I knew what I had to do. From my purse I took out a ball-point pen. But not an ordinary ball-point pen. I looked at the man by my side, a swarthy, rather good - looking man, well-built, sleeping on his back, apparently naked, a sheet scantily covering what was below his hairy chest, his equally hairy legs spread out. He was lightly snoring.
I studied his arm, particularly the hollow inside his elbow. Clicking the pen open, I looked for a good vein. Then I stabbed it with the pen.
He jerked up, eyes wide. "What you fucking doing!"
Then just as abruptly, he plopped down, dead. I checked his carotid for confirmation of this, and as sure as the pope was Catholic, there was no pulse, his heart had stopped completely as expected.
I looked at the digital clock on the night table: 3:30 A.M.
I am what I am: a cold-hearted psychopathic bitch. But it pays well.
Anisa Grant: professional spy, agent provocateur, assassin. I don't do liquidation jobs because I necessarily like them more than other assignments; it's just that they're the most lucrative.
I got dressed quickly into a pair of jeans and a blue cotton blouse, took my passport out of my duffle bag, left the room and the bag, and descended down the staircase. A short dark man comically dressed in white intercepted me at the bottom, but I was prepared. I gave him a karate blow across his windpipe and he was down. I ran to the front door and unbolted all the locks. An alarm sounded, and I hesitated for a moment, knowing that in seconds all the bodyguards would be surrounding the villa. I flung open the doors and bolted to my left. I knew that the weakness
in their cordon - reconnaissance had told me beforehand - was to the southeast where there was no entrance to the house. I sprinted in that direction towards the perimeter, a wall capped with razor wire. Shots were being fired, and I suspected they had seen me, making me more frantic. I leapt at the wall, scrambled up and over the top and through the razor wire, shredding my clothes and ripping my skin. I flipped over the side and landed on my ass, jolting me to stand up immediately and take off running to my rendezvous despite the pain. Breathing so hard that my raspy inhalations made screeching, panic-stricken animal-like sounds, I batted away the foliage of the tropical growth in front of me, my legs pumping, my feet digging in to get momentary purchase as I ran down a muddy hill, the adrenaline rush making my heart pound, nearly freaking me out until I saw the Humvee in the moonlight. The door opened, I jumped
Title: Girl Within Girl
Author: S.P. Aruna
Genre: Erotic Thriller
Katrina is never alone. She is bound to others inside her, tighter than any Siamese twins could ever be: Cherry, the freewheeling photojournalist, Anisa, the covert spy-assassin, and others as yet unknown, all sharing her body and mind as she goes about her work in a psychiatric hospital. But she is starting to unravel, and her sole hope is the handsome Dr. Sean Paisley, the only one who can make her whole again.
Girl Within Girl is a dark erotic thriller that wanders through a sensual maze of mind control and torture.
Half French, half Khmer (Cambodian), I’m a woman whose head is filled with fantasies and intriguing stories, and who wants to share them with others.