Mariette And The Cowboy (Western Night Series 2) by Rosie Harper Page A

current job of international assassin-for-hire. 
    I reach down towards my waist line to ensure my miniscule syringe of cyanide is still with me. I quickly scan the venue like a predator, and it isn’t long before I locate my prey. He is easily one of the better looking men in the club. Ricardo has taken off his jacket and is wearing a white shirt with the collar undone. He must keep in shape for his muscular physique can clearly be seen through the confines of his attire. It’s a shame I have to kill him, for he is actually quite attractive; tanned olive oil skin and slicked back hair. Making my way between the dancing couples towards the bar I wait for his eyes to catch mine before shooting him a smile.  He returns it and edges towards me. In a Spanish accent he says, “Now what is a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?” He has deep Jade-like green eyes that seem to stare back at me, into my soul. I think I may actually enjoy this assignment! “My date apparently stood me up. Now I’m all by myself wondering whether I should stay or just go on home.” Ricardo holds out his hand, “Come at least join me for a dance whilst you think it over. You salsa?” He asks. I flick my hair back and gently place my hand into his, “okay.”
    It is not often that I get to practice my one true love of dancing and get paid for it! My previous contracts have usually involved waiting at diners or breaking into properties awaiting the return of my unfortunate subjects.  Ricardo whisks me onto the dance floor in front of us among the numerous people. A new salsa track has started and the familiar trumpet and cow bell soon follow. As I expected, Ricardo smoothly takes control and leads my body as we instantly gel along to the beat. He gracefully twists me around and pulls me closer towards him, slightly squeezing my breasts against his chests as he does so. Putting his leg between mine, he holds me closer to him as we focus on the music; I smell his cologne and feel the feint ripples of sweat from our bodies within the heated dance floor. He turns me around and holds my firm buttocks to his groin area as we sway and shuffle.
    Even though there are at least two layers of clothing between us, albeit quite thin, I can feel the bulge of his manhood wedged between my buttocks. It feels incredibly thick and long as it sits comfortably on my mound. I begin to pool my panties, slightly overcome with the intense heat of the moment. His strong arms completely have me at his mercy as he lowers his head slightly, breathing down my neck. I feel his breath hit the smooth surface of my skin and travel downwards. We remain like this for around a minute, maybe longer. The track abruptly finishes and he spins me back around to face him. We make our way back to the bar and begin the usual bullshit conversation one engages in when meeting someone for the first time.
    I give him my cover story of being a freelance journalist in town covering the story of Columbus Day within the community. I pretend to not know anything about him and try and act like an impressionable woman. Although he doesn’t reveal a great deal about himself, he buys the act and after a few more hours of dancing I now find myself walking with him back to his penthouse. “You know for a billionaire you don’t seem to have much of an entourage.” He looks at me and smiles, “Should I have?” A doorman opens the door for us as we enter the Hilton. “Who are you?” I ask trying to sound as naive as possible. “I’m a businessman. Just like all the others around the world.” Upon entering his penthouse it is everything I imagined it to be; grand and luxurious. I sit down on his couch to which he offers me a drink. I see a tray with strawberries and cream and imagine it was ordered a while ago. I decline his offer of a beverage and lay back comfortably in the thick cushions of the sofa as he sits down beside me.
    My syringe is still in my panties and I quickly weigh up the