The Love You Crave

5.

Present Day… Donovan Creed.

“When you say she lost her head,” Callie says, “what do you mean?”

I shrug. “The top and sides of her head exploded.”

“Where was the bomb? In her mouth?”

“Inside her head.”

“What?”

“It had to be a very small explosive, either on top of her head, or inside her skull. Hard as it is to imagine, I think it was inside.”

“Like your brain chip?”

“Except that it explodes instead of heating up,” I say.

“Lucky’s company?”

“It’s possible.”

Jim “Lucky” Peters, the famous Vegas gambler, was murdered one week ago. As it happens, Callie’s lover, Eva LeSage, was murdered at the same time. Callie’s current love interest, Gwen, is Lucky’s widow.

Small world, right?

Twenty feet from us, in Callie’s kitchen, Gwen’s eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, oblivious to the irony. She’s wearing boxer shorts and a scarlet UNLV t-shirt with gray lettering.

Gwen isn’t Callie hot, but you could fry an egg on any part of her.

Callie sees me staring at her girlfriend.

“Down, boy,” she says.

“I saw her first,” I say.

It’s true. I seduced Gwen hours before Callie met her.

“But I saw her best,” Callie says.

Also true. While I’ve never had complaints from the women I’ve dated, Callie has a double advantage over me. First, she and Gwen share the same plumbing. Second, she understands the handbook, meaning she can make sense out of all the emotional wiring a woman brings into the bedroom. All the unspoken stuff Callie instinctively understands allows her to not only be Gwen’s physical partner, but her emotional tampon, as well.

Gwen was bisexual when I met her, so Callie didn’t turn her. But Callie won her away from me in record time.

It wasn’t even a contest.

There are other reasons. The fact I already have a steady girlfriend, Rachel, may have been a factor. Also, Callie’s a drop-dead gorgeous force of nature, and fiercely monogamous, while I have a tendency to stray. I mean, I don’t lie about it. I just haven’t found the right woman yet. Well, that’s not entirely true. I found the right woman at least twice. But that’s a story for the second bourbon. Also, Callie lives in a multi-million dollar penthouse condo and I often live in the attics of strangers. Gwen probably feels more secure with Callie. She just lost her husband, Callie just lost her girlfriend, and Lucky’s estate is in Vegas. Callie lives in Vegas. Makes sense, right?

Here’s how things got to this point: Lucky and Gwen were having a weekly three-way with Callie’s girlfriend. When Callie caught Lucky and Eva fucking, she killed them on the spot, but spared Gwen for my benefit. Fate brought Gwen and Callie together, then they connected, and they’ve been together ever since.

Meaning two whole weeks.

I’m still holding out hope that Gwen realizes there’s something missing in her relationship with Callie.

A penis.

Something I’ve got in abundance.

Well, something I’ve got, anyway.

Gwen’s got something, too. Behind one of her implants, she’s hiding a small, ceramic device that can be programmed to kill me. It’s…

Look, it’s a long story.

I’ve got a chip in my brain. Not the kind that blows up like the lamp post lady’s did this morning, but the kind that turns white-hot and can liquefy my brain. My version is less messy than hers, but just as lethal. And while her chip appears to have been activated from a van, close by, I assume it works like the chip in my brain, which can be activated by satellite from nearly anywhere in the world. I don’t know if our chips are related, but I have to assume they are. What I do know is the device Gwen has behind her boob can kill me. And I aim to have it.

Other than the fact I’d like to spend some horizontal time with Gwen, I’m hanging around Vegas till I can retrieve the device from behind Gwen’s boob.

Sounds ridiculous, right? But what’re you going to do?

It is what it is.

Callie and I have explained all this to Gwen, but she’s reluctant to do the surgery. If it weren’t for Callie, I’d perform the surgery myself. But Gwen’s boobs are spectacular, even better than her husband, Lucky’s, boob job had been. Lucky had gotten his boobs after losing a bet, and…

Never mind.

I know what you’re thinking. This whole situation is nuts. Well, it’s even nuttier than you think: Lucky’s girlfriend was the plastic surgeon who performed Gwen’s implant surgery.

But still. Her boobs are like the eighth wonder of the world, and you’d hate to mess that up. Nevertheless, I can’t allow Gwen’s boobs to fall into the wrong hands.

It could literally be the end of me.

So I’m losing my patience.

“I’ll give you till three o’clock to set the appointment,” I say to Callie. “Otherwise, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Callie says.

Callie’s my protege. Aside from me, she’s the deadliest human on the planet. I could be wrong about us being the two deadliest. After all, I haven’t met every human on the planet. But I’m in the killing business, so I know most of the deadly ones, and so far we’re one and two on the list. A formidable combination, we are, and based on a great working relationship, one I’d like to maintain.

Which means I’m not going to let a pair of boobs come between us. On the other hand, I aim to have that chip. Callie knows this. She may have a thing for Gwen, but she needs me more. We’re government assassins, and I’m the key to her job opportunities. There are six of us. I run the crew, Callie’s my main operative. So she’ll come through. I’m waiting for her to say something right now about it. She’s about to say something.

But doesn’t.

“I mean it,” I say.

And I do. I stand.

“Where are you going?” Callie says.

“To visit Ropic Industries.”

“You’ll never get in the door.”

I smile. Callie doesn’t know I’ve been planning this for a full week. Gwen doesn’t know, either.

Callie frowns. “What’re you up to?”

I nod my chin toward the kitchen, indicating Gwen. “When Lucky died, Gwen became the majority stockholder of Ropic Industries,” I say.

“So?”

I let her think about that for a minute. Then a smile slowly spreads across Callie’s face.

It’s a helluva face.