Five days later, on a flight bound for Las Vegas.
Perkins and Hunter sat next to each other in first class, speaking in low voices.
"So," Perkins purred, "what have you been so busy with lately? I couldn't drag you out of your house no matter how hard I tried."
Hunter was currently slumped in his plush leather seat, the very picture of exhaustion and deep, utter satisfaction.
Perkins recognized that look perfectly. About two months ago, she had spent over a week with him down in Mexico. They had communicated daily, frequently, and incredibly deeply. By the end of that week, she had looked exactly like he did now: thoroughly, entirely "full."
Hunter couldn't be bothered to formulate a verbal reply, but Perkins' assumption was entirely correct.
He was absolutely stuffed.
Before he got his hands on Mrs. Smith, he had been craving the challenge. But once he had her, the meal proved to be incredibly rich, heavy, and unending.
It had taken him the better part of five days, utilizing a significant amount of his time, stamina, and Continental resources, to properly "persuade" the highly lethal assassin to join his team.
Unsurprisingly, Jane Smith had no desire to submit.
Their first few days together were spent in a state of intense, violent "friendly communication."
Initially, Jane didn't entirely reject the physical aspect, but she absolutely refused to cooperate emotionally or mentally. As the days wore on, she became slightly more compliant, but remained guarded and entirely devoid of warmth.
However, when she realized Hunter's stamina and enthusiasm for their "communication" were genuinely bottomless, the legendary assassin finally snapped.
In a desperate bid to regain control, she went on the offensive, attempting to aggressively drain his stamina and essentially "kill" him through sheer exhaustion.
Even the most luxurious delicacies become overwhelming if you eat them every single day.
That was exactly how Hunter felt right now.
Seeing that he was too drained to even banter with her, Perkins rolled her eyes playfully. She pulled her sleep mask down over her eyes and adjusted her seat.
She had recently accepted a lucrative Continental contract. The target was a prominent casino magnate based in Las Vegas, which meant a cross-country trip.
The flight from New York to Vegas covered over 2,500 miles. Even in a modern jet, it was going to take at least five or six hours.
Perkins was a light sleeper, but as a professional assassin, she had developed a highly useful skill: she could force herself to fall asleep within ten or twenty minutes whenever she wanted to.
Soon, the soft, even rhythm of her breathing filled the space beside him.
Hunter wasn't surprised. Having spent a lot of time intimately observing her, he knew her habits well.
With the talkative assassin asleep, the cabin grew quiet.
Hunter closed his eyes and began to seriously contemplate the structure of his new core team.
Having been reincarnated, he didn't want to live a stressful, agonizingly complicated life.
He had no grand ambitions. He didn't want to conquer the world or build a massive, bureaucratic criminal empire.
He just wanted enough power and influence to ensure that no one could ever target him or his loved ones with impunity. That was enough.
With his proficiency system, his five core attributes were constantly improving. Soon, they would reach five times the human average.
Because of this, he wasn't particularly worried about his own personal safety.
At his current rate of progression, Hunter estimated that in a year or two, his attributes would push past ten times the human limit. Once he reached that threshold, he would essentially be a superhuman capable of fighting hundreds of elite soldiers single-handedly.
So, his motivation for building a team wasn't for his own protection. It was entirely to protect his women.
He wanted to be a "Sea King," sure, but he wasn't a heartless bastard who abandoned the women who devoted themselves to him.
Currently, his inner circle of lovers included Slattery, Sam, Terri, and Maggie.
However, none of these four women possessed any real talent or potential for combat.
Hunter felt that teaching them basic pistol marksmanship—enough so they wouldn't be completely helpless in a crisis—was the absolute ceiling of their capabilities.
To truly protect them while he was away, he needed professionals.
And currently, the only professionals he knew and felt he could eventually control were Perkins and Jane Smith.
Perkins was entirely obsessed with money. Hunter didn't know what kind of trauma she had endured in her past, but her greed superseded everything else.
While their physical relationship was deeply established, Hunter knew her loyalty was currently transactional. At best, their intimacy ensured she wouldn't try to assassinate him for a bounty. Earning her absolute, unconditional loyalty would require significantly more time and "communication."
As for Mrs. Smith... after their intensive five-day "negotiation," Hunter estimated that if there were a tangible affection meter, he had dragged Jane's feelings for him from negative territory up to a solid thirty or forty out of a hundred.
The higher the affection, the harder it was to raise.
Fully subduing a top-tier, fiercely independent assassin like Jane would require much more time.
Fortunately, the hardest part—breaking her initial resistance—was already done.
Several hours later, the plane touched down at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas.
They hailed a cab outside the terminal and headed straight for the heart of the Strip.
An hour later, they checked into a sprawling suite at a luxurious five-star hotel.
Hunter hadn't booked separate rooms. Perkins hadn't objected.
Carrying their small travel bags, they entered the suite.
The moment the bellhop left and the heavy door clicked shut, Perkins shot Hunter a professional look.
Moving with practiced synchronicity, Hunter took the living area, while Perkins swept the bedroom and the en-suite bathroom.
Ten minutes later, they met back in the center of the living room.
"Clear," Hunter reported, shaking his head. He hadn't found any hidden cameras, laser microphones, or RF transmitters.
"Bedroom and bath are clear, too. No surveillance," Perkins confirmed.
She immediately walked over to the sofa where Hunter had just sat down. She straddled his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply, biting playfully at his lip.
"Mmm."
In their line of work, a healthy dose of paranoia kept you alive. Checking a hotel room for bugs before relaxing was simply standard operating procedure.
Hunter leaned back against the cushions, letting Perkins nip at his neck and jawline.
"Like we discussed," Hunter said lazily, "I'll handle the hardware."
"Tell me what your preferred loadout is for this hit, and I'll go get it sorted later."
Originally, Perkins had planned to drive from New York to Vegas because bringing an assassin's arsenal through TSA airport security was impossible.
But Hunter had absolutely no desire to spend two or three days crammed in a car, nor did he want to waste time on a train.
So, he had simply told her he would "source" the weapons locally if they flew.
In reality, his [Inventory] was packed with enough firepower to start a small war.
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