“Now,” she said. “I haven’t had a hard one in me in a long time.”
She reached down for him, held him in place, and lowered herself, just enough to tease her pussy lips with the head of his cock. She kissed his mouth lightly as she rubbed him along her hot slit, and then she lowered herself down and took him inside.
“Yesssss!” she hissed, sitting down firmly on him, taking him to the hilt.
“Mill—” he started, but she silenced him with another kiss. Despite the circumstances, she tasted sweet to him. She kissed him hotly, wetly, for a long time, then began to move up and down on him.
“Milly,” he said from between gritted teeth, “if you untie my hands, I’d be a lot more active—”
She continued to bounce up and down on him, her arms on his shoulders, her breasts pressed to his face. He tried to resist, but as her nipples brushed his mouth, he reached for one with his tongue and teeth. For a moment he thought of biting down on it—hard—but decided against it. It might make her mad enough to shoot him. Or if she screamed, her husband might come running in, shooting.
As she continued to bounce on his cock, he tried to match her thrusts with his hips, but trussed up the way he was, it was difficult. The smell of her, the taste, the feel, and his inability to throw himself into the activity were all combining to make him very frustrated.
She started to grunt as she came down on him, and he could feel the wet slime of her on his thighs.
“Milly, damn it!” he snapped.
Suddenly, she sat down on him and her eyes came into sharp focus. She was breathing hard, and perspiring. The smell of her sweat and sex was heady stuff.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Cut me loose so I can move,” he said. “It’ll be better. I promise.”
She leaned back, lacing her fingers behind her neck, and cocked her head.
“You tryin’ to fool this little Cajun gal, cher?” she asked.
“I didn’t know you were Cajun.”
“Well, I am.”
“I’m not trying to fool you, Milly,” he said. “I want to use my hands on you. I want to be with you on that bed.” He nodded toward the bed.
She studied him for a few moments, then leaned forward and kissed him. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, gave the kiss all he could.
“You give me your word you won’t try anythin’ funny, cher?” she asked.
“I do,” he said. “I give you my word that when you untie me, I won’t make a move for your gun. We’ll go right to that bed and do this properly.”
She closed her eyes and wriggled in his lap. He felt her insides close over him, around him, like a fist.
“All right,” she said, “I’m gonna take you at your word.”
She got up off him, letting him out of her cunt slowly. She moved around behind him and untied his hands, then crouched in front of him and untied his legs.
Immediately he reached out and scooped her up in his arms. His legs were slightly unsteady from being tied to the chair, but he managed to carry her to the bed.
“Whoa!” she said, but he ignored her. He dropped her on the bed on her back and climbed on with her, covering her with his body.
“Now we’re going to do this the right away,” he told her.
FORTY-ONE
Clint worked out his frustration—and his aggression—on the pretty Cajun wife. He used his mouth and tongue to give her as much pleasure as she could stand, then drove his cock into her and fucked her for his own pleasure. They both kept it as quiet as they could, not wanting to alert anyone else in the house as to what was going on. In the end he left her lying on the bed, exhausted, sated . . . and careless.
He got off the bed, walked over to where she had left the gun, and picked it up. Then he picked up his pants and slipped them on. He was putting on his shirt when she rolled over in the bed and looked at him.
“Hey—”
“Quiet.”
“You said you wouldn’t try anythin’ funny!” she hissed at him.
“I said I wouldn’t make a move for your gun, and we’d go right to that bed. That’s what we did.” He waved the gun at her. “This is different.”
She settled back onto the bed, watching as he pulled his boots on. When he was dressed, he stood up and looked at her.
“Well, now the boot is on the other foot,” he told her. “You’re naked, and I’m dressed.”
She spread her legs so he could see her moist, pink slit.
“What are you gonna do to me?”
“The same thing you did to me,” he said. “Come on over to the chair.”
“You can’t tie me to the chair,” she told him. “Cooper will be lookin’ for me.”
“That’s okay,” he said, “because I’m going to be looking for him.”
“Will you kill him?” she asked anxiously.
“Do you want me to?”
“Very much.”
“Come over to the chair.”
She got off the bed and walked, jelly-legged, to the chair. He tied her hands behind her, and her legs to the legs of the chair.
“Why do you want your husband dead?”
“Because I want to get away from here,” she said. “I’m sick and tired of living with him.”
“Help me, then,” he said as he finished. She was now secured to the chair.
“Help you how?”
“I want to know who you and your husband work for,” Clint said. “And if Keller worked for the same man.”
“I don’t know who Cooper works for,” she said. “I just do what he tells me to do.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“I am.”
“And Keller?”
“Who?”
“The man you killed.”
“Oh, him,” she said. “No, he didn’t work with Cooper. Not that I know of.”
“Then why did you shoot him?”
“Coop told me to.”
“Again, the truth?”
“No man has ever done to me what you did to me in that bed, cher,” she said. “I’m telling you the truth because I hope you’ll do it again.”
“And if you’re a good girl,” he said, “I might just do that.”
“I’ll be good,” she said.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the right nipple, which made her shiver.
“Good.”
She smiled at him.
“What do you want me to do first?”
“Tell me where to find your husband.”
“That’s easy,” she said. “He’ll be in bed now, on the first floor. I’ll tell you where the room is.”
“Okay.”
“But I want something.”
“What?”
“Don’t leave me tied to this chair, cher.”
“I can’t let you loose.”
�
��I don’t mean that,” she said. “Leave me tied up, but put me on the bed.”
“Do you want to get dressed, too?”
“Oh no, cher,” she said. “I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” she said, “just in case Coop kills you, I want him to come in here and find me just like this—naked, with your sweat and juices on me, and in me.”
“You really hate him, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t give me what he promised me,” she said.
“All right,” he said, “let’s get you over on the bed.”
Once she was secured to the bed—he’d also wrapped the rope around the legs of the bed—he slipped out of the room and down the hall to the door of the room Henri was in. He had the key to Cappy’s door, but not to Henri’s. So he put his shoulder to it and forced the door open quietly—or as quietly as he could force a door.
“Clint!”
“Quiet. Come on, Henri, I’m putting you in Cappy’s room with her.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Find the owner and see what I can find out.”
“Where’s his wife?”
“She’s tied up. Come on.”
They moved down the hall to Cappy’s door. Clint used the key and opened it.
“Inside,” he told Henri.
“Wha—Clint!” Cappy said. “Where have you been?”
“Never mind.”
“You’ve got a gun?”
“Got it from Mrs. Cooper.”
“And where is she?”
“Tied up,” Henri said.
“The two of you stay here. I’m going to have a talk with Cooper.”
“Are you going to kill him?” she asked.
“Only if I have to.”
FORTY-TWO
Clint went down the stairs as quietly as he could, then moved across the first floor according to Milly’s directions. He found himself at a closed door. He tried the doorknob, found that the door was unlocked. He opened it slowly, hoping the hinges wouldn’t squeak. They didn’t.
He stepped into the room, listened, and heard the even breathing of a sleeping man. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room. When he could make out the man in the bed, he moved to it, pressed the gun to the sleeping man’s forehead. The man woke up immediately.
“Move and I’ll blow your brains out, Cooper,” he said.
The man stayed still.
“Where’s my wife?”
“Upstairs,” Clint said. “She’s all right.” He saw the man’s gun on the night table next to the bed. He grabbed it and tucked it into his belt.
“Light the lamp,” he told Cooper. “We’re going to have a talk.”
“About what?”
“Light it,” Clint said. “We’ll get to that.”
He allowed Cooper to sit up nervously and light the lamp by the bed.
“Now what?” Cooper asked.
“Now you tell me who you work for.”
“If I do that,” he said, “I’m dead.”
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll kill you right now,” Clint told him. “Your choice.”
Cooper began to sweat.
“Can I take a minute—”
“No,” Clint said. “Answer the question.” Clint cocked the hammer on the gun.
“Okay, okay,” Cooper said. “I work for Jacques Pivot.”
“Doing what?”
“Intercepting people he doesn’t want to see,” Cooper said.
“Anyone coming from Baton Rouge has to go by here first. Like Keller.”
“Yes.”
“And us.”
“Yes.”
“How did he know we were coming?”
“That I don’t know,” Cooper said. “I was sent a message to stop you.”
“By name?”
Cooper nodded. “And description.”
“How did you get the message?”
“He sent his man.”
“Who?”
“A man named Lebeau.”
“How many more men does he have with him at his house?” Clint asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Maybe half a dozen.”
“And a wife?”
“No.”
“Any women?”
“He’s an old man.”
“So as far as he’s concerned,” Clint said, “you’ve stopped us.”
“Yes.”
“Because you’ve stopped every other person he’s ever told you to.”
“Yes.”
“Will he send his man to find out for sure?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Probably this morning.”
“All right,” Clint said. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“I’m going to reunite you with your wife,” Clint said, “but first, tell me how to get to Pivot’s house.”
FORTY-THREE
When Cooper walked into the room and saw Milly tied up on the bed, naked, his eyes bugged out.
“What the hell—”
“Hello, cher,” she said. “Did he tell you he had his way with me? It was glorious!”
“What? You—” Cooper turned to Clint, who pointed the gun at him.
“Just stand easy,” he said. “Untie her.”
Cooper obeyed, and Milly rubbed her wrists where the ropes had chafed her.
“Now you, Milly, tie him to the chair.”
“Whatever you say, Clint.”
Naked, she started to tie her husband’s hands behind him as he sat in the chair.
“Goddamn it, woman,” Cooper snapped, “cover yourself.”
She stood up, put her hands on her hips, and smiled at the old man.
“Clint likes to see me this way, don’t you, cher?” She turned to Clint.
“Stop fooling around and tie his feet.”
“Yes, lover.”
Hearing his wife call Clint “lover” incensed the man, but there was nothing he could do about it.
She tied his feet securely, then stood up.
“There!” she said.
“Now get dressed,” Clint said.
“What? But I thought . . .” She looked pointedly at the bed.
“Not now, Milly,” he said, “and certainly not in front of your husband.”
Pouting, she started to gather her clothes.
Clint walked to the door and called out for Cappy and Henri to come down the hall.
As Cappy and the cab driver came into the room, Capucine saw Milly half dressed, her breasts still naked.
“You bitch!” she said. She took her gun from her bag and shot Milly through the chest, right between her perfect little breasts.
“No!” Cooper shouted from his position tied to the chair.
Cappy turned and shot him in the chest, as well.
“What the hell are you doing?” Clint demanded.
“They’re killers!” she said, her eyes wild.
Clint walked to her and grabbed the gun from her hand.
“You had this all the time?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Why didn’t you use it before?”
“I was . . . afraid.”
“So now that she’s half naked and he’s tied up, you got brave?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I just . . . lost control.”
Clint checked the two bodies. Milly’s eyes were wide with surprise, but she was dead. So was Cooper, slumped in the chair with the ropes holding him up.
Henri was standing off to the right, looking very frightened.
“No, no,” Henri said, “I’m your man, Clint.”
“Okay. We’re going on to Jacques Pivot’s place. But first, I’ve got to find my gun.”
Clint went back downstairs and searched Cooper’s bedroom. He found his gun in the top drawer of a chest. He slid it into his holster, tossed the other guns onto the bed. He went to the sitting room, where Cappy and Henri were waiting for him.
“I checked outside, boss,” Henri said. “There’s a lot of water. That levee mighta gone.”
“We better get going, then,” Clint said. He looked at Cappy. “I should leave you here.”
“No,” she said, “not with . . . them. Besides, you’ll need me.”
“Why?”
“Jacques is an old man, but he’s always had a yen for me,” she said. “That’s how we’ll get in to see him.”
“If he has a yen for you, why would he put you in danger?” Clint asked.
“He’s a businessman,” she said. “If it was good for business, he’d put his own mother in danger.”
Clint looked at Henri, who shrugged.
“All right,” Clint said. “You got any other weapons on you?”
“No.”
He put his hand out for her bag, which was a simple drawstring type. It was light, but he checked inside anyway. No derringers or knives. He handed it back.
“All right, Henri,” he said. “I’ve got directions to Pivot’s house. Let’s see if we can make it before we’re knee deep in water.”
FORTY-FOUR
Henri was right about the water. It was ankle deep as they walked to the cab. The horse didn’t like it either, but Henri kept him calm.
It wasn’t dawn yet, but with the driving rain, it probably wouldn’t have looked much different if it had been. The days had been gray, and would probably continue to be so for a while.
The road was all mud and the horse had to work hard to pull the carriage. Then, at one point, they either changed direction or hit higher ground, because suddenly there was less water.
“Is the water receding?” Clint shouted to Henri.
“No,” Henri said, “we’re movin’ further away from the river. If the levee goes, though, it’ll catch up to us.”
Cappy gripped Clint’s arm tightly with both hands.