Palmer Ch. 11

There was only silence. Crouching, he inched forwards. His eyes darted everywhere as he tried to stay under cover. Was the assassin watching him? Two cracks from the right gave him his answer.

Bullets from a silenced pistol sliced the air.

Palmer dropped flat onto the moss-covered grass, letting out a grunt as his left arm bumped into the root of the tree. A wave of nausea ran through him; he wasn't in as good a shape as he'd thought. As the dizziness swept over him, he hoped the assassin was badly hurt. Otherwise his own odds weren't good.

He had no chance to contemplate the thought further. The sound of snapping twigs told him Giovanni was on the move again.

A double shake of his head helped clear a little fuzziness as he scrambled to his feet. He headed after the sound. When he reached a paved drive, he raced across it. The pine trees across from him would provide better cover.

He paused again, listening for further movement. Only the crackle of Webster's voice interrupted the stillness.

"Where are you Palmer?"

"Chasing our man."

"You were told to keep Goodwin with you."

Palmer ignored the jibe. "I'm at the south leg of the estate, near a paved drive…" he began to explain.

"Stay there," Webster barked. "The bastard's killed DeVere. And a woman. He's too dangerous for you to go after him alone. Especially in your condition."

"He's injured, too…"

The crackle got louder. "I don't give a fuck. You stay there. We'll be with you inside a couple of minutes."

The movement Palmer caught out of the corner of his eye diverted his attention from the Vice Chief's voice. Giovanni had darted for the protection of some shrubbery to his right. Was he moving again? If he waited for Webster, the Italian would get clean away.

Alternatively, he might be crouched, immobile, waiting for the cop. There was only one way to find out. If the assassin was waiting for him, as good a marksman as Palmer thought, it wasn't the best tactic. But he had to find out…

He leapt from his position in the underbrush. His body was in full view as he lunged to his right. At the last second, he pivoted and dived to his left. His face grimaced in pain as his body jarred against a tree.

The ploy gave him his answer. Two more spits, two more cracks in the air, the bullets digging up the earth just in front of his face.

"What the fuck?" came Webster's voice.

"He's got me pinned down," Palmer responded. "I need to know if he's lost or if he knows where he's heading. Is there a way out from here?"

Webster's pause lasted only a brief second. "There's a gate to the car park a few hundred yards to your left."

That was it! "Head there," Palmer gasped, wiping his face with the back of his hand, his concentration solely on the area in front of him. His eyes darted from one pocket of shadows to the other. "That's his destination. Head him off."

It was as if Giovanni could hear every word. Maybe he could? There was sound and movement again. The assassin was on the move. Palmer had no choice other than to follow. Once in the car park, the assassin would quickly disappear. It was now or never.

He crouched and crawled forward, pushing through the shrubbery. Damn, where had that waist-high fence come from? Every muscle and joint in his body pounded with pain. Cramps were beginning to develop everywhere. He hadn't realised how weak he really was.

Don't think about them. Don't acknowledge them.

He lurched to his feet, his automatic drawn, and swung over the fence. It was only as he landed that he realised he'd made a dreadful error. The assassin hadn't ploughed on ahead. He was waiting for him. Two more bullets spat past his head.

Move, move, screamed the voice in his mind as Palmer lurched to his knees, then to his feet. He spun into the cover of a tree at the precise moment a bullet hit his left hand.

His scream of pain split the air, blood erupting from the wound. Damn, if Webster and Wilson didn't get there immediately, there was nothing to prevent the Italian making his escape now.

In that second, he realised the assassin had different ideas. Instead of making his way to the car park, Giovanni had turned back, as if intent on finishing the man who was standing between him and freedom.

Half crazed, he stumbled across the open space towards the stricken cop. Another couple of shots spat past Palmer's head.

The young cop desperately returned fire. The first two bullets were wayward, but the third exploded in Giovanni's chest. The assassin fell, rolling over towards the bordering pine trees.

Palmer hauled his aching body upwards and was on him in seconds. His foot lashed out, kicking at Giovanni's body in an attempt to make him release the gun pointing towards him. The assassin twisted to allow him to take the blow, grabbing Palmer's leg, pulling him down.

They both fired at the same time.

***

Kelli groaned softly under the pleasuring tongue.

Only two days after her wonderful success on the Milan catwalk, here she was tied and spread-eagled on a king sized bed in the luxury Shangri-La Hotel, Tokyo. The Japanese businessman had made it his personal mission to bring her to yet another orgasm, this time with just his tongue and fingers. He was closing in on success.

The original plan had been for Erin to accompany her to the Japanese capital, to cement the future deal involving her three models that guaranteed millions of dollars for the Agency. Dominic's unexpected death had changed all that.

A traumatised Erin had confided in Kelli that his demise would have no effect on the Agency. It was in her name, as were several millions that Dominic had insisted she maintain in a Swiss bank account. Money wasn't a problem, she'd explained. Everything would carry on as usual, but she needed Kelli to fulfil her obligation to Tony Mizato.

"Make him happy darling," Erin had told her. "You know what that means…"

Kelli knew only too well. The final words she'd overheard Erin tell the small businessman outside the marquee reverberated around her mind. You'll never experience a better fuck…

The commitment the Japanese millionaire had given to her after their marathon fucking session was unexpected, but it had turned her first visit to Japan into a life changing experience. Sharing the whirlpool bath together, he'd told her he wanted a face to launch his new business venture.

He explained that the already established 'Peach John' was the Japanese version of Victoria's Secret – a mail order lingerie brand exceptionally popular among Japanese girls. His plan was to challenge and overtake that brand – becoming the biggest seller throughout Asia within two years.

Mizato Lingerie would quickly become a household name, and he wanted her, Kelli Palmer, to become the face synonymous with the brand. She would be the signature name that would lead to success.

'Peach John' used Japanese models, of course, and so would he. But having a European supermodel to spearhead his campaign was the masterstroke that would make the difference. Japanese girls adored the European and American modelling scene. Having the newest and sexiest of supermodels to promote the line would guarantee success.

It also guaranteed Kelli, personally, millions of dollars. He'd sort the details out with Erin. She didn't need to worry about those.

Her cooes weren't only the work of the pleasuring Oriental tongue, as good as it was. They were also the product of the thoughts flowing through her voluptuous body. This was it. This really was it! The big time! She, Kelli Palmer, had reached the big time!

Or maybe she wasn't Kelli Palmer anymore? Maybe she should change back to her maiden name? Plenty of time to think of that—

At long last, she was beginning to believe everything that was happening to her. The two most important facets in her life had become her career and sex. She wasn't sure in which order, and had quickly realised that didn't matter – they fit so well together.

The sex this afternoon had been incredible, even before Tony's announcement. What Brooke had suggested had been bang on the nail. Japanese men—they fuck like there's no tomorrow…

The small Japanese man, with the wispy grey hair and strange little beard, had done just that. Over and over again.

Even so, there was no way she'd had ever agreed to being tied up. Not until he'd told her about Mizato Lingerie, that was. After that, she'd agree to anything. He'd taken his time, tying her left wrist to one bedpost and her right wrist to the other. Letting her experience the feeling of submission. When he'd done the same with her feet, she'd felt as vulnerable as she'd ever been in her entire life!

Three fluffy pillows under her peachy ass had completed his masterpiece. Then, in stark contrast to his frantic fucking technique, the Japanese master's tongue and fingers had pleasured her in slow motion. Exaggerated long laps along her labia, figure eights drawn around her clit, her juices consumed like a fine wine.

Like a pot simmering on a stove, he'd kept her just below boiling point.

Every time he felt she was about to detonate, he'd left her wetness to suckle her breasts until she'd calmed down. He was a violinist in control of his instrument, plucking its strings like one of the finest classical musicians in the world. The instrument was her body.

And it was now out of control.

"Ngh!" she moaned, her mind emptying itself of all thoughts. The breaking tide crashed against the waterfront rocks. She arched her back as she peaked, hands and feet pulling against the ties, her head rolling from one side to the other against the thick pillow.

Life just couldn't get better—

***

"How are you?"

Palmer opened his eyes. Roxanne was smiling at him. She looked wonderful in a pink and white chequered shirt that hugged her figure. "Where am I?" he woozily asked.

"Hospital. You've been here for three days."

He nodded, listening but struggling to take in the words. "Giovanni?"

"Dead."

He nodded a second time. As his eyes flicked around the small, white room, the smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils. He pulled a face. "Don't think much of your perfume."

Roxanne's laughter filled the air. She took his raised hand and squeezed it. "Well, Jack, that's a good sign. Humour. We've been worried about you."

His eyes smiled as they ran across her face. "You look tired," he eventually said.

Her smile was as brilliant as he remembered. "I've been here three days, too. You didn't think I'd leave you, did you, Jack Palmer?" Bending forward, she softly kissed his lips. "You won't get rid of me as easily as that…"

THE END