by Lakes, Lynde
After paying for his purchases, he asked the storekeepers if they knew the name of the owner of the nudist camp.
The man chuckled. “Sure. Freedom Incorporated. Everyone in the canyon knows that—plus what really goes on up there.”
His wife rolled her eyes. “A swinging orgy.”
Nikki pulled a flyer from her purse with Glenda’s picture on it and asked if they’d seen her. They hadn’t, but when Nikki explained that this woman had been kidnapped, they wanted to know more about the circumstances. After Nikki gave them a brief run-down, they offered to put the flyer in their window. Nikki was ready to hand it to them, but Dayd stopped her.
“Thanks,” he told the couple, “but that won’t be necessary.”
Nikki glared at him, obviously furious. He hoped she would understand when he explained the need for secrecy right now.
“How do I get to the nudist camp?” he asked.
The old man chuckled. “You got reservations?”
Dayd shook his head.
“Then not by the front gate. Heavy security. Jerry Miles might be able to help you. He runs the local post office up the road a piece. He has topography plat maps, and ownership parcel numbers for most of the larger acreages. He can tell you most anything you wanna know.”
His wife glanced at her watch. “Might be closed by now. Lives in the pink ranch house at the end of Scotch Lane.”
“Jus’ knock on his door,” the old man said. “He’s as friendly as his terrier.”
As soon as Dayd and Nikki left the market, she demanded, “Why didn’t you let me put up the flyer?”
She tried to shake his grip from her arm, but he held tight.
“Because it could work against us,” he said with great patience. “This is the only store in the canyon. If one of the kidnappers drops in to buy a coke or a pack of cigarettes, he’ll know we’re closing in on them. And this rescue has to be a surprise.”
“Oh,” Nikki said. “I guess I should have thought of that.”
He opened the car door for her and she slid inside. “I know it’s tough, but try to work harder on trusting my judgment. I know this undercover game better than you do.”
She nodded and went silent. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her feelings.
After driving a few miles, they turned down a dirt road. The postal clerk’s ranch house was at the end of the short street. Two reddish bay horses with black manes grazed in the side acreage. A yapping toy Manchester terrier followed Nikki and Dayd up the dirt path to the door. A man opened the screen door and quieted the terrier. “Hi folks, come on in,” he called, “Ray telephoned and said you were on your way here.”
Aromas of fried onions and garlic came from inside. The clerk’s checkered shirt was open, baring his rail-thin chest. He turned off the skillet and offered them coffee.
“Thanks, Jerry,” Dayd said, using his known-the-man-all-his-life tone. “But we can’t stay long. Ray told me you might know the name of the owner of the nudist colony.”
“You’ll have to call the Bureau of Corporations to be sure,” the postal clerk said, “But I’ve heard the brains behind Freedom Incorporated is one of those Russian fellas.”
“Godunov?” Dayd suggested, past the constriction in his throat.
“No, that ain’t it.”
“Vladimir?”
The clerk rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Might be. Durned if I can remember. Camp manager is Gill Thacker, if that’s any help.” As they left, the postal clerk gave them a copy of a plat map with property parcel numbers, pointing out boundaries and access roads, some not shown on the map.
Back in the car, Nikki said, “If Glenda’s at the nudist camp, we have a chance to find her. And I’m geared up to tear the place apart until we do.”
Dayd wasn’t ready to point out the problems ahead of them, so instead he let her cling to her hope. It might help her get through what he planned next.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“You turned the wrong way. Aren’t we going to the camp now?” Nikki asked, feeling an urgency to get on with the rescue.
“We need more information,” Dayd said. “Charging in unprepared will work against us. I need aerial pictures and better maps. The postal clerk’s map was only a blurry reduced copy. Let’s have dinner and talk things over.”
“More talk! Glenda is in the clutches of that cruel, evil man.”
“You think I don’t know that?” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Dammit, I’m tortured by it. But we only have one chance at this. We can’t afford to botch it.”
“But when I think what he might be doing to her right this minute—”
A muscle in Dayd’s jaw twitched again, but in spite of the pain that flashed in his eyes, he said nothing. Nikki took a couple of deep breaths to calm down. What he’d said about charging in unprepared made sense…and it had been hours since she’d eaten. The edgy feel of her sugar level dropping was proof of that. In order to perform with a cool head and steady hands, she needed to eat some protein pronto. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. But I’ll never forgive you if we fail.”
He blew out a gust of air. “Boy, as if I weren’t working under enough pressure. Just keep loading it on, Nikki. It really helps.”
Had she pushed too hard, making a nearly impossible rescue harder? But, God that was her friend out there, maybe being tortured right this minute. His words, we can’t afford to botch it, replayed in her head. “I’m sorry, Dayd. I know you are doing your best.”
He reached over and touched her hand. Then, instead of heading to a restaurant, he turned onto a dirt road and followed it until he came to a row of six large cabins with rock chimneys. “Why are we stopping here?” she asked.
“You’ll see,” he said, leaving her to go into the motel office. She rolled down the window the air was pungent with the smell of pine and livestock. Reche Canyon, dotted with forests and small ranches, was only a few miles from the city, yet it felt so far away, like another world.
Almost immediately, Dayd returned and guided her toward the last unit.
“Are we meeting someone here?” she asked, hurrying to keep up. “This better have something to do with Glenda!”
He gave her a low-lidded, sly glance that suggested she was way off course.
“Wait a minute. Are you just up to some kind of hot-blooded man games? Tell me, dammit.”
He laughed. “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes. Glenda comes first.”
He opened the door of the cabin. “Granted. But we have to eat to keep our strength up and like I said, we have some important things to go over so we don’t make any errors in judgment.” He gestured with a sweep of his arm. “Make yourself at home. I need to get something out of the trunk.”
She tentatively stepped over the threshold, wondering just how wise it was to enter with so much left unsaid between them. A small brass lamp sent out a dim yellow light that diffused and disappeared into the shadowed high-beamed ceilings. But there was sufficient light to see the place. The enormous, one-room rustic cabin had a huge stone fireplace, prepared with wood and kindling. It was meticulously clean with boxy, sturdy mahogany furniture. Curtains and rugs in Navajo designs reminded Nikki of her uncle’s place outside the city of Needles, near the California-Arizona border.
“Miss me?” Dayd asked.
She jumped.
“A little edgy, are we?”
She gave him a give-me-a-break look.
He placed a large bag and a small Styrofoam ice chest on the floor near the fireplace.
She shifted her weight, feeling off balance. “Why are we here? We could be back at the hotel in twenty minutes.”
Dayd smiled around a soft chuckle as though amused by a private joke.
“I wanted to disappear for the night,” he said. “No Sinclair, Boris, or Nazar.” He straightened his shoulders, looking arrogantly male. He took a step toward her. “Are you afraid?”
Her gaze fell on the king-sized bed. Nikki’s heart beat faster. Images of their pr
evious lovemaking sent heat coursing through her. She refused to look up at him, afraid to let him see the passion that must surely show in her eyes. “Should I be?”
Rather than answering, he walked past her, so close she felt the air stir. Now she had to look—had to see what he was up to. He squatted by the stone hearth to start the fire, and his jeans tightened over his buttocks. Fascinated, she watched him light the kindling. Within minutes, flames danced over the logs with hot abandon. He turned from the fire and, with a swish, yanked the cover from the bed and spread it, like a layer of silken fallen leaves, in front of the hearth. He reached for her hand, and trembling at his touch, she let him draw her down.
Then, to her surprise, he released her and sat back on his haunches. His rakish nonchalance denied the tension charging the air between them.
“Hungry?” he asked in a tone too sexy to be referring to food.
She nodded. Her dry throat made it impossible to speak. He grinned as though he knew his effect on her. Then, seeming to ignore the heat scorching the air between them, he laid out their picnic. The food looked very European—pink smoked salmon, round loaf of black Russian rye and bottle of white wine. It reminded her of a table-spread in an Old World painting.
Suddenly the outside world disappeared, and she found herself in some strange land with rules she was yet to learn.
“In Moscow, we have a saying,” he said in a deep voice. “Work hard, but fail not to rest and replenish the body.” His piercing gaze unsettled her. “After a busy day like today, it is customary to feed each other, symbolic of nourishing one another’s soul.”
He broke off a small chunk of the black bread and gently pushed it halfway into her mouth. Before she could draw the whole piece inside, he said, “Wait. The outside portion is mine.” He gently nibbled at the coarse, warm bread until his lips met hers. Her face flamed. Embarrassment and arousal washed over her in searing waves.
Dayd ceremoniously poured some wine into a goblet, swirled it around and took some into his mouth. Again, he pressed his lips against hers, his tongue forming a soft trough, forcing her lips apart. After an instant of surprise, she accepted the warm, smooth liquid.
With any other man this particular intimate sharing would have disgusted her. But with Dayd it was exciting. Heat flooded her body. Even thinking about the intimacy they’d just shared sent tingles skittering over her feverish skin.
He poured more wine into a second goblet, handed it to her, then raised his glass. “To a meeting of our souls.”
They clinked glasses and kissed. At first, his kiss was gentle but soon they fell into a kissing, touching frenzy. Dayd paused and pushed the food and drink out of the way. He began yanking impatiently at her clothing, and she at his. When they were both gloriously naked, he tipped the bottle of white wine and splashed it over them in a light shower. She laughed and squealed, “What are you doing?”
Grinning, he said, “In Russia, it is good luck for lovers to shower each other with wine then sip it away like this,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin as he bent and gently sipped and sucked away the trails of wine, starting at her breasts and working his way down. Wild from the pleasure of his mouth, she returned the joy, tasting the wine-sweetness of him…
He groaned…and let her roam at will. Then, suddenly he said, “Hey…wow…you catch onto Russian traditions fast, but let’s not get in a rush here.” Taking control again, he touched her moist inner core with gentle fingers, dipping inside in splendid ways. Her arousal was so fierce it frightened her, but she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to. She wrapped her arms around Dayd’s neck and held on. She didn’t ever want to let go. With burning determination, she scissored her legs tightly around his waist and clutched him close.
The fire in the hearth flamed as hot and rampant as their need for each other. Dayd’s broad bare shoulders, his sculptured waist and narrow hips moved above her like the roaring flames: twisting, bending, teasing.
She returned all she received, wanting to please him as he was pleasing her, hoping to drive him mad, unafraid to reveal all she could do for him.
Sweaty and wild, sometimes she rode the top of the crest, rolling and moaning. However, in the finale, it was he who loomed over her, pounding her with his swollen, burning thrusts. Coiled tight, she gripped his buttocks, crying out as he swept her to the zenith, then together they plunged over, both shattering into blissful exhaustion.
He lay still for a long time, letting their breathing even out. Then he kissed her forehead. “Hungry?”
“Starved. I’m ready for the main course.”
He laughed. “I thought we just had that.”
After they washed up, Nikki helped him lay out the baked salmon and Russian potato salad. They ate heartily of everything, including more black bread. When they’d eaten their fill, Nikki fingered the key around her neck and said, “When we were at my apartment, I got so excited about the phone number I forgot to look for the lock that this key fits.”
“Learning the lay of the land and who might be involved was more important,” he said. “We’ll look for the lock tomorrow.” He brushed a tendril from her face and kissed her gently. “Now, back to our renewing ritual. This time we’ll use the bed.”
As he rose to a standing position, he took her with him, then bent and swept her off her feet. He lowered her to the bed with incredible gentleness. This time their lovemaking was slow and beautifully orchestrated, like a symphony. From the radio came the strains of the song Memories. As they climaxed, tears filled her eyes. He kissed her on her face, her neck. Then he kissed her forehead and curled around her and whispered something so low that she wasn’t sure if she heard right, but it sounded a bit like: “I wish I could promise you forever.”
“Me, too,” she whispered under her breath. Me, too.
****
Boris and Nazar sat in a car outside of Vladimir’s Bar trying to match license numbers with those recorded at Porgie’s place where Nikki had briefly seen Glenda. Nazar, binoculars at his eyes, knelt on the seat to get a better view over the dashboard. Boris aimed his own long-range binoculars at a car entering the parking lot. He wanted a cigarette so bad he could taste it, but he never smoked in closed places around nonsmokers. Especially Nazar. Smoke bothered the little man.
Odd, lots of things bothered him lately. Boris laughed to himself.
Maybe the little man found a little woman. Woman trouble was the downfall of many a man. He thought of beautiful, childlike Margo. What she knew could be the downfall of Godunov. If only—
“Look,” Nazar said. “Isn’t that Jose Mercado, Nikki’s neighbor?”
Boris watched the olive-skinned man with a beer belly cut through the bar’s parking lot. “Dah. A cross-country trucker going to a bar owned by Suztov Vladimir? Doesn’t add up, does it?” To their surprise, Mercado didn’t enter the bar. He crossed the street and headed toward The Sun newspaper office.
“False alarm,” Nazar said.
Boris settled back into his seat. “We’ll see what he does when he returns.”
Frowning, Nazar bit his stubby nails. “We should be watching Nikki instead of this place. She’s the key to the trouble.”
That was the third time Nazar had said that. Boris wasn’t going to explain again that she was safe with Dayd. “Where did you disappear to this morning? Maybe you’re the one who needs watching.”
Nazar laughed, then asked in his raspy voice, “What did Dayd say when you told him you were hot for his woman? Do you think he fell for it?”
“Dah,” Boris said. “But only time will tell if I cooled him off or lit the fuse.”
“By the way they were looking at each other,” Nazar said, “you can bet the fuse was already lit. Nikki has become more vital to him than the mission. And that worries me.”
Boris put an unlit cigarette in his mouth and imagined taking a long drag and releasing the smoke slowly. “Dayd’s setting Nikki up to be hurt again. I know he cares for her. But he can’t sta
y—and after Luke, she needs someone who can.”
“No wonder you were so convincing. You care about her, don’t you?”
Boris grinned. “I love all women. They are such delightful creatures. Nyet?”
“You’ve got guts, messing with Dayd’s heart like that.”
Boris laughed without humor. “What are friends for?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Last night Nikki had accepted that her dream of a forever with Dayd was just a lovely fantasy, and now back in San Bernardino in the light of day it was even more apparent. But no one could take away her memories.
They pulled into the Yum Yum Coffee Shop parking lot and stopped next to three patrol cars. As they entered the restaurant, she glanced at the table occupied by six policemen. She knew the place was a favorite with the cops. “This should be a safe place to eat,” she said in a low joking tone. Joking helped to override her desperate fear for Glenda and her searing pain from the knowledge that the moment this was over, she and Dayd would part. Forever. “Of course, after being tailed by Sinclair’s men for days, I feel like Little Red Riding Hood marching right into the wolf’s den.”
Dayd laughed and gestured for her to slide into the booth. “Good thing I didn’t take you to Vladimir’s Place. You’d be in a real wolf’s den there.”
Rather than sitting down she looked up at him. Adrenaline surged through her. “Of course, the Russian hangout! Why don’t we go there? Just march right in and see who we shake up?”
He placed his hands on her arms and strongly guided her into the booth. “Not a good idea. Besides, Boris and Nazar are covering the place. If one of Godunov’s men shows up, they’ll be ready.”
A gum-chewing waitress with a streak of green in her hair appeared and handed Nikki a menu. She thanked her, set it aside and met Dayd’s gaze. “Ready to do what?”
“Coffee?” the waitress asked, looking amused by their intense exchange.
“Make it two,” Dayd said. “And bring us a couple of pancake sandwiches with the bacon crisp. Okay, Nikki?”
Nikki nodded. They had already decided what to order on the way to the restaurant. At the time pancakes had sounded great. Now nothing sounded good. The waitress scribbled something on her pad and left.
