Death's Hitman

Chapter One

He leaned back in his chair watching as the tall blonde woman circled the floor his deep brown eyes following her every movement. The room was dark, with a spotlight highlighting the blonde who was currently dancing provocatively, her PU catsuit clinging to every curve and the whip in her hand flourishing around her as music played. His gaze shifted though to the x shaped structure where a petite redhead was strapped by her ankles and wrists, her hair tied in a ponytail and her eyes staring straight ahead. There was a confidence about her which he admired and when the whip struck her exposed back she threw back her head with a silent moan.

"Your drink, sir," a quiet voice murmured beside him, as the whiskey shot was placed on the table in front of him with a small napkin. His eyes didn't move from the scene in front of him but when he heard the waitress go to move away a hand shot out to grip her wrist.

"Stay right where you are," he ordered.

"Yes sir," she replied quietly, dropping to her knees beside his chair obediently. He released her wrist and focused all of his concentration on the smaller of the two women in the show. His attention was suddenly diverted though by a tall, broad man in a purple suit who cleared his throat and waited to be acknowledged.

"Everything OK here?" the new man enquired.

"Papa Charles," the man almost growled in greeting.

"Don't see you in here often Hitman," he commented. Hitman picked up his drink and scowled.

"You trying to get into my business Papa Charles?"

"No sir, course not. Your business ain't my business. Just if I can help...?"

Hitman looked up at him, a thoughtful expression on his face. He swallowed his drink down in a gulp.

"Get me another," he ordered the girl who got to her feet swiftly to obey. He then looked across at Papa Charles. "Maybe. Tell me about the girl there." He pointed to the two women and Papa Charles followed his finger and smiled.

"Ah, you mean Rita? She is very popular with my clients. A powerful and intoxicating woman indeed, reminiscent of the Amazonian. Rumour has it that that is where she originally plied her trade..."

"Not her. I've no interest in what she has to offer," said Hitman, disdainfully. "The small redhead. Who is she?"

"Maeve ? She is descended from the Tuatha de Danann, one of the original Sidhe. A rare and beautiful creature..."

"Yeah spare me the sales pitch, demon. I'm not interested. Bring her here. I want to look at her."

Papa Charles nodded and went across to Rita, standing next to her and whispering in her ear. She glanced back at Hitman, narrowing her eyes but then she nodded and went across to the x frame, unfastening the ties and talking to the smaller woman. Maeve stood rubbing her wrists for a moment but then walked confidently across to Hitman who watched her approach from his seat. The waitress quietly put his drink down and then resumed her position, kneeling beside him, her eyes watching all the time, fixed on him. Hitman got slowly to his feet and approached Maeve. He placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him and his eyes searched her face briefly before he shook his head, sitting down again.

"Something is wrong, sir?" Maeve asked and he glared at her.

"You can go back to your mistress," he replied, darkly. As she walked away from him he grabbed his whiskey. "Fuck!" His exclamation startled the girl at his side and she flinched, glancing up at him warily. Papa Charles came across rubbing his hands together anxiously.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. Hitman looked up at him.

"Any more redheads here?" he asked, downing his drink and ordering another. The waitress looked at him warily as she went but he didn't see as he was focussed on Papa Charles, who looked thoughtful.