Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

She gave me a wistful smile. “No, I’m afraid not. You see, when I get to my destination there will be certain parties with government influence that will have to be… paid off. That will take a good deal more. About fifty thousand dollars more.”

“How long can a lucky streak hold out?”

She put the glass down and lounged back, watching me with sleepy eyes. “I have a great deal of confidence in yours, Morgan. You are very lucky for me.”

“Then maybe you can help me stretch it.”

“Just ask.”

“You may not like it. Play Sabin along a little. He has me spotted with you. See if he has anything on me and what he’s interested in.”

“He might make some trouble for you.”

“I’ll worry about that later. Right now I want an inside track on that guy.”

Lisa frowned, thinking. Then: “But if he thinks you are interested in me… or I am in you… then he will find a way to make you leave and my luck will be gone.”

“Don’t count on it, baby. I’ll make sure it rubs off on you. There are other ways beside a crap table.”

For several seconds she didn’t say anything. Then she held out one graceful arm and said, “Come here, Morgan.”

I got up and walked to the couch, put my glass down and reached for her.

She shook her head, slowly and deliberately. “Wait.” I watched while she stood up slowly, yanked at the sash that held the negligee shut, saw it flare open with a motion of her arms and fall to the floor at her feet. She was naked and beautiful, lithe as a young tree, but molded with superb artistry from the high rise of her breasts to the sloping channel of her stomach.

My fingers gently traced the soft curve of her body just once. Just so briefly it was almost to see if she were real or not, and that was as far as it went.

Behind me Kim said, “Damn you!” and exploded across the room going for Lisa like a cat coming out of a bag and I grabbed her in an armlock and held her so tightly she couldn’t move. She was too mad to do anything but hiss between her teeth.

Lisa had never moved. She watched it all with an amused smile, then let her eyes dart to mine. “I think you had better take your bride home, Morgan. I can’t blame her for being angry. But you had better not lock her in a closet. She seems to have a way with locks.”

“She’s an expert,” I said.

I let her stalk across the room rubbing her arm where I had twisted it, watched her build a drink and toss it down too quickly. “Okay, Kim,” I said, “What was that act for?”

She spun, facing me with a white face full of anger. “We’re not here to play games, you idiot!”

“How do you know what I was playing?”

“What do you call it, Morgan? Standing there with a bare-assed broad ready to trip you up and beat you to the ground. That’s all we need… all we need to knock this whole package flat on its back. We gave you credit for having more sense… at least to pick anybody better than that… that piece!”

“Who do you suggest?” I said flatly.

Both of her hands were clenched into fists, her shoulders heaving with her heavy breathing. She never heard what I said. “Not a damn thing on…”

“You could have knocked, baby. You didn’t have to pick the lock. You gave away more of the show with that bit than I did.”

Her eyes glared at me. In the light from the single lamp her teeth were an even flash of white in the scarlet frame of her mouth and she looked like a beautiful panther ready to pounce. “This isn’t going to be a favorable item in my report. From now on you’re not getting any leeway from me at all.”

“I can act on my own volition, kitten. They told you that too.”

Her voice was a soft, deadly purr. “Only if I prefer it to be that way, Morgan. There won’t be any more nonsense like this. And of all people, Lisa Gordot.”

“I asked you before. Who do you prefer?” I took a step forward, slowly, then another, until I was right in front of her. Almost imperceptibly she moved back.

What she saw on my face made her drop her hand to her side where she kept the gun and I shook my head. “I could take it away again, girl. I could even get to mine first if that’s the way it had to be played out.”

She stiffened and her eyes got cold again. “You could only try.”

“Not so, girl. You wouldn’t use it on me anyway. If you had you would have gone for me instead of Lisa just a few minutes ago.” I grinned at her then. “Thanks.”

Puzzlement changed the expression on her face. “What for?”

“Being jealous, my lovely wife. Downstairs you were just plain jealous. Now you’re trying to justify it.”

Her hand never landed on my face as she intended it to. I grabbed her wrist again, twisted and jerked her to me and wrapped my fingers in the midnight sheen of her hair all in one motion. The startled gasp that rounded her mouth blended into a kiss that went wild with the suddenness of an explosion and turned into a shudder of pure delight as she felt me flip open the buttons of her blouse.

Resistance was a thing that melted like wax in a flame. There was no awareness of anything I did except taste her lips and merge us both into a caldron of passion that was so intense it was almost unreal. Then the last shred of nylon dropped from her while she stood on her toes, arms around my neck, her mouth fierce against mine while I kneaded the firm contours of her body.

I pushed her away from me, waited until she opened her eyes, then hated myself for doing what I did. I let a laugh crease my face and said, “See?”

For a moment she stood there unbelievingly, then she glanced at her clothes and herself and a slow flush crept into her cheeks. This time I didn’t stop her when she let me have the open hand right across my cheek.

She walked to the bedroom, the fury high in her. I said, “It’s part of being a pro, kid.” Then she slammed the door in my face.

Daybreak was the deathwatch of Nuevo Cádiz. Down stairs some of the habituals would still be drifting between the tables, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep and their minds blurred with too much alcohol, but the rest of the world outside had buried itself, like Count Dracula, away from the morning sun. Across the stillness a rooster crowed shrilly, and annoyed at the lack of response, did it again.

I had awakened abruptly, fully conscious of being on the couch with the.45 warm in my hand. It had been an automatic reflex developed from years of waiting and watching, of hearing even when your brain was deep in the black of sleep. Inside the closed door of the bedroom I heard Kim toss restlessly, but that wasn’t what had awakened me.

Then I heard it again, the slow tread of footsteps going past my door, the fractional hesitancy when they were directly opposite it. I slid off the couch, cocked the.45 under my arm so the click would be inaudible and crossed to the door in my stocking feet.

I waited, listening, then yanked the door open and jumped through it, the rod in my hand swiveling with my body, and I crouched to cover both ends of the corridor.

Nobody was there.

As quietly as I could, I ran to the elevator, tapped the button and heard the slow whine begin from far below as the car inched upward toward me. Whoever had been there didn’t use the elevator. There wouldn’t have been time for it to make the trip. But the stairwell was handy and the door still hadn’t fully closed on its hydraulic cushioner.

Maybe I could have been getting spooky again, but somehow it didn’t just have that feeling. I got back to the room before the elevator reached the landing, closed and locked the door and went back to the couch. All I could think of was that there were more games being played in Nuevo Cádiz than the ones downstairs.