Angered, Lando almost approached her. She was anything but useless. Even powerful men he had known would have succumbed faster than she was. He knew he could offer her no comfort while she still had her wits about her, her fear of him was too great.
Lando rubbed at his drawn face tiredly. It was only early afternoon. He still had at least three hours of traveling time. She would be following him no more this day, he was certain, unless he intervened.
“Damn!” Lando suddenly exclaimed loudly. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Christy flew to her feet, stumbled, recovered, and, limping heavily, raced to hide behind a large tree.
Lando came out into the small clearing; he made a grand show of looking at the ground as if in search of something important. “I must have dropped it around here somewhere...there you are!” Lando bent over and picked up an imaginary item. He then rose slowly and made a grand show of stretching and yawning. “Damn, I'm so tired.”
Lando settled himself down against a large rock. He made a point of removing a package containing two large, oatmeal raisin cookies. Thankfully Howard had been a packrat and had a variety of goodies sequestered away aboard his plane. Lando noisily ate one, then again yawned with exaggerated movements. He closed his eyes and was soon snoring loudly. The other cookie had fallen to the ground, seemingly unnoticed.
From her hidden position, Christy gazed longingly at the food. Her tummy rumbled, yet without its prior intensity. Christy felt certain even that part of her anatomy was feeling her exhaustion. Gingerly, she lay back against the tree gratefully. She could not have gone another inch without rest. Positive she remained undetected, Christy closed her eyes and succumbed to her encompassing weariness.
Lando approached Christy's sleeping form with caution, his movements stealthily practiced and precise, honed after years of intense trailing and tracking. She lay curled in a tight ball, her small hand, fisted, was tucked under her chin.
Lando studied her delicate features more intensely than he had originally. She was indeed badly bruised. Already deep lavender circles were forming under tired eyes. Perhaps she could be saved. Her determination was proving to be admirable. She really was tougher than she looked. Maybe if she could follow him long enough, he could propel her to safety. The dilemma of how to aid her would prove bothersome. Besides, Lando had never saved a life, just taken them. Hopefully that part of his past was just that...past.
Slowly, Lando rose to return to his previous position. Night would soon be falling; he would require a safer shelter. This neck of the woods was decidedly dangerous. Still, he was uncertain as to what to do with the girl. The rational part of him screamed to just end her suffering while she laid vulnerable out in the open, the other decidedly louder voice implored him to allow her to live. Lando was irritated. Since when had he developed a conscience?
Coming to a conclusion, Lando removed one of Christy's thick sweaters from the duffel bag. He had thought at the time it might make a decent pillow. Now balling it under his head, he coughed loudly. He wanted to get moving. When he stopped next it would be closer to dark and it would be getting colder. Though she was now in Howard's serviceable jacket, it might not be enough; the temperature would dip substantially, and she might freeze to death.
He noted with annoyance Christy had not stirred. He coughed again, only louder. Still no response. Angrily, Lando launched into a coughing spasm that would have impressed a director if he were playing a dying scene. He noted with evil satisfaction as Christy jumped to her feet, petrified. Lando resisted the urge to chuckle at her discomposure. Instead, he rose noisily, allowing the sweater to fall behind him onto the ground. He grabbed up the duffel bag and, leaving the cookie and clothing behind, he once more trudged off at a slow pace.
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Chapter Three
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Christy gazed at the blazing fire longingly. After Lando set out once more she had discovered the cookie and her sweater mistakenly left behind. She removed Howard's and her coat, donned the sweater, and dressed again. She had almost stepped on the cookie. Christy broke it in half; one half she tucked safely in her pocket, the other she savored slowly. She wondered at Lando's carelessness. Perhaps he was feeling as exhausted as she was. He certainly was coughing a lot. Perhaps pneumonia was setting in.
Now darkness was upon them. Lando's roaring fire beckoned tauntingly from a few feet away. Christy had been forced to dive for cover as he occasionally wandered in her direction in his pursuit of firewood. The built up blaze of orange and red colors danced, acting as a teasing magnet. Christy would like nothing more than to cuddle up closer to it. She had ventured as closely as she dared, protected by the darkness, wincing as sticks snapped under her feet and old dry leaves crunched.
Lando appeared unconcerned, and unaware, she absently wondered how acute his hearing was; she felt she was making a god-awful racket. But he laid back, his arms tucked under his head, his back resting against a huge rock, his sleepy eyes fixed on the heavenly fire. Christy noted with some annoyance he was using one of her Angora sweaters as a pillow and a pair of her thick thermal socks as mittens. Angrily, she thought if she were just a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier she would give him what for. Then, on a soft sigh, she realized he would still be a great deal bigger than she was and most likely be able to kick her behind.
Settling back, Christy closed her eyes. Even though she could only just barely feel the warmth of the flames, the soft snapping and crackling sounds were comforting. She envisioned herself back in her parents’ home. They had a wonderful marble fireplace her father would light on the few rare weekends he wasn't working, a clear indication to Christy he would be remaining home with his family for the day. Her father had been a doctor, working his way up the corporate ladder to claim well earned status on the board of directors. Her wonderful, loving mother had been a social butterfly. She loved to organize events and charity affairs.
That was where she had met Chad. An aspiring young intern who revered her father, and someone her mother approved of. They had planned on being married. When her parents were killed tragically in a car accident, Chad had become domineering. He decided he should be the one to control all of their finances. Whenever Christy had protested, Chad would become angry. The name calling started shortly thereafter; he slapped at her occasionally. Then finally one day, after she had voiced a concern, he had hit her, hard. She had cowered in a corner, terrified of him, her arms splayed before her in a frightened, pleading gesture. Never before had she been punched.
The blow had sent her reeling into the wall painfully and, horrified, she had heard an awful snap as her arm had connected with it. She had cried pitifully up at him in an agonized daze. With a look of seething contempt, Chad had stormed from the house. She realized sadly it was over then; she would never spend the rest of her life being abused. Her self-respect was worth more than that. Christy had broken their engagement, sold her parents’ home, and fled to the city, where she had hidden within her job, refusing to allow anyone to get close enough to hurt her again.
Christy shifted into a more comfortable position, unable to sleep. Though she liked being outdoors, she didn't like being terrified out of her mind. The darkness was engulfing. Although the starlight was brilliant, she couldn't even make out her hand in front of her face. The cabin where she and Sam had stayed was, for the most part, modernly convenient. At night when she had felt fearful in the dead quiet, she just needed to listen quietly for Sam's soft snoring from across the hall.
When Christy had vacationed with her parents, it had always been to secluded resorts. Never once had she been camping. Her mother's idea of roughing it had been when the hotel room hadn't come with a blow dryer. Christy wondered if her passion for wild animals was the result of her not being allowed to explore the great outdoors. Being her parents’ only child, and having no other family, they were both terribly strict and overprotective, to the point where even her friends had been
hand-selected. As a result, none were ever close. She had never once had the pleasure of a true best friend.
When her parents had died and Chad turned on her, she was all alone. She had thought nothing could ever feel so frightening. Now she knew she had been mistaken. She remembered Sam's teasing warning about other more horrible things that walked out in the world. He had been right. She was living it; out in the middle of nowhere, hurting and cold.
Lost, alone, and starving. Worse still was the fact she was only a few feet away from a merciless murderer, hoping beyond hope he knew at least where they were heading.
Christy slowly ate the other half of her cookie and finally closed her eyes. Though afraid, she gave in to her compelling exhaustion, pulled herself into a tight ball, then slept.
Lando was aware the moment Christy fell asleep. She began softly weeping, and occasionally cried out for her mother. He knew she would not be so foolish as to make those noises while awake. He had ignored her softly creeping body as she had moved closer to the fire. She had ventured so near he briefly wondered if she were about to climb into his lap. Her attempts at being silent were about as successful as a goat in a china store, a big, clomping goat.
After almost stumbling on her while looking numerous times for kindling, Lando had been tempted to shout at her. Was she really so naive as to think he couldn't see her? Did she think him that stupid and unobservant? He could only cough so often; his own throat was starting to protest. No wonder he never strove to save a life. He was ready to kill her out of annoyance.
Feeling grouchy, Lando crossed his arms over his chest. What he should really do is pick her up and bring her over to the fire, her fear of him be damned. She would either just get used to him or die of fright. The last thought is the one that stopped him. He had seen people expire from sheer fear. Knowing he had been the cause on a few occasions made him grimace.
Lando considered himself a real hard ass. He grew up alone, and as an adult he had stayed alone. He preferred it that way; no one to nag him, no commitments. No one to hold threateningly over his head. Once again his thoughts reflected back. Lando was a true professional. He took care of the filth even the cops wouldn't go near. He took out the meanest of the mean. He had made cold, evil men beg in terror. The women he slept with would stab him in the back if given a chance, or just found him dangerous and exciting. The ones who were just out for a cheap thrill got more than they bargained for with him. They usually fled, frightened for their lives. Christy's terror-stricken face flashed before Lando's eyes.
He had hardly said a word to her and still she had been so afraid. Gentle, petite women like her usually never looked twice at him, unless they looked back to see if he was chasing them. Oh, he had been told often enough he was handsome, devilishly so, yet, there was something in his eyes, or perhaps lack thereof, that they found deeply disturbing.
Perhaps his profession radiated from his very core. His old boss had seen what he was the moment he had laid eyes on him. But he had been in the business so long he could spot potential. Lando had been snapped up quickly and was well taken care of, his every whim catered to, desirable willing women, continuous money, fast expensive cars, and a high life filled with endless excitement and ultimate power, which he wielded with expertise. He, in turn, took care of his ‘family'. Whenever one of his people had lost someone close, Lando took care of the assassin. That he more than took care of them was well known even in the farthest of circles. His reputation was fierce, his hard-handed blows to powerful predators was unparalleled.
But this last job... His own boss's wife and daughter had been gunned down mercilessly; a pointless execution from an ambiguous man who challenged their family dynasty in a senseless power play. The pain of his boss's loss had consumed the man. Revenge was his only thought as the agony overwhelmed him. Any shred of decency he had once possessed was destroyed.
As Lando had predicted, a hit was ordered and he was anxious for it, hungered for it. He had respected his boss's deeply devoted wife, and his daughter had been beautiful, a cheeky, well loved cherub of nineteen, quick to offer a teasing smile at what she referred to as the face of granite.
When the call came down, Lando sat speechless as he was ordered not to kill the assassin, but the man's family. The wife, a woman of only twenty-two, a nine-year-old son from a previous marriage, and a three-week-old baby girl. Lando had been outraged. He stormed at his boss he didn't do women; he knew it was one of the deals. That he was the best in the business was the reason he had been chosen gave him no peace of mind. They would be extremely difficult marks to be sure; they were undoubtedly well protected. Up until then his boss had always respected that one flaw in Lando's armor; he killed the evil, not the innocent. Absolutely no one would ever make him slaughter a young, helpless boy. The baby girl...three weeks? Good God. What was her crime, except to be born into the wrong family?
Sickened, Lando had stood while his boss's empty, soulless eyes looked at him threateningly. He quietly informed him perhaps it was not the hit that was in question, but Lando's loyalty.
Lando had walked out after that, but not before he did some threatening of his own. He perhaps unwisely informed his boss if anything happened to the woman and those children, he would answer to him. Ten days later, a deep rage settled over Lando as he stood over a grave containing the burned bodies of a twenty-two-year-old woman and her three-week-old baby daughter. Thankfully the young boy had been away. Lando had stridden determinedly for the police station and had offered his ex-boss over on a silver platter. Hopefully, he could still save the boy. In return for turning over evidence, Lando would be placed in the witness protection program, and hopefully would never be heard from again.
That had happened over a month ago. Obviously there were numerous contracts out on his own life. Not that it really bothered him. He had gotten to people who had been out for his blood first. Now it would be people he had once called family. The closest he had ever had.
Bitterly, Lando thought his loyalty had never been in question. The minute his boss had demanded he kill an innocent, defenseless woman and her young children he knew it was his boss's loyalty at fault; his ‘family’ life had been just an illusion. Lando didn't care his boss seemed to have lost his sanity with the death of his family; he should never have demanded Lando do something he knew he couldn't.
Thoughtfully, Lando once more focused his thoughts on Christy. Her crying had quieted, her whimpers all but ceased. In her exhausted state, she had unconsciously sought out the warmth of the fire, and her slight body had emerged from the protection of the tree to venture even closer out into the open. Cautiously, Lando rose. With a great deal of care, mindful of her bruising, he gently lifted her, placing her carefully down beside the roaring flames. He ran a warm hand across her cool brow, aware she was now sleeping the sleep of one completely exhausted. Lando resisted the urge to throw Sam's coat over her slumbering form or cuddle up beside her. He settled himself once more against the rock. All thoughts of causing her demise had vanished. Perhaps he never really would have killed her in the first place. Or would he have? He felt thankful he would not have to find out.
Lando watched as Christy awoke with a start; the action undoubtedly caused pain in her ribs as her slender hand grasped her side. She gazed with some confusion into the sky as dawn ascended. Fearfully, she cast her gaze towards the now dying fire. Her body had shifted towards the warmth unconsciously during the night, drawing her ever closer to Lando. He noted her concern as she could just make out his large form facing her; mercifully, he allowed his eyes to remain partially closed. Christy rose to a crawling position, turned hastily, and slowly crept away behind a nearby large tree.
Lando resisted the urge to tell her she had a nice ass. He had been watching her as she slept. Even bruised and dirty she was still beyond beautiful. Or perhaps it was just that he hadn't been with a woman for a long while.
Lando stirred quietly. He fluttered his eyes and yawned loudly. He even scratched at hi
s belly. Amusingly, he thought he should perhaps take up acting once this was over. He was certainly doing a fair amount of it. He reached into his pocket for the last chocolate bar. He could almost hear Christy's mouth water from behind the tree.
He took a healthy bite, groaning, his eyes closing to savor the flavor of delicious caramel and crunchy nuts, which tasted ten times better on an empty stomach, and wondered how he could leave her some. He couldn't simply announce he was full. Truth be told, he would like to cram it down his throat and eat the whole damn thing alone. Yet, he had been providing her with sustenance, though meager amounts up until now, and he couldn't just demand she suddenly fend for herself. He doubted she would be capable anyway. He had never in his line of work come across anyone so terribly defenseless and helpless.
Lando could see Christy watching unobtrusively. Her yearning, starved look made the decision for him, and a thought came to mind. Lando suddenly jerked forward and grabbed at his jaw.
“Damn cavity,” he groaned loudly, hoping to appear in obvious pain. With a tremendous amount of flourish, Lando sent slightly less than half the chocolate bar flying in her direction, still in its wrapper. He pretended not to notice the eager hand that shot out and caught it once it hit the ground.
As Lando packed up his belongings, he couldn't help a small chuckle. Yep, he could just envision his academy award. Move over, Brad Pitt!
Christy felt as though her legs were about to fall off. Her entire body protested with every agonizing step, her ribs burning, her tortured limbs aching, she moved with deliberate slowness.
She was even too tired to jump anymore at the occasional scream of a cougar. Lando seemed to be moving at a relentless pace. She couldn't see he would have any possible destination in mind. He couldn't possibly know where they were. Everything looked the same to her...frightening.
Love's Dangerous Territory Page 4
