Readers: Over the Garden Wall is a "prequel" of sorts to my earlier three-part series Ride on a Unicorn, so if you haven't already, please read that first. Thanks!
WF1
"Considering we're up against cold-blooded killers, multiple organized crime syndicates and a thoroughly corrupt police force, I guess a good night's sleep would have been the right move," Mike said as he lifted his head from his lover's pussy.
Sharine growled in disapproval and forcibly returned his weary mouth to the important task at hand. "It relieves the tension, don't you know? Back to work, love slave."
Mike stuck his tongue out in defiance and Sharine appreciated the gesture with a chuckling moan. But he was right though, she thought as she writhed in pleasure, as a background dialogue spooled through her mind plotting their next moves.
They needed to know when the cartel would move the coke. Could they catch them in the act? And who would believe them? How could they make them pay for what they did to her beloved brother and the innocent tourists in his care?
But more pressingly: When was that goon coming through the door?
Even in the throes of passion, Sharine was able to detect his movements outside, and saw his reflection in the window next to Mike's front door. She waited a moment to satisfy herself that he was apparently alone.
Now she pulled Mike's moist face to hers and kissed him deeply, then put her lips to his ear. She delivered a short but urgent message. Mike pulled back wide-eyed. "Guess I'll take a shower!" he declared before bounding off the bed through the kitchen and into the bathroom. Then the sound of jetting water.
Sharine's eyes turned to the door. Three seconds passed. She made a loud yawning noise. The door opened, a gun barrel proceeded him.
She pretended to be shocked as Carlos entered the cottage, and he put an index finger to his lips to signal that she shouldn't alert her lover to his presence. She shook her head vigorously, pulling the sheets up and pretending to cower in fear. Carlos broke into a broad smile, revealing years of failed dental work.
"Please don't kill me!" she whimpered, to Carlos' delight. "You can have anything you want."
Sharine lowered the sheets, revealing her state-of-the-art software. Carlos' eyes widened and he nearly choked on the toothpick in his mouth. She smiled and pushed her breasts together, so Carlos could better imagine his cock sliding between them.
She nodded at the shower. "I don't care what you do to him, he means nothing to me," she said. "You could tie me up. I like that. Siempre he preferido a los amantes latinos."
Of course she preferred Latin lovers -- and she had come to the right place. He'd had hundreds of women and mostly no complaints. Carlos had no intention of letting the girl go. But where was the harm in having a little fun before he put a bullet in that pretty head of hers? It had been a fucked-up week and he deserved a break.
"Don't move," he said with menace. "If you run, I shoot you now. I visit your boyfriend first, and then you and I play. Yes?"
He backed toward the bathroom, turning his head back and forth between Sharine and the open door emitting steam. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw an object swinging toward his head and he quickly ducked out of the way. Mike had been hiding in a corner beside the fridge on the way to the bathroom and he stumbled and fell when he failed to hit his target.
Carlos scrambled back to his feet and trained his gun on the fallen man. "Muere, cabrón!" he hollered.
"Hey lover, I thought we were going to fuck!"
He turned quickly and saw Sharine squared in shooting position. There was only time for a short sorrowful look at her magnificent ebony tetas before she fired. And for the third time that sorry week, Carlos would require the services of St. Basil's finest, and only, veterinarian.
Standing over the thrice-wounded bruiser, Sharine glared at Mike who was still grasping his improvised weapon.
"A rolling pin -- really? That's the best you could do? What is this -- a sitcom?"
"I'm OK, I'm uninjured, thanks for your concern!"
"What the hell, Mike," she muttered as she bent down to assure herself she hadn't terminated Carlos before he could prove useful. She got lucky -- it was a through-and-through that missed vital organs.
"If I'd known there would be gunplay, I'd have put a rifle in the broom closet," Mike griped. "Hey, where did you hide the piece?"
Sharine winked at him before returning to the bedroom to grab some clothes. "Now you know why I wasn't up for anal."
When Carlos came to, he was face down on the rear deck of Poppy's fishing boat, spitting salty entrails out of his mouth as his head cleared. He could tell his wrists were zip-tied behind his back and his legs were wrapped in an anchor chain. He looked about and felt the roll of the ocean and knew they were out at sea. He then cried out and writhed in terror as he figured out what they were going to do to him.
"Sharine, he's awake!" Poppy yelled and in a moment the black woman crouched down to address her prisoner. Sadly, she was fully clothed and her interest in bondage seemed to have taken a sinister turn since the last time Carlos spoke to her.
"Fuck you!" he snarled, with what little courage he had left on display. He tried to spit at her but fear had turned his mouth dry as a bone. Another lame gesture. "I tell you nothing."
Sharine grabbed him by his oily hair and pulled his face up. "Oh, I think you're going to sing like a bird. Isn't he Poppy?"
Her grandfather chuckled as he grabbed a pail of bloody chopped fish and dumped it off the back of the boat. Carlos turned and saw the old man and a few of his buddies cheerfully passing loaded buckets to one another. He knew what they were up to.
"You think that scares me?"
