Read Online The Day of the Guns by Mickey Spillane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mickey Spillane
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fall hard and fast and I want to watch it happen. I loved you too damn much so I hate your guts the same way. So remember, girl.”
I wouldn’t let her talk. I said, “Remember all the things we were going to do after the war? The house on the ocean and the business together. How many kids did you say you wanted? Remember ... four ... and they’d look like both of us and we could teach them the things they should know and not the things they shouldn’t? They’d never know how or where we met ... we were going to fake a story about that one, but they would know how much we loved each other.
“Honey, was I ever a sucker for that. I pulled you out of the fire and nearly wrecked an operation doing it and then you shot me. Love? Hell, you don’t know the meaning of the word. You grifted me for information and called it love. You suckered me, beautiful, but never again.”
Her eyes had widened somehow and there was a lost expression on her face, but she was a great actress.
Suddenly she said quietly, “Do you still love me, Tiger?”
And just as quickly I told her. “Sure I do, Rondine. I always have. It isn’t something you can turn off. After I kill you I’ll go right on loving you like I always have but it won’t make a damn bit of difference to me. The game is over. It’s all cold, hard fact now.”
“You really mean to kill me, don’t you?”
“For certain, baby. You can be sure of it.”
The music was coming to a close. The timing was right for what I wanted to do. I put my drink down and sat on the arm of a big chair and looked at her. “Take off that robe, Rondine.”
If she had a drink in her hand she would have dropped it. She gave me a startled look and one hand went to her throat inadvertently to close the neckline that had been so deliberately opened.
She just stood there a second, then when I got up, took a step back and there was no place else to go because the couch was behind her pressing into her hips.
I walked the ten feet that separated us and stood there in front of her. “What’s the matter, kitten? I’ve seen you naked before, dozens of times, from bedrooms to swimming in a river together. There’s not an inch of you I haven’t explored and you loved every minute of it. Don’t play prude, not with me.”
“Please ...” The quiver of her mouth even looked genuine. If I hadn’t seen her do it before I would have fallen for the act.
“Off,” I said, “or do I do it for you?”
Her hands grabbed at the back of the couch and bit into the fabric. Rondine was scared silly. She had a right to be.
“Please ...” she said again, “why ...”
I grinned at her. “You thinking I’ll jump you kid? Hell, I wouldn’t throw a rock at you any more. I wouldn’t give you another inch of myself. No, baby, I just want to see how far you went with the plastic surgery. Faces can be lifted, but women don’t usually go all the way down to their shoes. The faces they show in the day ... the rest they can hide in the night so why bother. But I’m curious about you, Rondine.”
Ten seconds ticked by slowly before she moved. Her teeth bit into her lip and she made her decision. Her fingers came away from the couch, fumbled at the belt of her robe, loosened it, then with one sweeping motion she flung the housecoat wide and stood there like some new Joan of Arc challenging the mob.
The clock turned back twenty years instantly and it was the day Rondine and I were hiding in the loft in France with the maquis somewhere outside searching for her. There was a driving summer rain we knew had wiped out our tracks and in the exuberance of knowing we would make it together had felt the heady flow of happiness that turned into the wild, emotional waterfall of love and ecstasy. She had danced there in the loft and stripped off her clothes piece by piece and, in one final gesture before she flung herself at me, had stood there motionless, arms outstretched, every muscle in her body taut and
I wouldn’t let her talk. I said, “Remember all the things we were going to do after the war? The house on the ocean and the business together. How many kids did you say you wanted? Remember ... four ... and they’d look like both of us and we could teach them the things they should know and not the things they shouldn’t? They’d never know how or where we met ... we were going to fake a story about that one, but they would know how much we loved each other.
“Honey, was I ever a sucker for that. I pulled you out of the fire and nearly wrecked an operation doing it and then you shot me. Love? Hell, you don’t know the meaning of the word. You grifted me for information and called it love. You suckered me, beautiful, but never again.”
Her eyes had widened somehow and there was a lost expression on her face, but she was a great actress.
Suddenly she said quietly, “Do you still love me, Tiger?”
And just as quickly I told her. “Sure I do, Rondine. I always have. It isn’t something you can turn off. After I kill you I’ll go right on loving you like I always have but it won’t make a damn bit of difference to me. The game is over. It’s all cold, hard fact now.”
“You really mean to kill me, don’t you?”
“For certain, baby. You can be sure of it.”
The music was coming to a close. The timing was right for what I wanted to do. I put my drink down and sat on the arm of a big chair and looked at her. “Take off that robe, Rondine.”
If she had a drink in her hand she would have dropped it. She gave me a startled look and one hand went to her throat inadvertently to close the neckline that had been so deliberately opened.
She just stood there a second, then when I got up, took a step back and there was no place else to go because the couch was behind her pressing into her hips.
I walked the ten feet that separated us and stood there in front of her. “What’s the matter, kitten? I’ve seen you naked before, dozens of times, from bedrooms to swimming in a river together. There’s not an inch of you I haven’t explored and you loved every minute of it. Don’t play prude, not with me.”
“Please ...” The quiver of her mouth even looked genuine. If I hadn’t seen her do it before I would have fallen for the act.
“Off,” I said, “or do I do it for you?”
Her hands grabbed at the back of the couch and bit into the fabric. Rondine was scared silly. She had a right to be.
“Please ...” she said again, “why ...”
I grinned at her. “You thinking I’ll jump you kid? Hell, I wouldn’t throw a rock at you any more. I wouldn’t give you another inch of myself. No, baby, I just want to see how far you went with the plastic surgery. Faces can be lifted, but women don’t usually go all the way down to their shoes. The faces they show in the day ... the rest they can hide in the night so why bother. But I’m curious about you, Rondine.”
Ten seconds ticked by slowly before she moved. Her teeth bit into her lip and she made her decision. Her fingers came away from the couch, fumbled at the belt of her robe, loosened it, then with one sweeping motion she flung the housecoat wide and stood there like some new Joan of Arc challenging the mob.
The clock turned back twenty years instantly and it was the day Rondine and I were hiding in the loft in France with the maquis somewhere outside searching for her. There was a driving summer rain we knew had wiped out our tracks and in the exuberance of knowing we would make it together had felt the heady flow of happiness that turned into the wild, emotional waterfall of love and ecstasy. She had danced there in the loft and stripped off her clothes piece by piece and, in one final gesture before she flung herself at me, had stood there motionless, arms outstretched, every muscle in her body taut and
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