Helping Alexei With a Hit A Soren and Alexei Short Story #2
Soren snagged the black bag he’d left at the foot of the stairs and raced to the master bedroom.
It was an enormous thing painted more boring white, but there were all these needless gold ostentations everywhere, making an otherwise plain room gaudy.
In the center of the room, an enormous bed rested on a dais.
It held only a dead, overweight white man.
Several seconds ticked by before Soren spotted Alexei sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, looking dejected.
At least, he thought he was dejected. It was hard to tell with both of them wearing black protective bodysuits that covered every part of them. They not only protected them from harm but made it nearly impossible for them to leave behind DNA evidence.
“What’s wrong?” Soren demanded from where he remained frozen in the open doorway.
“He died.” Alexei waved a hand at the bed, sounding utterly disgusted.
“I thought that was the point.”
“No!” Alexei jumped to his feet and stomped to the bed. “He woke up, took one look at me, grabbed his chest, shouted, and fucking died! He died of a goddamn heart attack!”
Soren had never been so grateful for the full-face mask, because there was no way to hold in his smile. As it was, he was barely keeping in his laughter.
“It’s not funny!” Alexei shouted. His voice cracked as if he were on the verge of tears.
Soren swallowed his amusement, and his heart squeezed for his poor, precious boyfriend. “I’m sorry. You just have to think that you scared him to death.”
Alexei’s shoulders slumped, and he hung his head. “This sucks. I had all this great torture worked out. He was going to suffer!”
Soren crossed the room and wrapped an arm around him. “I know you did, baby. But since you can’t torture him, would you like to fuck with the police instead?”
“Maybe. How?” His tone was petulant but hopeful.
Soren released Alexei and kneeled as he set the bag on the floor. He opened it up and grinned at Alexei—even though he couldn’t see it—as he pulled out a gallon-sized plastic bag filled with a thousand tiny yellow plastic ducks. “I brought ducks and superglue.”
Alexei gasped. “Do you think there’s enough to cover him and the room?”
“There will be.” Soren reached into the bag and pulled out another gallon-sized bag, but this one was filled with a thousand tiny flesh-colored dicks. “If we alternate with these. I brought ducks and dicks.”
“Oh, my fucking God, I love you so hard right now!”
Two weeks later…
“What do you mean you don’t believe me? You’ve not met Will’s cat.
He’s amazing,” Alexei argued, drawing out the last word.
Soren glanced up from where he was folding their laundry so they could begin packing.
Alexei strolled into their bedroom, holding his phone flat in front of him, and smirked at him.
Gabriel’s dry voice rolled through the room. “You go to Paris for many, many reasons in life. You do not go to Paris to visit a cat.”
Soren snorted. “There isn’t a place in the world you wouldn’t travel for those two demons you own.”
“That’s different. My cats are Norwegian Forest cats, descendants of royalty. They are precious. Will’s feline…”
Alexei rolled his eyes and flopped onto the bed. The bounce caused several of the neat stacks of folded clothes to tumble over. Soren shot his boyfriend a look and held up his hands, silently gesturing, “What the fuck?”
“Just because Oscar is an orange cat doesn’t mean he isn’t precious, too.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Look, Uncle. I need to get off here and help Soren pack. We’ve got a red-eye to the Continent.”
“That’s fine. But before I let you go, I do have a question for you…”
Soren froze, every muscle in his body tensing.
He stared at Alexei to find his lover with a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights stare.
This was how the Reaper got you. He sneaked in at the last moment when you were so sure you were safe and delivered a hit just as you relaxed.
Soren had learned to loosen up around Alexei’s uncles, but he never forgot that they were ruthless assassins.
“Huh?” Alexei choked out.
“I got a call from Marilyn the other day. She mentioned that your last client was unexpectedly delighted with your last contract and even offered a bonus.”
Alexei cleared his throat and forced some lightness into his voice that even Soren could hear was fake. “Oh, yeah, well, of course. I always deliver.”
“Except for the fact that you told me that last job was a bust.”
“I did?” Alexei’s voice jumped high enough to shatter glass.
“Fuck,” Soren muttered under his breath. “He knows.”
Gabriel huffed an almost silent laugh. “Dicks and ducks?”
Alexei snickered. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.”
After they were done, there hadn’t been an inch of the man that wasn’t covered in tiny dicks and ducks. Any potential evidence would have been lost in the cops’ efforts to remove them and the superglue. It had taken them almost two hours, but it had been worth it.
“Your uncle wants some. Send me the name of your distributor. Have a pleasant time in Paris.”
Gabriel ended the call, and they both succumbed to giggles.
Ducks and dicks indeed.