A Black Kiss: A Story of Revenge

“You look well,” a sultry voice purred in Dieon’s ear.

Dieon turned toward his left at the swanky hotel bar and his breath almost caught at the gorgeous redhead who’d sat down next to him. Her bold, black lipstick sent a zap of electricity from his chest to his dick, a familiar need surging in him.

“Samara. When did you get in?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice even. He leaned back against his chair, spreading his legs slightly to cover his adjustment of himself.

As far as he could tell from her profile, besides a little crinkle in the corner of her eye, the siren who sat next to him looked exactly the same as she had five years ago. When he’d met her, newly retired from the Army’s Delta Force, they’d competed for the same job contract. It’d taken less than a week for them to fall into bed together.

Dieon remembered the hours he’d spent combing his fingers through that long auburn mane. He’d traced the lines of her face while she slept, reveling in the delicate curve of her petite nose. Bright green eyes had glared at him when she inevitably sensed his staring. Marriage had dominated his thoughts after a few short weeks, before he’d come to his senses, of course.

“I’d tell you but then you’d use it against me,” she purred.

She must be competing in tomorrow’s test. In the morning, a rigorous five-day mental and physical examination would kick off on behalf of the most highly rated security firm in the world. They would choose six candidates for what rumor called the “biggest job” in decades.

Samara leaned forward in her slinky black dress, giving the bartender a hint of her generous breasts while she ordered a dry martini. The black-haired, tattooed kid gave her an awestruck look and hustled off to get her order.

A sour feeling emerged in the pit of Dieon’s stomach at the reminder that some other man had likely replaced him hours after he’d left but he kept the casual grin on his face as he responded to her accusation.

“Business is business in this game. You know how it is,” he said.

She turned to face him fully and it felt like a punch in the gut. The emerald color he’d obsessed over after leaving her had been completely drained out of her right eye. A strange milky white littered with black spots was all that was left and a fierce, white scar slashed from her brow to her chin.

“What the fuck, Samara?” he asked. “When did this happen?”

“As if you didn’t know,” she said, reaching for the drink the bartender had dropped off. Dieon realized her chest had been the last thing the bartender had been staring at. Dieon leaned forward, crowding her, and the hint of roses and amber reached his nostrils. They flared instinctively, taking it in and he fought the urge to close his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“When you abandoned me in Budapest to claim the job for your own, the Rivers Brothers came calling. They were pissed, assuming we were still working together. This is courtesy of the crazy one, Leon.”

“Samara, I…”

She shrugged a delicate shoulder.

“It’s been years. Don’t you worry about little ‘ol me, Dieon. Just know, I’ll be doing anything and everything I can to kick your ass tomorrow.” Samara grinned, showing her straight, white teeth and Dieon sat there frozen, mesmerized by how stunning she looked even with the change.

“Drink’s on him,” she told the bartender, before she drained the glass in one go and reached forward to kiss Dieon on the cheek. He felt the outline of her lips on his cheek, no doubt leaving a black imprint. The young man behind the bar gulped, but Dieon waved at him.

“Yeah, I got it,” Dieon said, finding his voice. Samara hopped off the bar stool, reaching the same height as him seated with her four-inch heels on.

“Good luck,” she said, that low raspy voice causing the hair on the top of his ears to stick up. She walked away and he shivered, taking in the heart-shape of her ass and the way she swayed, commanding attention from everyone in the room.

Dieon finished his own whiskey and ran after her, coming to his senses. He couldn’t let her get away again. He’d made a huge mistake when he’d chosen the job over her all those years ago. He’d searched and searched but she was an enigma. Even though they were in the same field, her name and reputation whispered on the tongues of infatuated men throughout the world, he’d never seen her again after the last time he’d left her.

“Samara?” he called, when he left the restaurant area and entered the lobby, but she was nowhere to be found. “Fuck.”

Well, he knew where she’d be tomorrow. Dieon whistled with anticipation as he stabbed the button for the elevator and waited. It took seconds to come down and get him up to his floor.

Dieon swiped his keycard and was still emitting a little tune when he entered the hotel room and felt the first prickle of unease. He paused, listening for an anomaly. Nothing. He flicked the lights on. Again, nothing had been disturbed.

Dieon shut the door, carefully pulling his gun out from the back of his pants, except before he took another step, a tiny prick stung the back of his neck.

“What the?” he asked, spinning toward the intruder.

Long, wavy hair in the shade of his favorite color greeted him.

“Hey, baby,” Samara said.

Dieon opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t form words. His eyes widened and spit trickled down from his tongue. He reached for her, confused, but suddenly remembered the sole piece of intel he'd gotten on Samara in the last few years. Her calling card.

A black kiss before a guaranteed death.