Copyright (c) 2015,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Sunday, January 10, 2016

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.


A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: mercenar.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com





Mercenary Blues

madvlad

story_codes: MM+/g(2-4), non-cons, cons

story_intro: Mike should have known better. One of his principle rules was to never allow any emotional attachments on assignment. he had already been burned once and it still haunted him. Now was one last assignment before retirement and he slipped again with little Tess. And in his deadly business, the results were often tragic.



story_language: English




Mercenary Blues

Written by madvlad


Caution: Even after some editing, some of the action is still a little rough in the "TWO YEARS AGO SECTION".

SEVEN YEARS AGO

	Mike Desmond mentally acknowledged the crunch of tires in the dirt behind him. Several BMW sedans, looking a little aged but with superbly upgraded power trains and suspensions, had arrived for the extraction of his team. They were less practical in terms of efficiency and cost compared to, say, a rented helicopter or a diesel truck. But they would be more likely to go unnoticed and could take different routes away from the site. One Vladimir Putin would be most displeased once he learned the fate of one of his most trusted oligarchs and schemers and a low-key exit was the best choice.

	Faced with the prospect of dull manual labor in the granite quarry near his home town, he decided to opt for the Army. Most of his friends were perfectly happy to find stable employment nearby, settle down with one of the local girls, and have her pop a few kids, but Mike wanted something else. What exactly, he didn't know.

	His friends and family didn't understand why he'd want a job where people shot at you when you didn't have to worry about anything on the job except showing up and remembering your hard hat and safety glasses. Mike replied that there were no wars happening at the moment but stopped short of saying that he had no desire of a life where every Saturday night downing beer at Staley's Bar was to be the main social highlight.

	So for the first six years, Mike toted a rifle and pounded the dirt. Then when a balmy September morning was shattered by a group of fanatics who flew planeloads of people into buildings and one Pennsylvania field, he found that he could and did become a target in faraway places. 

	It wasn't that he minded the combat or the danger. The former was almost like an exercise in problem solving with the variables constantly changing as he worked the solution. The latter he acknowledged but did not allow it to stoke his adrenaline. His calm, detached manner under fire was noticed and when his next enlistment was up, he was approached for outside work.

	Pete Pelchak was a burly man with a long, bulbous nose that looked alien on his otherwise weathered face. It was a feature better suited on the face of a nerdy accountant or a basement-dwelling computer hacker. But Pete was ex-military, too, and had contacts still in uniform to keep an eye out for prospects who met his standards.

	Mike had figured he would go career Army but had listened to this guy who told him about mercenary work. These weren't the hired security teams, Pete told him. He was looking for the type to get inserted, do a job, and get out cleanly without fanfare. What did appeal to Mike the most was that while he still might be working for politicians from time to time, he would be doing it on his terms and making them sweat the cost.

	The bodies of big men in bad suits littered the lawn - hired security thugs who were better at bashing the skulls of delinquent loan payers and uncooperative prostitutes than they were with skilled combat teams. Another team member's voice crackled over Mike's ear piece with the confirmation that their intended target was indeed quite dead. Although the job had always been business, Mike and the others were also glad that the guy, whom they learned was a particularly sadistic son of a bitch, one Victor Lobov, was out of everyone else's misery.

	This was the end of a three-month assignment. Mike and most of the others had been in town nearby during that time, posing as hired security for a firm that did business with the recently bullet-riddled tycoon. He was eager to leave although he would return for one other reason after things cooled off in about six months. 

	The household servants had been rounded up - not to be killed but to be kept on the premises to keep the news of the attack from spreading too quickly. Mike ignored the glares and the looks of fear as he passed one such group as he entered a room on the far end of one wing. There were secondary targets who were to be killed as well if found - essentially targets of opportunity - so every room had to be checked. 

	Testing the knob, Mike found it unlocked. He threw the door open and ducked back into the hallway. It looked ridiculous when the room was empty, but this time a spray of bullets filled the open space in the doorway. Whoever was shooting wasn't very good. He was using a submachine gun and was wasting rounds on thin air. Sure enough, the hammer clicked on an empty chamber and Mike swung back in to the doorway. 

	Constantin Ilyushkin was overweight, balding, and a logistics genius in Lobov's little empire. He didn't know shit about armed combat though and Mike found him naked and holding an emptied weapon that was as dangerous as his flaccid dick. Mike fired an efficient three-round burst into the man's chest before walking to the body and pumping two more rounds in the head to prevent any medical miracles.

	With Ilyushkin's core body temperature ready to cool, Mike scanned the room and saw another naked figure lying amid the rumpled sheets of a bed. This one was female and much younger. Rough cords had bounds her wrists and another was around her neck. Mike reached for the girl's bruised neck in what he knew to be a futile effort to find a pulse. Her mouth was open and her darkened tongue protruded - the result of one of Ilyushkin's favorite games.  Lobov preferred cutting. The eyes were cloudy and unseeing - eyes that had for the past few months had been lively and warm when they were on Mike.

	Her name was Nadya and she was only fifteen. She was an orphan and managed a subsidence living as a waitress in a grimy restaurant Mike had frequented. She was also the reason he had planned to return; Mike's long term goal of taking her out of this damned backwater village. It was against his discipline and protocols to form any emotional attachments on assignment, but he was human still. It didn't take much imagination for Mike to figure out how she had gotten here. Ilyushkin had seen her, wanted her, and had his guards bring her here, no negotiations allowed.
 
	Walking out of the room with his face a tight mask, Mike spoke to the servants in fluent but accented Russian. Taking out the wad of rubles he had removed from one of Ilyushkin's pockets, he pressed it into the hand of one of the men while fixing him with a firm gaze.

	"There's a girl in there," he said. "Make sure she gets a proper burial - with a priest and everything."

	The man swallowed hard and nodded but an old woman next to him hocked and spat on the floor.

	"She's just another whore," she sneered in a crackly voice.

	"No, she was someone who didn't have a choice," Mike replied, resisting the temptation to snap the woman's neck like a rotten tree branch. "If they hadn't taken her and brought her here, maybe they would have settled for your wrinkled old cunt."

	The woman colored but said nothing else.

	"Father Dmitri will do the service," the man with the money promised and Mike left without further comment.

	Pete Pelchak was waiting not far away and walked with Pete back to the BMW they would be riding in. They shared the back while another man hired just for this extraction drove.

	"What the fuck was that about?" Pete asked. "You're a funeral director now?"

	Mike had been careful to keep his relationship with Nadya a secret and tried to shrug off Pete's inquiry.

	"Just felt like something I should do," he said. "She was just a kid - probably a local - that Ilyushkin got carried away with."

	"Whoah, that sounds like you're getting sentimental," Pete said. "Go someplace warm for a few months and bang a bunch of brown-skinned girls with firm tits. You'll feel better and some of your pay will have been well-spent."

	"Sounds like you're concerned about me, Pete," Mike replied evenly as he watched the countryside out his window. "You're not getting sentimental yourself, are you?"

	"Fuck you," Pete laughed. "I just don't want to see a good combat specialist get all emotional and soft on me."

	Mike turned from the window to look at Pete.

	"Believe me," he said in a voice as stony as his expression. "Getting emotional will never be an option. Ever."

	
TWO YEARS AGO

	Not that Tess remembered the start of it, but she had been in the family business since she was three months old.

	Before she was born, her parents, Jason and Tina, were recent college graduates from fine institutions and newlywed. The future was bright and they took off running. Along the way, they stumbled and in the arrogance of those who believe the world is their inheritance, made some mistakes that landed them under the thumb of a man named Garrett. 

	He could have killed them or had them killed - he was not squeamish about either option - but he kept them alive, housed, and with some reasonable spending money. In their home in an upper middle class neighborhood tucked away in a quiet suburb, no one suspected Jason and Tina of the smuggling and money laundering taking place. 

	Garrett not only used their house as one of his many operations hubs, but made the couple travel to South America to personally smuggle drugs back to the United States on a regular basis. They did not fit the profile of smugglers, which was convenient. But even more important, doing such lowly and risky work served to remind them of their tenuous status under Garrett.

	When Tess was born, Tina only had a brief respite before she had to travel again. Now, Tess' diaper bag and even the diaper she was wearing were used to carry illicit cargo. Garrett sometimes made it a point to make his displeasure over the lack of volume brought in from a run known to the couple. It wasn't that it really bothered him - being careful and slipping through was better than being greedy and getting caught - he just wanted to keep them fearing him.

	These confrontations took a darker turn one day when Tess was two. Jason and Tina had arrived at their house with Tess after arriving from Columbia, weary and still anxious from their latest trip. Garret and some of his crew were waiting in the kitchen.

	"Is this all of it?" Garrett asked with disgust as they unpacked.

	"Um, there are still some small packets with Tess..." Tina blurted.

	"Get them out - now."

	Tess has seen Garrett and his men before and regarded them with her large brown eyes as they yelled at her parents. Her mother laid her on the kitchen table and unfastened her diaper. Garrett snickered and snapped some photos with his cell phone as Tina removed the cocaine. 

	"Maybe we can make more selling some of this to pedos," he crudely suggested. "Coke snuggled next to some hairless pussy. Hey, is that all you put in there?"

	"That's the last of it," Tina answered worriedly. 

	"Some of our mules put condoms full of the stuff in their cunts," Garrett mused. "How much can Tess hold in hers?"

	"No!" Tina retorted. "We'd never..."

	"No," Garrett said softly - so softly as to be menacing. "I so dislike hearing that word - especially from my mules."

	One of his men was marking some of the packets with a black Sharpie marker and Garrett plucked it from the man as he walked to the table where Tess lay with her diaper open. Garrett capped the pen and then licked the rounded bottom part of it. 

	"Hold the brat," he said aloud.

	Two of the men pinned Tess to the table, yanking the toddler's legs apart. Tess didn't understand the rough treatment and whimpered for her parents. But Jason and Tina could only watch in trepidation as any move to interfere would leave them dead.

	Garrett placed the wet tip of the marker against Tess' bald cunny, rubbing it up and down her slit as he smiled at her.

	"I think we need to check our little slut for cargo capacity," he said in an overly friendly, sing-song voice. "I think that will be fun, right Tess?"

	Glad that this scary man was now happy, Tess smiled in response. Garrett held his grin and kept his eyes locked on the girl's face as he jammed the pen into her. Confused and in pain, Tess screamed as she was violated. Finally, he pulled the pen out and examined the amount of staining on it.

	"Damn she was tight," he announced. "But she can't fit enough in there yet to justify her airline ticket. Turning to the stunned parents, he continued. "We'll just have to work on stretching her cunt when she gets a little older, won't we?"

	After putting the bloody pen in Jason's shirt pocket, Garret lightly dabbed a finger into a bag that he had earlier cut a slit into to test the purity of the white powder, putting just a few granules of the potent stuff on the tip. Then he took his finger and slid it onto the injured vagina of the little girl. Tess was still wailing as he worked his finger inside the snug tunnel. Gradually, Tess' eyes grew glassy and her movements sluggish as the cocaine was absorbed through her vaginal walls. 

	"Alright, we got ourselves a little coke whore now," Garrett said as his crew laughed. 

	He took Tess by the hair, spinning her head to the edge of the table. Unzipping his fly, he pushed the head of his erection into the girl's mouth and told her to suck. Dazed, Tess did as she was told until Garrett came. The tot coughed at the stuff in her mouth and sprayed the semen all over her.

	"Not much of a blow job, but she'll learn," Garrett analyzed. "I guess Uncle Garrett and his buddies will just have to teach her when Mommy and Daddy take their trips to South America. Isn't that right, whore baby?"

	Tess just stared, her head still in a fog. 

	"Yeah, "Garrett continued as he patted the child's cheek. "And when you get a little older, we'll get that cute little cunt of yours opened up for packing."

	And so Jason and Tina's life continued to spiral downward. Every trip they made carried not only the risks of getting caught or betrayed by the ruthless contacts in the south, but also the knowledge that their daughter was orally servicing Garret and his men while they molested her freely.

	Their hopelessness and inability to protect Tess affected how they raised her. They swung between over-protection and apathy, leaving the perceptive and bright little girl confused and desperate for genuine affection.

	
TODAY

	"So is it temporary or really permanent?" Pete Pelchak asked Mike as they sat in Pete's office.

	"Permanent, or probably so," Mike said of his retirement announcement.

	Pete was strictly into handling contracts and planning now. Shrapnel had shredded one leg on a job in Rwanda and the infection that took hold for the week they were trying to get him out nearly cost him the limb. As it was, his limp was too severe for any field work and Pete settled into the administrative end.

	But by now, Mike had really come into his own, showing a talent for research and planning himself. He had even taken some acting lessons so that he could better disguise himself in mannerisms and voice while doing open reconnaissance.  In his mid-thirties, his hair had gone prematurely gray - not from stress but from a gift of genetics that came up and now and again in his family. That was his only remaining tie with his kin as he lost contact with them and never returned to his old home town.

	Pete shrugged at Mike's statement.

	"Well, there are no rules that say you can't come back to the game if you want," Pete said. "I know you've been careful with your money, so enjoy your retirement if that's what you do. But I've got a job - one last one that would make a hell of a going away bonus for you."

	"Okay," Mike said. "I might be interested."

	In truth, Mike wasn't but he respected Pete enough not to leave him in a lurch in case he had been counting on him for an assignment.

	"This will be a solo job," Pete said. "A single hit."

	"So why me?" Mike asked.

	"It's domestic and there are complications. I need someone who is patient and can get the target. Not a guy who will go running in like his dick's on fire."

	"Okay."

	Pete tossed a flash drive on his desk for Mike.

	"Details are in there, but the target is one Langdon Garrett. Does the name ring a bell?"

	Mike shook his head.

	"The guy's a piece of work - near the level of what's-his-face, Lobov from what was it, six years ago?"

	"Seven," Mike replied, remembering well the lesson about emotional attachment he had learned upon finding Nadya's corpse.

	"Yeah. Anyway, this Garrett fuck-weasel is a captain in the Van Alt syndicate, you know them, right?"

	"Sure. They've got their snouts in every flavor of crime pie."

	"Good boy," Pete replied. "You get an "A" in social studies. In this case, we've got a guy - a very rich guy- whose daughter, a kid in college, got tangled up with this guy because of something her boyfriend did. During a middle of the night phone call, the father tells her to go to the police right then and tell them everything. He'd send lawyers in the morning.

	So the girl does just that. While the desk sergeant calls for detectives to come in and get an interview started, the girl uses the ladies room. Then she doesn't come out. When they go in, she's in a stall with her throat cut and a bag of smack stuffed in her mouth. On the bag was written 'Father Doesn't Know Best'. 

	And the shit in the bag was pure, uncut. It was one hell of an expensive statement and it fit Garrett's MO to a "T". The clincher is that this happens right in the middle of the police station and no one saw shit. He'll do anything to make a loud statement that says 'I don't care about the cost or the risk - I make sure no one fucks with me.'"

	"Sounds like a cop was on the take," Mike observed.

	"Yeah, but the hell of it is that the girl's cell phone records show no calls after she spoke to her father. The time indicates she went right to the station after he hung up. Still, Garrett knew and got his end done. So this one has to be done carefully. And since it's domestic, bombs and that sort of thing aren't going to happen like you did in Kiev last year.

	Now Garrett also has a core group of guys - an inner circle in his larger organization - who are always with him. The girl's father doesn't care about them. He wants Garret dead, which also hurts the syndicate since he's one of their best. If anything happens to his inner circle, that's okay but not important. But there's one more thing you should know if you're still interested."

	"Go on," Mike prodded.

	"Garrett has a lot of leeway in cutting big deals on the syndicate's behalf. In that regard, he and his crew usually carry a lot of cash on them. By a lot, I mean anywhere in the neighborhood or ten to twenty million dollars because their type of business doesn't lend itself to a line of credit at a bank. The father is short one daughter and no amount of money will help that. He has plenty of his own and wants payback. So any cash you find is yours.

	I told him it would take time to get it done right and he has no problem with that - he just wants it done. So are you in?"

	"I'm in."

	For a week, Mike reviewed the information of the flash drive. There was a great deal of useful information from a myriad of sources and he worked through several plans. One scenario had been on taking out Garret and his immediate crew but Mike settled for the single hit on Garrett and grabbing the cash. His thinking was that with Garrett dead and the money missing, his crew would be answering some very bad questions from the syndicate - if they survived that long. Pete loved the idea of the syndicate turning on its own.

	While there were plenty of details on Garrett's home, Mike ruled out any work there. The local police had to be on Garrett's payroll and by extension would add unnecessary complications.

	But Garrett travelled a lot, especially to several seemingly innocent people whom he had working for him through means and threats that Mike could only think of. He studied Garrett's rounds among his minions and found a regular pattern.

	He would try to move near one of them and get to know them. While they wouldn't say anything about Garrett to a new neighbor, no matter how friendly, Mike would likely be able to figure out when he would be showing.

	Next, he had to find a place to rent or buy. This wasn't so easy all of these people lived in houses instead of apartments. But he eventually found what he needed in a suburb of Tampa, Florida. There was a house owned by a retired couple who lived there from late October to mid-March and had the house open for rent over the summer. It was two houses down, which wasn't as good as next door for surveillance, but it was the best he could find. 

	He had Pete hire someone posing as an agent who called the Tampa realtor. The cover was that Mike was a ghostwriter who needed a place in Florida while he was writing a novel for someone else set in the Sunshine State. The deal was done and Mike had his place.

	When he arrived in April, Garrett had just been there. Mike knew this meant he had about three months to prepare for Garret's return. For a week before moving in, Mike had adopted an effete manner and took to wearing glasses. By the time he settled in his temporary home, his new persona was set in place.

	The house was pretty good. It had a fenced in pool in the back that had to have been very expensive since digging in the ground in Florida usually meant reaching wet sand. There was probably a lot of concrete set in place but Mike wasn't interested in the details. Surrounding the pool was a huge collection of plants and potted trees which a landscaping service took care of year round. It made great coverage for Mike as he watched his subjects from two houses away. 

	The pool needed minimal care with chemicals that were stored in a chest with pool and garden supplies that was set about a foot away from the house wall. Mike didn't understand the gap until he saw a water spigot and electrical outlet in the wall behind the chest. Lying in the floor behind the chest was a pool net with a telescopic handle. Everything had been planned so nicely when the pool was added and he hoped that his own plans would go so well.

	With everything in place, he went over one day to introduce himself to his new neighbors, Jason and Tina Danvers. 

	To the ordinary eye, Jason and Tina seemed like an ordinary couple. But Mike saw a lingering wariness in them. Considering whatever devil's bargain Garrett held them to, he understood. What he was not expecting was Tess, a lovely four year-old with large eyes and a slight waviness to her long brown hair that gave her a hint of elegance beyond her young years. 

	He had not seen the girl outside at all and noticed that she was rather pale considering she lived in Florida. And she was nearly as quiet as her skin was pale although over time she warmed to Mike. There was a warmth and a spark in her eyes that pulled him in. It wasn't just fondness but another need - the kind he had always been careful to keep from Pete and others. Even Mike was surprised to feel that for a girl this young, but it was there. 

	Alone at night when his plans did not require his thoughts, he battled internally over his feelings for Tess. This was just a job and by July or August he should be done and gone. There would be no return to take her away as he had foolishly dwelled on with Nadya.

	Nonetheless, he found reasons to return to the Danvers home, effortlessly performing in his altered personality. One day, he offered them the use of his pool.

	"Jason and I are too busy,' Tina told him.

	"Then Tess is welcome," Mike casually remarked. "It would be no bother for me and would give you more time to yourselves."

	"Mommy, can I? Can I?" Tess asked, bouncing on her feet with more animation than Mike had seen before."

	"You don't know how to swim," Tina replied flatly.

	"I'd be happy to teach her," Mike offered.

	"She doesn't have a swimsuit," Tina went on.

	Mike considered this odd given that they were so close to many white sand beaches. Jason and Tina seemed to prefer hiding, but at what cost to their lonely daughter?

	Tina paused, though, giving Mike's offer further thought.

	"I suppose she could just wear her underpants in the water. She's young enough to go without a top, if you don't mind."

	Mike shrugged casually, conveying that it mattered not. Tina contemplated her new neighbor. He seemed harmless enough and if anything, he seemed a little faggy so she doubted he had anything perverted in mind with Tess. And guilt gripped her as she acknowledged that with Garrett, Tess was already down that path. 

	And besides, she had Jason had things to plan. Even if Tess didn't understand, she didn't want the girl to overhear them. She gave her consent.

	Tess was a fast learner and took to the water quite well. Mike worked on her technique, supporting the girl with a hand under her tummy or running his hands over her wet limbs to correct her technique. It became a daily thing that left him with an erection in his swim trunks that he kept hidden below the water's surface. 

	When they got out of the water, Tess' thin cotton panties were plastered to her body. Every day, Mike got an eyeful of her bouncy little bottom and the smoothness and chubby contours of her cunny.

	One day, Tina asked if he could watch her all day and Mike was happy to oblige. He brought some of Tess' storybooks over to read to her when they weren't swimming. While they were in the water that morning, Tess stopped at one point and gave him a curious look.

	"You're different here," the precocious tot said.

	"What do you mean?"

	"I don't know. But you're different. That's funny."

	She giggled and splashed and Mike roared, pretending he was a sea monster. Tess squealed and climbed out of the pool, her wet panties sliding down her buttocks to display her delectable roundness there.

	Holding his arms out stiffly like the movie monsters of old, Mike roared again and walked to the pool's edge. He pretended to trip and fall face-first into the water, making Tess laugh. While his head was underwater, Mike realized what Tess meant. Here, he was being Mike, not the swishy neighbor her parents knew. 

	He shrugged it off as Tess didn't mind. There was really nothing she could say and his observations were that she and her parents did not speak to each other much. It was evident in how she loved telling him everything and was delighted when he asked questions. She told him she never got to tell her parents all about her adventures with her toys and other things her imagination created.

	There was no doubt that she was very intelligent for her age. But it seemed that she was wasting away with her parents. Mike suspected it had more to do with Garrett but had no specifics. And he didn't dare ask the girl anything for if she mentioned it to her parents, his cover would be blown.

	Mike stood up again and shook the water from his face. Tess was not to be seen. Climbing out of the pool, he looked around. Then he heard a scrape of hollow metal, recognizing it as the handle from the skimming net behind the chest. He walked over and found Tess hiding between it and the wall.

	"You're not a monster now," she declared.

	"Why?"

	"Because monsters can't see here," she informed him with the sure knowledge of a four year-old. 

	"You're right," Mike said. "This is a monster-proof place."

	And so that became another game. Mike would pursue her in and around the pool like a monster but when Tess hid behind the chest; he would pretend he couldn't see her, acting with comical effect that made her laugh although she was supposed to be hiding.

	When he read to her, she liked to cuddle in his lap. At first, she was tentative and Mike could tell this was something she rarely did with Jason or Tina - if she did at all. Mike took to caressing her, rubbing her belly and stroking her bare legs.

	One day, he ventured further, running his fingers over the child's soft vulva through her soaked panties. When Tess did not comment or move, he made his touches more firmly; squeezing and kneading the little mound. As it continued, Tess would open her legs a little further, enjoying this. Mike would shift so that the length of his hard-on was aligned between her ass cheeks. Every time she shifted, she would unknowingly manipulate his penis.

	After a few days of this, Mike tried to slip his fingers into Tess' panties.  But the child froze and looked at him with panic.

	"No, that hurts!" she said tearfully.

	Mike didn't understand, but apologized.

	"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, knowing he had only touched her bare skin underneath the waistband.

	"It hurts when men put their fingers in my kitty," she said sadly.

	Mike was stunned and asked his next question without thinking.

	"Your daddy does this to you?"

	"No, other scary men."

	Mike looked directly into the girl's eyes.

	"Tess, I will never hurt you. I promise."

	Tess stared back silently. Then she pushed her panties down to mid-thigh and looked up at him, swallowing hard. Mike carefully used one finger to graze the hairless surface of the four year-old's cunny. He took his time, covering the entire mound. When he felt her relax, he reached for her panties and slid them to her knees. Tess lifted her legs and allowed him to remove the wet undies.

	When Mike reached for her crotch again, Tess opened her legs, giving him access to her bald little quim. He fondled her lovingly, teasing her lips open and lightly touching her between them. But he was careful not to go to deep. As it was, he could tell she had no hymen when he had her labia open and wondered what Garrett and his henchmen had one. But he never asked and Tess was content to keep her silence.

	But her silence ebbed away as she made sounds in her throat as Mike manipulated her preschool snatch. Her thighs spread farther, signaling that she liked what he was doing. His rubbing and squeezing of her tiny pussy became stronger. He could feel her miniature clit stiffen and when the warm moistness slipped into her cleft from below, her breathing had gone heavy. Her rump was shifting in his lap, achingly rubbing the prick inside his trunks. Mike picked up the pace, massaging the child's hairless genitals until Tess let out a grunt and ceased her wriggling. More liquid heat oozed from her cunny and she looked at him in quiet wonder over this thing that he had caused.

	"Have you done that before?" he asked.

	Tess answered with a shake of her head.

	"Did you like it?"

	She gave him a nod.

	"It's called cumming," he told her.

	Tess turned her head and looked at him before peering back at her quim. With her fingers, she opened her outer labia again before looking back at Mike.

	"I didn't make white stuff," she said.

	Mike blinked before the light bulb in his head went on.

	"Like men do?" he asked.

	"Uh huh."

	"Girls cum differently."

	Tess sat still and then slid off his lap. Her turned to face him and patted the lump in his shorts where she had been sitting. Fixing her eyes on him, she said "You won't hurt me."

	It was a reminder and a statement of fact. Almost, like a benediction. Mike was struck by the premature knowledge in the girl, the wisdom she had gained without any say in it. 

	Then she pulled at Mike's drawstring, loosening it and then pulling his trunks down enough to release his erection. Mike did nothing, letting Tess dictate the pace. She grasped his member and put the head in her mouth. Fixing him with those soul-deep eyes, she proceeded to perform an incredibly skilled act of oral love using her lips and tongue on what little she could take while her little hands gripped and stroked the rest.

	As she sucked him, her eyes remained locked on Mike's. Her hands were wonderful, but the wet, flexing surfaces of her entire mouth were the astonishing part. Mike groaned and pumped his seed into her. Without great effort, Tess gulped with every pulse of semen, sending every bit into her tummy. When she was done, she wordlessly climbed into his lap and hugged him before snuggling in for a nap

	As she lay against his chest, Mike gently stroked her back and bottom, enjoying the warmth and softness of her; the smoothness of her skin. There was nothing sexual about it, even as he cupped her little buttocks. He didn't even worry about violating his code concerning attachments. The feel of the four year-old's nude body was like a meditation to him and he lost himself for an hour until she awoke.

	Now this had become a part of their daily routine. To Tess, it was just as important as swimming and playing monsters. She never said a word about it, only turning to look at him when she was in his lap and the daily book was finished to signal that she was ready.

	So Mike settled into a comfortable routine. But he never got too comfortable to keep Tess' parents under observation and keep tabs on Garrett's movements. The former was fruitless but the latter paid off when Garrett made a surprise visit to Tampa.

	Mike knew where Garrett and his crew would be staying - in three adjacent condos owned by one of the syndicate's shell companies. He already had investigated them in detail, learning the routes and surveillance sightlines by heart. 

	Parking in the driveway of another condo he knew to be vacant for the summer, he went to one of his predetermined observation points and watched as Garrett's men came out of the middle condo of the cluster - Garrett's - and climbed into their cars. After they drove off, Garrett waited, looking for any sign of their return as part of a trap. 

	Twilight had settled in and Garret had the lights on. Mike thought he'd be more careful but then again Garrett was on some of what he considered his home turf. Also, the man was rather agitated as he shouted into a cell phone while pacing from one room to the next. 

	Although Mike hadn't planned on acting to night, he had been on more than one operation where responding to a sudden opportunity was best. Mike hadn't been expecting one and Garrett sure as hell wasn't, either. Mike slipped into the condo easily, following the sound of Garrett's voice.

	"Damn right her ass, too!" Garrett shouted. "Maybe those back-dealing fuckers will be watching her get fucked apart from their room in hell. And if there's anything left of her after that, maybe then I'll sell. 'Cause I-"

	Although Mike had taken acting lessons, he was no actor. In this endgame, there was no Hollywood script - no witticism or righteous phrase uttered by the good guy before he kills the villain. Just two pulls of the trigger of his silenced Smith & Wesson M&P 45. Two hollow point slugs into the back of his head later, the remains of Langdon Garrett were draining blood from the ugly crater in his skull. 

	A quick search of the place produced two cases containing a little over twelve million in cash - a little on the low end of Pete's reported ten to twenty million dollar-scale, but Mike was quite satisfied with his bonus. 

	He slipped out and drove off at a law-abiding speed and spent the next few hours as he sometimes did. He ate a restaurant he frequented, drinking no more than his usual single beer with his dinner.  Then he strolled along the Riverwalk among the locals who poured out 
after previously avoiding the place while the hordes of Spring Break partyers had taken over. 

	At was past 11 when he drove to the house. The warm, mellow feeling evaporated with a tightening of his gut when he saw a carnival of red and blue flashers on his street. An officer halted him and only let him through when Mike explained where he lived. Not bothering to pull into the garage, he got out in his driveway and looked more closely. 

	The police vehicles were clustered mainly around the Danvers home. There were also two ambulances, but the manner in which the EMTs stood waiting outside their vehicles told Mike they were waiting to wheel out bodies instead of living patients in dire need. Through the strobe-lit darkness came two figures his way. One was middle aged and the other younger - police detectives. Mike calmed himself, letting himself sink back into his disguise persona.

	"Detective Sergeant Stavros, Tampa PD," said the older man while he and his partner showed their badges. "This is Detective Garcia. We heard you just arrived. How long have you been gone?"

	"Uh, a few hours. I went out to dinner and then was on the Riverwalk."

	"Anyone with you?" Stavros continued in a flat Midwestern accent.

	The I-75 corridor brought a lot of people from Michigan and Ohio down to Florida's gulf coast while the Northeasterners preferred the Atlantic coast via I-95. Many of them settled here, staying to the same regions of the state they used to visit.

	"No," Mike answered.

	"Where did you eat?" Garcia asked. He sounded like he was a native of these parts.

	"Pelican Jake's. I go there a lot."

	Garcia nodded while he jotted this down. There were a few more questions that he answered to their satisfaction while his own concerns grew. Over the detective's shoulder, Mike could see the EMTs pushing two stretchers into the house. He turned back to the pair in front of him.

	"There was a little girl who lived there, Tess. Is she alright?"

	"No sign of the kid," Stavros told him. "Whoever it was that took her with them, so there's no telling."

	"She'd been better off dead here," Garcia muttered. "Considering who did..."

	He shut up when Stavros shot him a look. Garcia looked a little ill and Stavros, the veteran, didn't look so hot either. Stavros then gave his partner a sympathetic clap on the shoulder and they turned to leave. Stavros' phone buzzed and he stopped to answer it. 

	"Are you at the condo?" he said into the phone. "What the fuck? Was it just him? Shit on a Ritz cracker."

	Stavros mumbled a few other curses as he and Garcia hurried off, leaving Mike with his head hot and buzzing and his stomach icy and leaden. The conversation Garrett had been having on the phone - Mike had dismissed it as another rant, but it explained with cruel clarity why the gangster had suddenly arrived in Tampa. What the hell had the Danvers couple been planning?

	Mike was packing the next morning when the doorbell rang. Before the man outside opened his badge holder, Mike had him down as law enforcement. The identification said FBI.

	"Mr. Wellington?" the man asked, using Mike's alias. "Special Agent Jensen, FBI. Can I come in?"

	Mike stepped back to let him in and Jensen noticed the suitcase.

	"Going on a trip?"

	"Moving out," Mike answered truthfully. "I couldn't stay here anymore after what happened. The rent's paid through the summer and I don't think I'll get a refund, but I can't stay."

	"Understood," Jensen acknowledged with a nod. "But I need a favor from you. The FBI needs a favor."

	"Sure, anything. Do you have any leads on Tess?"

	"No, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Your neighbors' murders last night and the... uh, some other crimes are now part of a larger ongoing investigation. In order not to compromise some sources and advertise some of the intelligence we have, we're not making the girl's disappearance public. 

	Believe me, we're sick about this and want to find her, but her best chance if we can keep this quiet for now. That means you, too - no interviews with the media and the like. Then we'll be able to learn where she went and...her status."

	By status, Mike knew Jensen meant if Tess was alive. And the agent didn't seem too hopeful of that.

	"I understand, I guess," Mike answered slowly.

	Jensen thanked him and left. Mike stood alone in the living room, replaying the events of last night in his head.

	While the police were still busy two houses away, he left the briefcases in the car, too numb to worry about them at the moment. Only twice has he ever given a damn about someone and the second was even worse than the first. Mike shuffled through the house, not bothering with lights, and found himself standing by the pool. Flickers of blue and red showed on the far screened wall from the not so distant police cruisers. 

	Looking at the still water of the pool, the memories of the past two weeks tumbled through his brain. He knew he needed to think about how to find Tess, but he was too weak at the moment. He let the images flow - how Tess's splashes evolved in to swimming strokes; the time she hugged him after her first solo crossing of the pool's length; the way she screamed and giggled when they played monsters, always hiding in the same place where the sound of the pool net would give her away even though he pretended not to notice.

	And there was that scrape again, but with no muffled giggle. Mike blinked his eyes to clear his head - this was becoming too much. But no, the scrape had been real.

	He walked over to the chest, peering behind it. A pair of wide eyes set in a pale face peered back.

	"The monsters came," Tess said in a small, trembling voice. "And I had to hide."

	"That's my girl," Mike replied and held out his arms.

	Tess flung herself against him, burying her face in his shoulder as he lifted her. Breathing deeply, he inhaled the fragrance of little girl sweat and baby shampoo and assured her she would be safe from monsters.

	The following evening, no one paid any attention to the car as Mike left with a few belongings and one unseen passenger.

	
TWO MONTHS LATER

	Mike awoke in the large bed in a beach front villa he had purchased a few years ago on a fairly private island in the Mediterranean. As usual, he was erect and he could feel some small fingers as they spider-walked along his length. Pushing the covers off, he saw Tess grinning at him as she continued to play at his crotch. They both slept in the nude here, which made their morning routines more efficient.

	Now that Mike was awake, Tess burrowed between his legs and took his erection in her hands. She popped the head in her mouth and contentedly pulled on it with her lips and caressed with her tongue. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked and the girl ventured further down on Mike's prick - not very much, but she liked to take as much of him as she could and knew he would never try to shove her head down like those other men who troubled her dreams even less with every passing week. She still swallowed when he came, happy that she could please her man.

	Mike remained still, letting Tess dictate what she wanted next. They never spoke during sex and let their movements carry their intents. When she moved one of his arms away from side at an angle, he knew what was next.

	Tess crawled on her hands and knees over his arm, following it toward his shoulder. When she got to the right spot, Mike raised his hand, letting his fingers trail along her smooth little thighs before it found the bald, feminine jewel between them. It still amazed him that something that attracted so much desire could be so soft and tiny,

	In her cleft, he found her slightly moist. He had seen how she had her thighs clamped together while she was sucking him, rubbing them to stoke a little more flame. He fondled her sex now until she was dripping and then he straightened his finger. 

	Remaining on her hands and knees, Tess lowered herself onto this digit. Mike twisted it back and forth to help with the entry. When the tip reached her cervix, he was buried to the last knuckle. Now Tess rocked back and forth, controlling the pace. All Mike did was occasionally twist or slightly curl his finger to add a little spice to her strokes. 

	Her breaths grew heavier and the liquidy noises of her pussy reached his ears. Her sheath was snug around his digit and she closed her eyes when the heat began to build. Over time her thrusts became more urgent and her childish little figure moved with a sultry grace as she pounded herself onto his finger. 

	Tess' eyes closed lightly and her mouth opened. Her breathing was noisy and then halted abruptly when she climaxed and sent more of her nectar dribbling from between the tight seal of her hairless cunny and the man's finger. When she opened her eyes, she gave a shake of her hips to tell Mike he could withdraw.

	Sometimes they would just cuddle until he made breakfast. Other times, he wanted more and she showed no fear as she let him have her. Sometimes, he would rub his cock on the outside of her dripping cuntlet, painting her chest and tummy with his semen or perhaps pressing the just the tip into her soupy slit as he came so she could take some of his seed inside of her. 

	Today, he rolled her on her back with her head on the pillow. Tess opened her legs to welcome in and he lowered his mouth to her sex. The little girl wrapped her legs around his head and put her hands there too to invite him to their intimate feast. With the same easy pace she had used with her mouth, Mike gently licked and sucked at the four year-old's succulent pussy. 

	Sliding his hands under her rump, he captured a smooth and perfect little buttock with each hand as he continued to eat. When his tongue penetrated her, Tess pushed her tiny hips up toward him. She came with a sigh this time, lying happily still as he drank her nectar.

	This morning, she was feeling a little rambunctious and rolled out of bed. Mike followed her, drawing on his swim trunks and keying the villa's alarm off as Tess approached the French doors that led to the beach.

	The sunlight caressed her naked body. Out here, he let her play this way in the sand and water. None of his few neighbors thought it wrong for such a little girl to play in the natural. 

	One house over were two young sisters, eight and eleven, if Mike remembered correctly. He remembered both of them romping in the nude too although now they wore tiny bikini bottoms while remaining topless. The older one had begun to blossom this year, her figure showing the start of some different curves and a pair of very small breasts had bloomed, unencumbered by any covering while on the beach. They had welcomed Tess and played with her often but they were still inside at this early hour. 

	Without a swimsuit of her own, Tess had turned a lovely golden brown all over. When they would go to his other home Switzerland in the fall, she'd have to dress more. But summer meant a little more freedom.

	Tess pushed through the doors and spun around, calling Mike to hurry. Mike waved her on ahead, taking his time as he watched his little girl scamper out into the welcoming morning.



madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm





















This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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