He Shoots, She Yaps

Agent Stacy Meadows placed the kid in the back seat of the car, buckled her up and only just avoided slamming the door. Stacy was boiling mad. Leaning against the front of the gray base model vehicle she called the duty officer of the diplomatic protection corps.

"Fred, it's Stacy Meadows at the airport. I've picked up the Japanese Ambassador's 8-year-old but Robyn's a no show. The stupid bitch won't answer her phone. What now?"

Deputy operations commander Fred Apple coughed and said, "Don't be mad at me Stacy but I was handed a report not five minutes ago saying Robyn drove her car into a bread delivery truck at 3:23 this morning and is in Franklin Hospital with concussion and whiplash. She'll be charged with driving with a blood alcohol three times the legal limit."

"Good God Fred, what kind of hopeless outfit are you guys running? The stupid bitch was suspended two months ago for striking you and now this. Shoot her if you haven't the guts to recommend she be fired. I demand..."

"Agent Meadows, you speak to me with due respect or I'll have you up on a discipline charge. You act as if you were the District Commander. This is just not on."

"My apologies sir. Answer my question."

"What question?"

"What now? Are you having difficulty hearing?"

"Stacy!"

"My apologies sir. What now?"

"Drive by HQ. Agent Adams will be waiting for you."

"Adams, are you mad? He doesn't protect people; he shoots them. He only half shaves, farts and has an insolent attitude toward women and..."

"Go without Agent Adams and you'll be in breach of regulations. Agent Adams is the only support person available right now. An Ambassador's immediate family member must be accompanied by a minimum of two agents, Section 32..."

"Section 322B dash 14c of our fucking manual. I know."

"Stacy!"

"What?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. Pick up Agent Adams. He'll be waiting in the forecourt."

Stacy had a sudden thought. "Fred, according to regulations I can't drive anywhere without another agent beside me."

There was no answer.

"Are you there Fred?"

No answer. "The fucker has cut the call!"

Stacy gnashed her teeth and got into the car, noting the kid was asleep. She drove off breaking regulations.

* * *

Harris Adams yawned and checked his watch and thought about taking a two-hour lunch break down at the police social club where he'd have a few beers and play pool with some of the guys. He looked up and saw Fred Adams berating someone on the phone and then Fred beckoned him.

Oh crap, Harris thought. An op, how inconvenient.

Fred briefed him.

"Nah, don't want this job Fred. Not with that high octane broad; she acts as if she's the District Commander."

Fred grinned, pleased that Harris shared his view about the uppity Agent Meadows. Meadows and Adams were much alike but didn't seem to be aware of it. "This is not Play School Agent Adams where you can choose what you'd like to do. You are hereby ordered to accompany Agent Meadows and if you find that inconvenient or distasteful then tough. Off you go and try to avoid upsetting her to encourage her to lay complaints against you. You're on your last warning: any more complains from fellow agents and we shoot you."

Harris gave his superior the fingers and they both grinned. Only when Harris had gone through the door did Fred think of the Japanese child. He'd just put her security in the hands of the two most incompatible agents in the force. Fortunately for the child Adams and Meadows were the two most competent agents in the country, perhaps in the world but what world he wasn't sure.

Disgruntled, Agent Adams stood tapping his toes on the cobblestones when the gray Ford slightly off-tune glided up, just missing his toes but he didn't flinch until the side vision mission whacked into him just above his hip, making his mouth frame the F-word before the mirror folded out of the way.

"Get in."

"And good morning to you Stacy. Lovely thighs."

"Oh God, she snarled, ripping her skirt back to halfway down to her knees. "Why are we issued with these uncomfortable sedans from the wrecker's yard?"

"Because they, like us, are expendable."

The motor stalled.

"Like me to drive?"

"Get fucked."

Harris sat quietly contemplating whether that was an offer for that night. He decided it wasn't, not with Super Bitch.

"Very unfortunate about Robyn."

Stacy replied politely, "Yeah, yeah."

"Should have been you then she'd be my partner today and I'd have a night of lust ahead of me. She's so attractive, has a great figure and opens wide."

Stacy removed her gun from its shoulder holster and rested it on her lap, a finger on the trigger. Being crammed with intelligence, Harris shut up and stared straight ahead.

Two hours out Harris bravely said, "We need gas."

"No we don't," Stacy said, looked at the gauge and snarled crap. She pulled into the next gas station. As she filled the tank Harris moved across into the driver's seat. In the side mirror he could see Agent Meadows glaring at him. He prepared to cite her Regulation AQ43 bar 8 relating to sharing driving and compulsory rest periods from the wheel. She went inside to pay, saying as she went by she'd get candy for the kid. Harris said coffee would be great.

As Stacy re-emerged with a tray of coffee, sandwiches, a soda and candy a woman in a hooded jacket wearing sunglasses and carrying a handgun and a tray from a cash register brushed past Stacy on the run. As the robber was almost by Harris he threw open his door and she dropped like a stone and her gun went flying into the other lane. A motorcyclist yelled 'Debbie' and roared up, halted to pick up the gun and began accelerating away. Harris stood at his door and shot out the rear tire. The motorcycle slewed, throwing the rider who slithered over the ground to pin himself under the front axle of a stationary truck.

"Jesus," Stacy said opening her door.

"Come on babe, there are enough people around here to tidy up. We don't want the local cops to tediously ask why we are armed and what we're doing on their patch. The gas station security cameras will ID our vehicle but oh dear the cops will find the plate isn't registered."

Stacy snarled that the guy he shot and the woman he slammed could be dead.

Harris drove off quietly as if nothing had happened. "So? Robbers who are probably druggies deserve to die."

By now Stacy had calmed so managed a weak smile. "Here's your coffee. No wonder other female agents say they feel extra safe when with you -- that is, in daylight."

Harris grinned and as soon as he ate his steak sandwich and finished the coffee stopped and replaced the license plates and registration sticker on their vehicle. Six pairs of plates were stored in the trunk along with shotguns and a small arsenal of assault weapons.

Licking her fingers clean and taking tissues before handing the box to the kid, Stacy tossed her brown fringe back, checked her lipstick and then sent a coded message to HQ.

She glared at Harris who climbed in, his incredibly pale blue eyes then focusing on her breasts. Her phone went as she put it on speaker, knowing what was coming.

Deputy operations commander Fred Apple roared, "What the hell do you two delinquents think you are doing interfering with a gas station robbery, a civilian matter?"

"We are civilians sir," Stacy replied, with emphasis on sir.

"You're highly trained, highly paid members of an elite Government special service agency and that places you on a par with the military's special services groups."

"Oh, didn't know that sir."

Fred spluttered, apparently realizing he was being played with. "Are you sure only one shot was fired?"

"Very sure sir. It was agent Adams at twenty yards, not you shooting sir. Clean as a whistle."

Harris pulled up Stacy's skirt and patted the top of her inside thigh approvingly, only to have Stacy pull her gun on him. Ignoring the venom in her eyes, now purple instead of brown, or so it seemed, Harris smiled at her mockingly and placed both hands on his head.

"Any news on the robbery sir?"

"Yep, the woman has severe concussion and facial injuries requiring surgery and light chest injuries. The guy has head injuries and both kneecaps are shattered. They are the missing pair from a secured drug rehabilitation center for criminals."

"Agent Adams should have terminated both of them."

"Sir?"

"I'm here, just counting slowly to ten. Two of the three police cars racing to the scene collided and both vehicles are disabled."

"Fucking amateurs."

"I agree...no I don't. Stacy, try to tone down a bit. Although Agent Adams is as hard as nails you don't hear him shooting his mouth off like Rambo on steroids. The police have asked did we have a gray Ford in the area of the robbery. I denied it of course."

"We've changed the car plates."

"Good girl Stacy. I knew I could count on you. Is our guest OK?"

"Yes, slept and taken down food. Doesn't talk though."

"With your constant yapping who else could talk? Bye."

"Bye asshole," Stacy fumed, but they'd both heard the phone connection cut just prior to that.

Stacy leaned over and pushed the barrel of her gun onto Harris's limp dick. "If you ever touch me again like that without permission this little weaner wears a bullet."

"God Stacy, I was just been friendly and appreciating you were giving the boss a wind up."

"Right through the middle of your weaner Adams, so don't you forget it."

"Yes boss."

Harris gave Stacy fifteen minutes to settle and then asked: "Does anyone ever get to work between your thighs?

She grinned and thanked him for being so diplomatic. "Yes, occasionally, with permission. I'm told once night falls the first female you see is your likely target and if she stupidly thinks you look trustworthy and goes off with you she will be pounded into butter by dawn, without you saying more than a couple of words to her, words like, 'Don't come yet' and 'turn over bitch'. You than wipe your dick on her, hand her cab fare and then disappear, never to be seen again."

"You're not interest in the truth Stacy but here it is. I go for an after dinner walk and babes and their mothers and sometimes their grandmothers converge on me, like I was the only guy in town. It would be unfair of me to be mean to all of them."

"Dream on asshole. Have you any concept of morality? For your information..."

Harris closed his ears and drove on for the next hour and a half and then changed seats with Stacy and went to sleep, aware she was still yapping to him about the standard of behavior women expect from males.

Two hours later Stacy slapped Harris awake. "You asshole. You haven't listened to a word I've said. We're almost to the gates of Highland Country Retreat now, just look at that new snow on the mountain from last night."

"Yeah, lovely. I heard you talking about the standard behavior women expect from men," he lied.

"Oh really? I'm pleased about that. Now listen up. This is a high power international gathering so security will be tight. Just look at the heavyweights at the gates with auto-weaponry. Keep your head down and ass clean while we're here because if they deem you to be a security threat someone may well decide to shoot you down like a mad dog, not that I would blame him or her."

The guards at the gate checked them out thoroughly and ignored the kid on the back seat.

Thirty yards short of the resort hotel entrance canopy a dark-suited and smiling Japanese man stepped from a laundry van and walked in front of the gray Ford. Stacy stopped and wound down the window.

"Careful." Harris warned.

"He's just the world's best dressed laundry man," she said. "Anyway, there are two of us."

The guy said in excellent English: "Good afternoon. Is your passenger the lovely youngest daughter of His Excellency Ambassador Kiyomi?"

"Yes."

"He not Japanese -- enemy of grandfather," said the kid in the backseat, the first time she'd spoken.

The guy looked outraged and that was enough to satisfy Harris to take the risk, as the guy reached inside his jacket Harris pulled his gun and clearly seeing the outline of a gun in the guy's hand Harris shot him above the eyes. Blood flew over Stacy who whimpered rather than screamed. Not a sound came from their special passenger.

Harris opened his door and rolled out on to the roadway just as two guys with short barrel automatic weapons burst through the rear doors of the laundry truck. Harris shot one guy through the heart and the other through the belly; both kidnappers or assassins thudded to the ground. Harris leapt to his feet and with both hands on the butt of his pistol advanced forward quickly to take out any more armed thugs coming out of the vehicle. It was clear. He placed his gun on the ground gently and held up his hands, facing security guards approaching on the run.

Two shots in quick succession were fired from the Ford and the guy who's been screaming with the belly wound but had fallen silence slumped back on to the ground, a bullet though his earhole, another through his neck. His submachine gun rattled on to the hard surface.

"Thanks babe," Harris grinned at the woman who despised him but who'd just saved his life. "Leave your gun on the floor and come out smiling, hands above your head."

Stacy and Harris were separated and led off for questioning and Madam Kiyomi with her maid and personal security guard ran past them to claim the child.

Two hours later the detained couple reunited. Harris kissed Stacy and she failed to bite off his lips, in fact her mouth opened slightly. Harris worked a hand down between them, hoping no one could see, and pressed it against her vulva. She pressed back and murmured, "Hot action gets your sex buds going, doesn't it?"

Interesting theory, thought Harris, stepping away because the taps of the pencil held by the security chief sounded increasingly agitated. However, Colonel Waters was smiling.

"Good work you two, incredibly fast reactions with very successful results. You both tell the same story though one version was rather short and the other was (he yawned) overly long. You are required to stay here for at least 24 hours, as a full investigation by local police will follow. A team was on its way but crashed into the side of a building after taking a corner too fast and within view of their district commander from his office window."

Harris looked at Stacy and they grinned.

The Japanese Ambassador and his wife thanked Stacy and Harris for their immaculate protection work and His Excellency presented the hero and heroine with vouchers for two weeks travel for two to Japan, internal travel and accommodation and a farewell dinner hosted by his father. He explained his father was an influential politician who'd ordered the closure of a huge smelting works in a northern city until it brought unacceptable levels of environmental pollution under the control. The team of alleged assassins was security guards employed by the company operating the smelter.

When Stacy and Harris were alone she said, "You know it's illegal of us to accept gifts in the line of duty."

"Yes."

"Well?"

"I will be denying I received a gift and expect you to do the same: we put out bodies on the line for that kid."

Stacy glared at him. "I thought you'd think like that."

"Well?"

"I guess we should take leave together and go to Japan."

After ensuring the Ford was being held under tight security, Stacy drank coffee while Harris went over to book them a couple of rooms. He came back and said the hotel was booked out and so were the nearby motels.

"Liar," she shouted. "I'm not going to sleep for two nights in our car with you." She went off to demand accommodation and returned dejected.

Harris lifted her chin and kissed her without being bitten. "Give me half an hour, I'll fix it. I've been here a few times skiing but everything on the mountain is closed down because of the symposium."

"I'm going to sleep," she scowled, pulling her legs up into her large leather chair.

"Good idea, it will keep you quiet."

He grinned when walked away and hearing her mutter, "Asshole."

Harris grabbed a tit to wake her up. She reached for her gun but came up empty handed. Security had seized their guns as 'unauthorized weapons in the hands of undesirables pending background analysis and confirmation of the credentials of the two individuals'.

"You pig," she spat and too late realizing her persecutor would be delighted by that reaction. He positively beamed at her. Harris pointed to the snow clothing beside her chair. "Get dressed and we're going."

"Where?"

"To a private chalet half a mile up the mountain. Don't worry I know the route and have been given a map, two radios and two emergency locator beacons by the head park ranger I know quite well. Your clothing belongs to his wife who has smaller tits than you but on the positive side she doesn't talk anywhere as much as you do. She asked that you not scratch her goggles as she purchased them in Italy for more than 500 bucks."

"Why are they being so kind?"

"Cliff and I rescued Charlotte two years ago when she skied over a bluff trying to race back to base ahead of a breaking storm."

"This is Charlotte's clothing and she is Cliff's wife?"

"Yeah but enough chat. Oh, Charlotte owns the chalet we'll be using."

"Charlotte hires out these as well," Harris said, and began instructing Stacy about the operation of her snowmobile.

"Follow me and keep me in sight at all times. I'll go at tenderfoot speed. If you lose me and fall over a bluff the cold if not the rocks could silence that pretty mouth forever. It's already snowing a little way up from here and if we don't go now we'll may as well stay and sleep in the hotel lounge. The head receptionist did say there were a couple of beds in the room that serves as a mortgage beside the chapel..."

"Let's go, now," Stacy said, starting her machine.

Harris shot off like a rocket and slowed when he thought Stacy would have warmed herself up screaming, tossing foul names at him. When she came along side he leaned over, turned her headlight on and then grabbed at where her tit was buried under thick clothing. She pulled her scarf down so he could see her grin. Harris jumped off and kissed her and she kissed right back.

God, she's going to give it to him, he thought gleefully. The excitement had sexed her up. He'd gag her and then might enjoy it.

* * *

Stacy thought the tiny chalet with the sleeping loft in the steeply pitched roof was delightful. God, she felt like a slut, knowing she would allow 'the Terminator' to shaft her. He had the best reputation of any of the other male agents for giving a girl a good time and feeding her what she needed.

Stacy had washed her hair yet again and now felt cleared of that assassin's blood. God, Harris's shot must have almost parted her hair, as the guy hot not been tall. Drilled dead center she thought. That smirking, audacious asshole Harris who thought he was God's gift to women had saved her life. He credited her with saving his life but she'd thought as she twice drilled the belly-shot guy that he was already toppling over as she got her first shot away, dying not doubt. No way would be telling anyone that; she wanted Harris the asshole being beholden to her even though she'd only evened up the score. He would have been surprised she hadn't hesitated shot to protect him when she so openly despised Harris. Well, things change, nothing more so that a woman's mind.

A storm was now raging outside. The hot water system was gas operated, giving them immediate hot water and two steaks from the freezer were on the bench thawing as the interior of the chalet warmed. She was now drinking from one of the two bottles of red wine their hostesses had invited them to have.