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Forbidden Fruit	By : GrayerGray Category: Comics > Punisher Views: 2232 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Punisher, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The mussel of Frank's gun lept in the night, flashing and coughing out deadly projectiles of lead, leaving trails of smoke to waft in the dead silent air. Empty shells fell to the ground and in perfect poise Frank stood. Silent. Listening. Something, or someone, was out there still. He could hear the rustling of the leather against wood crates.
The sound of slow claps, and heavy steps. Mario Buccini, second in command of the Gotti family, but he wasn't alone. Two of his boys were at his side, and a woman.
"Good work, Mr. Castle," Mario said, his voice hinted with just the slightest bit of an accent. He had obviously gone home for a vacation some time recently. The heat was getting on him, the Punisher was getting close to him. Correction, the Punisher-s- were getting closer to him. Vendetta wanted him just as bad as Frank did; he was into extortion, prostitution, gambling, drugs, arms; anything you can think of, this man had a piece of it. But for some reason Frank couldn't bring himself to focus on the short, fat Italian man who stood wearing a leather jacket and a high price, tailor made suit, but the woman at his side.
Mafia Princess, perhaps? Maybe, but something about the way she stood said no...
She stood about 5'10, and wore heels which pumped her up to 6'3, towering over the squat Buccini. She had a slim build, but not rake thin. A nice body, curved in the right places. Black hair fell down her shoulders, cascading to her waist. She wore a black leather mini skirt and a faux leopard fur jacket which was about three inches longer than the skirt. Ice blue eyes. Familiar eyes. Frank focussed on those eyes for a second.
She was leaning against the short man, her hand up inside his jacket. She ran her hand inside his suit jacket. It was making Frank sick, he would have to end this fast...
Two guns were trained on him, and he only had a pistol. They had high powered automatics. It didn't seem fair until...
The Mafia slut pulled Buccini's gun from its holster, firing it off once before she even had it drawn away from his body. A second shot got goon number one and Frank took out goon number too.
As she stood there, her long legs parted for balance in those high heels, Frank recognized her, realized what had been so familiar.
"Vendetta!" he shouted at her.
She spun around and took the wig off, red hair tumbling down to her chin, much shorter than the black wig. She looked at Frank, the coat hanging on her shoulders and the smoking gun in her hand. God she looked sexy, in a slutty kind of way. She wasn't a slut, Frank knew it, but the idea of making her, that hard assed, tight little bitch, his... Right there, he was tempted to just bend her backwards over one of the crates and nail her until she screamed for mercy... It was better off not thinking about that, the protection he wore against any attack to his groin was having a hard enough time dealing with his erection as it was, he didn't need to inflame himself more.
Defiantly not, she had done enough of that herself. The way she stood, that short skirt, killing those two pieces of shit with a heart of ice. He watched her and wondered if she was as turned on by this whole set up as he was.
She probably was, whether she'd admit it or not was another story. Mmm, but given half the chance, Frank could make her admit it. Oh, all the things he could make her confess to given the right circumstance...
Then again, that troll was touching her for who knows how long, and in who knows what places. His expression turned hard, and a sneer pulled his upper lip. She was tainted now, not that she hadn't been before, but now... Now he wanted to shoot her, plain and simple. How could she let that little stump touch her? And do who knows what else to her? And damn it, why did it bother him!?
"What, no kiss hello?" she said in a sarcastic manner, her hands resting on those curved hips, perfectly outlined under the faux fur coat in black leather. She was being a sarcastic smart ass, apparently this situation didn't bother her as much as it bothered him. Apparently she didn't mind being touched and pawed at by some greasy little shit.
"After you touched that? You should be lucky I don't shoot you to put you out of your misery," Frank muttered, tossing the empty gun to the ground. It wasn't his, but he had one back in the warehouse just like it, so there was no need for him to keep it.
He looked at her, the two pairs of blue eyes meeting. Vendetta fell back half a step. Did she see hurt in his eyes? Was he actually -hurt- by the fact she had used her gender to get in good with a mob boss? He surely knew this wasn't the first time she had done it, Hell, he had used to her for the same reason in the past, why was he so surprised? So hurt?
'You know why,' she answered to herself in her head. Before, he hadn't stuck his dick in her, he hadn't felt some macho claim to her body. Before, they hadn't slept together, in both the actual and modern translation of the word.
"Frank... don't get upset, it's not like it meant anything," she started, stepping forward to him. She was met with a swipe of his hand, which in the heels, caught her off guard and sent the tall woman backwards, landing hard on her ass. She looked up at him, completely bewildered by the attack. He had attacked her before, but then she had always done something even she deemed worthy of an assault. This time she was completely innocent.
"Of course it meant nothing," Frank growled at her as she stayed down. "It means nothing when I moan your name in the night, when I'm haunted by your smell. The wet dreams. When I can't even sit down to eat at that damned table because I know what we've done there. None of it means anything, it never did and never will. And that's why you can go out and get pawed and rubbed on by some little shit," he snarled at her before stalking off.
Vendetta's eyes were wide. On one hand, she was excited, she wasn't the only one. He was obsessed by that night that shouldn't have happened. On the other hand, he was pissed off at her. She had injured his pride, one of the most emasculating things a woman could do to a man. She looked at the corpse of Mario Bunicci and stood up. It wouldn't have been so bad if the bastard was at least decent, then maybe Frank couldn't blame her, but even Vendetta had to admit, she had to bite back against the vomit every time the fucker touched her.
"I was talking about... Bucinni..." she spoke softly, but he was already gone... But his voice lingered, the pure passion and anger in his voice... The raw power behind it. Killing Bucinni and one of his guards had done a fair job on working her up, but the unexpected explosion by Frank Castle had done even more. She was hurt and horny at the same time... An interesting combination for a woman who knew how to get into a man's bed...
Ready for Part IV?
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