The Hitwoman: the Blonde Bombshell

by Millie 90 lbs of Dynamite

Copyright© 2017 by Millie 90 lbs of Dynamite

: A sexy hitwoman targets a mob boss and his woman. These hits just don't go according to the plan, first there's the cops and then again, well the bitch herself is a problem. She is just a total knock out, a true blonde bombshell. Will Ryann handle this woman or will the bitch get the best of her?

Caution: This contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   Interracial   Violent   .

The hit had gone fine, just hadn’t expected that a cop would walk out and see it. Worse still a cruiser pulled in the parking lot at the same time. Not surprising, this wasn’t something I planned. I rushed to my motorcycle, hoping to make a clean getaway, I felt it when the leads hit my back. Goddamn Taser shot the juice through my body and collapsed.

I jerked around on the floor as the juice shot through my body. Okay, okay you’ve got me, I thought, now you’re just being cruel. The big cop giggled as he clutched the trigger on the Taser, his partner likewise had a good laugh at my expense. I’ll remember this, mother fuckers!

“That’s enough,” the plain closed officer said. “Hard to believe such a small girl killed such a big hulk as Hagger.”

“Snapped his neck,” one of the uniforms said. “She’s buff, sergeant. Look at her muscles.”

The one in the suit dug my wallet out and looked at the ID. He stood up and put the wallet on my motorcycle seat. Then he put the silken rope I had used to kill my mark there. He said something I couldn’t make out and the three of them laughed.

“Miss Allen,” the plain closed cop began, as one of the true-blue boys yanked me to my feet. My head started to clear and plotted my escape. The brute cuffed my hands behind my back, the cuffs were snug but not tight, good. “You’re under arrest for the murder of one Thomas Haggar, you have the right...”

Yada ... yada yeah, I know, sure I know it isn’t my first arrest, just get it over with, I thought it but didn’t say it when he finished the claptrap rights bullshit I spoke for the first time, “Yeah, sure I understand.” I didn’t have time for this shit, I have another job and a boat to catch.

“Take her downtown,” the plainclothes detective told them. “Pat her down good be sure she doesn’t have anything concealed. Leave me some evidence bags before you go.”

Tweddle Dumb felt my body all over, I can feel his appreciation with every squeeze. Tweddle Dee watched licking his pig lips his little pecker standing straight out in his pants. He pulled the needle-nosed pliers from my back pocket and sat it on my motorcycle seat. They led me to the car and looked back at Dick Tracy as he examined the scene, still shaking his head that I had snapped the big man’s neck.

“Watch your head,” Dee said as he guided me in the back seat of the cruiser. It was a standard cruiser, no cage between them and me. Dumbasses, this would be quick work.

Closing my eyes, I envisioned my hands and wrist and the cuffs around my wrist. Small, my hands had to be smaller, I rolled my hands and finger together, the bones contracted, the space between bones collapsed. I heard the doors close, the first mine then the passenger door, at last, the drivers. The engine turned over, the powerful motor purred like a caged lion. I heard the crunching of the gravel under wheels as we pulled out of the parking lot onto the roadway.

My hands were free, I clutched the cuff’s inside my left hand and moved my right hand around and unbuckled my belt. Opening my eyes, I studied the back of the cop’s heads, they had removed their hats and stuck them on the dashboard wedged between windshield and dash at the front. The men were having a disagreement, Tweddle Dumb needed a cup of coffee, Tweddle Dee wanted to get me to the station ASAP. Since Dumb drove, he won, stopping in an empty parking lot of an all-night diner.

Dumb exited the car, walked to the door of the cafe looked back and held up two fingers, and Dee nodded. He pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket and looked at me in the review mirror. He lit the cigarette, turned his attention back to the restaurant.

In one swift motion, I yanked the belt from around my waist, wrapped it around his neck and twisted. I watched the fun in the review, the cigarette fell from his lips, his mouth twisted and contorted, Dee’s hands went to the belt, he dug his fingers in under the supple leather. In a flash, his right hand dropped, he had remembered his gun. Putting my knees against the back of his seat for leverage. The handgun rose, he twisted his hand pointing the weapon my direction. I yanked to the left has hard as I could. The sharp snap of cracking vertebra preceded his hand going slack and gun tumbling to his lap, then down to the floorboard.

I let loose of one side of the belt, dropped my feet to the floorboard and watched as his body jerked, shook, and twitched. I climbed over the seat and exited through the driver’s door, turning back I watched the movement stop.

“Nice,” I said, my second rush for the night. I turned to the door of the restaurant, I knew Tweddle Dumb would be returning in a few moments. I rushed up to the diner and concealed myself beside the bump out entryway. I heard the jingle of the bell on the door as Dumb exited the cafe and his steps as he came down the ramp. I prepared myself.

Tweddle Dumb stood looking at the cruiser, he could see something was wrong. He held a coffee in each hand, he turned ever so slowly to me. His eyes wide, he wanted to drop the coffee’s and grab his gun, I could see that. Leaping up, I snapped a kick out, the spiked heel of my shoe struck his head just above his nose. He staggered back, still holding the coffees in his hands.

I ran toward him again jumping but directing my kick to his chest. The heel struck his sternum, he crashed to the ground, his hands spasmed as he did crushing the Styrofoam cups. Standing over him, I gazed at him, eyes rolled around trying to focus. I kicked again, driving the heel of my boot deep inside his chest. The blood gushed for a moment the just oozed. His eyes moved no more as the light vanished from them.

Bending down I took the car keys, walked back to the cop car, dumped his dead partner out of the car. Turning the motor over, I felt the rumble of the powerful engine. I drove back to the crime scene, lights and siren blaring. I had something to get, something sentimental to me. As I neared the now empty bar, I shut all the lights off and killed the siren. Pulling in I saw that no CSU had arrived and the plainclothes investigator was alone at the scene.

I shot every light on, full bright, and barreled toward him. The cop raised his hands to shield his eyes, I plowed over him. Getting out of the car, I took the shotgun from its place and shucked a shell into its chamber. Walking over to the cop I smiled at him, he tried to get to his gun. I just watched as he squirmed, I don’t know how many his bones were broken, most of them. Pointing the shotgun at his face, I squeezed the trigger.

The gun barked out, I shucked in a second shell and fired again at his chest, then again at his belly. I walked back to the dead body and looked around, flashing lights, the ME would be here in a minute. I took my plyers and my silk garrote from their respective evidence bags. Taking the pliers, I bent down opened, the big man’s mouth, pulled a tooth and dropped into one of the evidence bags.

Jumping on my bike I sped away from the scene, rushing to the high rise downtown where this night had begun. I rode the elevator up to the penthouse. Ringing the doorbell, I steadied myself for the last task.

The big breasted blonde opened the door, she looked me up one side and down the other, she like what she saw. The whore leaned against the door, her slinky white nightie did little to hide the soft alabaster skin below, her fat elongated nipples, or the light triangle of pubic fur. Her blue eyes swam in to see red, and the drink in her hand begging to be lifted to her ruby lips again. They used to call sluts like this blonde bombshells. She exuded sexuality, curvy, soft and full of promise.

“Where’s Tommy?” she questioned me, her sultry southern accent sounded so dirty even when her words weren’t.

“Spending time with cops,” I said.

“He’s a dumb ass,” she said turning from she sauntered back into the room, her ass swiveling one way then other as if on ball bearings. “I got so worked up, thinking about the three of us in bed,” Hazel turned back to me and smiled. “Guess we don’t need him though.”

There is more of this story...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.