“Too conspicuous.”
“As opposed to creeping across the fairgrounds like a couple of fruitcakes who’ve seen too many Bond movies.”
“Come on.” He took her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you ignore me when I’ve come up with something unanswerable.”
“I didn’t hear that, either.”
They darted past the Nursery, the gyros-and-calzones booth, Beef Promotions of Iowa, Chicken Strips, Smoothies, and Funnel Cakes. Jenny’s sensation that she was in a dream deepened. It wasn’t possible for the day to get any more—
“Move!”
Headlights splashed menacingly across the pork rinds booth and they both ducked, but there was nowhere to go. Either the driver saw their flattened shapes upon the pavement, or didn’t. Fortunately, they caught a break as the Jeep zoomed on.
“They aren’t even looking for us yet?” she asked with total disbelief.
“Charmer’s probably calling everybody to the main building. I left a lot of goodies for her to sort through. She’s got her hands full.” Satisfaction seeped from his voice, not that she could blame him. She’d only known Charmer for half a day; what must it have been like for him? Pretending to be a member of the team while trying not to puke, or belt someone.
“How’d you make it for four years?” she couldn’t help asking.
He gave her a look. “You’d be surprised what you can put up with when there’s no choice.”
“You’re telling someone who lives through Minnesota winters about putting up with stuff?”
He snickered. “Yup, there’s that. When we get out of here, we’re going to Southern Pines.”
“We are, huh? What’s in Southern Pines?”
“The best fishing in the state of North Carolina, and that’s just for a start. Let’s hit it,” he said, and took her wrist again, and off they went.
Chapter 29
“I’m sorry,” she panted, “I’ve got to rest.”
“Okay.”
“It’s just that it’s so big. It seems like we’ve been running forever.” Running, ducking, pausing, running again, hiding, running, as quietly as they could. It wasn’t so much the physical exertion as trying to exert herself without making any noise. Purely exhausting.
She remembered telling The Boss that this was her movie, not Dmitri’s, not Caitlyn’s. Too bad now. Those two would have run circles around the fairgrounds, and probably would have knocked over the main building with their bare hands. Pulled Charmer’s limbs off like a kid torturing a fly.
She was alarmed at how much the thought pleased her.
At least it wasn’t raining. As far as she could tell, it had been a pretty nice day. Too bad she’d spent it all inside.
“Five minutes,” he said. Then he cocked his head just as she heard the sounds of approach. He stood up and hit the door of the small building with his shoulder; it practically popped off the hinges (two hundred twenty pounds times force times velocity…wait, that’s not right…) and they went inside. It was as black as jeweler’s velvet, and Jenny hesitated a little. Walking inside a strange, small building that may or may not have a step when she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face was too creepy. Then she heard a click, and Kevin was shining a small penlight around the building—really more like a shack.
“Cripes!” he almost yelled, and she jumped. After an hour of whispering, it was startling, to say the least.
“What?” She looked around wildly; suddenly every shadowy corner seemed extra sinister—she could practically see armed men crouching, hiding, ready to grab. “Is someone in here? What?”
“This is the Snakepit!”
“What?” He had, she assumed, cracked under the pressure (poor guy). Then she took a look around, and saw all the paintings of snakes on the walls.
“Okay,” she said, trying to calm herself—her heart felt like it was pumping in her throat. “You scared the shit out of me. So we’re in the Reptile House. It’s fine. As long as there’s nobody else in here with us.”
“This is where they keep the cobras and the rattlers and the cottonmouths.” In the poor glow of the penlight, he looked positively green. “Ugh!”
“Kevin, calm down. It’s off-season—there aren’t any snakes in here at all.”
“Maybe one got away. Maybe it’s lurking in the dark ready to bite our feet—”
“You’re afraid of snakes? You?”
“They wait,” he said, and she could hear how his voice shook. She had to think about bullets and Dr. Loman and Charmer’s hands to keep from laughing. “They bite in the dark.”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down. Come over here, sit down. Give me that.” She took the flashlight, led him to the corner, and they sat on the floor. She could hear a Jeep engine humming and thrumming in the area; the walls were thin enough so she could hear the guards talking to each other, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. A routine patrol? Something else?
“They bite in the dark,” he was still muttering, twisting to look behind his ankles.
“So does the I.R.S.,” she confided. “I feel the same way about them.”
“I just—hate them. They give me the fu—the creeps. They’re not like a dog. You can’t train ’em.”
“You never heard the old ‘they’re more scared of you than you are of them’ thing?”
“That,” he replied, “would be impossible.”
She took his hand, which was cold, and rubbed the knuckles. “We won’t stay here long,” she soothed. “Just until the patrol leaves.”
He shuddered and didn’t answer.
“Thanks for getting me out,” she whispered.
“I got you in,” he said after a long pause. “Don’t be thanking me for that.”
“Still. It was my idea to go, you know. It was my idea to ask you to come back. I guess neither of us did the other any favors.”
He laughed, muffling the sound against the back of his hand. The hand she was holding, in fact. His breath tickled her fingers. Then he stiffened. “Did you hear that?” he whispered. “Like…a slithering?”
“I don’t know what slithering sounds like, but I’m sure there isn’t anything in here but us. Maybe a few mice.”
“They eat mice.”
“Yes, but their handlers took them all away last year. And even if they didn’t, the snakes would be behind the glass. We’re out here.”
“Like we were behind glass a little while ago?”
“Okay, that’s not the same thing at all,” she said patiently. “You are not a boa constrictor. Humans can pick locks. Snakes cannot.”
“They can get into real small spaces.”
“Speaking of small spaces, are we really going to sit here in the dark and worry about snakes, or are you going to kiss me?”
“Uh. Well.”
“Dope,” she said, and found his face, and pulled it to her, and kissed him for a lovely, long time. He was tense in her arms at first—it was like kissing a wooden idol. Listening for the elusive slither, no doubt. But after a few seconds he loosened up, his arms came around her, his tongue stroked her lower lip, and she heard a roaring in her ears that could have been a posse of snakes sneaking up on them, or a pride of lions, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
He tasted clean and strong, like well water, like cotton, and (how was this for sick, she asked herself) the light scent of gun oil was making her seriously horny.
Don’t be silly, you’re just cracking under the pressure, just like in the cell, grabbing a little life while you’ve got a little life.
So?
So, indeed. She opened her mouth for him, clutched at him, groped at him, and he squeezed her so tightly she gasped.
“Bad idea,” she managed as his fingers lifted her shirt, settled over her pounding heart, caressed the sensitive flesh just outside her bra cups.
His hands withdrew at once. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re right. I don�
��t know what I was thinkin’. Bad enough I jumped you in the cell, especially after Dr. Loman—”
“Him? I wasn’t even thinking about him. And don’t you dare apologize for what happened earlier. I wanted it as much as you did.” Possibly more than you did, she thought but did not say. “I was thinking about birth control. I wasn’t worried about it before, when death loomed, but now I’m pretty sure we’ve got a good chance to fight another day. And the thing is, I don’t have any.”
“Well, I got good news, maybe.”
“Yeah?”
“I had rubella when I was a kid.”
“Sterile, huh?”
“No babies for me,” he agreed in a low voice. “No ladies for me, either, not for a long time. The cell was the first time in—I mean, I never wanted nobody at the Pit, so—”
She thought of a line from an Andrew Vachs book. “So you went steady with your fist?”
He snorted. “Funny thing is, I always thought it was a good thing. Never wanted a kid to worry about, the life I lead. But then—I mean, the last few days—”
“Stop it,” she said, “I’m blushing.”
“I can’t tell in the dark.”
She brought his hand to her face. “See? Don’t I feel hot to you?’
“Yup,” he agreed, and kissed her again.
“Bad idea,” she mumbled into his mouth.
“Yup.”
“And if we did anything, we’d have to be really, really quiet.”
“Yup.”
“And it’s stupid. I can’t think of a worse time or place.”
“Yup.”
“You’d think we got it out of our system earlier.”
“Yup.”
“But, you know. As long as we’re stuck in here.”
“To pass the time,” he said between kisses. His lips pressed against her mouth, her chin, her brow. “You’re so beautiful, Jenn. You’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw.”
“I’m really not,” she said, and put his hand where it belonged: over her heart.
Chapter 30
He forgot about the snakes. This was a minor miracle, because if there was one thing in the world he fucking hated, it was those slithering, cold, slimy, disgusting reptiles. And never mind all the irony about ending up in the Snakepit, either. One thing didn’t have anything to do with the other.
But who cared? Jenny was beneath his hands, squirming toward his touch; Jenny was breathing so hard she was gasping, her skin like velvet against his, her hair like rough silk. Her breasts filled his hands, the nipples stiffening against his palms, and his mouth actually watered; he had to taste her again, taste her where he was touching her, suckle her smooth skin.
Had he thought the time in the cell was good? Death and sex and all that shit all tangled up in his head, and had he thought that was good? This was better. Nobody was looking over their shoulder in here. It was just him and her and her softness, her sweetness.
She was whispering in the dark, running restless fingers through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. Her shirt and bra were around her neck and she was wriggling around to help him pull her jeans down. In the small shack, their breathing was very loud—it was the world, she was the world.
He found her mouth again, parted her lips with his tongue, smelled her sweet breath, nibbled on her lower lip. He wanted to eat her like a nectarine, touch her everywhere, lick and kiss and suck, and he’d never wanted anyone more. His cock throbbed; it felt like there was a brick in his pants.
She was grabbing for him, touching him, stroking him right through his fatigues, and the throbbing intensified; his head spun, and he managed to pull her hands away from him. “Don’t,” he groaned, “oh, don’t. We’ll be done before we start.”
“So start,” she whispered back, fingers busy at his fly, tongue flicking at his ear. “And you should know that, under the circumstances, speed is a good thing.”
He laughed into her mouth, groped, cupped her ass, her sweet, smooth ass. God, what a butt on the woman—it didn’t matter where you looked at her, she was just too damned fine.
He found her zipper, pulled it down, slipped his hand inside. Found panties he couldn’t see but imagined they were white or pink.
He was embarrassed to admit to himself he hadn’t looked before, had been in such a damn hurried rush, all he’d cared about was getting inside her, getting as close to her as he could. And now when he could look, it was too damned dark. So he imagined. Yup, pink. He loved pink panties; he was a pig who loved pink on a woman, pink like Jenny’s cheeks, pink like her panties, which may or may not have been pink. They could have had orange elephants on them, for all he could tell.
He slipped his fingers past the elastic, savored the silky hair beneath his hand, slipped his fingers inside and found her wet and slick and ready, either from what he was doing or from before, he didn’t care which. What mattered was she was ready for him—God, she was ready, thank God, thank God.
She’d pulled and tugged and was holding him; God, she was actually holding his dick in her small, sweet hands, and they were practically wrestling on the floor, each trying to give the other more access, and she was guiding him, touching him and wriggling to give him room. He slid into her and it was so quick and sweet, he was in her to the hilt before his brain knew what was happening.
“Ah,” she said, and he found her mouth in the dark, kissed her, devoured her.
For a long moment he didn’t move, couldn’t move; if he moved, it would be over sooner and he never wanted it to be over, never. And if he started, he would pound her like a nail, and he wanted it to be as amazing for her as it was for him. Women were refined creatures, they needed more than the old slam and bam; surely he could make it last at least half a minute longer than last time.
But she wasn’t having it—she was squirming beneath him and he thought his head was going to explode, just blow up like a bald tire.
He slid against her, stroked, and her hips rose to meet his; her heels were pressed against the backs of his calves, her small teeth were nibbling at his ear which was really making him nuts, and he was thrusting and groping and thinking God, God, don’t hurt her, take it easy, she’s little, you’ve got fifty pounds on her at least, last time was last time but this time there’s no excuse, but his body was ignoring him, his dick was in the driver’s seat, and thank God she didn’t seem to mind the ride.
The noises she was making, ah God, such sweet little purring sounds, and the tiny part of his brain that was still functioning thought, noise, and he covered her lips with his palm, and then she licked his palm and then his head did blow up.
Or at least, that’s what it felt like.
Chapter 31
“Nobody came in and blew our heads off,” she whispered.
He groaned softly in reply. He’d sort of collapsed over her, which was flattering, if suffocating.
“At least, I’m pretty sure. I feel like my head’s been blown off.”
“Tell me,” he said, and pulled away. They readjusted themselves in the dark, and the silence should have been weird and awkward, but wasn’t.
“Do you think it’s safe to go out?”
“The patrol left about two minutes ago.”
“Always the soldier,” she teased in a whisper.
“No,” he said in a low voice. “Not always.”
She groped in the dark, found his shirt, clutched it. “If I never get a chance to tell you, I’ll tell you now: thank you.”
“You’re thanking me?” he asked, and in his surprise he forgot to lower his voice.
“Shhhh! Yes, I’m thanking you—what, I should be hitting you instead? I shouldn’t thank you for the best sex ever? Again?”
“It has been? It has been,” he replied, answering his own question. “I mean, I know how it’s been for me, but every time it seems so fast—”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a quick study.”
He smiled, she was pretty sure. It was so damn dark! “Yeah
. I noticed.”
“It was kind of dumb, though.”
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.
“I guess I shouldn’t have molested you like that, here with the snakes.”
“Uh—”
“Not that I haven’t been dying to. But time and place, you know? Luckily this is my non-movie, and as the non-star, nothing too bad will happen to me.”
“Okay,” he said, sounding as if he doubted her sanity but was too polite to ask questions.
I love you, she thought. Since I took your gun away in the men’s room. Since you let me. Since you held me in the cell and told me everything was going to be all right. No, before that. That just made me love you more. And I didn’t think I could love you more. And how’s that for crazy?
“So…” Her voice sounded odd to her ears, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “What now?”
“We hit the bricks again.”
She sighed. “No nap, huh? That’s the worst news I’ve had all day. I could really use a nap.”
“I promise. You’ll get your nap. Later.”
“Just a nap?” she teased. “At least we don’t need to waste time condom-shopping. I’m not riddled with disease or anything, by the way. In case you were wondering.”
“Frankly, the thought never crossed my mind.”
She almost laughed. “Men.”
“You hush. Seducing me like that, then giving me shit. Ought to be shamed.”
“Oooooh, you said shit to a lady.”
“Long day.”
She carefully stood, keeping her balance by touching the wall. Her bra was riding up like a living, contrary thing and she adjusted it. He stayed where he was, sitting on the floor.
“You remembered I told you I had rubella when I was a kid?”
“It was five minutes ago, so…yes. Why, is this the part where you tell me it was a lie your dick convinced you to tell?”
He didn’t take offense. “No. It’s true. I remember it real well, because it was the last Christmas I was able to think of my daddy as a smart man. Next Christmas, I was already trying to figure out how things could turn out different for me. I was different, too. That was the last Christmas I felt like a member of the family.”
Drop Dead, Gorgeous! Page 10
