Samson
I set us down on a landing pad in the middle of the woods, a stone’s throw from a small log cabin I’ve kept as a safe house for a few years now. That was something Uncle Richard and Dad never realized. They assumed they were invincible, that they’d never need anywhere where they could hideout. Or maybe it was just that they weren’t rich enough. The cold truth is I’ve been far more successful than either of them ever was.
I’m groggy and tired from Anna’s wild blowjob. I hadn’t expected it. She was like a firework, exploding without warning and stunning me. She is amazing, sensational, the best woman I’ve ever known. As I land, I look over at her. She smiles at me, a smile which brightens her face, and all over again I feel close to her, closer to her than I had felt to any woman, closer than I have any right to. She’s mine, now; I know that as a fact, immutable, something deep-set inside of me. If anyone tried to harm her, they’d pay.
‘And yet you let River go,’ Richard chuckles. ‘You want to protect her and yet you let the one person who wants to do her harm go free. How does that work, eh?’
I ignore the voice. It’s too honest, too stark.
I climb from the helicopter, walk around to Anna’s side, and help her down.
She hops onto the landing pad and stretches her neck from side to side, stretches out her arms and legs. “Where are we?” she asks, looking around. Trees stretch all around us for miles, trees which stand close together and throw deep shadows into the underbrush. Birds sit perched on branches and as we watch, a squirrel darts through a pile of brown fallen leaves. Far away, something barks into the air.
“We’re safe,” I tell her. “There’s no way anybody will find us.”
“Then it doesn’t matter where we are.” She smiles. “Just the two of us, out here. I hope this isn’t all some elaborate ploy to get me out here alone, undefended.”
“I just want to get you inside, naked,” I say, hearing the growl in my voice.
Anna walks right up to me, her face flushed bright red, and grabs the front of my pants. My cock goes immediately hard, though I came just a few minutes ago. I try to think of circumstances in which Anna wouldn’t be able to make me hard, and I draw a blank. She’s too sexy, too full of life; it’s like her body speaks to mine. When we’re this close, I can feel energy between us, almost physical. She touches me and it takes all my effort not to spin her around, bend her over, and take her right here.
“We have to get inside first,” I say. “We’re safe, but why risk it?”
She giggles cutely. “Sir, yes, sir!”
I lean into her, kiss her on the cheek, and then turn and make my way toward the cabin, the sounds of the forest all around us.
###
The cabin is smaller than the one at Point Lookout and doesn’t have a secret bunker. There’s no need, not way out there. It’s one-bedroom, with a shared kitchen-living area. A log fire sits in protective stone fireplace, a bearskin rug sitting before the fire. The furniture is plush, comfortable, and the walls are pinned with art, as all my safe houses are. I see her looking at the rug. “It’s not really bearskin,” I tell her quickly. “It’s, what do you call it—”
“Faux-fur?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
She nods. “Good.”
We go into the bedroom and Anna lays out her things on the bed, her clothes, her jewelry, the things she took from her apartment.
“Nobody will find us here,” I say. “Not even my driver.”
It’s true. I trust Jack, but I haven’t told even him where we’re going. Nobody knows. Hell, Anna doesn’t know precisely where we are. I walk up behind her and wrap my hands around her belly, resting my chin on her shoulder. It’s an act I do without thinking now, but one I would never have performed with the women before Anna. It’s too intimate, too close, but with Anna that doesn’t seem to matter. The more intimate, the closer, the better.
“We have to stay here for a few days,” I say. “Three, I think. We have to wait long enough for River to get desperate, angry. We have to wait long enough until she goes mad with the desire to find us.”
“And then what?” Anna asks.
“I have a plan—the beginning of a plan, at least. But we don’t need to discuss it now. Let’s just relax, be together.”
She swivels in my embrace and looks up at me. “A few days ago, I was studying,” she says, as though she can’t believe it. “Is your life always this hectic?”
“Hell, no,” I say. “Lately I’ve been taking less and less work, only jobs I want to do, and they’re normally clean, without any complications. I haven’t used these safe houses for years. I haven’t had to run for years. In fact, lately, I’ve been thinking about getting out of the business. But before you there was no point, no one I could spend my life—”
I cut short, realizing how much I’m sharing. I’m suddenly uneasy. I step away. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to unload like that.”
She closes the gap between us, looks up at me with a stern expression. “You never have to apologize to me for telling me how you feel,” she says. “I want to know.”
“It’s strange for me,” I say. “What’s stranger is that I find myself sharing with you without even realizing it. I don’t know—it’s like you’ve . . .”
I stop, running out of words.
“Opened up something inside of you?” she says.
“Yes.” That’s the perfect way of putting it; that’s exactly how I feel. “How did you know?”
“Because, silly man, I feel the same.”
She takes me by the hand and leads to me to the bathroom.
“We need to see to your head. Really, Samson, flying a helicopter with a wounded head . . .”