Mission Of Desire Part 11

"I want you so badly," she heard Kira murmur into her ear as she slipped a hand underneath Nicole's blouse. It fluttered lightly across her abdomen, then situated itself underneath one cup of her bra. With an exacting apt.i.tude no doubt born from experience (just how and upon whom such skills were perfected, Nicole pushed from her mind), Kira began fervently ma.s.saging the fullness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, lightly teasing the taut nipples with her thumbs. Nicole instinctively arched her body. She wanted to reciprocate the heavenly torture, reaching out and unb.u.t.toning the front of Kira's dress with a clumsy haste.

In that instant, they were both lost to the wild hunger that could no longer be curbed, both of them hot with desire. Nicole didn't know how it had happened, but she was suddenly in nothing else but her panties, as was Kira, who was now looking down at her with eyes bright with admiration and hunger. She placed her palm flat along the inside of Nicole's thigh, tracing a small circle against the sensitive flesh with her fingers. Ever so gradually, her fingers slowly moved upward, closer and closer to the wet core of Nicole's femininity.

Nicole couldn't contain the sob of yearning. She watched with something akin to terror and bliss as Kira's head dipped low, replacing the coolness of her hand with the heat of her mouth. She trailed her lips along the sinewy juncture where Nicole's hip and thigh merged. Nicole was now writhing in ecstatic agony, dismayed by her body's abandon. She didn't think her l.u.s.t could grow any stronger but then she felt the tip of Kira's tongue dart provocatively against the elastic of her silk underwear, pressing against the damp fabric so that the warmth of her tongue was at once tantalizingly painful and exquisitely enticing.

Uncomfortable with her desperate need, Nicole tried to close her legs. But Kira's will was stronger and she would not relent, pulling the last of Nicole's clothing from her so that no barrier remained between them as she continued her amorous a.s.sault, her expert fingers joining her mouth's licentious ministrations.

Nicole felt herself soaring higher and higher until at last, she burst, shattering as her release drained her of everything. When she fluttered back down to earth, she realized Kira was holding her tight, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"You're amazing," Kira said in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off.

They lay quietly entwined in each other's arms until Nicole could no longer check her need to rouse a similar response from Kira. With a cautious boldness, she repositioned their bodies so that she was now on top and Kira lay with an acquiescent curiosity beneath her.

"What're you doing?" Kira asked, a gleam of both amus.e.m.e.nt and arousal glowing within her eyes.

"Wait and see."

Having Kira Anthony so weak and vulnerable underneath her filled Nicole with a primitive power and confidence. She leaned forward, the tips of their naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s colliding as she reached for Kira's hands. She imprisoned both, lifted them up over Kira's head, and held them there. She then traced the outline of Kira's lips with her tongue, tasting her own musky scent before deepening their kiss. With her free hand, she explored every inch of silky soft bare skin available to her inquisitive fingers. When at last she raised her head, she was satisfied to see no trace of amus.e.m.e.nt lingering in Kira's searing gaze.

She continued to kiss a sensuous path from Kira's pink lips, down the graceful column of her neck to her nipples. She took each one in her mouth, then positioned the hardness of her thigh between Kira's legs. She continued her brazen descent across the flat perfection of Kira's midriff. Perhaps realizing Nicole's intention, Kira refused to stay pa.s.sive a moment longer. She jerked her hands from their confinement and pulled Nicole toward her.

"I'm already about to explode." Her breathing was loud and uneven. "Are you trying to torture me?"

"I want to taste you," Nicole whispered shyly, disappointed.

"Later, Nicole. Please. Right now I need you, more than anything!"

Nicole wasted no more time teasing. She slipped her fingers into the wet folds of Kira's womanhood, ma.s.saged and pressed, awkward in her movements at first and then growing more certain. In seconds, Kira was panting breathlessly and calling her name in a voice raw with need. And when Nicole felt the woman thras.h.i.+ng beneath her quiver, clench then tighten and shudder, she too felt a surge of satisfaction for being able to bring the one they called the Ice Princess to o.r.g.a.s.m.

After a few minutes, Nicole went to retrieve a decorative throw she'd seen draped across one of the armchairs and covered their cooling bodies with the thin, burgundy-colored fabric. When she pulled Kira close against her, she was surprised to find the woman was already sound asleep.

Chapter Seventeen.

Nicole woke with a start. All around her was dark and quiet. For one long, very bewildering minute she couldn't remember where she was but then she felt the warm, delicious weight of a female's perfectly proportioned form pressed snugly into the curve of her spine.

Was the dream true? Had she and Kira actually made love?

The events of the evening projected forth onto the screen in her mind like a movie being fast-forwarded. In an instant, she was wide-awake and the peaceful lethargy that seemed to have hold of her spirit vanished into thin air. When her eyes finally adjusted, she cast an uncertain gaze down at the woman's arm possessively encircling her rib cage.

Yes, now she remembered: The storm, the loss of electricity, Kira's artful seduction.

No, it hadn't been a dream. In fact, she was naked and Kira's silky smooth legs were still tangled with her own. Their pa.s.sions had quickly escalated to such a frenzy that neither of them could stand on their own two feet and had simply sought the nearest piece of furniture that would allow their raging desires complete liberty. The mere recall of their intimate encounter caused a flood of warmth to surge anew between her legs, but this was certainly not the moment to reflect on the magnificent awakening of her body under Kira's practiced tutelage.

She had to get out of there-fast!

Come morning's light, Kira would simply push aside the incredible physical intimacy they'd just shared as if it had never happened and go about business in her usual dogmatic manner, steadfastly determined to learn what Nicole had found inside the safe deposit box. Now that Nicole had experienced the magic of Kira's gentle touch, there was no way she was going to be able to deny the woman anything.

Her wrist.w.a.tch was a simple Timex Ironman, and it had served her well. If she moved her arm too abruptly to check the time, she might wake Kira, and the hastily concocted scheme she'd just hatched would be derailed before it had even started.

Instead, she ever so cautiously s.h.i.+fted her weight until she was able to reach the outer dial of the plastic timepiece. Having forgotten about her encounter with the handcuffs, she flinched when she accidentally poked the raw, tender skin near the watchband. Kira grumbled an immediate objection to the disturbance in her sleep.

"Slowly," she silently admonished, pressing a tiny b.u.t.ton until the face of the watch glowed brightly with an iridescent blue light. 12:55 a.m.

With painstaking care, Nicole gingerly wriggled her body from Kira's ardent grip. Once liberated, she looked down, suddenly maudlin as her eyes traced the lovely bones of Kira's profile. A weak moonlight filtered into the house through the last of the sapped storm clouds, providing just enough light for Nicole to commit the graceful lines of the woman's face to her memory. She stood there, chilled and naked, taking in Kira's uncharacteristic vulnerability as she slept so peacefully, like a botanist might do having discovered a rare flower during a trek in the woods. She stared lovingly at the heart-shaped pout of Kira's lips, swollen now from their kisses, the perfect curve of her brow, the sweep of her closed lashes fanning their thick length against her lightly tanned skin.

It took every ounce of willpower Nicole possessed to quell the sudden urge to gather Kira into her arms and hold her for as long as the waning night would allow. She straightened. There was no time for such ridiculously reckless thoughts. Imposing an iron control on herself, she turned away and went about searching for her scattered clothing. After locating the pants, blouse, and undergarments she'd discarded in pa.s.sionate oblivion just a few hours before, she dressed hastily in the dark, then retrieved the handcuffs and their key from where Kira had placed them earlier.

Next, she crouched down next to the coffee table.

With a hearty intake of breath, she pushed the mammoth piece of furniture across the floor. Thankfully, the thick luxurious rug under the table absorbed any sounds the movement might have made, but just the same, she cast a wary eye toward the sofa. Kira was still sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the long flight from Nairobi; one toned, unclothed arm conveniently dangling over the side of the cus.h.i.+ons, her long, delicate fingers curling up against the polished hardwood flooring.

Nicole's lips twitched with self-satisfaction. If her plan worked, she'd be miles away before Kira woke.

Taking another deep breath, this time to calm her nerves and gather her weakening courage, she attached one handcuff to the ornamental iron framing the underside of the table, then turned to connect the other half of the steel bracelet to Kira's exposed wrist.

All at once, a series of high-pitched beeps and wails permeated the silence as electricity to the house was unexpectedly restored, its current surging through the wires and reengaging all the appliances and electronic contraptions.

Nicole tensed. h.e.l.l's bells. Please don't wake up!

Kira stirred ever so slightly but, after heaving a sleepy sigh, continued to doze.

Releasing a shaky, pent-up breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, Nicole quickly chained Kira's hand to the table without another second's falter.

Now where to hide the key?

She had to position it somewhere that would allow her enough time to implement the rest of the plan. Her eyes darted around the large s.p.a.ce in frustration until falling to the ma.s.sive staircase in the center of the open room. She placed the key on the lip of the seventh step, far enough away but not impossible to retrieve. Even though Kira was in prime physical condition, the table was solid wood and quite heavy. If all went as designed, it would take her a fairly decent amount of time to drag the table through the house, then manipulate it up three or four stairs until she was able to reach the key and free herself.

But how would she know that the key was there?

As unpleasant as the prospect was, Nicole would have to leave a note. She found a pad of paper and a pen inside one of the end table drawers and wrote a quick, impersonal missive explaining that the key was on the seventh step and apologizing in advance for taking her car.

Yes, this might just work! Not only would Kira be chained for who knew how long to the coffee table, but then she'd be stuck here without a vehicle, no doubt dependent on Bogie and Stella to come back from where ever they were to collect her.

Morning's light was certainly not going to find Kira Anthony in a very good mood.

Nicole couldn't help but cast one last look back. Her heart lurched with pained regret. If only Kira really was one of the good guys wearing the white hat. She swallowed hard and bit back tears.

Go, Nicole, she urgently whispered to herself. Now! You're in love and your heart is playing tricks with your sanity. Need you be reminded Kira is involved with the helicopter pilot in the pictures on the mantel and that she attempted to destroy your mother's life? The woman is void of a conscience, and no amount of whimsical fantasy is going to change that fact. You're acting like a lovesick fool.

She almost tripped over her own feet as she grabbed her bag and ran toward the back of the house to find a long, slate-tiled hallway leading to a door that opened into the garage. The vast, industrial-like s.p.a.ce looked big enough to house two tractor-trailers, but there was only one compact car parked on the white polymer-coated flooring-a sleek white Lexus sedan. She lifted the chrome handle, ecstatic to find it unlocked. With a grateful nod to the universe, she slid into the supple leather of the driver's seat, found what appeared to be the garage door's remote clipped to the visor and a set of keys dangling from the ignition. Her Honda Civic was nearly a decade old, but this luxuriously modern machine looked like it had just come off the a.s.sembly line. She remembered driving in her sister's leased BMW and recalled her fascination with the round b.u.t.ton labeled Start Engine. She located the same mechanism to the right of the speedometer and pressed it. Sure enough, the vehicle powered on and the steering wheel robotically advanced forward like some innovation from the far-distant future.

Chapter Eighteen.

Her stomach in a tight knot, Nicole backed out of the garage while adjusting the position of the seat. Kira was about two inches taller, and the difference made it hard for her to put pressure on the pedals properly. The rain had stopped, but deep puddles of black water had pooled along the road's edges, and as she drove through them their murky debris splattered against the winds.h.i.+eld.

Once she was a safe distance from the house, she gunned the accelerator. About a mile later, the wet dirt merged with solid asphalt. Nicole grabbed the rearview mirror and angled it so she could get a good view of the backseat. A part of her half expected to see Bogie or Stella lurching at her from the interior shadows.

Although the mirror showed the backseat to be empty, it did little to ease her frazzled nerves. Once she reached a main highway, she decided to head east. After a few minutes, the tension in her head lessened from a loud, painful hammering to a tolerable dull thud. The digital clock indicated it was half past two in the morning. She was making good time but needed to keep her foot to the pedal. Such a costly automobile surely came equipped with some sort of high-tech tracking system. Pinpointing her exact location would be just a matter of Kira making a call to the company that provided roadside and navigational a.s.sistance. She needed to dump the car as soon as possible.

As she drove, her adrenaline level gradually began to taper off and her eyelids grew heavy. Images began darting out from the darkness-flashbacks of Kira touching her, kissing her, unb.u.t.toning her blouse, and slowly, seductively removing her bra. She pushed the gas pedal even harder, trying to keep from recalling the tender strokes of Kira's fingers along her legs and the feel of the woman's hot lips pressed erotically against her inner thigh. She felt her pulse quicken from the memory.

The night air was now warmer than the ground after the rain, causing a mist-like fog to slowly creep over the road. Her detailed reflections were interrupted when a concrete overpa.s.s appeared from out of the mist. Stifling a yawn, she took the exit, ascending the on-ramp at well over the suggested twenty-five miles per hour listed on the sign she shot past. She needed to slow down. The last thing she needed while driving a stolen car was to draw the attention of the police-who surely wouldn't believe her story. There was a truck stop with a bright neon light blinking in its steamy windows advertising it was open twenty-four hours. The parking lot of the truck stop was littered with huge semis and other equally intimidating rigs. She maneuvered the Lexus far away from the bright industrial lighting fixtures towering above the gas pumps before turning off the ignition. Grabbing her bag from the pa.s.senger seat, she fished through all her junk until she unearthed both her cell phone and its battery. Should she take the risk and connect them? No, she decided, dropping them back into her bag and surrept.i.tiously surveying her surroundings. Who knew? Bogie might be monitoring her calls or tracking the phone's location. It wasn't worth the risk. She'd seen his skills with a piece of tape and a knife.

The sight of other people, even if they were an odd a.s.sortment of weathered, chain-smoking, boot-clad truckers was oddly comforting after driving through such isolated farmland. Grabbing her bag, she left the plush sumptuousness of the Lexus and nearly ran to the lone pay phone located next to some newspaper bins and the ice machine. She reached for the phone's handle. It was wet from the rain. She cautiously lifted it to her ear, but there was no dial tone. It probably hadn't worked in years.

She strode quickly into the truck stop. It was empty save for an older woman in a red, smock-like uniform eyeing her warily from behind the counter. After grabbing a toothbrush and deodorant, she found a shelf filled with an a.s.sortment of disposable cell phones. She only needed to make two calls. She picked one that offered usage for one hundred and fifty minutes. As she pa.s.sed an end cap filled with packaged doughnuts and creme-filled cakes, her stomach reminded her it needed refueling. She grabbed something chocolate and a bottle of water from the refrigerated cooler.

"You okay, girlie?" the haggard-looking clerk asked when Nicole placed her items on the counter. "Look like you running from the devil."

Nicole gaped open-mouthed, not knowing how to respond. "Um-"

"Your s.h.i.+rt's inside out," the woman pointed out with a harsh laugh. Nicole looked down at her blouse. The seam of st.i.tching was indeed facing outward.

"This time of night, only customers I git are eighteen-wheelers, lawbreakers, or spooked girls fleeing their men. Which one are you? Lawbreaker or spooked girl? You sure ain't no trucker."

Both, Nicole almost admitted out loud. She'd stolen a car and she was running, just not from a man. "I figured as much," the clerk grumbled when Nicole didn't answer, scanning the chocolate-frosted cake's bar code with a laser gun. "Been there myself once. If you need a place to hole down for the night, there's a motel on the lake 'bout two miles from here my sister runs. With that storm tonight, I suspect even the Lord might be wantin' a dry spot to sleep. You fancy, I'll rouse her out of bed for ya and by the time you get there, she'll have a room ready for ya."

"I don't have a car," Nicole replied. It wasn't a lie-she couldn't risk driving the Lexus any farther. It was just a matter of time before Kira freed herself from the handcuffs and came after her. "I'm sort of stranded until morning." She directed her gaze to the phone entombed in a hard plastic sh.e.l.l. "I was just going to call a friend to tell her where she can find me."

The woman's faded blue eyes seemed to see right through her, but Nicole didn't flinch. She was exhausted, and the prospect of laying her head down on something soft and somewhere out of harm's way for a few hours was worthy of a white lie or two.

"Hmmph," the store clerk snorted, giving Nicole another once-over. "Forty-two dollars and fifty-nine cents."

Nicole still had cash left over from her doomed trip to Africa in her wallet. Credit card transactions could be traced, she realized as she handed the money over.

"I am really tired-and there's no telling how long it will take my friend to get here," she said, stifling a yawn. "Do you think your sister has a free room? I really appreciate your help."

"Well, all right," the clerk said. "I'll lock up here and drop ya there myself, seeing as how you ain't got no ride." She gave Nicole a conspiratorial wink. "We ain't that busy this time of night anyway as most'a my guys are pulling a few z's in their cabs." She was missing a few teeth. Her hair was white with faded streaks of pale orange. "Yer mister ain't out there in the parking lot, is he?" she asked, pulling a shotgun from under the counter and limping forward.

"I don't think he was able to follow me, but I can't be sure." Nicole gulped nervously.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds." The clerk grimaced, checking the firearm's chamber. "Think they can do whatever they want to women, but this little baby puts us all on an even playing field. My ex tried to run me over almost thirty years ago and I got this mangled limb to remind me of it for the rest of my life. Since then, I don't go nowhere without protection."

Nicole remembered thinking exactly that when she'd tied her knife around her calf that morning. "He's in jail, I hope," she said.

"Jail was too good for that varmint. By the way, my name's Gladys, honey. You ain't gotta tell me yours." She put her gun down and hobbled over to the coffee station. She began merging one pot of coffee with another before turning switches off and wiping the counter down with a damp blue cloth. "Anyways, a little backwoods justice was how we took care of him."

Nicole decided she didn't need to know any more about Gladys' life. "I know this sounds strange, but can you tell me where we are? I mean, what city?"

"You get beamed up by s.p.a.cemen and dropped off in a cornfield?" She chuckled, a harsh throaty sound that eerily harmonized with the sad voice of country coming from a radio playing somewhere in the back of the store. "You in Delaplane, 'bout a stone's throw from DC, sweetie, just a tad off the beaten track is all."

Delaplane was a fairly exclusive area in Virginia filled with antique shops, wineries and horse farms. It was about an hour's drive west of the capital. When she'd woken up in the back of the Suburban, it had felt as if she'd been out longer than an hour.

"Now, be straight up, you ain't packing any heat, are you? The last thing I need is you robbing my kid sister in the dead of the night. I'll never hear the end of it. Though you're sweet as apple pie in the face, I've been fooled a time or two. I don't let the bad ones stop me from offering help when I want, otherwise they win, if you get my drift. Someone done show me kindness when I was in your shoes, and I try to return the favor when I'm able."

Nicole shook her head. "No gun, no weapons at all," she answered honestly. Bogie had confiscated her knife.

"Now, Sally can be a bit suspicious of folks, so don't try any funny stuff with her. And you'd best be heeding that advice. My shotgun ain't nothing compared to her two Rottweilers," Gladys counseled a few minutes later as they raced down a dark, unlit road in an old Chevy Blazer with all the windows open. The clerk was already on her second cigarette and it appeared the floor of the vehicle doubled as her ashtray.

"Light's on there in the office. She was just headin' to bed after a night out at the tracks with her old man when I called but she said she'd wait up a bit longer when I told her you'd pay in cash," Gladys wheezed through nicotine-stained lips when they pulled up in front of an L-shaped cinder-block building that looked like every other motel built during the 1950s. "I know it don't look like much," she took a long drag from her cigarette before flinging the b.u.t.t out the window, "but there's a fully stocked lake behind it and this land was worth a ton of dough a few years back. Too bad the market took such a turn, otherwise we'd be living pretty dang good right about now. Sally mostly rents to hunters and truckers. Used to be vacationers, but the big highways took away that business. Go on now, get. My sister needs her beauty sleep. The longer you keep her from it, the more those of us who have to look at her'll suffer."

Nicole placed one hand on the door handle and grabbed her belongings with the other. "I don't know how to thank you for helping me, Gladys. You'll never know how much-"

"Never you mind all that. Just tell me what you want me to do with that s.h.i.+ny new car you left back in my parking lot."

Nicole's eyes widened in surprise.

"Saw you drive back and forth a few times before you pulled in, sweetie. Is someone going to come lookin' for it? Like the po-po?"

"Probably," Nicole admitted with a troubled frown. "Hadn't given it much thought, but now that you brought it up, yes, someone will come and ask questions...questions I'm hoping you won't be entirely up front about answering. I didn't do anything illegal, just needed to escape from a bad situation, and that car was my only means of doing so."

"No worries. I know me a bootlegger whose son runs a chop shop." Her foot pumped the brake pedal. "Good luck to you, honey! And don't go back to him-no matter how much he begs!"

Watching the Blazer's only working taillight disappear from view, Nicole hoped that the d.a.m.ned Lexus would be dismantled and its parts on their way to Trinidad or Turkey or some other foreign land before sunrise.

A wave of profound weariness invaded her bones. Her stomach heaved. Perhaps it was a combination of everything she'd been through all rolled into one ma.s.sive body slam aimed directly at her intestines. Mercifully, the queasiness pa.s.sed.

Sally was indeed waiting for her as Gladys had promised and none too pleased to be doing so; one very frayed, slipper-shod foot tapped impatiently beneath the stained pink robe she was wearing, two salivating Rottweilers panting at her side. "I ain't like Gladys, taking in strays and whatnot. You bring me an ounce of trouble and my dogs here will have you for breakfast."

"No trouble, I promise. Just need a place to sleep tonight," Nicole a.s.sured her as she paid for her room with three crisp twenties and took the key from pudgy fingers.

"Last room to the left. Room 423."

Nicole stared down at the room key with wide, incredulous eyes. Had she heard right? Yes, she had. The diamond-shaped red plastic was inscribed with the number 423 in faded gold ink, the same number as the safe deposit box at the bank.

"Room 423?" she asked aloud, almost to herself. The motel didn't have more than twelve rooms total. It was too surreal to be a coincidence. She shook her head and walked out of the lobby to her room. She unlocked the door and flipped the light switch just inside the door. There was a mirror on the other side of the room, and her reflection was frightening.

It was three thirty in the morning. She was a nameless stranger the woman's toothless sister had dragged over from a truck stop. Her s.h.i.+rt was on inside out. After riding in the Blazer with windows rolled down, her hair had been blown into a wild, messy snarl of tangled curls. And her mascara had bled, leaving two crescent-shaped, coal-colored smudges beneath her bleary eyes. For the first time in what felt like days, Nicole laughed. She felt a deep empathy for celebrities who'd had their mug shots taken at the worst possible moments in their lives and posted on the Internet for the entire world to view. This wasn't an image she would want anyone else to see, much less remember.

The motel room was clean but felt damp, probably from the storm and the lingering humidity. A tacky lithograph of a random seaside adorned the wall next to the bed. The paneling was a dark shade of brown and the synthetic orange carpet looked relatively unsoiled. When she slipped off her sandals, she envisioned all the strange bare feet that had come in contact with the stiff, brittle rug and wondered if she was going to catch something-athlete's foot, ringworm, there was no telling what the rug was infected with. On the tips of her toes, she peeled the paisley blue bedspread away from the pillows, plopped down on the clammy sheets, shoved a piece of stale chocolate cake in her mouth, then took one of her Honda's car keys to puncture the disposable cell phone's near-impenetrable packaging and tore it open. The tiny device came already precharged. After pressing a code to activate it, she sat back against the warped, particle-wood headboard, took a long swig from her bottle of water, and dialed the first of two calls she had to make, even though it was the middle of the night and the sun would be coming up soon.