by Toby Neal
Help would be coming soon, and Dolf wanted to make sure that all of the town’s armed men were occupied—he had one more distraction to create.
Back in the truck, he headed for the other building he had chosen—the town’s small wooden courthouse, with its dignified cupola. The flamethrower was almost cheating, really, and it shouldn’t have been so fun. But he was sending a message by firing the courthouse, and he wanted the town to hear it loud and clear.
This town’s law wasn’t justice, and it wouldn’t stand.
Once the building was well underway, he tossed the flamethrower into the fire, hearing the sound of sirens. It was time to get Avital.
He parked the truck in the alley behind the clinic. The door he’d jimmied earlier had not been repaired, and it was a matter of moments before he was at her apartment.
“Avital!” He pounded on the door. She opened it immediately.
“Dolf!” Avital’s brown eyes shone. She was wearing something soft and loose and frilly, and her long red hair hung to her breasts. He couldn’t stop himself from gathering her in his arms, lifting her so their hips aligned, hugging her with all his strength. He wanted to kiss her, but satisfied himself with burying his face in her hair and inhaling her smell.
There was nothing but this moment—her warm, womanly, slightly astringent scent filling his nostrils, her lush curves fitted against him, the tiny sounds she made, inarticulate, yearning, as he squeezed her, rubbing his face into her silky neck. It took him straight back to their incredible night.
Taking his face in her hands, she gazed into his eyes. “Adolfo Luciano. You came back for me. Dolf…;”
Her voice was a whisper like a prayer. She’d never said his name like that. Not once. It was the way he’d imagined her sighing it as he made love to her. Dolf had spent years longing to hear his name spoken like that, and his mouth descended toward hers.
A rattle of gunfire outside broke them apart.
“Get changed. We have to go.” Dolf’s heart was thundering, his erection painful—but now was not the time.
Avital darted into the bedroom. She grabbed a pair of jeans and hauled them up her legs, whipping the nightgown off over her head. Dolf was frozen by the sight of her full, perfect, rosy-tipped breasts. God, they were gorgeous, and they looked even bigger than he remembered.
Her brown eyes flared at him as she reached for her bra. “Grab my backpack. I kept it ready.”
He threw it onto his back as she shoved her feet into shoes, picked up her doctor bag, and they ran down the stairs.
There were voices in the alley. Dolf stopped Avital with a raised hand. “Don’t know why Adam Paxton’s truck would be here,” a male voice said. Damn!
All they had to do was turn to see the jimmied entrance. Dolf turned a deadbolt on the door that hadn’t been engaged when he broke in earlier. He unslung the shotgun from its strap, handing it to Avital, and pulled out the Colt.
“Do you have a key to the front door?” He whispered, his face close to hers. Her loose hair tickled his nose and he smiled—crazy, to be happy in this moment. But he was. Just being close to her lifted his spirits.
“No.”
Someone jiggled the back door. They needed to go!
Avital grabbed his hand and lead him into the clinic, toward the glass-fronted waiting room. Raising the shotgun, she blasted a hole in the window. The large plate glass cracked, fissures radiating out from the hole. Avital turned the weapon around and used the butt to knock out stray shards, making it safe for them to climb out.
“You go first!” She looked back into the clinic, her face shrouded in shadows. Dolf almost laughed at the idea that he would go first, big strong Dolf, while little Avital kept watch for the bad guys. Yeah, right.
He didn’t bother arguing, just took her arm and helped her so that they climbed onto the street together. Their feet crunched on the broken glass. The night was lit by the crackling bonfire of the courthouse.
Dolf took Avital’s hand, holding the Colt in the other, and they ran down the street.
Sirens wailed and fires crackled as their feet pounded and their breath heaved through straining lungs. Dolf and Avital’s hands fit together perfectly, the smallness of hers complemented by the largeness of his. They fit together just right.
“This way.” Avital pulled him into a yard. He followed her around, circling the house and dipping into a stand of trees. “I’m pretty sure we can get to the main road, close to where they let you go, from here.”
“I stayed at a farmhouse that’s not far.”
“What about Slash?”
His heart squeezed with another stab of happiness. She remembered his ugly old cat. “I’ve got him. He’s in the house.”
She grinned in the darkness, and he squeezed her hand. She led the way out to the main road. They had to get to the farmhouse, pick up Slash, figure out what to do with Butch, and find some way to keep moving toward Idaho.
Chapter Nineteen
Dolf
They came out of the trees less than an hour later, almost exactly at the sign welcoming people to Newton. Dolf pointed at it. “I’ll be back. For the Humvee.”
Avital looked at him sharply. “That’s right. All that gold. Where do you think they put it?”
“I don’t know.” Dolf’s already tight muscles cramped, panic gripping him—all that treasure couldn’t be lost. Who was he without the wealth that defined him? Losing it made all his years of striving a waste of time. That was his life, now: a waste.
All that work.
Everything he had saved.
Everything he had hoped to build, to do, was in that Humvee.
Dolf was the shadow side of Nando, a man who might have died without a financial legacy, but had left the world a better place.
But Dolf wasn’t worth anything without his money.
The wail of sirens got louder. They were coming this way. Dolf grabbed Avital’s hand and tugged her over to hide, crouching down behind the Welcome sign. Sure enough, a police cruiser roared by. Dolf glimpsed the distinctive profile of his enemy, the man who’d supervised his beating. Stogwell. Shit. The blast hadn’t killed that bastard. Dolf was willing to bet they were headed for the Paxton farmhouse.
After finding Paxton’s truck, the police must have realized that the dead man’s farm was his base of operations.
“We have to stay off the road.”
They slid through the fence of a nearby cattle pasture and tromped through the bunchy grass until they reached a stand of trees. It took an hour to forge through the brush and approach the farmhouse in the dark, stumbling and moving slow because of the uneven terrain.
Both saw the glow of the burning house from a distance. Burning the house made sure that he and Avital had a hard time leaving Newton. If they were trapped in or around the town, they could be hunted at leisure. Dolf’s chest tightened with anxiety. He’d left Slash and Butch inside the house while he went on the raid. Hopefully the animals had used the open window to escape.
“Oh my God. I thought you said Slash was inside the house?”
“I left a window open.” Dolf helped Avital over a fallen log by her hand. “He’s tough and smart. I’m sure he got out.” But Dolf’s throat was tight with worry for the cat, and the spunky Jack Russell Terrier he’d grown attached to.
Did he have to face life stripped of not only his twin, but of his wealth and his pet?
At least he had Avital. Sort of. As a friend. He squeezed her hand.
“Call for Slash,” Avital said. “He always comes when you call.”
Dolf whistled. When Slash did not appear, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called for the cat, but the animal didn’t respond.
“We have to get some rest,” Dolf said, his voice flat, heart aching. “There’s a barn back a few miles, I rested there that first day when they let me go.”
Avital placed her hand on his chest. He looked down at her as the flames reflected in her eyes. “You came for me.” Her
voice choked and she looked away. “I know it must have been so hard. But I knew,” her tone hardened. “I knew you’d be back for me, no matter what you said in front of those men.”
Dolf smiled, the weight of Slash’s disappearance lifting a little as she gazed at him, unflinching. Dolf cleared his throat and tore his gaze away—if she kept looking at him like that he was going to kiss her, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop.
They needed to keep moving. “Let’s bed down in that barn. Going back toward town isn’t my favorite idea, but it will probably throw them off.”
“You’re not the only one who’s tired.” Avital rubbed at a smear of cinder on her cheek. “I worked a full day doctoring before running for my life.”
Dolf couldn’t let go of her hand. Her presence was all he had left. They stepped back into the woods and he navigated to the barn he’d slept in that first day.
The barn was dark inside, the stalls empty and musty, long abandoned, but a sliver of moonlight illuminated the interior through a hole in the roof. Dolf pointed to a stall with some straw still in the corner. “You’ll be comfortable there.”
He didn’t want to be physically close to Avital. He couldn’t lie beside her in the emotional state he was in, and not take her—and he couldn’t bear it if she pushed him away.
“I’ll go over here.” He turned and left her standing at the door of the stall.
His stall didn’t have any straw, but his misery was so deep it didn’t matter. He must’ve slept eventually, because the next thing he knew, the gray light of morning had filled the barn—and so did the deep, rumbling purr of the old tomcat, curled against his side.
Dolf felt a prickling in his eyes as he stroked the cat’s silky fur. “You’re hard to kill, buddy. But then, I knew that.”
Avital appeared at the doorway of the stall, straw in her hair, looking rumpled and beautiful. She held a small brown and white dog in her arms. Butch was licking her chin. “I had company in bed last night.”
“He’s hairy and handsome. Looks like he kept you warm.” Dolf grinned. The sensation of smiling felt unfamiliar, but it was worth it to see Avital’s cheeks go pink. Maybe she was thinking of his smooth, almost hairless chest—he and Nando had little body hair.
But he was being ridiculous. She’d be thinking of Nando’s pecs, as she should be. She’d never got a good look at him in the light on their one night together, and it was probably better that way. He almost regretted the glimpse of her breasts he’d had yesterday. They were going to haunt his nights.
Avital hugged the little dog and then set him down. Butch pranced and gave a happy bark. “Maybe he can be a watchdog for us on the road.”
“I was thinking about that.” Dolf sat up. “We have two choices. We can scrounge around here for anything useful and keep moving, or we can go back into the town. Try to hide, try to find the Humvee, get refurbished for food before we move on.”
“I want to keep moving.” Avital was definite. “I hate that town. It’s like a freakin’ Stephen King novel. I won’t spend another minute there, even for all your gold.”
Dolf brushed a dusting of straw off as he stood. Avital stepped up into his space and put her hand on his arm. She touched his bruised cheek tenderly. “You know that gold doesn’t mean anything, don’t you? This is nothing but a blip in the road for you. You’ll make more money. You always come out on top, Dolf, and we’ve already made it through so much.”
Avital’s nearness made him harder than stone. His arms trembled with the effort of leaving them hanging loose, of not touching her. His eyes burned, looking at her plump, pink, kissable mouth saying meaningless nice words.
All he wanted to do was pull her into a brutal kiss, shove her against the wall, yank down her pants, and bury himself in her body. That would make the pain and loss go away.
He was a sick bastard.
Dolf pushed past her. “Then let’s get moving. We should check around for food and anything useful. They didn’t burn the barn or garage at the Paxton place.”
Back at the husk of the house, they got lucky finding a box of bottled water and some old camping gear in the hayloft, along with a stash of beef jerky and granola bars—apparently Mr. Paxton went camping and hunting occasionally, hence the shotguns.
Dolf spared a moment of regret for the distance rifle, lost in the pickup truck. Oh, well. Maybe he could get a little game with the Colt or the double-aught, and at least they were armed.
“Let’s not hitchhike until after we get past the next town,” Dolf said, as they walked down the two-lane road, makeshift packs on their backs. “I don’t want to take any chances until we’re well away from here.”
Ducking out of sight every time a car came along made movement slow, but they reached the next town by midday. Still spooked, they circled around the outskirts, staying out of sight, and hitchhiked from the other side of it.
They were eventually able, even with the animals, to get a ride in the back of a pickup truck, and every mile away from Newton felt good, even knowing the Humvee was still in the town somewhere.
He’d be back. With his brothers, and some serious firepower. That treasure was his.
It was late afternoon when the pickup let them out near another small farming town, this one almost deserted. Slash promptly disappeared into the bushes in search of dinner, while Butch whined, staring at Dolf in appeal—he’d quickly identified Dolf as the soft touch when it came to food.
Dolf’s belly cramped with hunger. He’d only let himself have a few sticks of jerky and a granola bar, and given Avital twice that.
She put her hands on her hips at the rumble of his gut. “You need to eat. Frankly, so do I, and something more than beef jerky. Why don’t I see if I can do any doctoring in trade for food?”
“I don’t want you to get kidnapped again. I might not survive it.” He rubbed the goose egg on the back of his head ruefully. She’d finally cleaned and bandaged it, but it was still sore.
“Ha ha. Let’s go stealth this time, just door to door. You can be my enforcer. Stand behind me and look menacing. It isn’t hard for you.”
He scowled and bared his teeth, and she laughed. “No. Stand like you do all the time, straight with your chin up. Use that hard look you do so well. You dominate the room without even trying. Cross your arms.” She stepped up to him and her small hands folded his arms. She touched his back so that it arched tall, pushed his shoulders so he rolled them back.
She looked him over, and patted his chest with satisfaction. “There. Just hold the Colt so it shows and keep the shotgun hanging clear. Nobody in their right mind would mess with you.”
Dolf expanded into the man she saw him as, unfurling from some deep place into the unconscious pride she unleashed in him.
Avital saw him as someone able to dominate without even trying. Someone who couldn’t help but rise to the top, for whom losing millions was a “blip in the road,” and at the same time, she didn’t care about his money and liked him the same without it.
If this was all a sham and a pose, this swaggering stance with his arms folded so that his biceps bulged like a comic book hero, so be it.
He would keep her safe or die trying.
They went from door to door, Avital knocking, holding her medical bag, offering care. Dolf loomed in the background, weapons obvious, looking as menacing as he could with Butch sitting on his feet.
They set up camp well outside the town when they’d gathered enough food for several days. Dolf made a fire, and spitted the chicken Avital earned for treating a little girl’s sprained ankle. “Oh, that smells so good,” she said, as he turned the chicken, fat dripping into the fire.
Avital set up the tent and laid out the sleeping bag that was a part of Paxton’s hunting gear. There was an additional blanket for padding. Dolf dreaded getting into the tight space with her. How was he going to handle the proximity?
“You seem like you’re feeling better.” He tore off an already done wing and hand
ed it to Avital. She took it, using a leaf to hold the hot chicken, blowing on it.
“Yeah, today I was fine.” She bit into the meat, moaning at the taste. He shifted to ease the heavy bulge in his pants, focusing on turning the chicken. He couldn’t handle those little sounds she made. Yeah, he’d sleep outside, somewhere far away, and keep “sentry duty.” Butch or Slash could help.
So, that’s what he did—Dolf slept outside, wrapped in the blanket with Slash, while Butch opted for the tent, and Avital’s softer sleeping bag.
And slowly, they hitchhiked from town to town, earning their food, camping outdoors away from other people. Avital continued to be sick periodically, and they stopped and rested when she was. He held her hair aside and rubbed her back when she puked, fixed her tea in their one pot, and fed her crackers as they walked.
“I think you must have a parasite of some kind,” he said one day.
She raised a brow, but the corners of her mouth twitched.
“No, really. I’ve heard of South American worms that live in the GI tract and cause repetitive symptoms. The person never really gets better until they get the right treatment.”
She shook her head. “Maybe.”
“If not a parasite, then what’s wrong?”
She just shook her head, lips pinched together. “Stress. A lot of stress.”
Guilt stabbed Dolf. Was it his fault? Was there anything he should be doing for her that he wasn’t?
A companionable rhythm developed, and time seemed to slow down for Dolf. Each day consisted of the next stretch of walking, the next farmhouse or town, the next patients for Avital to see, the next barter to haggle, the next attempt to get a ride, the next roadside camp.
Two weeks passed, and the nights outside the tent grew colder. Dolf woke shivering in the mornings to make the fire, but he didn’t care about the discomfort.
He no longer had an urgency to get to Idaho.
It was strange to realize, as he was washing their few dishes in a stream one day, that he felt like he could keep walking, and camping, and being Avital’s protector for the rest of his life. He’d never taken this long to do anything: always relentlessly driven in the pursuit of his acquisitions, of his climbing—always impatient, restless, and unsatisfied.
