Danger Zone

by Doreen Owens Malek

  He kissed her again, and her response was so abandoned that it excited him further, driving him to lift his head and look at her. He loved to see her in the grip of passion; her expression became transformed, hungry, fixated solely on him as the object of her desire. Now her eyes were heavy lidded, agate-dark and glowing, her mouth wet from the contact with his. He could just see the edge of her teeth set against her lower lip, and she gasped with pleasure when he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her against him. Her eyes closed luxuriously, and she pulled his head down, sinking her fingers into the wealth of hair at the nape of his neck.

  He caressed one soft, pliant nipple, and it rose at his touch as he pressed lingering kisses into the soft skin at the base of her throat. His fingertips were rough and callused, and the contrast with her tender flesh was unbelievably erotic, making her long for the wet heat of his mouth to replace it. She tugged on his hair and yearned upward, sighing with gratification as he took a swollen bud between his lips and sucked hard. She held still for long, breathless seconds, accepting, and then became impatient, reaching for the waistband of his pants.

  He moved back, unbuckling his belt. Karen watched with greedy eyes as he stood and took off his pants, then she grabbed his hand as he knelt beside her.

  “I feel,” she whispered, holding his hard brown fingers to her cheek, “I feel so much that I don’t know how to say it all.”

  “I know,” he murmured. “I know.” He tried to pull her down with him again but she resisted.

  “Let me,” she said. She embraced him and kissed the taut muscles of his stomach, letting her lips run down to the tops of his thighs. He closed his eyes as she made love to him, too enraptured to move. Finally the tension became unbearable and with a guttural sound he seized her and put her on her back, pinning her beneath him. He thrust into her wildly, but she was his match, wrapping her legs around his hips and surging to meet him. He sensed that she wanted to let go as much as he did, and he raced to a headlong conclusion that left them both drained, crumpled like rag dolls before the lowering fire.

  Colter fell asleep, but Karen remained awake, listening to the rain falling on the roof and the soft counterpart of her lover’s breathing. He was sprawled across her, his sweat drying on her skin. When she moved him to get up his fingers closed around her ankle.

  “Where you going?” he murmured, his eyes still closed.

  “Just to take a shower.”

  “Good luck,” he muttered, referring to their erratic plumbing, and drifted into slumber again.

  Karen retrieved her robe and belted it around her, checking to see that there was enough wood on the fire before she left him. She was no Camp Fire Girl, and when the blaze went out she had a tough time getting it going once more. There were several stout logs just beginning to burn however, so she went into the bedroom and got a pair of jeans and a sweater, leaving them on the bed. It was only nine o’clock and too chilly to run around in a nightgown. Then she got ready to do battle with the shower.

  She had devised an intricate system of controlling the fluctuations in temperature, and this time she only got doused with cold water once. She dried off and dressed, thinking that by the time she mastered the fine art of taking an Irish shower she would be home again.

  Home. She wasn’t sure where that was anymore. The word’s meaning had altered for her. She thought of the cottage with Colter as her home now, even though she knew the arrangement was only temporary. She ran her brush through her hair and went into the living room.

  It was empty. Colter had a habit of disappearing that she found disconcerting. For long years he’d never been answerable to anyone but himself and now he didn’t seem able to change. Karen opened the front door and looked through the curtain of falling rain. The car was still there so he couldn’t have gone far.

  Karen went back inside and got her coat, then walked around to the back of the cottage where the land dropped off into the sea.

  Colter was sitting under the roof’s overhang protected from the rain, wearing the eggshell Aran sweater they had bought for him in Cork. He stared down at the pounding surf barely visible below, his hair darkened with moisture and his hands down at his pockets. Phosphorescence glowed on the crest of the waves, but otherwise the sea was as dark as the night, blending into the inky sky above it so that the line of the land was lost.

  Karen wrapped her arms around her torso and picked her way through the wet grass to his side.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked, sitting next to him on the bench he occupied.

  “Hiding from you,” he answered. He raised his right hand, which had been concealed at his side, to show her the glowing cigarette wedged between his fingers.

  “You don’t have to hide,” Karen said softly. “I promise I won’t nag.”

  “Thanks.”

  He took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, savoring the smoke.

  “I think you’d better come inside before you catch a chill,” Karen said.

  “I’m okay,” he replied. He laughed softly. “I have an eerie feeling I may be adjusting to this climate.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Yeah, I’m a little worried about it myself.” He finished the cigarette and tossed it away, turning to look at her.

  “You know that old Jim Croce song, ‘Time in a Bottle’?” he asked suddenly, brushing his mist dampened hair out of his eyes.

  “Yes, I remember it.”

  “That’s what I’d like to do with this past month I’ve spent with you—save all the memories in a bottle, so I could take them out and look at them when things got... bad.”

  Moved, Karen asked, “Why do things have to get bad, Steven?”

  “They always do,” he replied remotely.

  “So happiness is a gift you can have only for a little while, not something you can count on to remain?” she said to him.

  He shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t know. Do most people seem permanently happy to you?”

  Karen thought about it. “My sister seems happy,” she finally said.

  He nodded slowly. “She’s married to Joe College—perfect husband and father. Right?”

  “That’s not the reason,” Karen replied cautiously. “She would love her husband even if he weren’t doing so well. They get along; they’re compatible. That’s all that matters.”

  “I wish it were,” he said dully.

  “Steven, what are you thinking?” Karen asked, alarmed. “Can’t you tell me?”

  He shook his head, then gestured dismissively. “Just a mood. It’ll pass.”

  Karen didn’t like the sound of it and stood up. “I’m going inside to make some tea. Are you coming?”

  “I’ll be along in a minute,” he replied. “You go on.”

  Karen went inside, and Colter lit another cigarette, inhaling until the tip of it glowed redly in the rainswept darkness.

  The weather was an accurate reflection of his spirits. This time with Karen should have been the best period of his life. In one way it was, but the subliminal uneasiness was always with him, eating away at the core of his contentment like a burrowing worm. She had completed him in a fashion he’d never thought possible but he was now faced with a choice he found intolerable. Though she had said nothing and made no demands on him, he felt the pressure from within to forge ties with her, to ask her to share his life in the future.

  Colter sat back against the shingled outer wall of the house and closed his eyes, the cigarette burning away between his fingers. But what could he ask her to share? The danger, chaos and constant turmoil that were his daily lot? It wasn’t fair to demand that of any woman, especially not one who had transformed his existence from an abyss of loneliness to a haven of intense, quiet joy. He didn’t want to turn her into a camp follower, waiting anxiously for him to return from each mission, but the thought of living without her now was insupportable.

  So what was the alternative? Could he change? He wanted to; God only k
new how much he wanted to become the middle class man of her dreams. He longed to transubstantiate miraculously into the good provider, to be like the brother-in-law he had never met but who haunted him, the specter of everything Karen’s mate should be. It was a fantasy as far away from him, as unreachable, as travel to the stars.

  Ash fell on his hand and he shook it off, raising the cigarette to his lips once more. It was too late, Colter felt, too late for him to try for that elusive life with her. Ten years earlier maybe, before he had seen too much and grown too little, but now the chance was gone, like an unused ticket on a flight that had left him stranded and alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her; he didn’t trust himself. His track record was awful and no one knew it better than he did. He could be faithful because he loved her, of that he was certain, but he had no confidence in his ability to provide the kind of life she deserved. Wasn’t it better for him to bow out now and let her move on to someone else who would be capable of doing that? She would be unhappy for a short while, because he did believe she truly cared for him, but better off in the end. Love sometimes expressed itself in sacrifice, and maybe the best thing would be for him to sacrifice his own needs for Karen’s ultimate welfare.

  The thing now was to tell her. The thought of breaking it off with her was so painful that each day he put the task off until the next, hoping that soon he would have the guts to do what had to be done. But the man who could face machine guns and mortars and the madness of a continual, unrelenting state of war could not tell one slim girl that they shouldn’t see each other any more. She would only accept it if he made her believe that their time together had been wonderful but he didn’t want her on a permanent basis, and that wasn’t true. There were all kinds of courage and he simply didn’t have the nerve to tell her that lie.

  He sat up and dropped the cigarette on the ground, crushing it under his heel. Then he stood and went back into the house.

  Karen was sitting on the sofa next to the fire, sipping tea and leafing through a magazine she’d bought. She looked up as he came in and said, “The tea’s on the stove. Take off that sweater, Steven. It’s wet.”

  Obediently he pulled the sweater over his head and spread it on the back of a chair to dry. Then he joined her, sitting on the floor at her feet and putting his head back against her knee.

  “All through thinking?” she asked him, a light, teasing note in her voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “‘He thinks too much; Such men are dangerous,’” she recited, bending forward to kiss the top of his head. “Did you come to any conclusions?”

  “The same one I always come to but I don’t like it,”

  “Oh. Can I help?”

  “Yes, you can.”

  He turned and tumbled her gently from the seat into his lap, cradling her as she protested that he’d crushed her magazine.

  “I’ll buy you another one,” he murmured, kissing her cheeks, then her mouth. Karen responded as she always did, with that instantaneous ardor that was like touching a light to a pile of kindling.

  Colter made love to her then, slowly, gently, in contrast to the fierce, exhausting unions of the past, as if she were precious and fragile and liable to break. And when they fell asleep afterward there were no bad dreams to trouble them.

  * * * *

  Karen awoke in the middle of the night when she heard a noise outside the cabin. She sat up, alert, and glanced at Colter, who was still sleeping on his side, one leg carelessly entwined with hers. Not alarmed enough to wake him, she disengaged herself carefully, standing up and glancing around in the semidarkness for her clothes. She settled instead for Colter’s shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it in front as its tails fell to her hips.

  She was just walking toward the door when it suddenly crashed inward, splintering the frame. She gasped, terrified, as three armed men burst into the room, holding their weapons at the ready and staring at her.

  “Colter,” the first one said, in accented English. “Where is he?”

  Chapter 8

  Karen backed away, too frightened to speak, as Colter leapt up and took her by the shoulders. He shoved her behind him, placing his body between her and the intruders. He barked something harshly in a language she couldn’t understand.

  The first man replied angrily, and Colter shouted in response, clearly ordering the men out of the house. They exchanged glances, debating what to do, and then the leader gestured roughly at the door, indicating that the others should follow him through it. Karen didn’t move until they were gone, then she whirled on Colter.

  “What is it?” she demanded fearfully as he buckled his belt. “Who are they? What do they want?”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her forcefully toward the bedroom.

  “Get in there and wait for me,” he said shortly. “Don’t come out—do you understand? I’ll deal with them.”

  “But why are they here? What’s going on?”

  He looked at her white face, the stark panic mirrored in her features, and put both his hands on her upper arms. He held her steady.

  “Karen, do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice, swallowing.

  “Then do as I say. Go into the bedroom and stay there. I’ll come in to you when I’m done. All right?”

  Karen stared up at him, at the pale hair backlit by the fire, at the eyes the color of an Indian summer sky, at the mouth that had clung to hers as if fitted to it by a master craftsman. She nodded. She would do as he said.

  “Good girl.” He ushered her inside and shut the door. Seconds later she heard him talking to the men, speaking in the same language he’d used when they arrived. They replied in angry voices. The heated exchanges seemed to go on forever while she sat on the edge of the bed, unable to think of anything but what might be happening in the next room. Finally the voices fell silent and Colter came through the door.

  Karen stood, searching his face. When he put his arm around her she hid her face for a second against his shoulder.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  He sighed. “God, I would have done anything rather than drag you into this,” he said resignedly.

  “Drag me into what?” she asked anxiously. “What are we in?”

  He sat her back down on the bed and moved next to her, taking her hands.

  “Those men are from a separatist group in their country, an underground movement trying to overthrow the government.”

  Karen nodded impatiently. She didn’t know enough to discuss the subject and she didn’t care. Her only concern was the threat they posed to Colter.

  “Well,” he went on, “I did a job for them a couple of years ago and I botched it. It was especially hazardous work and I insisted on payment in advance. When the job went wrong, I offered to return part of the payment, but they didn’t want it. All they wanted was my promise to step in sometime when they needed me.” He paused. “They’ve come to collect.”

  “They tracked you here?” Karen said incredulously.

  “I have no doubt they’d find me anywhere,” he said bluntly.

  “You didn’t know they were coming?”

  He stared at her. “Of course not. Do you think I would have come here with you if I thought they’d follow?”

  “I thought maybe that’s why you tried to get rid of me at the hospital,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I just figured something would happen,” he said dully. “And I was right.”

  “But you don’t have to go with them, do you?” Karen asked. “Can’t you send them away, tell them you’ll join them later?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she asked desperately. “We can run for it, get away. Surely there’s someplace we can go where they can’t find us.”

  Colter stood and paced the room, shoving his hair back with his fingers. “First of all, you’re up to that ‘we’ stuff again. This is my problem and I’ll solve it. You’re getting out of this as soo
n as I can arrange it.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  He held up his hand and she stopped short.

  “Second,” he went on, “there’s no place in the world where you can hide from a group like this. Believe me, I know. I’ve seen others try. All I can do is pay my debt and hope I get out of it with my skin intact.”

  “But who are they? Where are they from?”

  “It’s better you don’t know.”

  Karen shook her head. “Steven, why do you know such terrible people?” she whispered despairingly.

  “I tried to tell you,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.

  She looked away. He had.

  “I’ve gotten them to agree to let me take you to a safe place,” he said flatly. “But they’re coming along.”

  “Why?” she said, startled.

  “They don’t trust me,” he replied grimly.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured, as the full implication of what he was saying hit her. “Isn’t there any way out, anything we can do?”

  He sat down again and made her look at him. “Karen, listen to me. You have to understand. They’ve seen you now. They know who you are. If I don’t do what they want, they’ll hurt you.”

  Karen froze. “What do you mean?”

  He closed his eyes in pain. “Do I have to draw you a picture? You’re a hostage. They’ll let me take you to a safe place, but only if I go with them afterward. If I renege on this you’ll pay the price.”

  Karen didn’t know what to say. He looked so miserable that she took refuge in a nonjudgmental silence.

  “I’m sorry, Karen,” he finally said. His voice broke on her name.

  “It’s all right,” she replied, pulling herself together. “I’ll be fine. Where am I supposed to go?”

  He shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t know.”

  “To my sister’s house? They’d find out about the rest of my family.”

  “Your people would be in no danger, but that’s out,” he said flatly. “These guys can’t get into the U.S.”