Look Away, Look Away...Look Away
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Consensual, Fiction, Western, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Slow, Caution, 2nd POV, Military,
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Prologue - There was something to be admired in those bygone times. That War of Northern Aggression was very similar to ours with the Pony Soldiers; neither really won, but don't say that too loudly. A lot of things might have changed but what didn't was that both of us were raised to kill and fight and not run away like some 'namby pamby' schoolgirl. Times had changed, I'll try to tell you a story of the old way and how that change affected us. There was a lot to admire about others, I found out.
It had been around 150 years since the war began. Time never seemed to go by when fighting took place. Muskets, bows and arrows had been replaced by AR-15 and AK-47 arms but the hate for the enemy was still as strong as ever.
The Hatfield–McCoy feud (started 1863) involved two families in the West Virginia(Virginia back then)–Kentucky area along the Tug Fork of the Big Sandy River. The Hatfield's of West Virginia were led by William Anderson "Devil Anse" Hatfield while the McCoy's of Kentucky were under the leadership of Randolph "Ole Ran'l" McCoy. Those involved in the feud were descended from Ephraim Hatfield (born c. 1765) and William McCoy (born c. 1750).
Some folks thought that war was over long ago. Wrong, there was about as much chance of that happening as the other little scuffle ending; The War of Northern Aggression. (Civil War to you Yankees) Y'all been to "Lanna or Richmond lately. The South did rise y'know. So will our kind, someday maybe.
Just a bit of information as to why bring up those past wars, some say they are current though, it indicates the culture and history of much of the South. Fighting, honour and dedication to a cause was the way they were raised. If you don't believe me, try standing up in a bar or dance hall and call out for 'Dixie' to be played. South of the Mason-Dixon line things have not changed very much for 200 years or more. Many boys in the South were shooting from about the same time they learned to walk and talk.
Well, anyhow, those 'youngins' got a ton of training. No, not everyone got to go and train at VMI (Virginia Military Institute) you had to 'cipher' some but there was an unwritten code, none of that made up history stuff would be taught to a 'good ole boy' when they enlisted. Furthermore, Virginia was as far North and Texas as far West as they would go, if they did not adhere to that there would be Hell to pay, and even the 'Uknitted Fools' did not want that. Them 'pretty boy Occifers' from up North, made damn fine targets (can you say Frag).
Swamps, water, quicksand, 'Black Widows' and big Brown Recluse spiders, mixed in with two kinds of bad 'muther' snakes and you have an idea of the environment of the USMC Appreciation & Indoctrination course(USNA pre-selection). (Quantico Va.) I think if you survived that week you could do anything. Once they tell you to stop and drop you better hope you are not above some snake's nest, forget those spiders they are everywhere. If you can sleep during the night, they (Critters) just love the extra warmth you give off too. I guess that mantra that tells of the few, and proud is about the ones that lived through that training.
That kind of conditioning was repeated across the world. I found out there were some harder and more deadly ones too. Navy Seals, SIS(Formerly SBS and SAS), Spetnaz, Force Recon, Ranger, Mossad (Not Reg IDF), BIS(Czech) and FFL(French Foreign Legion) to name a few, trained just as hard and some harder, like the FFL Para, Russian Red Berets and Czech's Interdiction Squads, and some of which did not have PC limits placed on them (Real equality for you ladies out there).
What no one said was there were one or two others, still even a might tougher, but these really had no name. These guys and gals gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'Left my heart in Dixie!' A few stories about some of them will follow. Our people too had to adapt and learn, only we did it over many moons. One thing that never seemed to change though is that there was always somebody wanting to take whatever we had away from us.
One such group, albeit a small and irregular one, appears in this first portion of our story. Many of those 'official' type or military elite teams have one thing missing from what this one has. Most do not have the element of being unpredictable. Another, for us, there are no orders, guidelines, code of conduct or chain of command to hide behind. The job gets done or one dies, it is that simple.
Most of our jobs were the kind one could walk (Or Run) away from. They usually did not command the huge fees and many were done in teams of 2-6. When you absolutely, positively had to get a 'job' done you would send a very special contractor in, and damn the price asked. Not every assignment was so urgent, costly or so critical. Those simple hits you often read about are more the gang or local bad boys. For $500-$5,000 you can get someone to just about do anything. Of course they will get caught, even if successful; then tell anyone and everyone about it when caught, all about you and even make up a few things to get themselves a deal. So, dear would be assassins, unless you will only take a simple, straight-forward hit, you will probably not be the one chosen to get the big bucks.
Yep, one, it was all you would need to eliminate a selected mark. By the way, that one they sent could be man, woman and even a child. What was also not talked much for the big deals like JFK or a 'Jimmy' was how many would make it back, alive. Nada, that was the kicker. Even after success, which was in the high 90%'s on the first attempt, no chance could be taken on their capture, turning or taking damage knowing their identity could cause. The ones you could walk away from rarely were over $250,000.
German, Russian, Czech, Japanese, Korean, Thai, Chinese and Arab made up the most common nationalities. To use one the price was high, $1 to $10 Million, to all involved(It was a 1 way trip for the person 9 out of 10 times). Jihad had made many of the IRA, Chechen and Moslem sanctions far less costly now, dying for a cause is pretty damn cheap. (Can you say WTC, Russian Schoolhouse, or Nuclear Reactor)
"Why, would they do it?" You say!
Hate, vengeance, illness, revenge, blackmail, coercion, brainwashing, drugs, money, even social or political in-justice can be used. Lot of kids and old people were/are walking bombs, even today. Can you spell, Iran, Iraq, Palestine, Cambodia, Viet Nam, Afghanistan, Phew, just to name a few of the well-known ones. Most often it is money though, the good ones, cannon fodder ones are cheap...
The money, usually low but could be as high $1 million, goes to someone or something the martyr holds dear. (I say martyr because they often think they are dying for a cause or a good reason) There is little an un-warned mark can do to prevent someone willing to die from killing them. It is commonly done with a poison or bio-agent (Ton of them if everyone dies), hairpin, silken cord, bomb, booby trap, knife, sharp blow, soda straw, etc. you get the point. (Was that a PUN?) Usually something non-metallic, that would not show up on a scan or detector.
Unless the mark and everyone associated that he holds dear, stays in a secure locked room for the rest of time, he or she will be dead within a year or two. That is why attention is paid to family, friends, vices or passions the mark may have, men, girls, boys, even animals have been used.
Again, the preferred hit by the hitter though, is where you have a good chance of staying alive. (This is where 'trust' comes in)
There are a thousand different reasons why one person or group wants another gone. I'll not include most of the political or government ones, since those usually are not contract opportunities. Inheritance, revenge, coercion, a show of strength, and just simple expedience can trigger(no pun intended) a paid hit. I know of a few Lear Jet's or Gulfstream's that just blew up un-expectedly (A G-650 ER is like $70 Mil folks, what a waste).
Another reason costs might get high is that one or more pre-events needed to occur. Wife, son, daughter, brother, sister, mistress, boyfriend, girlfriend even a cherished pet might need to be killed or kidnapped, in order to get the main mark rolling.
Remember, if something like this needs doing, do it right. Don't use amateurs, hire a professional. Do not attempt to do these things yourself, they can be hazardous to your health.
Let me go back a bit and tell you some of the story of my own experiences and why, after awhile I became a 'Broker'. See if you agree why or not. The things that lead up to it will also be related as well as a few tales (Assumptions really) of how and why some of those 'specials' met their end.
Me first, I had only a couple of years in this career but a damn fine front man(Broker). One assignment, tells a common but good story, in this case a hit, which had about a 30-40% chance of survival, not that it was that hard, but because of time, location and circumstances, one would have to be off-the-clock for a bit when it was over.
As the professional, I relate:
This story begins with it starting to get cold. Pretty soon, it was going to snow and snow hard. (Part of that timing thing, and I hated snow) In this neck of the woods that usually meant people were not running about though. That was a double edge sword for me. If I ran fast, there would be enough distance between me and where I did not want to be. There was a bad part though, two actually. Depending on which way I would go, time and distance to traverse the distance would work against me. If the snows came too soon I would be, ostensibly, in 'no man's' land, stuck with little food, water and no shelter and leaving tracks and scent.
The snow would cover my tracks if it came after I was done, though dogs would be following, eventually, even they would not pick up and keep my scent.
Freezing to death became a real possibility then, if I had to wait it out. Several choices, move and die, not move and freeze to death, what a wonderful choice. Why, I often asked myself, did things seem to work out this way. Well there was a reason. Any damn fool knew no one in there right mind would try for a 'hit' under these conditions. Of course, initially the fee put a whole lot of incentive to do the job just then and made this the right time for me.
It was not anything political or drug related so getting an exclusive on it was not difficult. Some drunk driver (Four DUIs) had killed a man's wife and son. The 'Asshole' ran and the LEO's were just 'too busy' drinking coffee and eating doughnuts to get off their 'fat asses' and search in the wintertime for him, they had a lot on their plates, they indicated. (Jelly and custard ones) The man's wife herself did not have that much money. The woman's grandfather though did. He was intending to put out an 'open' contract, for $500,000.
My 'broker' instead arranged an exclusive 10-day deal for $1,500,000 for me, $100,000 for expenses and $350,000 for himself for guaranteed results(The mark would die, one way or another within the 10 days. (Some 'special' assignments can take 3-5 years, a very expensive proposition though, $5-$10 million). This one would have been a sweetheart deal, except for the time window and bad weather. Why was he willing to pay the huge difference in price, you might ask? The man was dying and wanted to be certain justice was served so he could see it happen. Could not fault him on that. My broker took the money, I took the Assignment and I had never, ever failed in any Assignment that I took since becoming a professional. I stayed away from Africa after a couple bad experiences, more on that later. You could count on it.
I would not fail on this one either. Before I took the shot (Hell yes, I did not want to get close), I recognized a kind of fear. Hell, I almost knew once the round hit, his 'protectors' would be after my ass, big-time. Oh, forgot to tell you. When he ran, he ran to the U.S. Marshall. In exchange for 'immunity', he said had some information to trade. (We were close to Mexico.) People who were worth more than some guy's wife and kid, to them anyway. I would never say Mr. Sanchez was dumb. He paid the same amount in taxes that I did. I just happen to know that taxes was not a State El Paso was in. He just would have been a lot smarter, in my humble opinion, heading South and spending the $50 or $60 bucks and hire himself a dozen or so of his Amigos to protect him, but you know what something is worth when it is free don'tcha, right. Got it in one, Nada! Just saying.
The 'safe house' was probably more than adequate if Mr. Sanchez had just pissed off a few druggies or the boys in Vegas. Nope, he was not that lucky, for the amount T. J. Malone was paying the job would be done right the first time, no matter what. If I got 'lost' someone else would be around, messy but ... C-4 was cheaper by the case. Toss a coin, win or lose, heads or tails, any way was as good as a done deal. One shot, one kill now, then to get out of Dodge.
New Mexico was a big State; Texas was close enough and that was where I selected to head. East or Southeast offered me cover, high and low ground, as I needed, and hills, valleys and water to throw the dogs off some. The damn cold, ice and snow, if it came, would be a showstopper. I needed about ten days, and then would be free and clear. I planned for thirty. Mr. Malone, as part of our agreement, would notify the media, the Texas Rangers and his lawyers that he had made the 'Bastard' who murdered his family pay. Of course, no one would believe him but it would start Local, two State groups and Federal officials at each other's throats. The poor slob who actually pulled the trigger (me) would just be rolled up in this bigger battle and way before anyone could be determined to have jurisdiction, Mr. Malone would be dead. It seemed a good plan and a fair trade, like the 'good book' says, an 'eye for an eye'.
I could have a lot of respect for a man like that.
As I said before, this was not any 'Company' sanction or 'Family' vendetta, so I was alone (More money for me to go-away some). It did not seem likely that anyone was going to pull all the stops out on this one either, but to be safe, rather than sorry I did the following: Lose the rifle, scope, ammo, boots, outerwear, parka and added some phony ID, DNA, prints and more clues for the trackers and dogs to find. All would buy me time.
I wore non-powered 'thermal dampers' all around. Reverse white and hunter camo went on top when the job was done. Slip-on outer foot covers too, which would be changed at regular stages. Several dry food types, camping gear, a vehicle( rented by J Jones, New York license, (by a female pick up for $2,000 cash) and money drops were placed around the area too, there were real expenses to have the job done right. You never ignored that part and scrounged the money.
I had deer, bear, cat and coyote scents to mask my own; these should help me lose the dogs, even the good ones.
I had three days supply to carry with me. Some freeze-dried food, water for three days (Maybe, 10 lbs a gallon is heavy). A graphite knife, a 'Umarex' (Brand importer, knock-down H & K) G-36 with 20 caseless rounds (Special Order, made like the G-1 was), 50 waterproof matches, a flint/steel fire starter, 15' of silk 1" rope, 25' of silk 1/16" twine, 100' of 20 lb test nylon fishing line, 3 No. 5 hooks, compass, GPS/extra power, markers, and maps. Not much else. I had to move and move faster than they could respond yet leave little or no trail behind.
Fifty miles a day for two days, then thirty-five or so the next three would put me far enough away. I would wait things out then for twenty-five more days.
Like all good plans, to keep on top of your game, one also needs to do the un-expected. At this level and for that kind of money not only does no one get to know the plan or exit strategy, one has to assume previous history, training, traits, escape plans etc. are going to be reviewed, especially if any work had been documented, like by the Feds, Military or Private Organizations. So boys and girls that means you don't do this kind of shit unless you plan to disappear for a while, a long while. One deal usually is not enough to do that since very few are solo assignments with so much money, normal pay is $50-$100 K. This one, at over $1 Mil was enough to 'rest' a bit (years).
I told you the plan. I told you there were several false or planted routes for whoever was after me to find. That last minute direction though took on a completely new form. In the New Mexico area, where I already was, would be a decent place to go. I could be a tour guide, a forest Ranger, a tourist, a hunter of Elk, any number of local professions. Why, maybe a researcher, historian, an author or painter looking for some peace and solitude.
Another place to hide is just being somebody everyone just knows has a past to hide and do not care. I would be a hired ranch hand. If I was very lucky, there was one spread I knew of a few hours away (None of the 50 miles a day crap) and they may need a hand 'fixin' things up this winter. Wouldn't pay much(Duh) but not many visitors neither. Remember, to do the unexpected.
15.3 miles to the West, I saw smoke rising. Saved me miles and having to go down to the valley. From closer inspection, it was coming from the main house and you could barely make out a dirt road soon to be buried under inches of snow. I sure do hope they could use a hand to do some work around there, say for a month or two, before I moved on.
The main house was not that big and was in pretty good shape. There was also an older style bunkhouse, a shed and two barns, one bigger than the other. Both needed repairing. This might be my lucky day.
As I walked up to the area between the big barn and the main house, what I expected happened. Two of the meanest mangiest, god-awful smelling dogs were barking and running at me. There was another just standing and looking at me from far off. My new companions were the two proverbial dogs whose bark was worse than their bites. Drenched in scent, as soon as I knelt down and opened my arms out to them I got a weeks worth of living off the land off my face from all their licking. It was that dog still staring at what was going on that I would need to convince I was a friend.
No easy way I figured, he was still standing away, looking at me. I sat down and slapped my thigh, calling him over. Five times and still not much other than the other two racing back and forth to him then me. An old man, a Indian old man called over and said I was wasting good dinner time, that old wolf would have to decide things for himself, no amount of calling would get him to come over. Mo and Jeff (The other two dogs) were a might easier to make friends with, especially if you didn't run away the first time, they charged at most anything.
I slowly got up, brushed off some dirt, patted the dogs ( Mo and Jeff), not certain who was who and stated after the old man. "Mighty kind of you! Maybe too trusting of a stranger though, but I do not ever want to be called late to dinner! My name is Sam, and just looking for some work 'fixin' things."
"Well Sam, that little guy (The Big Bad Wolf) sort of looks after this family, especially a little lady that comes by, my grand daughter, even Mo and Jeff could do a decent job to discourage the wrong kind of folk and protect any of us. Seeing they haven't torn you up too badly, yet, I think we can take a chance on you. Food's not much, beans, rice, bread, beef stew, apple pie and hot coffee. I'm Jacob."
"Well I appreciate the offer Mr. Jacob, I have simple tastes and your dinner beats the stuff I have to eat. Is there a place I can wash up a bit?"
"Put you stuff in the bunkhouse; you can wash there and sleep tonight. If you're really looking for work, I have some you could do. Can't pay you a lot, but I guess you already can see that, but we get by."
"No problem Mr. Jacob, I'm sort of passing through. Not really decided where I'll settle, got tired of just doing what lot of people want me to do, so decided to lead a more simple life. I got enough for my needs and to live on when I leave, so room, keep and your kindness is all I really need now. I won't have to stay long either, don't smoke, drink or take up with many women so I don't expect to cause you any concern. Not saying I'm perfect, but I have no intention to do you or yours any wrong. Think your dogs can sense that."
"Yep, if they didn't, you'd be running as fast as you could. When you're ready, come up to the main house and we'll talk some."
"Yes Sir. I'll be up in a few."
Everything I had said was true. I had no need to or intention to do the man or his family any wrong. I sort of liked the old guy too. He made me think of that Malone fellow. That seemed so long ago now; another life away and only a few hours had passed. I had tried to offer Mr. Jacob a reason why wages were not important to me. If he was as smart as I thought he was, my comment about getting tired of taking orders would satisfy his need to know any more about me. I should tell you that I was not a bad hired hand. I had learned a lot of things about a ranch when I was back here and in Texas too. Another reason why I did not go there, it might have been too predictable.
The bunkhouse was, well, a bunkhouse. I had seen better and I had seen worse. There was a large propane heater. I lit it with a long neck lighter thing on a small stand and dropped my things on a bunk. The only weapon I kept on me was the knife that was strapped to my leg. I washed up. Mo and Jeff were outside the door, waiting as I exited. I had my own escort to the house. The Wolf though still stood watching. I sort of decided that was going to have to change.
I did a dumb thing, really dumb. I moved toward the wolf. I guess if he was not coming to me, I would go over and introduce myself to him. Slowly though. Not much about him was different from what I had seen when I was further away. As I came closer his eyes seemed to change a bit, they seemed shiny silver or grey, more like the eyes of a shooter. Hey, I thought we now had something in common.
He did not move. I came pretty damn close to him now, still no movement. I slowly sat down on the ground all the while talking. I told him it was dinnertime. That Mr. Jacob had invited me and Mo and Jeff were escorting. That I was Sam and that the Wolf was big and looked very strong. I would be up and see him after dinner with a treat for him.
Sam felt that the fact the Wolf tolerated him nearby was a good sign. He almost called him by a legendary Indian name but that might give away too much information about himself, more than he was prepared to do. Besides, it was dinner and he was starved, better to take it slow and easy with this Wolf. He got the feeling it was not tame or used to humans like Mo and Jeff were. Maybe he was wrong but he did not think so.
Sam went up to the door and knocked, then opened it and went inside. Mo and Jeff sat by the door outside. Sam said something to them that he would try to bring them a treat too. The old Indian motioned for him to sit down. A woman, more like the cook, brought out some hot bread, a bowl of stew and some rice and greens. She went back into the kitchen and returned with a pot of coffee, filled the Old man's cup then Sam's and set the pot down. Sam noticed right away the food was good and the coffee hot.
He paid the cook an appropriate comment, almost using a Mescalero Apache phrase. He had grown up not that far from these foothills, but that was long ago, it seemed. Much of his youth had been spent in Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Texas. He knew the country but most of his growing up, those teen and youngster years were spent in a city. He was already a good shot when he joined the military. In due course, they eventually made him even better. If it hadn't been for that, they would have cut him loose. He wasn't worth a damn taking orders. Even shooting though, he preferred to go it alone. For a lot of reasons he just did not like to be around a lot of people. A couple of 'visitors' to Ft. Meade, where he had more training, took a liking to what they saw and cut him some slack, a lot of it. He did not know it but when he got back he had new orders. He was going 'TDY' for the foreseeable future.
That eventually got him to where he was today. Here was within 50 miles from where he was growing up as a kid. Sam asked Mr. Jacob if it was alright to give the dogs and Wolf a treat. The old man started coughing and choking he was laughing so hard. He called Doe, the cook over, and garbled out something about good food and something for the Wolf. She smiled, turned away and you could hear her laughs too now.
"Son, Doe is going fix you up some stuff for the dogs. She will give you some raw meat for the wolf. If you can get anywhere near him, let alone get him to eat anything from you, more power to you; he is as wild as they come. He only comes up here occasionally to see if my grand daughter is visiting. She is the only person that Wolf seems to tolerate. She can even hug and pet him like those dogs. I'm real surprised that Mo and Jeff took to you, most run like Hell from em."
I learned a lot more after I came back into the main house after feeding my two new buddies and placing that piece of meat on a flat rock near the Wolf. Yep he was still there, didn't even growl at me much. I took it to be a sort of greeting. Our relationship was making progress I felt. As I said I went back in and was listening to Old Mr. Jacob tell some stories. I was glad in a way that he did not recognize me. It had been 10, no 11 years since I had seen him last.
Back then it had been at his boys funerals first Gerald's, then Luke's. My dad and Luke had been in the Army together. He was KIA, his wife was not even there, they had married young on the Reservation, she was with her 'boyfriend' when the body was shipped back. I guess life on a reservation was a lot more flexible than elsewhere. I vaguely remember the grand daughter, Gerald's girl, she was just a small child. She was holding on to Mr. Jacob for dear life. I don't think he took note of much else that day. The boys were his whole life, now only Gerald's girl, 'Echo on the wind', his grand daughter remained.
He had told me the story of how the spread we were on originally was to be a present. He bought it for the water, wind sites and timber, not so much to raise cattle or horses. He had built the shed, the rest were pretty much already there, just in better shape. Things changed, he said. Now his grand daughter was getting older and he wanted to start to fix the place up and give it to her. When he died she would get the big ranch in the valley, but this one had special meaning for him. Then tears began to flow. I just sat there and nodded. It took me back some, to a simpler time, a more civilized time.
Doe seemed a new face, yet very familiar to me. I saw her standing in the kitchen looking first at him then at me. She motioned to me. I went to her. What she did then startled me and started my own sort of tears flowing. In Mescalero, she told, not asked me, if I was going to help Jacob, this time? Damn, I thought this woman reads minds or something. Then she really did a number on me.
"Johnny, you were young then, no one could expect you to do anything; but you are not like your father. He saw nothing here and ran away from me. You are different. Now you are a man, and I think you still care about us and the Old Ways, no matter what you might have done in the past! This place calls to you, help us; help him, help his grand daughter, 'Echo on the wind', for my sister(Luke's wife of sorts) hurt Jacob badly with Luke and he has nothing left but the hope only she (His Grand Daughter) can bring him."
It was not fair, so much time had past, and I had changed so much. How the Hell had she recognized me?
"Johnny, a mother never forgets her own son, no matter long it may have been!"
'Damn, Damn, Damn!' I thought, and I never knew who she had been.
John Parker Winters was my real name. I had used Sam for many years, no one, no one had ever called me John, let alone Johnny.