Read Online Too Wylde by Marcus Wynne - Free Book Online
Authors: Marcus Wynne
Tags: detective, thriller, Crime, Mystery, Hardboiled, CIA, Terrorism, Noir, special forces, guns, underworld, Navy SEALs, Special Operations, gunfighter, counterterrorism, marcus wynne, covert operations, afghanistan war, johnny wylde, tactical operations, capers
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by..."
"And your name is?"
"Nico."
"Oh, Mr. Nico! Yes, Lance is expecting you,
but he's going to be busy for few minutes, so we have someone to
look after you...just minute, 'kay?"
She picked up a phone and whispered into
it.
After a moment, Nico turned as he felt
someone coming up on his gun side. And what a someone...short,
maybe 5'2", but perfectly formed with breasts, waist and hips in
accord, black mini-skirt, white blouse opened nearly to her navel,
spike heels, net hose, long black hair down her back, brilliant
blue eyes...
Oh, my goodness.
"Are you Nico?" she said, a faint hint of the
South in her soft voice.
"I most certainly am, miss," Nico said. "Do I
detect an origin somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon line?"
She dimpled. "Well, I *am* a Bama
girl..."
He extended his arm, waited till she tucked
her hands into it. "Take me, Bama. I'm yours."
Love that giggle..."My name is Mia..."
"...and I'm glad to meetya," Nico said.
More giggle. "...and I'm supposed to take
care of you till Lance gets back."
"Well, I'll let you take care of me, and
we'll let Lance take care of himself, 'kay, Bama?"
She led him into the club, and Nico was at
home. This was no titty bar, this was raw naked orgy blow jobs on
demand with premium Scotch and Dutch Chocolate upscale GENTLEMAN'S
CLUB. Just his kind of place.
The girl up on the runway working a pole was
a ripped athlete of the Scandinavian blonde kind, but her routine
set her out -- serious acrobatics, not just the lazy stand and
twitch, but someone who had a routine, worked the music and the
thin afternoon crowd hard, and obviously worked just as hard on her
physique.
"You like?" Mia said.
"I like. Very much."
"What's your pleasure, Nico?"
He pressed his arm hard against his side,
pinning her small hands against his pecs. Grinned at her. "I'm
partial to steel magnolias..."
She was completely relaxed, leaned into him
with the ease of a woman who handled men all the time. The swell of
her breast was real, no enhancement there. "Well, Nico, let's get
you started with a drink. Let me guess, you're a bourbon kind of
guy?"
"How astute of you."
"Oooh. I like guys who use big words."
***
Happily slouched down in a leather booth,
feet kicked up on a leather davenport, Mia tucked in beside him and
signaling to the on-duty cocktail waitress to keep his Kentucky
reserve fresh, a bevy of dancers stopping by the table to say hi
--
-- life was good in Nico world.
"So what's Lance's story?" he said.
Mia sipped on her iced Coke Lite. "I thought
you were friends."
"We just met."
"Oh. Well, I don't get into Lance's business.
I'm *part* of Lance's business."
"I mean what did he do before he established
this mighty fine establishment?"
"He's got what he calls his 'I Love Me Wall'
over there," Mia said, pointing one long nailed, elegantly painted
finger.
Nico took his time untangling, got up.
"Where you going?"
"Check the man out. I'll be right back. Hold
my seat."
He wandered over to the wall, a full length
stretch of mahogany with multiple framed pictures and several cases
mounted, with championship wrestling belts, trophies, and beaucoup
pictures of Lance T with wrestler types he recognized and more than
a few mainstream movie celebrities. Some with folks he didn't
recognize till he leaned in and checked the fine print; apparently
wrestler-dude collected author celebrities, too. David Morrell, the
Rambo guy, Janet Evanovich, mystery gal, some others, hey, Marcus
Wynne, thriller guy -- Nico liked his books, F. Paul Wilson, the
Repairman Jack guy...
Interesting. Who'd a thunk it?
He wandered down the hall to the palatial
men's room, done in shades of white marble, pulled out his JoyStick
and drained it into a gleaming urinal, washed his hands, and winked
at himself in the mirror.
This whole Federale gunfighter thing was
under rated, if you asked him.
He went out, just in time to get brushed past
by one of the hottest asses he'd seen, in a snugged up tailored
Arc'Teryx
"And your name is?"
"Nico."
"Oh, Mr. Nico! Yes, Lance is expecting you,
but he's going to be busy for few minutes, so we have someone to
look after you...just minute, 'kay?"
She picked up a phone and whispered into
it.
After a moment, Nico turned as he felt
someone coming up on his gun side. And what a someone...short,
maybe 5'2", but perfectly formed with breasts, waist and hips in
accord, black mini-skirt, white blouse opened nearly to her navel,
spike heels, net hose, long black hair down her back, brilliant
blue eyes...
Oh, my goodness.
"Are you Nico?" she said, a faint hint of the
South in her soft voice.
"I most certainly am, miss," Nico said. "Do I
detect an origin somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon line?"
She dimpled. "Well, I *am* a Bama
girl..."
He extended his arm, waited till she tucked
her hands into it. "Take me, Bama. I'm yours."
Love that giggle..."My name is Mia..."
"...and I'm glad to meetya," Nico said.
More giggle. "...and I'm supposed to take
care of you till Lance gets back."
"Well, I'll let you take care of me, and
we'll let Lance take care of himself, 'kay, Bama?"
She led him into the club, and Nico was at
home. This was no titty bar, this was raw naked orgy blow jobs on
demand with premium Scotch and Dutch Chocolate upscale GENTLEMAN'S
CLUB. Just his kind of place.
The girl up on the runway working a pole was
a ripped athlete of the Scandinavian blonde kind, but her routine
set her out -- serious acrobatics, not just the lazy stand and
twitch, but someone who had a routine, worked the music and the
thin afternoon crowd hard, and obviously worked just as hard on her
physique.
"You like?" Mia said.
"I like. Very much."
"What's your pleasure, Nico?"
He pressed his arm hard against his side,
pinning her small hands against his pecs. Grinned at her. "I'm
partial to steel magnolias..."
She was completely relaxed, leaned into him
with the ease of a woman who handled men all the time. The swell of
her breast was real, no enhancement there. "Well, Nico, let's get
you started with a drink. Let me guess, you're a bourbon kind of
guy?"
"How astute of you."
"Oooh. I like guys who use big words."
***
Happily slouched down in a leather booth,
feet kicked up on a leather davenport, Mia tucked in beside him and
signaling to the on-duty cocktail waitress to keep his Kentucky
reserve fresh, a bevy of dancers stopping by the table to say hi
--
-- life was good in Nico world.
"So what's Lance's story?" he said.
Mia sipped on her iced Coke Lite. "I thought
you were friends."
"We just met."
"Oh. Well, I don't get into Lance's business.
I'm *part* of Lance's business."
"I mean what did he do before he established
this mighty fine establishment?"
"He's got what he calls his 'I Love Me Wall'
over there," Mia said, pointing one long nailed, elegantly painted
finger.
Nico took his time untangling, got up.
"Where you going?"
"Check the man out. I'll be right back. Hold
my seat."
He wandered over to the wall, a full length
stretch of mahogany with multiple framed pictures and several cases
mounted, with championship wrestling belts, trophies, and beaucoup
pictures of Lance T with wrestler types he recognized and more than
a few mainstream movie celebrities. Some with folks he didn't
recognize till he leaned in and checked the fine print; apparently
wrestler-dude collected author celebrities, too. David Morrell, the
Rambo guy, Janet Evanovich, mystery gal, some others, hey, Marcus
Wynne, thriller guy -- Nico liked his books, F. Paul Wilson, the
Repairman Jack guy...
Interesting. Who'd a thunk it?
He wandered down the hall to the palatial
men's room, done in shades of white marble, pulled out his JoyStick
and drained it into a gleaming urinal, washed his hands, and winked
at himself in the mirror.
This whole Federale gunfighter thing was
under rated, if you asked him.
He went out, just in time to get brushed past
by one of the hottest asses he'd seen, in a snugged up tailored
Arc'Teryx
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