Wake UpJim had woken up a while ago. A long while. But he refused to open his eyes, just yet. Because, you see, he didn't need to.
He could feel the softness of the sheet, and duvet cover. It was, of course, thick just how he liked it. Luxurious. Tantalisingly fluffy. He could feel the slight chill in the air around his face, as there always was in London, and the contrast of that with the warmth under the covers. He could feel the clothes he was wearing: just a pair of boxers with a plain t-shirt. And, if he stretched his hand, or foot, or body a little way to the right, he could feel the man lying next to him. Comfortingly close, so that if Jim ever felt disorientated or worried, he could just reach out and he'd be there. Looking after him and watching over him, even in his sleep. Sebastian Moran: The best sniper in London and the best lover a man could ask for.
He could smell that gorgeous shower gel that Sebastian always used, without fail or deviance. He could smell the faint arom
Scared, Tiger?I hadn’t meant to end up a criminal again. For a while, I had been on the straight and narrow, working my way up through the ranks of the army by honest means. I should have know that he’d find me, that he’d be waiting.
After a couple of months hunting tigers, I caught one that had a tattoo on its ear. It was a grid reference, coupled with two letters: SM. Being deliberately without a GPS, or any navigation tools, I found my way back to the road and nicked a map from a petrol station. My curiosity had been awakened, and it would not rest until it had been satisfied.
When nearing the map reference, I picked a suitable tree from which to survey the area. It was the second best situation for my purposes; whoever had left the tattoo might have anticipated me had I used the first. Settling in the tree with my gun, I noticed carvings in the bark, in an identical style to those on the tiger. I chuckled under my breath as I turned and read them: ‘Scared, Tiger?” S