The Housewife Assassin's Ghost Protocol by Josie Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

“These suit you. Put on the right one, then the left.”
    “Don’t you want to do the honors?” My God, he made such a big deal about it last time: getting down on one knee, lifting my foot to it, unstrapping the shoe I wore. Ah, good times.  
    He frowns. “No. I remember…something…but it did not go well.”
    No gentle reminders from me. Far be it from me to get on his bad side now.
    I take the shoes from him. He watches me as I step into them. When I bend to adjust the strap of one, his hand slides over my backside. He pauses to see what I do.
    Nothing.
    He slaps it so hard that I lose my balance.
    At that, he laughs.  
    Thank goodness the other shoe’s strap doesn’t need adjusting. I hold my hands behind my back, faking the fact that I’m duly chastened.
    He walks over to the wall holding the sex toys and chooses a three-pronged whip.
    He doesn’t see me pick up the Taser gun. My hands are behind me again before he has a chance to turn around.
    As he faces me, I say in my best little girl voice: “Are you going to let me choose my poison?”  
    “Why don’t we take turns, my dear?” He snaps the whip in the direction of the wall. “What is your name, anyway? Not that it matters. When I’m through with you, your name will be a distant memory to you—”
    He doesn’t remember me.
    But…how can that be?
    “—by the time you join the other women chosen for our new little enterprise.”
    “By that, do you mean the slave auction that you’ve got going on here?”
    He chuckles. “No, no! The auction is petit amusement , not the business of the day, by any means! You came here because you don’t mind a little roleplaying. Our organization is giving you the ultimate opportunity to do just that—”
    Suddenly, the ship rocks violently.  
    The lights go dark.  
    I crouch low. The great news: He can’t see me.
    The bad news: I can’t see him either.
    In the meantime, a dull and steady alarm moans through the hull’s intercom system. Whatever happened must be serious enough to abandon ship.
    Salem makes the first move, swinging the whip.  
    It catches my arm. When I grunt from the pain, he snickers. Hearing another whoosh, I duck in time to miss his next strike.
    My retaliation comes with a jolt from the Taser.  
    I realize I’ve struck gold—or something more precious to him—when it lights up the room for a moment, showing me where he now has a terrible owie: On his chest.
    The shock throws him backward, into the steel table. As it rolls away, the items that were arrayed upon it clatter to the floor.
    No doubt he’s down for the count—
    Which means I should get the hell out —now.
    I head for the door, when suddenly the yacht rears up on one side and tosses me in another direction. Shit, whatever hit it must have made some big gash in its hull. We must be taking on water.  
    Suddenly, Salem grabs ahold of my ankle. He jerks me onto my knees and is pulling me toward him.  
    What the hell? He should be out cold, considering that the Taser has enough power to immobilize a raging bull! What are those pills he’s popping?  
    The thought hits me too late that he may have a few more weapons at his disposal. I reach down and zap him again with the Taser, then I scramble away.
    He howls a string of curses in something other than English: another advantage to being multi-lingual.  
    It’s so dark that I’ve lost my bearings. Still I rise to my feet in order to inch my way in what I hope is the opposite direction—
    Only to be burned on my calf by a jolt of electricity from the cattle prod. Now it’s my turn to cuss up a storm.  
    The yacht gives yet one more lurch as it heaves to one side, and sends us rolling. In the dark I can’t tell which way is up—
    Until my back hits the door handle. Fucking ouch!
    I hear the sound of something slicing the air. It pierces the wall to the right above my head. Very carefully I reach for it—
    And cut my finger on the blade of the cleaver.  
    I