A Perilous Pursuit

by Diane Gilmore

  Almost immediately his hands were upon her, sliding between her thighs. Taylor groaned with pleasure. His lips trailed over her, coursing over her abdomen, then to the soft curves of her thighs. He kissed the taut skin of her inner thighs, then gently licked at her supersensitive tissue, setting her whole body on fire.

  “You taste exquisite,” he whispered. He parted her thighs more and pressed his mouth hard against her. She writhed as his velvety tongue ran all over her, gently massaging the crevasses of her sex, darting in and out of her. Over and over he plunged inside her, exploring the trigger of her excitement. The pleasure was monumental. Overwhelming. Sensing her need, Craig attacked her ravenously in an agonizing rhythm like a starving man.

  Taylor thought she would die from pleasure. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she tried to relax her body, but the feeling of his mouth and touch was just too much to take. Her body began to rock violently. “Craig, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, “I—I can’t take any more.”

  He came back up to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “There’s more to come, luv,” said Craig. “Tonight, right now, I’m going to own you.”

  “You already do,” she whispered urgently. “Please Craig, now!”

  In their first encounter, they had made sweet, gentle love to each other, but not now. Their brief time apart had intensified their hunger for each other that raged higher and hotter than ever before. Taylor gasped and moaned with pleasure as Craig nestled himself within the cradle of her legs. With one smooth push, he was all the way in, driving deep, and for her, nothing felt better.

  Hard and hot, he began moving back and forth, showing no mercy. She locked her gaze with his. No words were spoken, but it seemed as if they both had read each other’s minds. She wanted him desperately, and he wanted her, too. He slammed into her again and again, the flame of each thrust reaching to her core, burning out of control, taking her to the edge of oblivion again and again.

  He reached down and gripped her hips tightly now as he continued to drive even more deeply and forcefully into her, faster, harder, sensing her need, or perhaps sensing his own as well. In all her life, Taylor had never been taken with such reckless abandon. And she was loving every minute of it. She pressed against him with all her might, stoking her own need higher. She wanted to make him a part of her, to meld him into every part of her being.

  Faster and harder they moved together, pushing each other over the top in wave after wave of sweet release. Taylor shook with pleasure. In that instant, she felt herself melting, dissolving into a liquid heat that had no shape or form because it was being absorbed by the hard male body whose love she craved more than life itself. In that splintering moment, she knew she loved him as she had never loved before. She closed her eyes tight, watching the white spots dance in front of her eyes while Craig pulled her to his chest, holding her close as he powered inside her until, with a deep guttural groan, he joined her in ecstasy. They collapsed onto each other, clinging to each other, gasping, dying together.

  They both came to rest slowly, lying quietly in each other’s arms while the powerful waves subsided. Taylor felt the pounding of Craig’s heart against her bare chest. Her entire body felt light, peaceful, complete. She held him close.

  Craig gently stroked her hair away from her forehead. “I can’t stop looking at you,” he said softly. “I’m afraid you might disappear.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured with contentment. She was not supposed to come to London and fall in love. But this magical city marked the starting point in her heart for the rest of her life with the man she had fallen totally in love with. She found her home with Craig.

  He dropped light kisses into her hair. “How do you feel?” he whispered.

  Taylor smiled. “It was . . . breathtaking.”

  “You are breathtaking.”

  She sighed with contentment, snuggling closer to him. “I’m glad you came back.”

  He continued to hold her as he looked into her eyes. “I have never been possessed, until now,” he said softly. “You’ve shaken my spirit since the first time I saw you. I don’t know what happens to me when you are in my arms. I can’t stop loving you.”

  “I don’t want you to stop,” she purred, wrapping her hand around his still throbbing organ, pulling him toward her.

  From then on, the night moved in a dizzying swirl of lovemaking, exploration, and awakenings. In those quiet moments, Taylor experienced new feelings, new desires. She learned how to please him as she followed his lead. Their lovemaking became slow and passionate, each moment lingered over as they consummated their love again and again. Finally, at dawn, after having her body stretched to the limits of exhaustion, she fell into a delightful, love-induced sleep in Craig’s arms, wishing the night would never end.

  ~ ~ ~

  In the days that followed, Taylor surged with a vitality she had never known before. Time slipped by in a blink of an eye, but she didn’t notice. Craig took her sightseeing around the city often, and the two of them went on shopping trips down Oxford Street or took long, romantic walks through the rolling grasslands of Hyde Park. That was Taylor’s favorite place to go. Hand in hand, they would walk the footpaths or ride horses along Rotten Row, then rest for a while by the park’s winding Serpentine Lake. After browsing through the contemporary art exhibits at the Serpentine Gallery, they would have a quiet dinner and go to Craig’s flat, where the remainder of the evening would be spent sharing intimacies on Craig’s burgundy sheets.

  Other times Craig took her on trips around England, where he showed her the country’s historical cities: Canterbury, Salisbury, Winchester. They explored the Downs and the Sussex countryside around Brighton, and the university towns of Oxford and Cambridge. Taylor was with Craig constantly, seeing him, loving him, and in between, thinking about him. She moved about in a contented fog, her steps seeming to float on a cushion of air. The sun rose brighter and more stunning, and the English cloud-filled days seemed to suddenly make way to an endless supply of clear, dazzling sunshine. Her life took on a new freshness, a new meaning, a special glow of being in love.

  Darkness was beginning to fall on the city when Craig and Taylor returned from a weekend trip to the south of England. When they opened the door to her room, they found Susan propped comfortably on Taylor’s unmade bed. Attired in faded jeans and an oversized blue and silver Los Angeles Rams football shirt, she was engrossed in a trendy British fashion magazine. Cigarette butts filled an ashtray on the nightstand, along with empty soda cans and plastic cups.

  She looked up at them. “Well, home at last.”

  Taylor waved her hand to disburse the odor that now permeated the room. “Susan, you know you can’t smoke in here!” she exclaimed. “Now I’m going to have to pay a huge deposit to clean this up.”

  “Take it out of my paycheck,” Susan said, “but after what I’ve been through while you were gone, they wouldn’t dare charge you a penny. Have a good time in no man’s land?”

  “We had a great time,” Taylor replied. She and Craig exchanged intimate, knowing looks. “So what happened and what are you doing here?”

  “Oh, wait till I tell you what you missed,” Susan said, sitting up and taking off, talking like a bullet out of a gun. “Last night, without any warning, the ceiling in my room, right above my bed, started to cave in! With water pouring down on me! Can you believe it? I mean, I was sound asleep, and then suddenly I was, like, under frigging Niagara Falls! I called the front desk, but at that hour, they didn’t have much to say about the situation. Turns out the bathtub overflowed in the room above mine. Right above me, of all places!”

  She blew out a stream of smoke and put the cigarette out in a glass of water. “Anyway, my bed was soaked and covered with wet plaster, so they offered me a cot. A cot, for God’s sake! They don’t know dip about me, do they? The
n they tried to get me to move to a room even further away from you from where I am now, and I told them no way. Like I would schlepp even further to your room for the remainder of this trip, every time I wanted to see you! So I let myself in with the spare key you gave me and just camped out here until I get a new room.” She paused. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not,” Taylor said, trying to suppress a giggle.

  “That’s terrible luck,” Craig chuckled.

  Susan’s eyes narrowed. “Laugh it up, stretch,” she quipped. “How would you like it if you woke up in the Rain Forest?”

  After their laughter died, Susan picked up her cell phone from the bedside table.

  “You know,” she began, waving it before them, “since you both have just crushed my fragile ego, I should just not bother telling you that your father has been texting me all day since he couldn’t reach you.”

  “I had my phone turned off,” Taylor said. “Is something wrong?”

  Susan rolled her eyes. “Why do you always think the worst of everything? I’ll bet I know what dear old dad’s chomping at the bit about.”

  “The band?” Craig offered.

  “Bingo.”

  “Well, let’s find out,” Taylor said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and removing her cell phone from her purse. Within seconds, she was talking to her father.

  “I’ve been waiting to talk to you all day,” Bruce said with mock disapproval after their greetings were exchanged.

  “I took a tour of the countryside this weekend.”

  “I know. Susan told me.”

  “Oh,” Taylor said simply. If he knew where she had gone, then, knowing Susan, he obviously knew about Craig. “Well, I suppose I don’t need to elaborate on the trip then.”

  “Not really,” Bruce said. “But as long as you’re happy, honey, I won’t question your judgment with this Craig Phillips.”

  “I’m fine,” Taylor said happily, glancing appreciatively at Craig. Then she changed the subject. “Did you get the audio files I sent you?”

  “That’s why I called.”

  “Well, what do you think?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the reply.

  There was silence on the line, and Taylor could envision her father in his office chair, leaning back, smoking his pipe, and staring off absently while his mind sorted out his thoughts. Craig’s eyes were glued on her, and Taylor suddenly felt nervous. Was her father trying to find a way to tell her that the band had no potential for success?

  Finally, he broke the silence.

  “When can you get them here?”

  Taylor’s face broke into a wide, open smile. “I’ll make all the arrangements from this end. Dad, do you think we can do something for them?”

  “I do,” Bruce said, his voice building with enthusiasm. He paused, and Taylor heard his chair squeak as he leaned back into it. “I’m already lining up places on this end to get them showcased when they get here and putting feelers out to the labels. As soon as you get home, we can go to work. That band has a lot to do and so do we. Good job, kid.”

  “I’ll be home soon,” Taylor said, her voice brimming with joy. “And thanks, Dad.”

  “I think you found yourself a winner.”

  Taylor hung up, grinning so broadly she could barely contain herself.

  “Well, what did he say?” Craig pressed her.

  “How soon can you pack?”

  Chapter 9

  “More champagne, sir?” the stewardess asked a passenger in the front row of the British Airways cabin. Her accented voice, smooth and melodic, flitted back to Craig’s seat in the first-class section of the plane, but he didn’t notice. He gazed out the cabin window of the jumbo jet, lost in thought. The plane glided through the evening sky over the darkened Atlantic, bound for America. The cabin was alive with activity and free-flowing cocktails, but Craig wasn’t partaking in any of it. He even declined the vast assortment of gourmet food the airline had to offer. He couldn’t have eaten if he wanted to, anyway. He had far too much on his mind.

  Taylor had arranged for first-class accommodations for their trip. In stocking feet, she sat beside him snoozing contentedly, her arm tucked securely through his. The others were in various seats around him. He could hear Shaun and Susan behind him, giggling and horse playing from the effects of the drinks they were taking full advantage of. Across from him, Steve was covered up to his neck in a loose-woven cabin blanket. He was fast asleep, crashed from all the boozing and eating he had done since he boarded the plane. Next to Steve sat Andrew. He obtained a set of headphones from the flight attendant as soon as he sat down. After the jet rumbled down the runway and lurched skyward, he fit them into his ears and leaned the seat back. Now he was in another world, laughing out loud every now and then at the comedian on the recording.

  As the plane droned on, Craig returned his gaze out the cabin window. Although he knew he wouldn’t be back for quite a while and that he would miss his homeland, it was his lifestyle that he was glad to leave behind for good. He looked at his watch. It was almost ten, London time, the hour at which he was supposed to meet Pierre Montagne in a cheap hotel room near Wembley Stadium.

  “Phillips, we need you to make a special transaction on Thursday,” Pierre had instructed him on the phone.

  “Thursday?” Craig asked. That was three days away, but he had already packed most of his clothes. Thursday evening, he was leaving for America. “I can’t do it on Thursday.”

  Pierre was silent for a moment, and Craig imagined the shocked look on his face.

  “Why not?” Pierre finally asked tersely.

  “I, uh, have plans.”

  “Well, change them!” Pierre ordered sternly. “There are some people from Madrid coming in to make a sizeable deal with us. We need you to make the transaction.”

  Craig hesitated. He had thought nonstop about how he would get out of his side job. Cabrera would never let him just walk out on his obligations, no strings attached. Although Craig wasn’t nearly up to lieutenant status in Cabrera’s trafficking ladder, he had heard enough from Pierre’s drunken boasts when they were alone to learn more than enough about the Organization’s network of dealers, suppliers and processing laboratories to be let go that easily. Pierre probably didn’t realize it, but Craig knew far more than he should have.

  If Cabrera had even a hint that Craig would leave the country without his blessing, he would keep Craig in his clutches by watching him day and night, never letting him even get near Heathrow Airport. Or he might use even more devious methods to stop Craig, such as blackmailing him in some way, or even worse, putting a contract out on his life. As it was, Cabrera might conclude that Craig had given him the slip because he became an informant. And Craig knew how squealers were dealt with once they were back in the web of hardened smugglers like Robert Cabrera—tongues cut out, eyes gouged, ears removed—all this while their victim was still alive. He closed his eyes. The image frightened him.

  Once, Pierre told him about a dealer higher up in the Organization who tried to ditch Cabrera and turn him in to authorities. Cabrera sent out packs of “damage-control squads” who combed the world looking for the snitch, even after he went into the American witness protection program. The authorities found what was left of him, a decomposing tortured torso in a dumpster, minus the head, arms, and legs. DNA tests positively identified the poor chap. It was all his family had to bury. The rest of his body was never found.

  Craig had to make sure Cabrera didn’t conceive such a notion for him, and had finally settled on a plan. He left on Thursday, as planned, but left instructions with his contacts to get the word to Cabrera that he had to leave the country suddenly to handle a family emergency. Hopefully Cabrera wouldn’t start searching for him, at least not right away. Then after getting settled, he could work somethin
g out with Cabrera to wind down his job duties while Cabrera found another drop man for the Organization. It wasn’t the best of plans, and the thought of raising the ire of his employer for any reason made his gut constrict. But he couldn’t think of another option. He had to take the chance it would all work out, or forget ever achieving the music career he desperately wanted.

  Craig glanced again at his watch. He should have been at the hotel by now, receiving instructions and goods for the transaction that would go down in about an hour. He knew Pierre was probably nervous by now about Craig’s not showing up, and had maybe even dispatched an army of fellow “employees” to Craig’s flat to search for him.

  Craig had covered his tracks well, putting the plan of his departure into action far in advance. Pierre’s couriers would go to Craig’s apartment and find nothing there, his belongings gone except for the furniture. He left no forwarding address or hint as to where he had gone. Craig’s contacts would eventually reach Pierre and give him the planned message. With luck, that would be the end of the situation, at least until he got to the States and could back his way out of drug trafficking properly.

  ~ ~ ~

  The plane dropped onto the Los Angeles International Airport runway right on schedule, and they were met outside customs by one of Bruce Fairchild’s staff. The company’s sleek white limousine awaited them outside the terminal. The automobile quickly sped off, getting onto the area’s intricate freeway system. Soon the scenery changed from that of buildings and skyscrapers to brown, rolling hills and valleys and suburban housing communities. Dusk was beginning to fall on the city, and the angle of the setting sun striking the large, sloping foothills around them began to smudge deep lines and shadows into the earthy mounds.