With legs incapable of doing much more than holding me up, I stumbled toward the front of the car while Vince walked around the other side.

“I feel like your cock is still in my chest.”

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

“Good.” I braced myself against the side of the vehicle. “I mean. It beats the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“You having a little dick.”

“I was cursed, that’s for sure.”

I reached for the door handle. “Blessed is more like it.”

I heard his door open and then close. After letting out a long breath, I opened the door and climbed inside. “I might have to take the rest of the day off.”

“Why’s that?”

I looked at my shaking knees and chuckled. “I can’t fucking walk for starters.”

“Is it that bad? The size?”

His cock was huge, no doubt. But, it was perfect. So much so that I feared he ruined me from ever enjoying being fucked by anyone other than him. I’d undoubtedly compare every other cock in my life to his. Never having him fuck me again wasn’t something I wanted to think about.

“No. It’s good. I just. I’m out of practice.” I pulled the door closed and then looked at him. “If we could keep doing this, I’m sure my pussy would be in great shape in no time.”

“I might agree to that.”

“I think I could manage to make time for a few more sessions,” I said with a laugh. “Just a few, though.”

“It might be that your pussy is too damned tight. Did you ever consider that you’ve got a small twat?”

“I hate that word.”

“Twat?”

“Yes. That and the c-word.”

“C-word?”

I sighed. “Cunt.”

“Oh. Yeah. I hate that one, too.”

“Did you like it, though? My twat. It wasn’t uncomfortable, was it?”

“A tight pussy is a good pussy,” he said. “Yours is fabulous.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

He looked at his watch. “We’ve got eleven minutes. What do you want to do?”

“Take a nap?”

“Coffee? Taco? Back to work?”

“I might call it a day.”

“Can you do that?”

I could barely walk, but I expected that would change in a short time. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep from daydreaming for the rest of the afternoon. My mind was wherever it typically drifted to after a really good fucking, and I doubted I’d be back to normal for a few hours.

“I doubt I’ll be much good,” I said. “Let’s get a coffee, and I’ll call in sick.”

He started the car. “Sick?”

“My mind’s out in space somewhere. I can’t work.”

“So’s mine,” he said with a laugh. “I think you sucked my brains out the tip of my dick.”

“I heard when a man comes that his IQ drops like 100 points. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but that’s what someone told me.”

He laughed as he reached for the gear shifter. “I don’t know about that, but when you sucked my cock my mind went blank.”

I giggled. “I sucked you stupid.”

He backed up, turned around, and then started driving toward the parking lot’s exit. “You sure did.”

I gazed out the side window. Much to my surprise, the area didn’t look familiar at all. “Where are we?”

“A couple blocks from your dealership. On Don Lee Place.”

“Oh. I had no idea.”

As he drove toward the coffee shop, I reclined the seat and relaxed. “How many vehicles do you have, anyway?”

“Several,” he said. “I normally use this for other things. I was going to take it to be serviced this afternoon.”

“What kind of things?”

“Business.”

“Oh. In one of the industries you work in?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

“One of them, yes,” he said flatly.

I decided whatever he used it for was none of my business, and decided to take the conversation somewhere friendly. “How many is several?” I asked. “You said you had several vehicles.”

“Maybe ten. Give or take.”

“You have ten cars? Where do you keep them?”

“I’ve got three homes. There’s three or four at each house, excluding the motorcycles. Maybe twelve, total. I’d really have to think about it.”

“Twelve cars?”

He shrugged. “They each serve a purpose.”

I was fascinated. “Like what?”

“There’s a coffee shop up here, but it’s not a Starbucks. It’s got the best cold brew in the world. Mind trying it?”

“Okay by me.”

I glanced out the window. I was completely unfamiliar with the area, and found it unbelievable that we were a matter of blocks from my dealership. By the looks of the graffiti painted on the sides of the buildings, my guess was that I had no business ever trying to get acquainted with the neighborhood.

We pulled into a place called Kettle Coffee and Tea, and walked inside. The mouth-watering aroma of fresh brewed coffee hit me like a freight train as soon as the door opened. I enjoyed the scenery of the quaint shop while he ordered, wondering the entire time why they weren’t located elsewhere. In a matter of seconds, we were both enjoying a cup of the best cold brewed coffee I’d ever tasted.

“Oh my God,” I said. “This is heaven.”

“Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s spectacular. How’d you find this place?”

“A customer introduced me to it.”

“Tell him or her thank you.”

“If I ever see him again, I will.”

He held the front door for me, and stared at my ass as I walked past. My opinion of him had changed drastically in the past two days, and I wondered with a nickname like Mister Prick, how many people truly knew much about him. It seemed the more I learned about him, the easier it was to like him.

I sipped my coffee as we walked across the lot, taking an admiring glance at him every few steps. Just as we reached the back of the car, he looked to the left, and then stopped in his tracks.

“Get in the car, Jess,” he said in a demanding tone. “Don’t unlock the door for anyone but me. No matter what happens out here, you’ll be safe. The vehicle’s armored, and the glass is bullet proof.”

Bullet proof?

I spun around. “What’s going on?”

Instead of responding, he tossed the key fob in my direction.

I caught the keys and scanned the lot, trying to figure out what was wrong. Nothing looked out of place. But, something was wrong. Bad wrong. I wondered if Marty was coming for revenge.

“Vince, what’s going on?” I stammered.

He set his cup of coffee on the back bumper. “Now,” he said, his tone stern. “Lock the doors and keep the windows rolled up.”

I fumbled with the key fob, and eventually got the door unlocked. Two Hispanic men got out of a Cadillac that was parked a few stalls over just as I hopped inside.

Dressed in khaki colored slacks and short-sleeved button-down shirts, they looked like businessmen.

Angry businessmen.

I locked the doors. My heart raced. With no idea of what was going on, why I was locked inside a bullet proof Mercedes, or what was going to happen to Vince, fear washed over me as they approached.

Vince adjusted his stance, spreading his feet apart slightly. His hands slowly raised half the distance to his chest, and his fingers curled toward his palms.

I hadn’t realized it before, but being locked inside the vehicle with Vince outside, it was apparent just how soundproof the vehicle was. One of the two men was talking, and I couldn’t hear a single word.

After what appeared to be a heated argument, the second man pulled a gun from the waist of his pants and pointed it at Vince.

Oh my God.

A wad of fear got tangled in my throat, all but blocking me from breathing. As I struggled to take a breath, Vince’s hands became a blur.

Somehow, he snatched the gun from the man’s hands. Then, he planted his right foot against the man’s chest, kicking him to the ground.

Holy shit!

It happened in an instant, but the finesse of Vince’s movements told me it wasn’t the first time he’d done something of that nature.

He then pointed the gun at the second man. The man’s eyes thinned. With the gun pointed at his head, he had no alternative but to lower himself to the parking lot beside his defeated friend.

Facing away from me, Vince walked backward toward the SUV. Upon reaching it, he tapped his left hand against the glass while he pointed the gun at the two men with his right.

I crawled into the driver’s seat and opened the door slightly.

“Open the center console,” he said over his shoulder. “Hand me two pairs of handcuffs.”

I opened the console.

Inside, two pistols were secured to the sides of the compartment, each in a plastic holster. At the bottom of the console, there were bundles of hundred-dollar bills, a flashlight, a flip phone, and several pairs of handcuffs.

I grabbed two pairs of handcuffs and placed them in his palm.

“Anything else?”

“This ought to do it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Just a little hiccup.”

It may have been a hiccup to him, but as far as I was concerned, it was a big deal. I wasn’t accustomed to being robbed at gunpoint while getting a cup of coffee. I’d been out with Vince twice, and both times included guns, money, and handcuffs.

After handcuffing the men’s hands behind their backs, he positioned them alongside the Cadillac. He then searched their car, the trunk, and under the hood. He returned to the SUV with two canvas gym bags.

I opened the door. “Is everything still okay?”

He hopped inside, tossed the bags into the back seat, and opened the console. “I’ve got to make a quick call,” he said calmly. “I’ll need you to be quiet.”

“Okay.”

He grabbed the flip-phone, opened it, and pressed a few buttons. Then, he raised the phone to his ear.

“This is Black. Thirty-four, twenty-two, nine, seven, nine. 119 E Grand. I’ve got two HM. I need them transported ASAP. I’m naked.”

He glanced at the men, and then peered through the windshield. “Aside a late model Cadillac, silver in color. Latter thirties, tan slacks, short-sleeved shirts, one salmon, the other light blue. Be advised, Luis and Diego Ortiz. Repeat, Ortiz.”

“Affirmative. ETA?”

“Roger ten minutes. Black out.”

He closed the phone and dropped it into the console.

I guess I should have been mortified, but I wasn’t. I was a little scared, a little shocked, and a whole bunch of intrigued.

“What in the fuck is going on?” I whispered.

He exhaled a long breath and then looked at me. “Can I trust you?”

“I let you in the car, didn’t I?”

He cleared his throat. “Can I trust you?”

“One hundred percent,” I said.

His hazel eyes stared into mine for what seemed like an eternity. “I work for the government.”

“Who’s government?”

“Ours. The United States.”

“Are you a police officer?”

“Not exactly.”

I coughed out a laugh. “What does that mean?”

“I work for a faction of the CIA.”

“Is your name Black?”

“Kind of.”

“Is your name Vince?”

“Yes.”

As my mind reeled to process what had happened, what was happening, and just who Vince might be, one of the men stood.

“One of them’s getting up,” I shouted.

He pushed the door open, pointed the pistol toward the man, and fired a shot into the door of the Cadillac between the two men.

“Siéntate, o te pondré una bala en la cabeza, pendejo,” Vince shouted.

The man sat down.

As if it was just another day in the life of Vince ‘Black’ Devoe, he hopped in the car and gave me a charming smile. “I’ll explain everything over dinner. How’s that?”

The man in the blue shirt stood. Before I could say anything, he took off running.

I wagged my finger toward the window. “One of them’s running away,” I screeched.

“Son of a fucking bitch.” He opened the console, grabbed one of the pistols, and tossed the other into my lap. “If Diego moves, shoot him.”

He jumped out the door and took off running.

I’d never held a gun, much less fired one. Nevertheless, I picked up the pistol. Surprised by its weight, I hoisted it to arm’s length and scrambled to climb over the passenger seat and outside the car.

I took Spanish in college, but my ability to speak it was limited. The only words that came to mind were do and nothing, so that’s what I said. Do nothing.

I pointed the pistol at him. “Hacer nada.”

I had no idea who the men were, but it was obvious Vince did. He even knew their names. Convinced they were drug lords, and that Vince was on a super-secret CIA mission in the war against drugs, I held the pistol as steady as I could while Vince tackled the runaway in a 7-Eleven parking lot a ways down the block.

I felt powerful. Like I was making a difference. The sense of sexual euphoria escaped me and was replaced with a rush of adrenaline that all but made me high. I’d found my calling in life, and it wasn’t selling BMWs.

As Vince lifted his would-be escapee to his feet, two black Chevy Suburbans careened into the parking lot. One came to a screeching stop behind the Cadillac, and the other parked beside it.

Men dressed in military-type clothing jumped out. Armed with machineguns, and wearing bullet-proof vests, they surrounded the Cadillac.

“She’s my CI,” Vince shouted.

They acted like they didn’t even care. While several of them searched the Cadillac, two others dragged Diego to the SUV.

In seconds, the two men were tossed into to the back seat of the Suburban. There were no handshakes nor were niceties exchanged. There was no paperwork filled out, no arrest reports, no pats on the back, and no cigar smoking captain who scolded Vince for putting the general public in jeopardy for firing a shot in a coffee shop’s parking lot.

I stared in awe as the SUVs sped away. Vince shoved the pistol into the waist of his jeans and then reached for mine.

“What’s a CI?” I asked as I handed the pistol over. “You said I was your CI.”

“Confidential Informant.”

“Like a partner?”

He chuckled. “Of sorts.”

“I don’t want to go back to work,” I said.

“I thought we’d discussed that already? You were going to call in sick, and we were going to go to dinner.”

“No,” I said. “I mean ever. I want to do this. With you.”

He shoved the second pistol into his pants and looked me over. As the sound of sirens wailed in the distance, he pointed toward the car.

“Get in. We’ve got to get out of here before the cops get here. I hate explaining shit to the cops. They never understand, and it’s always a mile of paperwork.”

“Partners,” I said. “Yes, or no?”

The sirens grew closer.

“We’ll see,” he said.

I knew what we’ll see meant, and it wasn’t the answer I was after.”

“C’mon.” He gestured toward the door. “We’ve got to go. Seriously.”

“Let me help you. We can fuck and fight crime. No strings attached.”

He glanced toward the flashing lights of the approaching cop cars and then looked at me. “Fuck and fight crime, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

He looked me up and down. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

I grinned. After licking my lips nervously, I winked. It was all I could think to do.

He nodded toward the door. “Get in.”

“Yes, or no?”

He glanced over his shoulder and then reached for the door. “Having a woman with me would give me some new opportunities, for sure. Does this deal include those toe-curling blowjobs?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Do we have a deal?”

He opened the door. “Get in partner.”

I hopped in the car and climbed over the console. As he pulled the door closed, I fastened my seatbelt. “What’s this job pay, anyway?”

“As much as we take from the bad guys.” He started the car and glanced over his right shoulder as he backed up. “We keep it all. It helps fund further operations.”

“No shit?”

He shifted the car into gear, shot over the curb, and merged into traffic. “No shit. Technically, I guess half of what I tossed in back is yours. As we’re partners and all.”

“What did you toss in back?”

He shrugged. “Probably four or five million.”

My jaw fell open. “Dollars?”

“Correct.”

“Half of which is mine?”

“Also correct.”

I leaned over the console and reached for his zipper. “You opposed to road head?”

“Tough saying,” he said with a smile. “I’ll let you know in a minute.”

Fucking, fighting crime, and stealing money from the bad guys.

Life couldn’t get any better than that.