Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,94

lap-lap against his body, and he surfaced, rolled over onto his back and lazily paddled the last hundred or so feet to the shoreline. The sky was an odd, milky shade of chalk blue, slowly being colored over with pink and orange. August shut his eyes and took a moment to just breathe, in and out, conscious of every droplet of water coursing down the front of his body to rejoin the sea below, the salty residue on his lips, the vanishing heat of the sun and the gentle whisper of water on gravelly sand not far off.

You lived. You both did. You get to enjoy this.

But for how long, that was the question.

He bumped gently against the gravel—first his head, then his shoulders. August stayed there to rest for a few more breaths, a last acknowledgement that he’d needed this, needed to get away from the world for a while, before turning and pushing to his feet. Wearing a small black Speedo and nothing else, not even on his feet, he walked up the polished concrete path to the balcony that connected to their bedroom. Ricardo wasn’t in either place.

He’s probably on the roof. The roof of the villa had a garden, a pool, and a bar that was liberally stocked by the staff. Ricardo had just grunted when he’d first seen it, but ever since they’d arrived a few weeks ago he’d spent at least a few hours up there every day, sunbathing or reading or, more often than not, sleeping. August wondered how much sleep Ricardo got in his usual life, and whether his body was making up for a chronic deficit here or just doing what it needed to heal.

August glanced down at himself. He was wet, sandy, and with the sun going down it would be cool enough to merit more clothes in just minutes, but…on the other hand, if he stayed like this for a little while longer, he could have the pleasure of getting Ricardo wet and cold, too. That sold it. He headed inside for the stairs.

The view on the roof didn’t disappoint. Ricardo was laid back in a lounge chair, eyes closed, a phone and an open bottle of beer on the small table next to him. Asleep, though? August wasn’t sure, but he went and made himself a Bajtra martini, extra pink, before sauntering over and settling his damp self right on top of Ricardo—carefully avoiding the gunshot wound, because August was an ass but he wasn’t suicidal.

Ricardo didn’t open his eyes, didn’t even flinch. “Hi.”

“Oh, you could have played along,” August said, pouting a little before he sipped his martini. “A little wince, a shout—even a shiver!”

“I don’t play along.”

“You did last night,” August purred.

Ricardo finally looked at him. “That was different.”

“How so?”

“You weren’t going out of your way to be an asshole last night.”

“Oh, God.” August had to put his drink down, he was laughing so hard. “Why do you give me set-ups like this? Where do I even start? ‘You didn’t mind my asshole when you were balls-deep in—‘”

“Or,” Ricardo interrupted, “we could skip the jokes and go straight to the fun part of the evening.”

“Oh yeah?” Now August was really glad he hadn’t bothered to put any more clothes on. “What did you have in mind? Does it involve the pool? Do I need to go get supplies, or did you lay them in yourself?”

“Actually, I thought we could talk about a job.”

“A…job?” August’s heart sank even as he nodded, then reached for his drink. Of course Ricardo was thinking about taking on a job. He never stayed in one place for long. August felt lucky he’d managed to keep him here for this long.

He drained the martini, then got up to make another. “So what’s on offer?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked to the bar. Extra Bjatra this time, and more vodka—yes, all the vodka.

Fuck, why haven’t I started the process of getting a new liaison yet?

Because you hate paperwork worse than Victor.

And given how many hoops he’d had to jump through to get on Rate Your Hit’s website the first time around, August was sure it would be twice as bad now that they could label him “the guy who got his last liaison assassinated.” Shit.

“It’s a double in Sweden.”

August topped off his glass and turned around so he could see Ricardo. If this was going to be their last night together for a while—if Ricardo was going to be off