Zeke

by Annette Broadrick

  She nodded and he closed the door.

  Angie sat there hugging herself, feeling as though she were going to fly into tiny pieces if she let go of her grip. Never had it occurred to her that they wouldn't find comfortable rooms to spend the night.

  Her traitorous body had already acknowledged awareness of their situation. She was aware of every move Zeke made, every breath he took, every word he said. She felt as though she would be able to find him in a crowd if she were blindfolded... by the very essence of who he was.

  She had placed her life in his hands just a few days ago. It was only now that she realized she had also placed her heart in his hands, as well.

  Zeke Daniels defined the word tough. There were no soft edges. A man like Zeke might sample something that attracted his attention, but he would never buy.

  She wasn't surprised that he had worked for her uncle only a few weeks. She had a hunch he never stayed anywhere for very long.

  She could never have imagined that she would give her heart to such a man because, in her innocence, she had never known such a man existed.

  They would return to Monterrey tomorrow, when she would once again be the daughter of the manor and he the hired hand. He didn't seem to have any regrets about their situation. Why should he? Once he turned her over to her uncle, his duties would be finished.

  Tonight would be the last night she had with him. She could literally turn her back, ignore him and fall asleep, or she could have one more night with Zeke, a night in which she would collect some unforgettable memories for the time when he would be gone.

  ❧

  After his shower, Zeke went downstairs to the cantina. He intended to give Angie plenty of time to get ready for bed and to fall asleep.

  From the moment he realized that the only way he could protect her was to keep her in his room, he knew he was in for a sleepless night. He ordered a drink and watched a card game at the next table. When one of the men decided to leave, one of the remaining players asked Zeke if he wanted to join in. The stakes were small and from what he had observed, the game friendly. Shrugging his acceptance, he moved over to the next table and began to play.

  He lost track of time because time didn't matter. All he needed to do was to get through the night. He had positioned his chair so that he could watch the stairs up to the second floor. He knew exactly who had gone upstairs and why. When the game broke up, he knew he couldn't postpone the inevitable any longer. With a nod to the other men, he headed to the room.

  Quietly fitting the key into the lock, he eased the door open. The shadowy darkness of the room made it difficult for him to see anything. He closed the door and waited for his eyes to adjust before he moved.

  "Zeke?" She murmured the name and he knew that she was far from awake. He smiled.

  "Yes," he replied in a low, soothing voice. "Everything's fine. Get some rest."

  "I waited for you...I wanted..." Her voice trailed off. She said no more. He figured her to be sound asleep, which was fine with him.

  Now that his eyes were adjusting to the dark, the starlight from the window gave him enough light to see. He sat down in the chair and removed his boots and socks. Then he took off his shirt. He'd sleep in his jeans as he had done last night. Much safer that way.

  He smelled of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke, although he'd only had a couple of glasses and he hadn't had a cigarette in more than five years.

  Contamination by association.

  He didn't want that to happen to Angie because of him. She deserved better. There was no way he could take advantage of their situation. She would hate him soon enough, when she found out why he worked for her uncle.

  Her relationship to Lorenzo would be another contaminating factor, one that he couldn't protect her from, at least not entirely. However, as long as he kept his objectivity where she was concerned, he would be able to explain her innocence to those in charge and they would have no reason to doubt his word.

  All of that would come later. For now, he had to get some sleep.

  Zeke silently moved to the bed. With measured movements he stretched out on top of the covers, gratefully acknowledging to himself that, as tired as he was, he would have no trouble sleeping after all.

  He closed his eyes and allowed the air jto leave his lungs in a peaceful sigh.

  Angie stirred beside him, but he continued to lie there without moving, already drifting into restful slumber. Let her think he was drunk. Let her think he was—

  His eyes flew open.

  Angie had pushed her covers off and was kneeling beside him, placing dainty kisses across his chest. She had neglected to wear anything to bed.

  "Not fair," he groaned, his hand resting on her head. Whether he meant to push her away or hold her close, he wasn't sure.

  She paused in her soft caresses and looked at him. "You took care of me last night. Now it's my turn." Her fingers found the zipper of his jeans and eased it downward, shoving his jeans and briefs down his legs until they fell off the end of the bed.

  Zeke stiffened, knowing that she didn't understand, she couldn't know that—

  Reverently she brushed her fingertips across his burgeoning flesh, getting an eager response from the traitorous part of his anatomy.

  "Angie, noooo—"

  "It's all right, Zeke. Really. I just want to—"

  "I know what you want to, but it's not possible. I-"

  "But you were prepared. I found this in your bag, so you must have—" She was pulling the item from its foil wrapper.

  "Not you, darlin'," he breathed. "I always keep them with me. I—oh, Angie, oh honey, you don't know what that does to me. I can't— I don't have the control to—"

  He lost his train of thought. Hell, he was losing his mind. For a young lady with zilch experience she was logical enough to understand design and its application for the aroused male body.

  She stroked him, causing his hips to surge upward as though independent of the rest of him. "You're much larger than I thought a man would be."

  He heard the quiver in her voice, but before he could think of something to say in reply, she shifted once again, this time stretching out on top of him. He could feel her full, taut breasts pressing against his chest.

  The Inquisition could not have come up with a finer torture than what Angie had devised. To make matters much more difficult, she didn't have a clue of the torment in which she had innocently placed him.

  "Angie, I-"

  Her kiss muffled whatever he had been going to say. Openmouthed, she copied the kiss they had shared on Maria's front porch, her tongue darting to meet his in a playful duel.

  Each person has his or her limit and Zeke knew when he reached his... then went tumbling past.

  "Angie, honey," he managed to get out before she silenced him once again. He rolled so that she was lying beneath him on the bed. He ran exploring fingers along her body, feeling the taut peaks of her breasts, the quivering of her ribs from her panting breaths, and finally, when he touched her most secret place, he found that she was ready for him.

  "So sweet," he whispered, knowing that he was too far gone to stop what had been put into motion tonight. He pulled one of her knees up so that her heel rested along the back of his thigh. "I don't want to hurt you," he breathed, lowering his body imperceptibly closer while he kissed and caressed her; readying her for the next step.

  This time it was more than his fingers that found the barrier proclaiming her innocence. Zeke paused, squeezing his eyes shut, knowing that there was no way for him to lessen the pain she was about to feel.

  "Zeke? What's wrong?" she murmured. "Am I too-"

  "You... are perfect... Princess," he managed to answer between short, shallow breaths. "I don't want to hurt you, I'm so afraid—"

  Once again she removed the situation from his control by hooking her heels together and lunging upward, forcing his entry. He heard her gasp and felt her quivering as she clutched him around his shoulders, holding him in a viselike grip.


  When he attempted to ease away, she cried out. He held still, his weight resting on his forearms, and placed tender kisses on her upturned face.

  "I didn't mean to cry out," she whispered between quick breaths. "I knew there would be some discomfort ... I just didn't expect..."

  "Don't apologize, Princess. Please, not that." He eased back and she sighed, lifting to him once more. He let her set the rhythm. This was her seduction. He would let her control it___

  Until he could wait no longer. He couldn't hold back, couldn't wait. He needed to—

  Zeke took over the pace, afraid he was rushing her but no longer able to—aaahhh, there. The inner ripples were beginning to stir deep inside of her, causing her to stiffen in surprise. They continued to grow and grow, pulling him ever deeper inside until he felt swallowed up in the sensation.

  He muffled her cry with his mouth, feeling his own release and knowing that he had never experienced anything remotely like this in his life. The sensations went on and on, as though they were being swept into a huge vortex forcing them deeper and deeper into the black pit of total experience... the place without thoughts, without words, without time.

  Infinity.

  Chapter 6

  Zeke heard a soft footfall at the top of the steps. Despite his relaxed state and the fact that he had slept deeply during the night, the tiny sound brought him into abrupt wakefulness.

  Angie lay with her head on his chest in an abandoned pose that caused him an unexpected pang to see her trusting vulnerability.

  He slipped out of bed without rousing her, had his pants pulled up and zipped before the soft tread paused in front of his door. Reaching into a hidden compartment of his duffel bag, he palmed his pistol and silently moved to the door.

  The soft tap on the door was anticlimactic.

  "Hey, Zeke. You in there? Time's awasting, man. We gotta get going."

  Zeke recognized the voice of Pablo, one of Lorenzo's men. He had no more time than to release his pent up breath before he realized that the knock and voice had awakened Angie. His eyes widened with dismay as he saw her open her eyes, sit up and—

  He made a dive and placed his free hand over her mouth.

  "Hey, Pablo, I'm awake," he hollered. "Glad you made it. I'll go wake up Angie and see you downstairs in a few minutes."

  He waited until the footsteps retreated before removing his hand from Angie's mouth. When she didn't immediately tell him off for grabbing her so unceremoniously, he turned and fully faced her. Her gaze was fastened on his other hand, her eyes wide with shock.

  As casually as possible, he returned the pistol to the duffel bag and said, "We overslept this morning, Princess." He sat down- and started pulling on his socks and boots. "We should have been up hours ago. Instead, we almost got caught in bed together." He stood up and stomped his feet, then reached for his shirt. "I don't like to think what Lorenzo would do to me if we'd been seen." He concentrated on the buttons. "I'm going downstairs for some coffee and, if I'm lucky, some breakfast. Give me about twenty minutes and come down as though we haven't seen each other since last night. As far as Pablo knows, I tapped on your door on the way downstairs."

  When he finally looked at her, his gaze was steady.

  "Why do you have a gun?"

  Exasperated, he put his hands on his hips. "Did you hear a damn thing I just said?"

  "Yes. I just don't understand why you have a gun."

  "It's part of my job, Princess." He opened the door. "Twenty minutes, no more."

  Angie was left to stare at the dingy door in silence.

  Mechanically she got out of bed and walked over to the sink. There was no hot water, but it didn't matter. She found some coarse soap and scrubbed her body until it glowed.

  Oh, dear God, what had she done? How could she have forgotten everything she had ever been taught? What was it in her personality that impulsively pushed all the limits, only later becoming aware of the consequences?

  Why would possessing a gun be part of Zeke's job for her uncle? She didn't understand at the moment, but once she reached home she would insist on some answers.

  ❧

  The flight home certainly helped to get her mind off her questions. Angie hadn't known that Zeke had arranged aerial transportation to rescue them. If so, she would have insisted on something that rolled over the ground.

  She hadn't been given a choice. When she had arrived downstairs, carefully following Zeke's instructions, she had met Pablo, once again alarmed at the type of individual working for her uncle. She couldn't imagine why her uncle would need a man who looked more like a wrestler or a bouncer than anything else.

  Big and burly, Pablo was certainly not her idea of a pilot, but when, after breakfast, the three of them walked to the helicoptor waiting on the edge of town, Angie realized that was how Pablo had gotten there so fast.

  She panicked.

  "No, Zeke. Absolutely not. You can go ahead and I'll just wait here. I'll take a bus back to town... or maybe I can rent a car. I'll just— Zeke! Put me down. No! I'm not getting on— I'm not flying agai— Zeeeke!"

  She had found herself unceremoniously dumped in one of the seats, her seat belt efficiently fastened around her.

  Now Zeke and Pablo chatted away, pointing out areas of interest to each other as they flew much too low to the ground, while she crouched in the small seat behind Pablo.

  Once in a while Zeke would look back at her. He'd give her a sympathetic smile, touch her hand or her knee as though making a silent apology.

  How could he have done this to her? He knew how frightened she was of flying, particularly after what had happened to them. How could he expect her to go up in the air again when the mere thought... Something flashed from below and she looked out... and kept on looking.

  After a while she forgot to be afraid. The two men were obviously unconcerned. She couldn't hear what they were saying because of the noise. She didn't care what they were saying. If they were discussing another crash, she would prefer to be taken unawares.

  It wasn't that she feared death. It was the uncertainty of whether she was going to actually die or whether she was going to be subjected to unspeakable and unimaginable pain first.

  But if she were to die— Ah, then she could at least appreciate her midnight behavior. Her impulsiveness had led her on a road of discovery that had swept her away into a whole new world of sensation and pleasure.

  Yes, she had been foolish. Yes, she might very well live to regret her actions, but for now, all she wanted to do was to relive the night before.

  She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, cleverly distancing herself from the present.

  "Angie. Are you all right?"

  Zeke's touch reached her at the same time she heard him calling her name.

  She opened her eyes and nodded, seeing the silent question in his dark eyes.

  He pointed ahead. "That's your uncle's airfield down there. You should be home soon."

  She sat forward, trying to see around his broad shoulders and Pablo's bulk. The tin roof of a hangar glinted in the sun. She saw a black limousine parked nearby with a group of men watching their approach.

  They looked so tiny, like little toy men with toy cars and airplanes, waiting for a child to pick them up and rearrange them to suit a young mind's fancy.

  Their descent was much too fast for Angie. Her stomach seemed to stay in the air. But before she could think about her physical reaction, they were on the ground and her uncle was running toward the helicopter in a crouch, the wind from the blades blowing his suit flat against his body, his tie and hair streaming behind him.

  Pablo cut the engine and the blades' whopping sound gradually lessened.

  Zeke crawled out, then turned and helped Angie, lifting her by the waist to the ground. As soon as her feet touched, he stepped away and her uncle grabbed her.

  "Angela! Thank God, you're safe. I never want to live through such a nightmare again. Nothing in life is wort
h the scare I've had." He held her for long, silent moments. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart as she lay pressed against his chest.

  Eventually he let her go and looked at her. "Come. We need to get you home. You must be exhausted from your ordeal." He turned and slapped Zeke on the back. "You brought her back safely to me. For this, I owe you, my friend."

  "Just doing my job, boss," Zeke replied in his low voice. He didn't look at Angie.

  They were walking toward the car, Lorenzo and Angie with their arms about each other's waist, when she asked, "Who are all of those men, Tio? You look like you've recruited an army around you."

  They reached the limousine and one of the men waiting at the car opened the rear door. Zeke walked around and got into the small seat facing Angie, her uncle and Pablo. Three other men jumped into the front seat.

  "Ah, Angie, it's good to have you home. It's been a long time. There's been changes...some good, some not so good." Lorenzo took her hand and patted it. "We'll talk, my angel. Once you're home and settled in, we'll talk."

  Angie glanced at Zeke and saw the impassive expression that he had worn so often .since she first met him. Was it only a few short days ago? She felt as though she had known him forever, as though he had been a part of her life... and her dreams... since childhood. She knew that look was a shield for his thoughts and feelings. Someday perhaps he would be willing to share them with her.

  "So tell me about the family, angel. What has been happening in your life since last spring?"

  Obligingly Angie brought her uncle up-to-date on her life as it had existed before she met one Zeke Daniels, who in three short days had managed to turn her world upside down.

  ❧

  "The oil line had been severed, then spliced to come apart once we were airborne,'' Zeke explained later in the day as he sat across the desk from Lorenzo in his office.