Nobody understands the thrill of handling a gun, aiming at a target and letting your finger pull back the trigger. Your eyes close at the sound of the bullet finally exiting the barrel.
Catherine stood in the firearm room, her feet separated at shoulder width, a hand confidently wrapped around the butt of her Glock. Her other hand steadying it so she wouldn’t miss her target, the bulls eye paper stared at her. Her finger pulled the trigger and her eighth bullet hit the same spot as the rest of them. She charged another magazine into her gun, and prepared to let her ninth bullet go through the already marked center hole.
Her finger moved tentatively on the trigger, she took a deep breath and pulled. The main lights in the room went off. Cursing she turned holding the gun straight into someone, the lights clicked back on. She was staring into the dark seductive eyes of…
“Dmitri,” she breathed out and set the gun so it touched her waist. Slightly annoyed at her interruption, she waited for him to speak. Out of the years she had practiced, it was only in rare occasions when Dmitri would interrupt her. And if he did it was for something important, so now she waited for him to talk.
It was hard not to be intimidated by Dmitri, he was tall. Even towering over her, but Catherine looked at him evenly. Waiting for him to speak he finally did,
“Your father called,” he said in his strong voice, “Rukopashka session, he sent a new man.” This sparked her interest, she looked back again at the bulls eye and saw that she had missed the center by a centimeter. Shrugging it off she headed towards her bedroom, climbing up one set of stairs, then reaching the lobby and going up the spiral grand staircase, Dmitri trailing behind her. Opening the folder he was holding he read out carefully the profile it carried in.
“General information?” she said, already thinking of her strategy.
“Twenty eight year old male, six feet two, one hundred and twenty two pounds, left handed,” Dmitri said trying to pay attention to what he was reading instead of looking at Catherine’s back part of her work out pants.
“Education?” she opened the double white doors of her bedroom, and immediately went into her closet. Filled with different garments she got out a simple and very revealing white tank top tossing it on her four poster bed she shuffled through one of the drawers in the walk-in closet.
“Proper. Not much on it, but he’s intelligent.” Shuffling through the various skirts she had, she pulled out a pink plaid one, short and meant to reveal as much of her legs as she could. Then she turned to her bra drawers. A black one popped out,
“Reason.” Catherine walked out of her closet, “Turn,” she ordered and once Dmitri had his back to her, she removed her shirt. Dmitri swallowed and tried to focus as he heard her garments hit the floor.
“His wife was killed in a car accident. Drunk driver, he wants to get some action in his life. Tired of dealing with the pain,” She snorted, Action this man was going to get action if he was joining The Organization. She finished dressing and let her hair loose from her ponytail and used a light innocent looking pink ribbon to reveal her face. Stiletto heels, she decided on those.
“Okay, look.” She waited for Dmitri to turn and was pleased to see his reaction, he couldn’t help it. Catherine had always been a beautiful girl, but when she decided to wear one of these outfits she was more than stunning. Her long legs looked longer due to her stiletto heels, and the short skirt showed how strong and tanned they really were. The white tank top was thin enough to reveal her lacy black bra, worn for a purpose. The reaction he had was the perfect one for her.
“Yes, I am ready to go.” She didn’t wait for his approval, because his approval was the moment he saw her legs. “Focus Dmitri,” she said with a smirk and started walking downstairs.
“Ahh yes,” Dmitri let out a breath of air he seemed to have been holding,
“What does my Father want me to do?” she asked, making sure her skirt was high enough to show the right amount of leg. Dmitri swallowed again. But had to follow since she was already heading towards the third flight of stairs hidden behind a single door, his steady confident walk couldn’t be compared to elegant silent gait.
“The same test the man. Push him far enough so you he can be at his limit, to get a few good hits on you. Don’t kill the guy,” she smiled a small smile and let him open the door that was on the end of the staircase, squeezing past him he whispered in her ear softly, his Russian accent purring in it. She felt in her hand being nudged by a gun, a small one.
“No, not until I give you the sign. Don’t do anything until I tell you to,” he looked into her eyes; she saw the darkness and depth of his.
“I’d do anything for you,” a rush of warmth spread over her cheeks and neck but she managed to clear her throat before stepping into the wide, wooden floor room. The large blue gym mat in the center, with a male, standing in the middle of it. Four men, all dressed in black shirts and pants, stood at the walls watching carefully. There eyes turned to Catherine and they quickly turned away, no comments or looks; just as her Father had ordered them to.
The male did turn to face Catherine who now stood three feet away from him, her eyes were distant but they looked into his green eyes. His eyes were surprised and a bit overwhelmed by the sight of her. He had never seen another female he had considered beautiful. Then she spoke in an English so fresh and clear that it was almost unreal.
“Your name.” she said, the voice professional and distant, but there was a sweet smile on her face.
“Jonathan,” he responded after only a couple of seconds still looking at her smile. She turned and took two steps back, removing her ribbon, and wrapping it slowly around her wrist, continuously smiling at her. Dmitri stepped next to Jonathan, and gave him the single order.
“Fight with her,” He stepped back just as Catherine had turned back around to face Jonathan, he was more than surprised. “Manage
He would never hit a woman, it was wrong. But it was an order. Catherine was growing impatient at his hesitation and let her fist lash out in front of him, missing his nose by inches, but managing to impact with his cheek.
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