Naughty by Ann Voss Peterson, J.A. Konrath, Jack Kilborn Read Free Book Online

for many things. It showed you were unarmed. It projected vulnerability. To some people it was a shock, and to others a distraction. As she staggered to Guterez’s car, she had a pretty good hunch he’d let her in, or at least open the window to talk.
    Her hunch proved correct. When she was within five meters of the car, the rear window lowered. Hammett saw an older mustachioed Mexican man stretched out in the back seat. On his lap was a Mexican girl wearing whorish make-up who looked young enough to still play with dolls.
    “Problema, señorita?”
Guterez asked. His eyes were wide, and he looked inordinately pleased with himself.
    Hammett fell onto one knee, counting off in her head.
    Twenty-two… twenty-three…
    She didn’t glance to see if Heath was circling around to take the driver, and wasn’t sure he’d actually follow her orders. But she went on the assumption that his obvious infatuation, coupled with his need to show off, made him a temporary ally.
    “Por favor, señor! Por favor!”
she yelled to the limo.
    A few staggering steps later and she was at his window.
    “Qué pasa?”
    “Me violaron. Ayúdame, por favor.”
    Guterez’s amused expression morphed into a leer.
“ Dígame.”
    Thirty-eight… thirty-nine…
    Hammett reached into the window, grabbed Guterez’s upper lip by the mustache, and yanked as hard as she could, pulling his head out the window. A moment later, the driver’s door opened, and she wondered if she’d misjudged Heath and he’d abandoned her. But then there was an “ummph” and the sound of a body hitting the street, followed immediately by a gun skittering across the pavement.
    Guterez was also reaching for a gun, but his bent position, and the minor still on his lap, meant he couldn’t get his hand into his suit jacket.
    Hammett used her other hand, latched it onto his ear, and tugged until he had no choice but to follow her out the window or literally lose face. When the back of his neck was exposed, she dropped an elbow and snapped his spine as deftly as breaking a board in karate class.
    “Vete a casa,”
she told the girl.
    The girl scurried out the opposite door and ran into the night.
    “It gives me much pleasure to watch you work,
querida
.”
    Heath had taken the driver’s seat, and was staring at her through the partition, smiling. Hammett opened the door, let Guterez flop out, and climbed into the back.
    “Do you have my clothes?”
    “Yes. But must you put them on? It is like hanging a sheet over a Degas. Such beauty should not be covered up.”
    Was this guy for real?
    She decided to find out.
    “You said something about the Hotel Solamar?” Hammett said.
    He stepped on the gas.
    “Celebrate life when you can,” The Instructor said. “It’s what you should be doing between ops.”
    They didn’t make it to the Hotel Solamar.
    When they were less than a mile away from Guterez’s murder, Hammett told Heath to pull over. He parked in an alley and got into the back with her. He reached for the champagne.
    She reached for his fly.
    She freed him in one, deft movement and wrapped her hand around him, already half hard in her fist.
    He groaned deep in his throat, struggling to remove his pants without interrupting the stroke of her palm, the tease of her fingertips. After almost a minute of fumbling, he managed to push his pants down his legs and kick them free. Then his mouth was on hers.
    Hammett had always found it easy to tell from a man’s kiss how he would be in bed. Some hurried the exchange, as if it was a chore one had to endure in order to get to the rest. Some were soft and romantic, imagining themselves soulful lovers when in reality, they were simply lazy and uninspiring. And then there was Heath.
    Heath kissed with his whole body, as if lips and hands and hips and cock were all making love to her at once. And Hammett found herself wondering if, when this was over, she really needed to kill him. As if sensing her thoughts, Heath pulled