The Cop and the Killer Ch. 01byDAB32697©
It had been an evening straight out of a romance novel, Miranda Wagner thought to herself. Seated in the back of a stretch limousine with a crystal champagne flute in her hand, Miranda admired her professionally manicured nails as well as the sparkling diamonds and pearls adorning her wrists, ears and sleek neck. As her mysterious man of the evening filled her glass, Miranda shut her eyes and inhaled softly but deeply, breathing the enticing aroma of fine leather which covered the seats of this magnificent transport. As her full and ruby lips gently made contact with the rim of the crystal flute, the crisp bite of the chilled Dom Perignon tickled her tongue and soothed her throat as it went down. Shifting her lean and slender body, Miranda sexily crossed her legs toward her handsome companion and the stimulating scent of his Stetson cologne whiffed into her nostrils. It wasn't often that Miranda found the scent of a man so appealing. In fact, it had never happened. But this night had been so perfect, so romantic and so seducing that Miranda had inadvertently succumb to her innermost feminine wiles.
Miranda Wagner stood an imposing 5'11"; her body was a lean, powerful, finely tuned athletic instrument. Possessing exquisite feminine muscle definition from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and wrapped with sultry alabaster skin and delicate feminine softness, Miranda turned every head she passed. Combining these with her platinum blonde hair that flowed fully and gracefully to just above her shoulder blades, piercing sky blue eyes, a sparkling white, pearly smile, ruby lips, firm and perky 34 C-cup breasts and the face of an angel; a face that looked ten years younger than Miranda's thirty-nine years, the woman's sexual allure to the male species was virtually irresistible.
The limo suddenly made a sharp turn to the right and Miranda opened her eyes to find her gaze met by the deep and captivating stare of her companion. He was truly a man among men; a man that could melt any woman into a puddle of sexual submission and have her willingly fulfilling all of his deepest wants and desires in a matter of moments. Six feet three with dark olive skin, thick and greased black hair with penetrating dark eyes on a rugged face with a perfectly groomed goatee. His body was almost supernaturally powerful, toned and ripped with muscle to near Greek God perfection; he had a captivating smile, a hypnotic laugh, a heart melting Latin accent and possessed the charm of the serpent that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden.
Running the tip of a gold-ringed finger gently over the delicate and soft white silk-stockings that covered her long and toned legs, Miranda's heart thumped wildly as her body tensed upon feeling his lips make contact with the delectable skin of her perfectly sleek and alluring neck. Nervously twisting the string of pearls with her finger, Miranda took another sip of her champagne as she again shifted her body weight and crossed her legs the other direction.
"Are you alright?" He asked in his deep and sexy Latin accent.
"I'm fine." Miranda replied assuredly.
"Are you sure?" He continued. "You seem so nervous all of the sudden."
"Well, maybe just a little. I mean, it's not every day that a waitress at Denny's in East Los Angeles is swept off her feet like this." Miranda covered.
"It should be everyday, my love." He hissed seductively; his lips and tongue just centimeters from her ear.
Miranda could feel is breath in her ear and felt his powerful hand sliding firmly and slowly down the front of her body. Miranda's pulse accelerated, her stomach spasmed and she felt dizzy. Turning her head and staring hard out the dark tinted window, Miranda saw it.
"Oh my God!" Miranda almost shouted as she looked out the window. "Is that yours?"
The limo was cruising along a secluded access road on the outer perimeter of the Los Angeles International Airport, approaching a restricted area of private hangars where many of Hollywood's elite and certain others with more money that God himself kept their most exclusive flying toys. Miranda's eyes focused on a Gulfstream III, a wide-body private business jet that provided seating for up to nineteen passengers, long range flight capability and a maximum cruising speed of nearly 575 miles per hour. The sleek aircraft sat waiting in the night, gangway open with a red carpet rolled out on the tarmac in front of her brightly lit hangar. Her aluminum body glistened under the light.
"One of several." He replied with an ego-centric grin.
"I thought you said we were just going for coffee?" Miranda asked.
"We are. And what better place to have an after dinner coffee than in Seattle?" he said.
"Oh, I think I'm in love." Miranda whispered and pecked him quickly on the lips. She felt the bile rising in her throat.
The limo came to a stop at the head of the red carpet and the door was opened by an enormous bear of a man in an Armani suit that Miranda could practically see her reflection in. His shoulders were massive, his neck practically non-existent and his body rivaled the size of a full moon. His arms were the size of any other man's legs, his eyes were deeply embedded in his puffy red cheeks and his goatee was as neatly groomed as her companions. Reaching his bear paw of a right hand in through the open door, Miranda slipped her much smaller hand into it and he helped her out. Miranda immediately noticed the 9 mm Beretta holstered just inside the man's jacket.
Besides "Bear man" packing the heat, there was a stunning woman whom Miranda, judging strictly by her face, placed in her early fifties. Though the woman's face was attractive with sharp and striking blue eyes and high cheeks, it was considerably worn by life and lined deeply; especially around her mouth, which Miranda found very comely and alluring none the less. Her body, on the other hand, said that the woman was at least twenty years younger than that. She wore a splendid navy blue flight attendant uniform complete with a silk scarf and classic hat. A pair of sparkling gold flying wings was pinned just above her surprisingly big and pert breasts; she had sexy long legs, a scrumptious looking ass, divinely curved hips, coal black hair that draped down to the base of her long neck. Her gold plated name tag read Tammy. Along with Tammy, two uniformed pilots, a man with Captain's bars in his mid forties and another attractive woman acting as FO was probably in her late thirties to just past forty. They all were waiting beside the gangway. Miranda's stomach knotted slightly and she sighed softly at the sight of the three crew members. It couldn't be helped.
Miranda's companion stepped out of the limo after her, they joined arms and he escorted her to the gangway. The crew members offered warm greetings to him and Miranda as he assisted her up the gangway and into the lavish interior of the aircraft. Much like the limo, it was all leather and shiny mahogany; a full service wet bar, loveseats and sofas, flat screen, plasma TV screens, internet, satellite phones, the works. Divided into two cabins, Miranda was led through the front cabin, where she noted two more men, both with dark complexions and lean, powerful builds, much like her companion; they too were wearing Armani suits and armed with semi-automatic pistols holstered inside their jackets. They sat almost soulless on the leather sofas of the front cabin and Miranda felt their icy stares on her as she walked through. Twiddle Dumb and Twiddle Dee, Miranda thought. Miranda then heard the thud of the cabin door closing behind her and then the muffled conversation between the pilots as they entered the flight deck. Bear man joined his two comrades in arms sitting in the front cabin while Tammy the flight attendant followed the couple into the rear cabin and shut the door behind them.
"Champagne?" Tammy asked in thick European accent.
"Please." Miranda's companion replied.
Tammy disappeared into the rear galley as Miranda adjusted her long Versace evening gown and seated herself on one of the leather sofas as her companion sank down into the leather cushion beside her, draping his arm around her sexily muscled, bare shoulders. Within moments the aircraft engines roared to life. Tammy reappeared from the rear galley carrying a silver tray with two more filled champagne flutes on it. They took their glasses, toasted them and then nuzzled nose to nose as the aircraft taxied out to the runway. Miranda's stomach had completely tied itself in knots and her heart raced. Tiny beads of sweat formed just under her hairline. Miranda didn't notice that her body was trembling until her companion whispered in her ear.
"Nervous?" He asked.
"Not much on flying." Miranda lied.
And it wasn't from fear of flying or any fear for that matter that had Miranda in its grip. It was anticipation. Anticipation of what lay ahead; not the primary matter, but the secondary issues that had at the last minute presented themselves. Once again, it couldn't be helped. It was just the way certain situations played themselves out. Still, Miranda didn't like it and it was showing. It frequently happened to her. Far more frequently than it used to. In fact, it was happening almost every time now. That's why Miranda wanted out. She couldn't take it any longer. She had one shot to be free forever and God have mercy on her soul if she failed. God have mercy on her soul anyway. But so far, everything was falling into place. T-minus however long it took to fly to Seattle.
The aircraft ascended rapidly into the night sky over the City of Angels, banked hard to the right and was soon northbound toward the distant Emerald City of Seattle, Washington. Tammy dimmed the lights of the cabin, flipped on the stereo that filled the cabin with soft, romantic music, and then she quietly exited the rear cabin to the front, closing the door behind her. Miranda's companion swallowed the last of his champagne, set down his glass and stood up. Facing down at Miranda and her gorgeous smile, he slipped off his tuxedo jacket and undid his bow tie. Miranda slid her body slowly down the sofa, spread her legs and teasingly rubbed the delicate fabric of her panties with the tips of her fingers. The white fabric was a perfect canvas for her candy-apple red fingernails.
Slipping off his shirt now, Miranda focused her eyes on his muscled torso, his dark nipples and his ripped abdomen. It repulsed her. He loosened his belt, undid his Armani slacks, let them drop to the floor and kicked them off his ankles, revealing a navy blue pair of jockey shorts covering what appeared to be a very large cock. Pulling his dark socks off his feet, he slipped is hands into the waist line of his jockeys.
"Wait! Turn around first." Miranda hissed.
"What?" he replied; somewhat incredulously.
"Turn around." She repeated. "Bend over and slip them down slowly. I want to take you all in."
With an almost sinister grin, he did as instructed and kicked the jockeys off.
"Now rise up slowly." Miranda instructed. "Run your hands up your body. Slowly. Imagine that they're mine, caressing you; wanting you. Close your eyes. See me in your mind's eye."
With just the slightest hint of hesitation, he did as he was instructed until he stood up right with his muscled back to her.
"Now turn around. Let me see you." Miranda hissed.
"And I'd better be seeing a lot more of you." He told her.
"Are your eyes still closed?" Miranda asked.
"Yes." He replied.
"Good. Keep'em that way. And just wait till you see what I have for you." Miranda cooed.
He turned around, his eyes closed. He felt her hand slide around his shaft and stroke it gently to the head. A soft moan passed her lips.
"You want me to suck it?" Miranda asked.
"Oh, more than anything." He replied.
"You want to watch me suck you?" Miranda asked.
"Yes." He told her.
"Then open your eyes." Miranda said.
When his eyes opened, all he saw was the flash. The man was dead before he could hear the pop of the silenced round. His lifeless naked body dropped almost gracefully backward and hit the floor with a gentle thud. The bullet hole was perfectly centered between his eyes, at the top hitch of his nose. Unfortunately, he had felt no pain, Melanie thought.
"And suck on this, you motherfucker!" She hissed.
Miranda lowered the German made, 9mm Sig-Sauer P226 to her side. Small puffs of smoke still gently whiffing from the silencer attached to the end of the barrel. Thank God she had kept his hands away from her inner thighs where she had kept the weapon concealed. She had debated choosing another gown; one without a split seam along the front. The length was mandatory but the split seam was optional and unfortunately, it worked both ways. It made access to her gun very easy, but also ran the risk of her overzealous companion discovering it if he'd gotten a little too fresh. Either way, she was a professional. She would have made it work had she been found out.
Though she had no need to do it, Miranda quickly checked her quarry for a pulse, both by the neck and on the wrist. Nothing. Of course nothing! As if the bullet hole between the eyes and the brain matter spackled all over the side of the fuselage didn't tell the story well enough.
Miranda kicked off her shoes, stepped over the body and positioned herself against the wall separating the two cabins, just to the left of the door. When the door burst open, she would catch it and it would offer her just the cover she needed to complete the job.
"Oh my God! Julio!! Julio!!" Miranda screamed in her best bloodcurdling screech.
Within seconds, the cabin door burst open and Miranda caught it with gentle ease as Bear man and his two cronies charged in from the front cabin, guns drawn and moving toward the body of their boss in single file. It was almost too easy, Miranda almost snickered, as she closed her left eye, raised her weapon and squeezed off three rounds. She only needed three. Almost with domino falling precision, the three men toppled. Twiddle Dee, who was following up the rear dropped first, the bullet from Miranda's expertly, aimed shot entering dead center through his ear. Twiddle Dumb was just a step ahead of him and barely heard the whirr of the bullet that took down his rear before the back of his head disintegrated with Miranda's second shot. He didn't hear that whirring bullet. Bear man, hearing the thud of Twiddle Dee hitting the floor spun around mid stride just in time to be greeted with the same fate as his late boss. It was so fast that he didn't even notice Twiddle Dumb and Twiddle Dee were both already dead. The bullet hit squarely between his eyes and sheered through his massive head with ease. His bulk crumbled far less gracefully than his former employer and his lifeless body hit the floor with such heavy force that it nearly caused the plane to lose altitude.
Miranda shut the dividing door connecting the two cabins and then calmly surveyed the scene; stepping over the fallen bodies, Miranda checked each man for a pulse. Four for Four. Stretching out as if she had just awoken from a pleasant afternoon nap, Miranda let down her thick and flowing platinum blond and it fell gracefully down over her shoulders to between her blades.
"God Miranda, you are so beautiful." Tammy's voice cut through the eerie stillness of the cabin. Her accent was gone.
Miranda looked up to find Tammy standing with her arms folded over her chest in the now open doorway. The sight of her slender and sexy figure leaning up against the thin doorjamb caused Miranda's body to tingle with desire for the first time that night.
"Thank you." Miranda replied with a seductive smile.
"There is no sexier sight on Earth than a beautiful woman holding a gun." Tammy said.
"Especially if she knows how to use it, huh?" Miranda replied. "And if you didn't look so fucking sexy yourself, I'd probably shoot you for using my real name. I'm Sabrina tonight, remember. Tammy?"
Obviously Tammy was the flight attendants alias for this evening. Tammy considered it for a brief second, rolled her eyes and smiled again.
"You even dropped your accent, too. Went from Paris, France to Paris, Texas, huh?" Miranda joshed.
"Oh yes." Tammy replied. "Forgive me. Memory loss. Comes with getting old."
"So, what do you think?" Miranda inquired.
"I think I want you on that sofa with your legs open wide. I hear your pussy calling my name." Tammy hissed.
Tammy undid her silk scarf and let it drop teasingly to the floor as she began a seductive stride toward Miranda. Again, Miranda's body tingled with desire, a powerful wave of lustful heat flooded through her like a Tsunami and now her cunt ached desperately for this extremely sexy older woman's attention. Miranda was getting wet for the first time tonight.
Sinking down into the fine leather of the sofa, Miranda spread her legs as Tammy slipped off her jacket, stepping over the bodies and began to unbutton her blouse. Miranda could feel her wetness saturating her panties and this sent a fit of fury coursing through her highly aroused body.
"God, I want you so bad." Miranda hissed as Tammy's blouse slide down her tone arms, revealing a gorgeous pair of pert breasts in a black lace bra, straining to contain them.
"How bad?" Tammy asked, as she unhooked her bra and let slid it down her arms.
Tammy never had a chance to react. The bullet was through her brain and blasting out the back of her head before it even registered the flash of the muzzle. Her lifeless body fell backward and rolled over Bear man's mass even before her discarded bra hit the floor. Tammy's body came to rest with her legs dangling over Bear man's breathless chest and her head rested on the boss man's stomach.
"Unfortunately, not as bad as I want out of this job, cunt." Miranda said coldly.
Miranda rose and strode casually over to the pile of human carnage. She studied Tammy's half naked body and sighed deeply. Even now, it was still getting her wet.
"Sorry, Elise." Miranda said to Tammy's glazed eyes. "You were the best teacher a girl could have. But I can't do this anymore. And thanks to your selection of flight crew this evening, you are also a great friend to the end."
Miranda ran a hand through her hair, straightened her evening gown and strode confidently toward the front of the cabin. Taking a last glance back at what she now knew was her last hit, save two more unfortunately, she turned off the cabin lights and closed the door behind her. Welcome to Seattle, ladies and gentlemen she thought to herself and marched toward the flight deck door. Now it was her heart aching and again, she felt the bile rising up her throat as she knocked on the flight deck door. There were tears of sorrow welling in her eyes.
Amy Styles had never experienced a hangover like this in all of her thirty-seven years. Lying in the center of her king size bed, the room spun violently as her head throbbed mercilessly. She had already snoozed her alarm clock at least a dozen times and now the fucking thing was going off again. A fifteen year veteran of the Seattle Police Department and a homicide detective for the last seven, Amy now contemplated committing homicide herself as the relentless barking of her next door neighbors Scottish terrier now joined in the chorus with her beeping alarm.
Rousing herself now, Amy swung her aching body upright and dropped her long, muscular legs and bare feet onto the cold, hardwood floor of her bedroom. She felt the blood rush out of her head and the vomit rush toward her mouth. With her normally dazzling emerald green eyes now puffy red slits in her worn face, Amy ran a shaking hand through her scraggly auburn hair while she reached for the fifth of Absolut Citron on her bedside table with her other shaking hand. With just a couple of shots worth left in it at best, Amy guzzled the remaining contents of the bottle and her entire body cringed as the citrus flavored vodka went down her raw throat. Setting the bottle down once again, Amy focused all the conscious effort she possessed at the moment to hold the vodka down. She then fumbled her hand across the cluttered bedside table top in search of her cigarettes. It took a few seconds for the runners of her memory to break through the thick fog now clouding her conscious mind to remind her that she had quit smoking nine years ago. God, how many brain cells have I killed? Amy wondered. Sitting motionless on the edge of her bed, Amy closed her eyes and rubbed her face. What day is it? How long have I been out? Amy thought. Letting her hands run down her face, Amy turned her head cautiously and gazed longingly over her shoulder at the opposite side of her bed. There was nobody there. There hadn't been for a long time. How long now? Four years? Five, since Susan left her? Amy couldn't remember. In truth, she didn't want to. No woman had ever captured Amy's heart, mind or soul like Doctor Susan McConnell. And certainly no woman had ever sexually pleasured Amy's body like Susan McConnell had either.