Exerpt From Solomon by Bil Howard (coming soon)

He ignored the innocent and trusting eyes of the greyhound as he looked down the sights of his 9mm, semi-automaticpistol and pulled the trigger. "Now," he commanded. "Get me some new dogs that can
win!"

"Yes, sir," came the immediate reply.

"Perhaps it isn’t the fault of the dogs?" he said aiming the pistol between the eyes of his kennel keeper. The man closed his eyes, crossed himself and waited for the expected bullet. His boss did not pull the trigger, though he smiled and enjoyed the moment of terror that came over the man who tended to the breeding and keeping of his dogs. He had just emptied his clip to kill all of the dogs in his kennels and he knew that there were no more bullets in the gun, but he was enjoying the moment.

After a long, silent period of prayer, the kennel keeper opened one of his eyes and noticed that his boss was smiling and had not shot him. Emboldened, he opened his other eye, still not trusting the smile. He had seen it before. It was a smile that had no joy in it, but rather cold, hard evil. "I will get new dogs for you," he whispered. "Better dogs that run like the wind itself."

"Good! Now get out of my sight!" He lowered the pistol to his side and glared at the kennel keeper; the smile gone from his face. He watched as the kennel keeper backed away from him until he was around the corner of the small building which housed the last dog whose life has been taken, not wanting to be shot in the back. He turned away and started back across the large, green lawn which was walled in by large, white, limestone, cut from a quarry in the mountains of Venezuela.

The white wall and green lawn surrounded a large, two story mansion set upon the top of a hill in the western mountains of Venezuela, not more than 100 kilometers away from the border of Colombia. Colombia had been his home until he had been forced to move his cartel operations across the border into a friendlier climate. He had government officials in Venezuela who made secret visits and frequently came with large sums of money meant to keep him happy. In return he was to regularly harass the army and the people on the other side of the border. One day FARC would be strong enough again and they would start a revolution. The people would come to him and he would unite them all under the flag of Colombia once more. All of the land of the old Colombia from the Caribbean to the Rio Maranon in Northern Peru and from Costa Rica to Guyana; the land of Bolivar would be united again.

Thoughts of how he would restore the great nation of Bolivar were in his head as he approached the large swimming pool at the back of his mansion. The water of the pool was a crystal, clear blue that had not a speck of any sort to be seen upon its surface. There was a man there whose only job was to make certain that the water was spotlessly clean. Surrounding the pool was more of the white limestone as pavers and half a dozen women were sunning themselves in various states of undress on the lounge chairs. He looked around in disgust as he took his first step onto the limestone patio. His house attendant was rushing toward him.

"Can I get you anything sir?" his attendant offered. "You look like you need something cold to drink."

"I want you to get rid of these damned women!" he shouted. "They eat my food. They each have a bedroom and bathroom provided for them. They lie around my pool all day and they don’t even acknowledge me!" What he said was true, however, they were also called upon regularly to perform all sorts of sexual favors and deviant fetishes for him at his bidding and had been chosen because of their beauty and kept because of their skills in pleasing him. At the sound of his command, they all turned and looked at him. "Yes, you, all of you!" he raged. "Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house!" He raised the gun and they started scrambling. "Now!" In a little more time than it takes an Olympian to run 100 meters, he was alone with his attendant and the pool keeper. He lowered the pistol and strolled toward the gazebo.

"I will get you that cold drink," the attendant said, scrambling to be away from his moody employer who made himself comfortable in his favorite chair in the shade of the gazebo.

He was in a rage today. He did not like to lose and his dogs were not performing. He enjoyed bragging to his friends about his winnings and to have that taken away from him was something that he could not stomach. He knew that they were talking about him and laughing about the fact that his dogs had been losing races. The thought of others laughing at him and about him, made his blood boil and nothing could change that until it simply wore off. Nothing, except for the tall, leggy, sleepy-eyed woman who strolled out of the house, across the patio and entered the gazebo.

"I was told that I needed to leave," Bianca said as she entered the gazebo. "I came to say good bye and to collect the money that you owe me."

He raised the pistol and aimed it between her sleepy, black eyes, that remained cool and steady as she stared at him. Her face was sharply cut, with a small mouth, but with full, puffy and pouty lips. Her body was slender and toned with tight abs, proportional breasts and a handsomely round, bubble-butt with a cute little tuck. She leaned over the table in such a way that he had a perfect view down the front of her loose fitting blouse which she was wearing without a bra. She was one of the few women that he had ever known who was not intimidated by him. Her look was cold and bored and she seemed almost reckless. "I owe you money? You sleep in my house and eat my food and have my protection and I owe you money?"

"Don’t fuck with me Tinto. Pay me or shoot me, it’s all the same to me," she said. Her steady gaze was still locked on his. She had the ability to be as hard and cold as he was and then lose that coldness in a moment of passion as they made love; if she was able to love. "I have done work for you that is beyond what these other whores have done and I’ve been your whore as well. If I am leaving, I am leaving with the money that you owe me."

He looked down the sights of the pistol with the same cold look that he had when he shot the dogs, then smiled and put the gun down on the table in front of him. "Sit down," he said.

"I’d rather not," she said. "I have packing to do."

"You don’t need to pack," he said. "You can stay."

"Maybe I want to go," she said. Her tone was cold and careless. "Maybe I’m tired of your bull shit."

She was likely the only person in the world who would be able to talk to him that way, and he let her. Why did he let her? Five minutes ago he would have shot anyone who spoke to him that way. The thought of her leaving and the defiance that she was showing should have made his blood boil over, but he was somehow calmed by her strength and her presence. The only other person who ever had that kind of control over him was his mother. She would always have that control over him. "How much do I owe you?"

"Sixty thousand dollars," she replied without blinking.

"When I pay you, you will be leaving then?" he asked.

"I will decide that after I’ve been paid," she replied. As she was speaking, his attendant arrived with his mojito. Her steady gaze never left Tinto’s eyes.

"Juan," he ordered. "Have 60,000 dollars placed in Bianca’s room and then bring her a drink."

"Yes sir," his attendant replied.

"There is also a mess to clean up in the hallway," she said. Her cold stare had a little bit of glint to it. "The whore who told me that I had to leave."

"Juan," he said as Juan started to turn away. "Let the security guys know that they can do whatever they want with the whores that I am dismissing, but there is to be no break in security."

"Yes sir," he said and turned away quickly to attend to his duties.

"You will be staying then?" he asked. His eyes had never left the cold stare that lingered between the two of them. They stayed locked onto hers as she took her seat. It was a game that he loved to play. He would not allow himself to be beaten at it. He would force the other person to look away. It would never be him. However, Bianca had always been a perfect match for him even in this.

"I will decide that after I get my money," she replied.

"Maybe I will not let you go," he replied. He enjoyed the sense of power that he exerted over everyone around him, but it was even more satisfying to him to have an equal who was as cold and careless as he. She would probably stay, but she would defy him for a while first. Why did he allow her to defy him? What was it in her that kept him from simply pulling the trigger? He considered that maybe he loved her, but he wasn’t sure that he loved anyone. He admired her strength and he always felt a warm sensation move through him when she was around.

"Then you will have to kill me," she replied. "But reload your gun first."

A deep chuckle began to rise into a laugh. "You are good," he said. "How did you know?"

"I have ears and I know how many shots are in that 9mm semi-automatic," she said. "I gave it to you."

"I could have reloaded."

"You only have one clip."

"Maybe I bought another."

"You did, but you didn’t take it with you."

He slid the gun over in front of her. "Prove it," he said carelessly.

She picked the pistol up from in front of her aimed it at him and held it on his face for a long time. The coldness made him believe that given the chance and the right reason, she would pull the trigger without any remorse. Her finger however, hit the release and the empty clip dropped to the table. She sat the gun down and continued staring into his cold eyes.

"Very good," he said. "A beautiful assassin who knows her weapons."

"Guns bore me," she said.

"Yet, you know how to use one."

"I have other weapons that are more deadly and make less noise," she whispered.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he considered just how silent and deadly this beautiful woman could be. He did not fear her, he was too vane for that, but he felt that he needed to respect her a great deal. She was his feminine match and he would never underestimate her. "I might have another job for you."

"We will see," she said. "After I decide if I am going to stay."

"This one will pay double what the other did," he said. It was a way to control her and keep her near him where he could watch her. He really had no other control over her. She enjoyed watching how his calm demeanor changed when rage suddenly filled his eyes and she cracked a small smile as she realized that she had hit the chord.

"Let me guess," she said. "You need me to take out the American who embarrassed you in Colombia?"

"No," he said. His eyes flashed with the rage of having been embarrassed by the American. The entire detachment had been executed for being inept. His blood began to boil again. "Another job first."

"Sicotris is here." Juan broke into their conversation as he placed the mojito in front of Bianca.

"Send him out," he replied without looking away from Bianca. "You might find this interesting."

"Why would it be interesting?"

"He is bringing me information on the location of the American and who he is," he replied. "I think we will pay him a visit and eliminate him."

"Or he will embarrass you again," she smiled. "I have other things to do." She stood, her eyes still locked on his, backed away slowly then very decisively turned her back on him, walked several steps, then looked back over her shoulder to let him know that she was still in control.