Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

to his chin to his mouth. Rose frowned, concentrating on the moment, on the sensations. Brett kissed her fingertips, one at a time. Rose pulled her hand away, held it up before her face, and looked at it. Brett sat very still. And then Rose reached out, took his hand in her deadly killer's hand, and moved his fingertips slowly across her face. He smiled encouragingly. There was something new in the room with them. Brett leaned over in his chair and pressed his other hand on the red leathers over her chest. The material creaked loudly, as her breasts rose and fell.
    "Brett," said Rose. "I think . . ."
    "Don't think," said Brett. "Just feel."
    "This is new. It isn't like killing."
    "Not everything has to be about killing."
    He took her firmly by the chin, and pulled her face close to his. She studied him, wide-eyed. When he kissed her, it was clear this was new to her too. He showed her what to do, not hurrying, careful not to be aggressive or forceful. This was Rose, after all. He was still scared of her, but ... he could feel something beginning between them. A new connection that might be friendship or lust or something else entirely. And, he had to admit, it was exciting. There was a real charge to making out with someone who might just kill you if you upset her.
    Rose pulled back, their lips separating almost reluctantly. She looked at Brett, frowning again as she tried to work out how she felt. She looked down at his hand on her breast and put her hand over his, increasing the pressure. Brett slowly undid the buttons of his shirt, and pulled it open to reveal his bare chest. He took her bare hand, and brought it to his chest. Rose's dark mouth moved in the beginnings of a smile. If it had been anyone else, Brett would have sworn it was a shy smile. He smiled back. Rose's fingertips moved curiously across his chest, not needing his hand to guide her.
    And then they heard footsteps approaching from outside. Finn was back. Brett didn't know whether he felt relieved or not. Rose leaned back in her chair again, pulling on her leather glove, her face calm and impassive. Brett did up his shirt. When Finn came in, they were both sitting quietly in their separate chairs, looking in different directions. And if they were both breathing just a little heavily, what of that?
    Certainly Finn didn't seem to notice anything amiss as he came bustling in, saying something hearty about a new mission. Brett missed the first few words. He'd just noticed that his stomach had stopped hurting.
    "Brett! You're not listening to me!" Finn said sharply, dangerously.
    "Hanging on your every word, sir Durandal," Brett said immediately. "A new mission. Always happy to serve. Wait a minute; hold everything, go back, go previous. Did you just say you wanted me to go out into the city again? You do know I can't show this face in public? Not after gutshooting the Deathstalker, right in front of the camera. Paragons may not be the flavor of the month right now, but the Champion still has his fans. Particularly among the peacekeepers. They spot this face, and I'm a dead man!"
    "Then show them another face," said Finn. "You have several to choose from, after all. It's your own fault; I have no sympathy. You should have spotted that camera. Very unprofessional behavior."
    "I was distracted, all right? Conversations like this are why I always prefer to work alone."
    "You have other identities," said Finn. "Pick one of them. I need you out in the city within the hour."
    "Within the hour? Jesus, Finn, whatever happened to forward planning? It takes time to become someone else. And visits to a body shop I can trust. The whole point of a back-up identity is to produce a whole different image, right down to the body language. You don't just slap on a wig and walk funny . .
    ."
    "All you need for now is an appearance sufficiently different that you won't be arrested in the street,"
    Finn said firmly. "Don't worry; the odds are, no one would recognize you anyway, where you're going."
    There was something in the way he said that which made Brett's heart sink. "All right; I'll bite. Where am I going this time?"
    "I'm sending you to speak with the ELFs," said Finn. "To make a deal with them, on my behalf."
    Brett was out of his chair and up on his feet in a moment, too outraged even to be scared. "Are you out of your mind? No one goes looking for ELFs! I like having my brain where it is, not leaking out my ears!
    I wouldn't go near an ELF if you gave me a dozen