Denver Strike by Randy Wayne White Page A

wonderful! Delicious! You taste delicious!” She took Hawker by the arm, but he pulled away and, with a moment’s hesitation, dropped himself into the icy water of the plunge pool.
    Shit!
    â€œIsn’t it the best, most wonderful, greatest thing you’ve ever felt! No wonder that old bastard Bill Nek promised to geld any man who touched me. He knew that if I ever found out how much fun it is with a healthy man, he would never ever get me back!”
    Hawker got out of the pool and brushed the water from his close-cropped dark red hair. What the icy water hadn’t done to discourage his libido, the revelation about gelding had. “Yes, Melissa, it feels wonderful and nice and all of those things you said. But don’t you think you ought to prove to yourself that you can enjoy it in places other than a steam room? Christ, I feel like corned beef.”
    Standing naked, sweating, her entire body flushed by heat and lovemaking, Melissa Nek was a truly beautiful specimen, as wild-looking and tawny as a lioness. “Yes!” she shouted to the night. “In the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, in front of the fire—”
    â€œYou’re asking a lot for only three hundred thousand,” Hawker said, climbing from the cold water.
    The woman looked at him, then did a double take. “My god, what happened? You’re all shriveled!”
    â€œIt’s not shriveled, it’s camouflaged. He’s down there someplace hiding.”
    â€œHow about if I yell ‘fire,’ then grab him when he jumps out?” the woman said, only half-kidding. She stroked Hawker’s inner thigh and took him into her hand. “The poor darling. I know just the thing to get him back out. Come with me.”
    Being led toward the house by his exhausted member, the vigilante said, “Okay—but only if I can finish my beer first.”
    Later that evening, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms naked by the fire. The vigilante stirred, opened one eye, and peeked at his watch.
    Ten eighteen P.M.
    â€œHey,” he whispered. “Hey, you.”
    The woman yawned, scratched, smiled. “Hey, yourself,” she purred. “Are you rested up? Do you want to do it again?”
    â€œWe don’t want to overdo it,” Hawker said quickly, “what with you being a beginner and all. Besides, I have to be going. When you hijacked me this afternoon, we took my friend’s car. Right now, he’s probably wondering if I’m dead or alive.” Hawker glanced down and added wryly, “Frankly, I’m not sure myself.”
    He stood. “Come on, I’m going to have to drop you near your house. I’ll bet Nek’s having fits.”
    The woman stretched luxuriously. “I have a Porsche down in the garage. I bought it just in case something like this ever came up. If the old bastard asks me where I’ve been, I’ll tell him I got restless and went out and bought a car.”
    â€œClever,” said Hawker. “What husband wouldn’t fall for that?”
    She wrapped her arms around his waist tenderly. “I’m going to see you again, aren’t I, James? I don’t think I could bear not to see you again. Besides, we have a business deal, don’t we?”
    â€œI’m not an assassin, Melissa. I’m not going to take a contract to murder your husband.”
    â€œBut you’ve already fulfilled the other half of the bargain. You made me feel so wonderful tonight, James. I’ve never felt so good in my life.”
    Hawker kissed the woman tenderly on the forehead. He was beginning to feel an unexpected affection for this troubled, impulsive, and spoiled woman. “There is something you can do for me, Melissa. I don’t need money, and even if I did I couldn’t take any for this. But there is something you can do.”
    She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Anything, darling. Just name