by Dawn Kunda
His hands continued roving her body, making each spot he touched spark with an electrical charge and further stoking the fire growing inside her. Surprisingly, he stopped the kisses and nudged her face in front of his.
She couldn’t pretend not to be here and enjoy a physical session with him. He wanted personal acknowledgment of what he wanted to do and what she was about to do.
Her eyes opened slowly. A deep, melted blue-gray of a stormy sky stared back. “Are you sure? I won’t force anything on you, and I don’t expect any commitment to come from us having sex.” His voice sent a wash of warm air onto the bridge of her nose.
He didn’t want to make love. He wanted nothing more than physical satisfaction. He’d forget about her after their work is completed. This would be the closest to a perfect coupling she could ask for. “I’m sure.”
He kissed her mouth and drove his tongue deep inside. The seductive foreplay and slow moves weren’t necessary anymore. They could enjoy one another physically and leave it at that. The guilt left her mind and she returned the kiss while sucking his tongue and reveling in the aura of a man so near, so complete, and so skilled. If she didn’t love him, which she didn’t, he’d survive the trip.
Chapter 20
Agent Eben Eikem froze when his senior, Agent Borland, announced they needed to dispose of the bodies. Calling their boss, Agent Kreis, in the US was standard, but the tone and conviction Borland put into the action for the dead sounded out of line according to his training and experience with the CIA agency.
“Won’t Kreis let us know where we can take Duchaine, so he’ll be delivered back home?” Eikem believed that no man would be left behind. As for the foreigners, possibly of a terrorist or enemy faction, they can go wherever Borland says.
Dean Borland looked up with a scowl from where he knelt beside their dead partner. “In a situation like this, what we were sent here for, don’t worry about what happens to those too weak to keep up.” Pushing himself to his feet, he invaded Eikem’s personal space by looking Eikem in the eyes, close enough for his breath to warm Eikem’s face. “As you well know, this is top secret, what we’re here for. To send a body back would attract attention and blow our cover. We’d never accomplish what we’re here for after that.”
“That’s not the usual procedure—”
“It’s different this time.” The fierce look in Borland’s eyes told Eikem to not push it any further. Borland glanced around the house. “After we check over the two men’s bodies for any information that might be on them, we’ll wrap them up in the two rugs on the living room and kitchen floors. We’ll have to use the sheets and blankets from the bed for Duchaine.”
Eikem kept his gun in his hand, as if frozen to the security. This procedure was well out of line. He’d never heard of such inadequate treatment for one of their own. Maybe the enemy can be disposed of, but he held back a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of dumping Duchaine. The fact that Borland insisted on and had no doubts about this new procedure told him he better not step out of bounds while working this assignment. Borland was now in control. Eikem wondered if he might end up dumped somewhere if he screwed up.
“We’ll wrap the trash, get our car, and then call Kreis. He’ll give us a handy location for getting rid of the evidence.” Borland pulled a rug from the floor and dragged it to the first man down. “Come on. Let’s check their clothes, then get ’em covered.”
* * * *
Without the sheet, blanket, and flannel pajamas, Vic pulled her close and became immediately inundated with a wave of heat from their bodies. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed them up and down her back, creeping onto her firm buttocks.
He’d kick himself later for letting his libido take over. He didn’t want any connections to this woman, and he thought she didn’t want any with him either, or at least he hoped. A night to relieve himself before a long week of hunt-and-find for her cousin Christa and his agent, Bret Ferrier, would be a pre-bonus for their work. He’d leave it at that for now because he didn’t have a chance of turning off the need surging through his body.
Her breasts pressed against his chest. He flexed his pectoral muscles, causing her hardened nipples to brush across his skin. No denying it, he felt as ready and hard as he’d ever been. He hated to waste a one- or two-nighter on such a beautiful and intelligent woman, but in his line of work, that’s what it was all about. No woman wanted a man, no matter how perfect of a match they could make, when he traveled nine out of twelve months and at some point, might not return home for good. Take what you can when you can is a CIA agent’s motto.
For the rest of the night, he’d only think of her and her sensual body. No more work. Leave the work on the floor along with their clothes and the bedding.
Her leg swung over his. She ground her pelvis into his excitement, getting him steamed up and ready for a plunge, but he planned to hold off and enjoy her squirm and get anxious. He’d keep them both on the verge of exploding while feeling every shock of her nerves against him as he tantalized her.
Pulling her leg up higher, his fingers swam between her thighs and dipped into her heat. His lips devoured her mouth. Their bodies rubbed and moved in a near frantic rhythm. Each time he wanted to dive his rigid shaft into her, he slowed his caresses and softened the kisses. When back in control, he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of his hips where she rubbed against him.
She dipped her chin, looking down. Urgent moans escaped her swollen, deep plum lips. He responded by grasping her hips to direct her movements in time with his. She put her hands on his chest, swirling her fingers over the soft hair. Bending down, she tongued a circle around his hardened nipple. His shaft jumped at the sensation. She smiled wickedly and licked her full lips.
He didn’t know how much longer he could convince himself to let her saturate his body with her flesh winding around him. His hands still on her waist, he lifted her and positioned her center above his jerking hardness.
The silence and semi-dark room changed like the flash of a camera as the door busted open. Light from the hall spilled over the floor, up the bed, and onto Alina’s and Vic’s naked bodies. From the years of quick thinking and fast reactions, Vic threw Alina to the floor opposite the side of the door. His excitement vanished at the same time. He rolled off the bed, landed on her legs, and had his gun pointed over the mattress faster than her muffled screech reached his ears.
“Sorry,” Vic whispered.
Her voice pleaded with him to take her back to a minute before when they had control of everything, including each other’s bodies.
Vic frantically reached behind himself and shoved her pajamas her way. He motioned to Alina to stay low, and made the only decision possible.
Chapter 21
The darkness of the night helped hide the movement of the bodies as Eikem and Borland placed the dead men in the trunk and backseat of their car. Granted, the dim, yellow lights from the lanterns along the street, the glow off clumps of dirtied snow, and the clear sky full of blinking stars outlined their movements.
“Let’s get outa here.” Borland pulled the keys from his pocket, where he’d stuffed them after digging them out of Duchaine’s bloodied jacket. “We’ll drive until I’m sure no one followed us, then check the papers we confiscated.”
Eikem didn’t respond. As he got in the passenger seat, he watched Borland’s face, wanting to find an innocent explanation for the rash turn of events. Borland’s lips made a straight, thin line, he held his jaw firm, and his eyes were dark and determined. He had no choice but to follow orders.
They drove for thirty minutes, leaving the village behind and passing snow covered fields, unused at this time of year. A copse of trees grew up around a bend. Borland braked and pulled to the side of the road.
“Gimme your cell phone.” Eikem handed it over.
“This isn’t where you’re planning on leaving them, is it?” Eikem asked as Borland punched in the numbers to reach Kreis.
B
orland paused, looked up at him, and then continued dialing. Borland put the phone to his ear.
He should’ve stayed in the car, but the air grew heavy with the stink of death and Eikem needed to get out. He breathed in the fresh, chilled air. He’d forgotten how good the country outdoors could be. It felt lighter and cleaner in his lungs than the air back in the US near Washington, DC. Sometimes he wondered why he stayed with the government after his stint in the Marine Corps. Probably because “once a Marine, always a Marine.” Semper Fidelis, brothers. He still wanted to protect the US and its people.
The Corps gave him allegiance to his country. Eikem knew he excelled at his position as a sniper. He wanted to continue helping his country, yet he thought working with the CIA would be an experience like no other, and he was game for it. Until now, today, and with the knowledge of an unwarranted maneuver, he had proudly upheld the responsibilities of the agency. He wondered what or who gave Borland the right to proceed in this unheard of action. Was Agent Kreis willing to agree?
“Eikem.” Borland came up behind him as he stared over the landscape and drove of trees. “For now, the bodies will go at least a quarter mile into these trees. We should find a ravine leading down to a small river. We’ll leave the bodies there.”
The dead men, including Agent Duchaine, were now considered “the bodies.” Nearly dehumanized, it sounded like Kreis had given the orders matching those of Borland’s decision. Eikem didn’t like it, but caught completely off guard and involved in this dirty deed, he knew his only option was to comply.
An hour later, Eikem and Borland returned to the car after leaving the last body, that of Agent Tom Duchaine, off the edge of the steep embankment ending in a partially frozen river. Eben bent near a snow clump and wiped his hands. Any blood had been cleansed from his fingers and nails, but the thought of it ever being there, that of a fellow agent, had him seeing dirt where there was none.
* * * *
Alina froze, crouched as close to the edge of the bed as possible. She hugged her flannels close to her chest as a tremble, unlike the one she’d experienced only a moment earlier, shot through her body. She pushed back the sensation of love she’d tried so hard to disregard when Vic craftily seduced her on the bed she now hid behind.
She realized she had no control of this situation, the two armed men’s forced entry. The only salvation she found in the split second that moved in slow motion of the invasion came from denouncing any childish thoughts or dreams of a romance with the naked man at her side. Love would kill them both. She didn’t love Vic. She intended to use him to get her cousin released. That’s all she wanted and all she aimed for from this moment on. If they survived, her fatal flaw of love that her body had screamed when their flesh became intimate, she wouldn’t allow it again. Near death moments allow you to reveal everything honestly.
“You have to come with us. Get dressed.” One of the olive-skinned intruders spoke with authority.
God must be listening because if she heard correctly, the men had no intentions of killing them.
Vic stayed huddled over her, and demanded, “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Get up and get dressed.” They ignored the question.
“Stay down,” Vic whispered to her.
She pulled at Vic’s arm as he stealthily rose against the side of the bed. He shook her off, flattened his palm, and pumped it up and down below the level of the bed. She should not rise with him. He kept his gun pointed on the men with his other hand. Still naked, it didn’t appear to bother him to stand in front of strangers. He had no shame.
With their pistols trained on Vic, he didn’t lower his gun. “What do you want from us?” As Vic spoke, he kept his eyes focused on the men while he reached to the nearby chair his jeans had landed on.
The men stayed quiet, only motioning with their weapons to get dressed. Vic looked down to Alina and nodded an okay to follow instructions. She kept her pajamas scrunched in front of her body as she crawled to her clothes from the day before.
Securing their guns in jacket pockets, ready to fire, the men took Vic’s gun and directed Vic and Alina out of the hotel and to their car. The compact vehicle had seen better days. Hard to discern the color other than a dark hue, the side panels were pitted with rust. The men ushered Vic and Alina into the backseat and tied their hands with a rough rope.
After the men positioned themselves in the front and motored southbound, Alina looked toward Vic. Tears rimmed her eyes. She fought to not let the moisture cascade down her face, yet she wished for Vic to explain their situation. He subtly shook his head. He didn’t have an explanation, or couldn’t tell her right now. She preferred the latter.
After a silent thirty minutes, the car slowed and exited the highway. Alina’s heart began to thump faster. She feared the unknown. If she knew where their destination lay, at least she could prepare herself or develop a plan for survival. The dark road led into towering trees, only making the ride more frightful. At this time of night, the highway had few travelers and this road had even less.
She paid attention to their direction in case she recognized a hint at help along the route. Dropping her stare to her hands, she wriggled them. Her wrists felt the chafing of the tight rope. Despite the raw abrasions, she continued to rub the palms of her hands. Maybe the rope would loosen. Her small wrists might be able to slip out of the binding if she created enough of a gap. She only needed an inch or so extra space.
With a glance toward Vic, she noticed he watched with the slightest turn of his head. No need to signal the men in front of her plan, poor as it was.
As she concentrated on her task, the car hit a pothole and she bit the side of her cheek. She unknowingly had clenched her teeth, then released and bit down again. Her eyes immediately dried as anger replaced her fear. Good, she’d be stronger and quicker to think with anger on her side. She squinted her eyes and looked at Vic. She wondered how he sat so calmly when their graves might be at the end of this ride even if the men didn’t kill them at the hotel.
Killing Vic and Alina would be easier on a deserted road. No one would witness the brutality, and the forest would supply a dumping ground. The long drive and silence gave her too much time to think irrationally. If Vic would only talk to her, things could be put into perspective. They didn’t know whether the men targeted Vic or her. Considering their Middle Eastern looks, she assumed she got them into this bind.
Although, the little she knew about Vic, his enemies could be from anywhere.
At this thought, the car slowed and turned off the road to an even rougher lane. It wasn’t long before the vehicle stopped at a large clearing. She saw the outline of a small plane.
* * * *
It probably didn’t matter that Vic didn’t have the faintest idea of where the men had taken them, what the men expected, or where the men had come from with a motive to capture at least himself or Alina. He guessed the men intended to find Alina, and he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The agents from the US who had chased him down came with the territory and mission he’d assumed when he went AWOL from the CIA. The US agents had arrived sooner than he’d wanted, although, for them to find him at any time was too soon. An enemy from another country locating and hunting for him didn’t hold water this early in the game. If he’d left the US a year or more ago, then he’d consider having created enemies across the globe.
Vic had thought Sweden a relatively good hideout, at least to start with. Alina must know more than she’s let on. Next time they’re alone, if there is a next time, she better do some explaining. He didn’t want surprise ambushes at every turn making their trip to Iraq impossible. He had to admit Alina and he were even, though. Well, he was ahead by one. The first ambush came from his chasers before he and Alina got started south and the second at the airport. Then, on the first unplanned stop, a second raid astounded them with the worst timing.
A thought came to him. If the first two attacks had co
me from his former allies at a village he’d been in for three months and then at a planned stop at the airport, the last attack had to be from a different group. This group had to be following Alina. They followed with extreme precision to catch them at the unplanned visit to a hotel off an unplanned route.
“Stay in here.” The driver didn’t turn from his front seat and gave them less respect as he got out and slammed his door shut. His partner followed.
Vic and Alina exchanged looks. “I think they’re your friends,” Vic said without a touch of humor.
Alina glared back at him. “At this point, I don’t think I have any friends.” She looked out her side window, then back at him. “I definitely don’t know who they are.”
“I think they know you.”
She punched her bound hands into her lap and jumped in her seat. “Why do you say that? I didn’t have any problems until you showed up.”
“I didn’t have anything—”
“No, don’t say ‘you didn’t have anything to do with this past week or so.’” She huffed. “After we met, my psychiatrist was murdered, Americans chased us through Gamla, other Americans nearly accosted us at the airport, and now this! What’s next? Are we even going to get to Denmark? And then what?”
Most women would’ve poured a bucket of tears by now. Alina’s face did brighten with emotion, but not fear or sadness, but rather anger. With a light shining in the car her eyes sparked green lasers in the midst of dark shades of brown. He wouldn’t be surprised if the lines of green shot out at him like lightning. If this weren’t a serious situation with life ending possibilities, he’d laugh.
Ignoring her questions, he turned toward the source of the bright light. The front lights of a small plane were on. The men who’d abducted them planned on taking them for a flight to who knew where.
“Alina.”
