Free Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas) by S. M. Stelmack Page A

away.”
    As the two walked off, Gina stepped up to Kannon. “Order number one is you don’t hit me. Spanking I like, hitting I don’t.”
    Something flashed in his dark eyes before he covered them with his sunglasses.
    “Yes, Ms. Zaffini.”
    “Order number two is for you to call me Gina. Or Gina honey. Or Gina babycakes. Or Gina sugar. Or Gina, you little sex kitten. Or Gina—”
    “Yes, Gina.”
    “And order number three is to go get breakfast while I shower and slip into something that doesn’t make me hot and sweaty. Well, any more hot and sweaty than I get around you.”
    As usual, he ignored her.
    “Then we’re off to see an old friend of mine.”
    His mouth twisted. “We don’t have time for social calls.”
    “We have time for this one,” she sing-songed.
    He took the bait. “And who would this friend be?”
    “Nobody special. Just one of the world’s most wanted cyberterrorists.”
     

     
    Victoria snuggled against Alak Montri in the back seat of the limo, setting her chin on his shoulder. She fussed with the cloth bag over his head to ensure a comfortable fit. “You know, when we killed your lieutenants, I thought we ought to kill you, too. I mean, why stop when there’s only one enemy left? Doesn’t seem to make sense, does it?”
    There was silence from the bag and a subtle lowering of his shoulder away from her cheek. Tsk. She cupped his crotch and he froze.
    She rolled his soft balls in her hand. “It was my brother that saved you. You know, the man you think betrayed you? He spared you and all he wants in return is for you to be useful, Alak. Don’t you want to show some gratitude for his mercy? I mean, you do owe him your life.”
    She stroked the front of his pants, waking his cock to quivering life. With the handcuffs behind his back, he was helpless to stop her and could only press himself against the seat. The silly, silly fuck. He didn’t understand revulsion had nothing to do with sex. In fact, in her experience, the two were quite compatible. “I know I haven’t been very kind to you, Alak,” she murmured. “Believe me it could have been worse. John didn’t want me hurting you. Too much. Nothing that would kill you or do permanent harm. Given the circumstances he was very kind to you. Surely you get that?”
    Alak Montri leaned his head back. There, there, relax. And then he head-butted her.
    “Duck fucker!” she squealed, elbowing him hard in the stomach. Alak doubled over, and her fingers were dug into his windpipe before she pulled herself together. She shoved him back against the seat. “You’re lucky John wants you alive.”
    She reached into her purse for her compact mirror. Nothing broken, but there’d certainly be a nasty bruise. She dabbed at the blood from her nose with a thick handkerchief she purposely carried for little mop-ups.
    Alak Montri hadn’t moved, the cloth around his mouth suctioning in and out. She gripped his crotch hard this time and his body jerked. “You better pray that you can be of some use to my brother, because if not, I’m going to tie ten fishhooks on a line, jam them down your throat, and then pull them up out of your stomach one by one.”
    The man turned his face towards her again. “You may wear the skin of a woman,” he wheezed, “but you’re a demon inside.”
    Victoria tilted her head, and unzipped his pants. “You’re more right than you know.”
     

     
    John Wakai watched Victoria yank the hood off his former boss and dump him onto the living room floor. Montri’s face was pulpy from bruises and cuts. Several of his fingers looked broken. Dammit. It was always so hard for Victoria to stop once she got going.
    Then he noticed his sister’s face. “What the hell happened to you?”
    “I was playing nice and he head-butted me. Fucker’ll pay, don’t worry.”
    Wakai rubbed his temple. “Did you at least give him some water?”
    “I tried. He wouldn’t drink.”
    Wakai sighed and wheeled over to him. “Can