The Beasts of Juarez R.B. Schow (reading the story of the .TXT) 📖

“For whom?” she asked. Her voice was less pinched and gravelly than he remembered. What kind of youth transformation had she managed for herself?

“Me, of course,” he said, extending a hand. She took it, gave it a firm shake then smiled. “It would be rude of me not to tell you that you look amazing.”

“As do you, Leopold. I must say, the younger women suit you.”

Grinning, certain that he had kept his private life private, he wouldn’t let her make him stumble. “There is no greater diet than dating twenty-five-year-olds.”

“Says a true narcissist,” she teased.

“And yet here I am, working my ass off not to pine over you. Is it strange that I’m even more attracted to you now than I was last time I saw you?”

“It would be strange if you weren’t,” she replied as if the statement was nothing. “Let me show you to your girl. She is with a special set of people right now, people someone unfamiliar with the kind of work we do here will not understand.”

“I understand a lot of things, Miss Norwood.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said with a laugh.

They walked through a maze of hallways and corridors, so many that he found himself slightly lost, or turned around. It was baffling to think that behind every door, or every set of doors, were assets born and raised for the ravages of war, for the brutality of covert ops, and for assassination squads of all measure.

“And here we are,” Isabelle said.

The second she opened the door, Leopold saw the bald-headed assassin he had purchased six months ago doing hand-to-hand combat with the most beautiful girl Leopold had ever seen. She had lightly-browned skin, long brown hair, and…purple eyes? He couldn’t pull his gaze from those deep amethyst eyes, or that mesmerizing face.

If there is such a thing as love at first sight, Leopold thought, this is it. Swallowing past a lump in his throat, he turned to Isabelle and whispered, “Who is she?”

“You can think of her as a guest trainer,” Isabelle said. “Be quiet and let them train.”

The two women were ferocious in their combat, and even though Kiera worked smoothly, swiftly, and with an extreme amount of power, there was something slow and clunky to her when compared to her trainer.

With this young amethyst-eyed brunette, there was a grace and fluidity unmatched by any human he’d ever seen before, save for the great martial arts masters. These same masters had taken decades to perfect their art. But in those final years, when they were at their peak of discipline, much of their youth and the vitality had waned.

Yet this young woman seemed to have an understanding of tactical combat, the fluidity and polish of a master, and the kind of youthful vitality you never see in even the most skilled of combatants.

“She is an impossible creature,” Isabelle leaned toward Leopold and said.

“She most assuredly is,” Leopold replied. His heart was crushed, stomped, and beaten with the need to know this young woman.

“How does she look to you?” said a handsome man who suddenly appeared behind them, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Where did you come from?” Leopold turned and asked the man.

“Many places before this, but only moments ago, I came from down the hall.” He spoke with a slight German accent, his features handsome but stern, like he didn’t do much smiling. “My name is Dr. Enzo Holland. You must be Leopold.”

Leopold reached out and took the man’s hand, enchanted. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Doctor. Are you working with Kiera or are you here in a different capacity?”

“Kiera’s trainer is my protégé, my experimental weapon if you will. I’m afraid that I’m nothing to her but a hindrance these days, for her evolution is far beyond anything I can teach. Yet for some reason, she has taken a liking to your Kiera. So to answer your question, yes, I am working with Kiera.”

Just then, Kiera’s trainer stepped past an impossibly fast kick, checked the outside of Kiera’s knee, then dipped down and rammed a shoulder into her body. The sideways attack lifted Kiera off the ground and put her on her ass.

“If you’re going to fire your weapon fast, be sure to retract it faster,” the brunette said. She offered a hand to Kiera, which the young woman took, and then both women turned to face Leopold.

“Hello, Kiera,” Leopold said.

She nodded her head without saying a word.

“Is she still not speaking?” he turned and asked Isabelle.

“She speaks many languages,” Isabelle replied, “but we often find that words get in the way of action. As you know by now, our assassination models are geared more toward kill-tactics than any kind of socialization.”

“And what is your name?” he asked the amethyst-eyed brunette.

“Savannah,” she replied. “You’re Leopold, I assume.”

“I am,” he said.

“You’re the one who owns Kiera?” she asked.

There was a tenor to her voice, a surety that made him question if he was hearing confidence or disgust. At that very thought a subtle smile broke across Savannah’s mouth, almost like she could read his mind.

“No one really ever owns anyone,” he said tactfully. “I have, however, opted to use the skillset she possesses to do some good in the world.”

“Using violence for good, that’s novel,” Savannah said, looking over at Holland, who was frowning at her. “I don’t know anyone else who thinks like that.”

“Savannah is her own master now,” Holland said.

“How old are you?” Leopold asked her.

“Don’t you know it’s not polite to ask a girl her age?” Savannah asked affably.

“That rule doesn’t count if you’re a younger woman. And you, my dear, are much younger than I am.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Now he was certain she was disgusted by him. He could see it in her eyes,