CHAPTER SIX
That night Jeanell slept, deeper than she ever had. The pillow was so soft and welcoming beneath her head, the sheets clean and soft. After traveling so far, in time and in space, trudging through the woods, her entire body hummed with immobile satisfaction, a glorious paralysis. Her mind was likewise blank, ready to fall into that dark, peaceful slumber.
A hard strip of duct tape was suddenly slapped over her mouth. She looked up in a terrified instant, the chancellor's soldier looking above her. She tried to scream, her own voice muffled and meaningless.
She was quick to struggle, but there were more than one of them, and they were big, powerful men. One pinned her legs under his arm and despite her kicking and bucking, secured a zip tie around her ankles. He pulled it tight and the thin plastic strip locked down around her, digging into her skin.
They flipped her over, cranked her hands behind her back, with another zip tie around her wrists, and secured them in a flash. Jeanell tried to pull her wrists free, but the hard plastic dug in and sent blots of pain shooting up her arms. She was completely helpless and about to be carried away by those men to a terrible fate.
One of them was about to hoist her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes when he snapped back with a loud gunshot. Jeanell turned to see Ric standing in the bedroom doorway, a handgun flashing at the end of his long, muscular arm. Bam! Bam, bam, bam!
Two more of the black-suited men snapped back, but they returned fire, the clear walls around Ric taking shot after shot. Jeanell couldn’t free her arms or legs, but she could roll off the bed and out of the way of the gunfire. She hit the floor with a hard thud.
Jeanell could hardly count the number of uniformed thugs pouring into the bedroom from seemingly every direction. Her eyes were locked on Ric, now fighting them off with his bare hands. He threw a punch at one, square on the jaw. The man snapped back and staggered, barely remaining on his feet. Ric grabbed another thug and snapped his arm over this knee with a terrible snap. He threw the man into his staggered comrade and both toppled back.
Ric threw a sidekick at another advancing adversary, the man cramping forward with an oof! Ric pulled a handgun from the officer’s holster and blasted him once in the head before turning the gun on the two injured men.
But that left three more pouring down the hall behind Ric, gunshots ringing from the next room.
Poor Graham, Jeanell realized, they probably got him. And it’s my stupid fault!
And we’ll be next.
Ric turned the soldier’s gun on his fellows, blasting away until the gun clicked dry. Then they fell upon him. He knocked one back with a hard punch, still holding the gun and pistol-whipping the man into a daze with that single blow. He struck at another and missed, the man grabbing his arm and holding tight.
Ric pulled hard, the uniformed man slipping on his feet but not letting go. Another man leapt, throwing himself at Ric.
Contact.
But Ric used the man’s momentum against him, turning and sending him stumbling past, head smacking into the polyurethane wall. His neck snapped and the man fell dead. The last man turned to face Ric just as he pulled a knife from the failed soldier and rammed it into the other’s chest. He fell with a grunt, his body twisting with a pulse of his death nerve.
Jeanell was still on the floor, tied up and gagged. Ric rushed to her, lifting her up and peeling the tape away from her mouth. He lifted her up, cradle-carrying her away from the carnage. They stepped down the hall, kindly Graham passing them with a smile to clean up the mess.
Ric carried Jeanell into the living room, where there was no gore, no bodies.
But there was still one more combatant, a uniformed goon who lurched up from behind the couch, a long dagger in his hand. He lunged down just as Ric turned to face him, grabbing his wrist and holding it just inches above his own chest. Jeanell was pinned beneath Ric, helpless as that dagger inched closer to his chest, ready to pierce it and then her own, if she was lucky.
Ric was exhausted, and his adversary had the advantage of momentum and gravity. That quivering dagger neared its deadly target, ready to plunge into Ric’s heart. Jeanell screamed, hoping it might pump some strength into Ric’s death struggle, his hands locked around his opponent’s hand.
Then Ric jutted a leg forward and his adversary croaked, eyes wide. Ric’s knee was firmly lodged in the man’s groin, and it was enough to turn the tide. Ric smashed his forehead into the man’s face, sending him snapping back. It only took one graceful move for Ric to use the man’s own dagger against him, a thick wet crunch underscoring the killing strike, the chancellor’s last goon stumbling back.
But he pulled a hand grenade from his belt, an old-fashioned weapon from the mid-twentieth century. He pulled the pin and threw the grenade at them.
Ric screamed, “No!” and scrambled for the grenade. He found it and tossed it back at the man before reaching over and pulling the entire couch up and forward. It fell over Ric and Jeanell before the blast, a deafening explosion that tore through the apartment, charring and blistering every exposed surface.
The explosion echoed and gradually gave way to a grave silence. Ric and Jeanell were pinned in the smoky, dark sanctuary of the overturned couch until he pushed it up and off them, revealing the chaotic rubble of the apartment.
Ric looked up to see Graham nodding from the hallway and reclining into the shadows.
Ric retrieved the stolen knife and turned Jeanell gently around, severing her plastic bonds with a single, masterful stroke. He bent down and freed her ankles, then turned her and pulled her soiled lab coat off, then the dress she wore beneath it. She’d never imagined feeling this way about a man she barely knew, one so mysterious and potentially dangerous. But she also couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him in ways she could not resist and didn’t want to. He’d proven himself and more; and he’s won her, body and soul.
She stood naked before him, relieved of her skepticism, engorged with lust. He kissed his way up from her throbbing ankles to her shapely calves, then up past her knees to her quivering thighs. Every kiss created little bolts of pleasure, nearly sending her knees to buckle. His kisses ascended, her legs parting to give him access. His lips found hers and she spasmed with pleasure, hands finding his head, long black hair rising up between her fingers. She raised one knee, her head falling forward, blond hair slipping past her face.
“Oh yes, Ric,” she whispered, almost a moan. There was a lingering sense of mystery around him, of danger, but he’d killed for her; she owed him her life. And her attraction to him was now more than she could resist. She’d been lying to herself that she didn’t want him, and even at the risk of her own life, she had to have him.
And she wouldn’t be denied.
She pulled him up to his feet, their eyes locking. They kissed for the first time, her own juices fresh on his lips and creating an erotic flavor combination she’d never imagined but instantly recognized. He kissed her with the same confident mastery he’d used to kiss her below, and the sensation was almost as if he were doing both things at once. He wrapped his muscular, naked arms around hers and pulled her close, Jeanell’s firm breasts pressing against his hairless chest. Her nipples were hard, rubbing against his to become even more erect, eager, and ready for anything.
Ric seemed to read her body, his strong hands finding those nipples and letting them flick between his fingers and he gave her a squeeze, strong but gentle. He groaned into her ear, his breath hot and sweet in the nape of her neck.
“You’re so beautiful, Jeanell.”
She threw her head back as his kisses descended, his mouth soon finding those eager nipples. He took one in, little electrical pulses shooting through her chest, his low growl ringing in the very fibers of her being, filling her heart, her belly, her loins.
She reached down to find his massive member, engorged and rock hard, throbbing and ready for action. She gave it a squeeze, not even able to get her fingers around that thick shaft. She gave it a few good strokes, that wondrous wand reacting to her like a loving pet or an old friend. She kissed Ric, tongues flicking as she pumped his reedy rod a few more times. His hips gyrated a bit, telling Jeanell that he was as ready as she was.
He led her from the center of the room to the wall, where he slipped one hand under each of her thighs. With one swift, confident motion, he pinned her against the wall, raised up off the ground, her calves idle at his sides.
But he froze, his attention distracted by something outside the window. He stood motionless, eyes peering over her shoulder.
“Ric? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Without saying a word, Ric shifted and tossed Jeanell aside, her strength nothing compared to his urgency. She toppled and landed on the couch, rolling on the cushions before looking up at Ric with a shrill, “What the—?”
A laser blast shot through the window, shattering the clear walls to reveal a drone hovering just outside the building. The blistering beam cut through Ric like a knife, legs barely able to stagger him out of the shattered glass and to the streets far below.
Jeanell called out, “Ric!”