It was a balmy night; Jon sat in his car listening to the night sounds coming through the open window. Having the window open was a small risk, someone could reach in and attack him, but with it closed he would be unable to hear the sounds of danger. He looked at his watch; it was time for him to patrol the perimeter, so he opened the car door; the interior light didn't come on of course to spoil his night vision for he had turned it off earlier. Standing up he adjusted his weapon belt so his gun sat just right on his right hip; the grass muffled his footsteps as he walked slowly around the path.
What was that, he looked down to see the Walther PPK was in his right hand, he didn't remember drawing it. He stood still listening to the night. Something had made him draw his weapon. Nothing moved, no sounds; he moved slowly off into the scrub walking as quietly as possible; the Walther back in it's holster. After about 100m a slight sound reaches him, he froze, his eyes closed, trying to identify the direction and source. Off to his right, male voices, he crept forward to the edge of a small clearing, the sight before him brought a smile to his lips.
There were four of them, surrounding a girl on the ground, the sounds he had heard was their excited laughter. He couldn't see much of the girl, just a vague girlie outline on the ground, the moon light making her naked torso stand out brightly. He stepped forward and the tableau before him froze.
"Get lost," one of the men shouted, "this is none of your business."
He saw the shape on the ground twist to look in my direction; he felt her large eyes on him like a physical force.
"I'm making it my business," Jon replied, "just walk away and no one gets hurt."
The talker laughed.
"It's four to one man, those aren't good odds," he said then added more forcefully, "so back off."
"I can't do that," Jon replied.
Two dark shapes detached themselves and moved in his direction. Taking on two attackers was easy if you follow the golden rule. 'Take them on one at a time.' As they got nearer, he could make them out more details, young, well built, dressed in jeans; he relaxed preparing himself for the action to come. In their eyes he must have looked an easy target, 5ft 4, slightly built with no visible weapons. They moved closer, moving slightly apart.
"Come on man," said the one on the left, "there's plenty for all of us."
He spread his arms out in front of him as a sign of peace. Just as he finished speaking they both charged the last few feet; it was a good move and should have achieved better results, but for a man who had trained under the best, it was all too obvious. He move fast to his left to reach the speaker first; he stepped outside his wild swing, grabbed his wrist, a quick twist of his arm, and his elbow broke his like a twig. The second attacker couldn't stop himself from running straight on to his foot. Two down in as many seconds, now just two to go. There was a glint of light from across the clearing as a blade was draw.
"Shit! Now man you bleed," a voice said.
Now it could get dangerous, two armed men in the dark, with a sigh of resignation, Jon drew his Walther from its holster, then reaching behind his belt to pull the small stubby cylinder and attach it to the front of the automatic. It was not a full silencer, just a muffler to reduce the sharp sounds of the gunshot. The Walther being a double action weapon, all he had to do was point and pull the trigger. The splat of the bullet passing close by stopped them in their tracks.
"Now I suggest you drop those knives, pick up your colleagues," he pointed at the two still forms in front of him, "and leave."
The two knives made very little sound as they hit the soft earth.
"Ok man we're gone," one said.
Jon backed off enough so they could get to their friends. He looked across the clearing for the girl, but she was gone too. No point staying around now, he thought, back to work, he had a client to protect. Not that he was on his own of course, to do a good job required a team stationed inside and out. He picked up the two fallen knifes, just basic flick types and moved back along the path towards his car. He heard another slight sound off to his right and a movement caught his eye, a dark figure rushed at him. Just in time he pivoted out of line; grabbed a handful of clothes and spun his attacker to the ground. His weight falling on top of his attacker's back exploded all the air out of his lungs. With the Walther back in his hand and pushed hard up against his attacker's neck, his free hand quickly frisked the dark figure. Turning him over, Jon noticed he was only slightly built, but he knew how agile he was. He placed one knee down hard on his hips with his gun still pushed against his neck, his free hand he reached up and pulled down the zipper of his leather jacket, then reached inside to search for hidden weapons. What he found was a pair of large naked breasts; this he was a she. He stood up and backed off slightly.
"Ok sweetheart," he said. "You can get up now."
She had trouble getting to her feet, but he didn't help, just watched her for any sudden moves.
"Who are you?" he asked once she was on her feet.
"Piss off shorty," she said still breathless.
He stepped forward quickly and slapped her across the face, hard enough to knock her down again.
"I asked you a question sweetheart," he said down at her fallen body.
"I'm with them," she nodded back towards the clearing, "you hurt my man you bastard."
"Well I did warned him, it was his decision to stay and fight," he said, "ok sweetheart let go."
In the dim moon light he could get a good look at her for the first time. Very nice, a good bath would go amiss though, pretty face, and he know from personal experience she had good firm set of tits; yes very nice indeed.
"What's your name sweetheart?" he asked.
"Sonya," she replied weakly, still feeling the affects of the slap he had gave her.
"Ok Sonya," he said, "time for you to do your Florence Nightingale bit, now split."
He watched her dark figure disappear into the bush; oh well back to work.
He had just reach his car when he heard a gun shot coming from the house.
"Oh Shit," he said to himself, and ran to the gates.
"Honey, it's me," he shouted, so that he won't get shot by mistake.
Honey was his partner in this business; she was patrolling the gardens. He heard a slight sound from behind me, but as he turned he was hit by a hammer blow to his side of his head, spinning him round, then nothing.
It was still dark, and he had been shot, but by whom; he must have passed out for a few seconds; he felt his holster, but his gun was gone.
"He's got to be around here somewhere," a voice nearby said, "she'll kill us if we don't find him."
He was being hunted, he must have crawled away after being hit; he must hide. He moved but the pain brought a cry to his lips.
"What was that," a voice said.
Oh shit he thought, he must move now. Every inch was pain, 'move' he told myself, move or die. After a lifetime he reached some cover under a bush and rested for a few minutes. It was time to see how badly he was hit. He stuffed his handkerchief into to hole in his side. Gingerly he felt around. The pain told him when he had found the exit wound. He stuffed some dry grass into it to try and stop the bleeding or they wouldn't have to find him, he would die from loss of blood. He carried on looking; it seemed to be the only wound, until his hand reached my head. The pain made him grey out for a while; when the pain dwindled to an acceptable agony, he traced a groove in his scalp. That was a near thing; the pain made him drifted off again.
When he came round he was in bed. Where am I? he thought. He moved to get up but he must have passed out again. When he came round he was not alone; it was those eyes again.
"Where am I?" he asked with a croak.
"Quiet, please don't move or you will open up your wounds again," she walked over to the bed.
"You are at my place," she continued, "I found you, when I came back to see after I heard the shots. They were looking for you."
"Who was?" he asked.
"Three or four men, that's all I know," she said.
"What about my team?" he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know anything about them."
He must find out, they may need my help. He sat up and groaned as the pain hit his; he passed out again.
Next time he awoke he felt a lot better. He was alone except for a large black dog of uncertain pedigree. As he moved to get up a low growl escaped from its throat.
"Be quite Boxer" she said as she entered the room, "you look better, your fever has gone."
"Yes thanks, I feel a lot better; how long have I been here?" he asked.
"Four days now," she said.
"Four days! No wonder he felt so hungry," he smiled up at her, then he thought about his team.
"Any news?" he asked.
"None, we are a bit remote here," she explained, "the nearest town is 10 miles away and the nearest phone is at the gas station 3 miles down the road."
"Have you had any visitors, no well you may soon, what we need is some protection," he said. "Can you go and phone a friend of mine, just give him my name and your address with instructions how to get here, ok."
"Well I don't know I like being on my own you know," she said.
"If we have visitors, we could all be dead," he said.
"Ok, who do I ring?" she agreed.
"Bring a pen and paper and I will write down the number for you," he said.
Later when she had returned from making the call.
.... There is more of this story ...