“I step out for lunch, and you're already with another woman?” Natasha asked in a soft, low voice. She slipped through the small gate to get behind the counter.
The other woman had left only seconds earlier, flashing Natasha a smile on her way out. Natasha knew that smile well. It belonged to someone who enjoyed stirring up chaos.
“I was just showing her my weapons. She's a customer. Anyone can come in,” Sebastian defended himself.
Before Natasha could say anything else, the doorbell rang. Another customer walked in.
“Welcome, Alfred. The usual?”
“Not this time, Sebastian. I wanted to sell you a gun.” The elderly, white-haired man brought a shotgun up to the counter. “They say any weapon that passes through your hands comes out looking brand-new.”
“Is it broken?” Sebastian asked. Natasha noticed the genuine concern in his eyes.
“No, it's just that… my body isn't what it used to be.” The old man gave a sad smile. “Every time I fire it, I end up hurting my shoulder.”
“I see. But why sell it?” Sebastian asked. “I know how much it means to you. You take care of it like it's your own child.”
“Because I can't stop using it. It's part of my routine, you know? I see it hanging there and think, I should take it out today, break a few clay pigeons, you know?” The old man looked guilty, like a child who couldn't keep his hands out of the cookie jar. “My wife asked me to sell it. She doesn't like seeing me get hurt.”
Sebastian looked at the shotgun resting on the display counter. Natasha noticed the conflicted expression on his face.
“What if I modified it?” he finally asked.
“If you buy it, it's yours to do whatever you want with. All I ask is that you don't strip it for parts.”
“No, Alfred. I mean modifying it so there's no recoil,” Sebastian clarified. “I can make sure it never hurts you again.”
“Really?” the old man asked. “Look, if you can do that, I'll pay whatever you ask. But… don't get my hopes up for nothing.”
“Come pick it up in two days. I promise it won't move a millimeter when you fire it, and it'll be so light you'll forget you're carrying it.”
“You've never let me down before. Please, name your price.”
“A lot of what I know about guns, I learned from you. This one's on me. You're turning sixty-seven soon, right? Consider it your birthday present.”
The old man tried to pay anyway, but Sebastian insisted on doing it free of charge. In the end, Alfred left looking equal parts grumpy and happy.
The question would also help her build a fuller profile of Sebastian. The people he cared about could reveal a great deal about him, although Fury might use them as bait someday.
“That old man looked after me when I was little. He's always loved guns. He goes clay shooting every Sunday and has for years,” Sebastian replied. “It's part of his life, almost like eating and sleeping.”
“You sound kind of sweet when you talk about him,” Natasha teased, though there was a hint of tenderness in her voice too.
She walked past him and brushed her backside against his crotch. There was plenty of room between the wall and the display counter, more than enough to pass without touching him. But opportunities were there to be taken.
Slap!
Natasha hadn't expected Sebastian to smack her on the ass.
“I'll take this to my workshop,” he said, picking up the shotgun.
“Aren't you going to put the weapons away?” Natasha asked. The swords, daggers, and axes were still laid out on the display counter.
“I'll leave the ornamental dagger on display. Maybe someone will want to buy it,” he said before disappearing with the shotgun and the other weapons. Watching him carry everything at once was a little funny.
Natasha examined the ornamental dagger Sebastian had mentioned. It was studded with gemstones. One glance was enough to tell it was expensive. And Sebastian wanted to leave it out in the open?
‘Is that man trying to show off for that woman?’ Natasha thought, a little frustrated.
She picked up a cloth and began cleaning. Part of her wanted to plant listening devices around the place, but she doubted they would work.
The rest of the afternoon passed without anything particularly noteworthy happening. Customers came in to buy ammunition; others looked for weapons, browsed, and left empty-handed. It went on like that until the clock struck five.
Natasha didn't work a minute of overtime. She went straight to the entrance, hung up the CLOSED sign, and then entered Sebastian's house.
‘Is the workshop the office where he interviewed me?’ she wondered.
But when she reached that room, no one was there. She checked his bedroom and the shooting range, but couldn't find him. She located the bathroom and kitchen and began mapping the house in her head. She would draw a floor plan later.
Natasha noticed how everything seemed new, almost as though time never passed inside the house. She had infiltrated millionaires' homes before, but none of them had been maintained to this degree.
“In the mood to snoop around?” The voice of the man she'd been looking for sounded in her ear. Sebastian grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against him. Natasha liked the movement.
“I was looking for you. We have some unfinished business,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “It's about workplace loyalty.”
“Is that so? Does it have something to do with Felicia?”
“Felicia? So that was her name?”
“Are you jealous?”
“No,” she said sweetly. She wasn't jealous, but her pride had been wounded. Men didn't usually look at another woman when she was in the room.
She needed to regain control, to make Sebastian look only at her. Besides, it was another way to continue her mission to gather information about him. She hadn't managed to get anything out of him the day before; she'd ended up far too exhausted.
“Somehow, I don't believe you.” Sebastian's hand moved to her stomach, whose firmness she took pride in.
Natasha felt his hand move to her scar, the one she'd gotten from the Winter Soldier. She immediately tried to pull away, but couldn't. The man's grip was firm as he held her.
She felt a faint warmth bloom in her belly and spread down between her legs. There they were again, those damned hands that made her lose her concentration. Then he moved his hand down from the scar to her pants, his fingers easily finding the buttons and gently undoing them.
He didn't undress her. Instead, his hand slipped to her pussy and began touching her. Natasha tilted her head to look back at him. His eyes were bright as he watched her, a faint smile on his face. She felt the urge to kiss him.
He beat her to it, lowering his head to kiss her from behind while his fingers continued playing with her pussy. With every passing second, more moisture gathered between her legs. He touched her without inhibition, as though he knew that part of her better than anywhere else in the world.
After spending hours doing just that, he probably knew her from head to toe.
“It took me forever to get all your cum out yesterday,” she whispered, pulling back slightly as she enjoyed his fingers. “You left so much inside me… I hope you leave even more today, so I'll have something to remember you by when I leave.” She pushed her backside against Sebastian, rubbing against the bulge in his pants.
She could feel it clearly. He was hard.
Just the way she wanted.