Don Pendleton - War Against the Mafia

"My gosh!" she cried. "All that money is out there in that car?"

He nodded. "And I intend to keep it. There's no telling how long this war will last, and it takes money to wage war. So-I'll fight 'em with their own money. See? I not only kill, but I also steal, cheat, and lie."

"I- I don't really think of you as a murderer, Mack," she said contritely. "I-don't know why I said that."

"No, you're right," he told her. "School starts tomorrow and you'll be going back to the classroom, I'll be going back to the battlefield. That's the way it has to be, and there simply is no room for anything in between." He looked at her and grinned. "I'm sorry I lost my head."

"I- I really don't think of you as a murderer," she repeated, avoiding his gaze, "-and I'm uh, not going to kick you out of the nest, either. You can stay as long as you'd like, but you'll have to sleep on the couch from now on. Unless..."

Bolan's eyebrows raised. "Unless what?"

"Unless nothing," she mumbled. "I guess I'm not kicking you out of my bed either." She underwent one of those lightning changes of moods, smiling impishly, eyes sparkling. "Twenty-six, never kissed, and never a man in my bed-until you. Now you don't think I'll let you out all that easy, do you?"

"I just might slap you silly," he growled, dropping his eyes to the coffee cup.

"All righty, I'll even let you slap me silly." A tear oozed out of each eye and slid silently down the smooth cheeks. Their eyes met and Bolan knew a wrenching of the heart he had never before experienced.

"God, Val!" he groaned. They left their chairs simultaneously, meeting at the end of the table and falling fiercely into each other's arms. Bolan ignored the tiny twinge at his shoulder and clasped her in tight enfoldment. Her face tilted to his, lips moistly parted, and her mouth grafted to his with consuming urgency, the petite body melting into him in total surrender. His hands moved automatically to the vibrant flesh between shorts and blouse and she twisted against him with a racking sob. She dragged her lips away from his and moaned, "I can't help it, Mack, I just can't help it."

Without a word he lifted her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom, she clinging to him and moaning breathless little sounds into his ear. He stood her up on the bed and undressed her, placing a moist kiss upon each of her hips and upon the delicately folded belly button. Her fingers curled into his hair and she shuddered, then dropped to her knees, arms about his neck, mouth hungrily seeking his as she wriggled against him. She pulled away abruptly, weakly gasping, "Oh, oh, oh." His lips nuzzled into her throat and followed the delicate contours onto firm little breasts, the nipples of which were stiffly extended and vibrantly responsive.

"Let me- help-you," she panted, her fingers twisting ineffectually at his clothing.

Bolan gently pushed her hands away and disrobed himself. She fell back onto the pillow and lay very still, gazing up at him with glistening eyes. "I love you, Mack Bolan," she whispered.

"Thank you," he said softly, settling beside her.

"You're quite welcome," she gasped.

"You, uh, have to put your legs, Val-uh, like this."

"Oh, oh Mack!"

"God, you're sweet. You're so damn sweet, Val."

"I- love you-Mack."

"I love you too, Val."

"Oh, Mack-oh- Mack !"

"God, Val, God!"

"Oh Mack! Oh Mack! Oh Mack !"

And so ended the lull for Executioner Bolan.

She was curled loosely into his arms, lying half atop him in utter relaxation. There had been a long period of silence when she stirred slightly and rocked her face out of the hollow of his shoulder. "I don't think I..." she began, then lapsed back into silence. "Huh?"

"I was going to say I didn't want today to ever end. But it must, of course. Regardless of what happens next, though, I'm glad and-and thankful for-for this."

He twisted around and kissed her, then said, "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Valentina. You deserve better -a lot better."

"I guess I couldn't stand it much better," she replied, smiling shyly.

"You should at least be able to love a man you approve of," he told her. "Resist not evil," she whispered. "Huh?"

"Get out of it!" she said urgently, twisting fully atop him and peering into his face. "Go away and forget about these people. There must be any number of safe places for you somewhere in the world. I'd go with you, Mack. I'd go anywhere you asked me to go." "Now, wait a minute," he said feebly. "It isn't right to kill, Mack," she persisted. "Even if you defeat them, if you exterminate them completely, you're the one who will end up the big loser. Violence is not the answer to evil."

Bolan returned her solemn stare. "You think we, uh, should live in a world of brotherly love-and turn the other cheek and that kind of stuff, eh?" he asked quietly.

His fingers were tracing the line of her spine. She shivered and wriggled against him. "Don't do that," she breathed. "I'm trying to talk seriously."

"What could a fragile flower like you know about violence, and of the evil men do to one another?" he asked, smiling faintly.

"Evil is not received, Mack. Evil can only be given, and it can finally hurt only the giver."

"That's an interesting theory," Bolan replied. "Would you say that the Jews received no evil from Hitler?"

"Hitler was the ultimate receiver of all the evil he created."

"Yeah, but what if the whole world had just gone on turning the other cheek to Adolf? He would have just sliced that one open, too, and where would the world be now?"

"What has become of the world now?" Valentina asked sorrowfully. "We answered evil with evil. And in our end result, we have inherited evil."

He slapped her gently on the bottom. "Where'd you get such screwy ideas?" he asked her. "Look-there are two forces, two basic forces, loose in this world. Good and evil. Hell, I'm no crusader, Val, but I believe that good is more than just a lazy state of do-nothingness. Good has to be more energetic and more-more moving than the opposing force if it-if it's going to overcome."

They were silent for a long moment. Valentina lowered her face to his and nibbled his lower lip, dodged back with a tiny gasp and scrunched away from his questing hands. "How many people," she asked thoughtfully, "do you think set out to deliberately do evil? Even your own example, Adolf Hitler-don't you suppose he was acting in a movement toward what he regarded as ultimate good?"

"Sure," Bolan said agreeably. "But other people had other ideas about what was good, for them, and what was not-so they opposed him. Goodness, Val, is a very personal and individual thing. The way I see it. I'm an instinctive creature, see. Now take this Vietnam war. A lot of people think it is an evil war. Well-of course it is. But hell, we didn't start that evil, see, our side has simply chosen to oppose it, to oppose the evil. I personally go along with that idea, therefore I feel that I am on the side of good when I'm over there fighting that war. I would feel very evil myself if I hung back and didn't throw myself in there with the good guys. See? With me, it's a personal and instinctive tiling. And I'm in the same sort of situation here, with this private little war I'm in now. I didn't start this mess, see. The Mafia has been having their own way in this country for a hell of a lot of years. Well, I finally saw the evil of the Mafia. I saw what they were doing and I felt the need to oppose them. It's as simple as that You can take all the damn philosophies and beauty religions and peace movements and put them in a pile and they still won't mean as much as my individual, instinctive reaction to the Mafia. These people are a dripping, oozing, mass of evil draped about the throat of this country. I'm going to pry them loose if I can. Even if, in the end, the devil picks up all the marbles."