'So you attend church regularly.'
'I'm afraid not, Desiree. I know I should, but I fell out of the habit.'
'And you and Nydia have been married—'
'For three years.' He didn't tell her they had performed the wedding ceremony themselves. 'A very good marriage, I think.'
She put a soft hand on his forearm. Her perfume drifted to him. 'I would like for us to be friends, Sam. Close friends. I think you are the type of person a woman could talk with. And I'd like very much to meet Nydia.'
'I believe you two would get along just great.' About like a cobra and a mongoose, taking in her present mood. 'I'll ask her to come over and chat with you. Maybe then we could all get together and chat.'
Reality returned in a hot rush. What in the hell am I thinking of? Sam again shook his head, but he could not clear his head.
'That would be very nice,' she replied. Was that a note of insincerity in her voice? Sam's head seemed a bit clearer now, as they drove further into the countryside.
'Where is Nydia this morning?' Desiree asked.
'I don't know,' Sam replied honestly. 'She left me a note saying she was going for a drive. She does that occasionally,' he lied.
Why am I defending her with lies? he thought. Guilty conscience, maybe?
Then he could not remember why he had a guilty conscience.
'Umm,' was Desiree's reply to that.
Sam's eyes picked up movement on the side of the road just up ahead. He slowed down. They were on the highway that linked with the county road to the ski lodge.
It had been two men, Sam was certain of that. But when he got to the point where he had watched them jump into the woods, they were no where in sight.
A highway marker sat in the middle of the road, blocking it from shoulder to shoulder. 'Road Closed' the sign read. Sam pulled over and stopped.
'Why is this road closed?' Desiree asked.
'1 don't know. I thought I saw some men up here just a second ago, but they're gone.' He got out of the truck and walked up to the sign. Desiree followed him. The road was sealed tight. No way for any type of vehicle to enter or leave on this section of highway.
Sam's mind cleared enough for logic to prevail. This is a county road, he thought. Until the lodge opens when the snow comes, there wouldn't be much traffic on this road, so its closing wouldn't inconvenience a great many people. But it was a way out that had been blocked. But in his present mental state, it was difficult for him to bring to mind the full scope of the situation and why it was important for this road to remain open.
He turned and bumped into Desiree. She stumbled and grabbed at his arm for support. For a long, soft moment she was pressing against him, both of them obviously enjoying the encounter, and wishing to retain it for as long as possible.
Sam looked down into pale gray eyes set in a heart-shaped face. Very smooth, unblemished skin, very soft- looking lips. It was a moment that was inevitable, considering the moment and the mood.
Their lips met in a kiss that both wanted.
For a young lady that avoided men because they all had only one thing on their mind, she responded with a passion that took Sam by surprise.
She could feel his maleness pressing against her, and Sam could feel the heat from her pressing against him. He moved against her and she responded, moving her hips, grinding them hard against him. His hand slipped down to her buttocks, caressing the softness.
Her tongue probed his mouth and her hands softly crawled over him, gripping the hard muscles of his arms and shoulders.
'Well, now,' a voice from the road ditch broke them breathlessly apart. 'Ain't this cute?'
Sam jerked away from Desiree and was conscious of her hot breath on his face. She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling from the heat of the moment past. Three men stood between the timber and the road. One standing in the ditch, two just behind him, on the downward slope facing the road. Sam knew their faces but not their names. He did recognize the types, however. Every community has them: borderline thugs; almost outlaws; always standing on the ragged edge of lawlessness, ready to do anything evil and ugly and nasty.
'Getting your hands full of young stuff, huh, Balon?' one of them asked with a lewd grin.
'Get in the truck,' Sam whispered to Desiree. 'Go on, do it.'
She slipped away and walked quickly to the truck, a strange look in her eyes. Sam said nothing to the men until Desiree was safely inside the cab. Only then did he turn to the trio of men.
Sam was approaching his twenty-fifth birthday, a senior at Nelson College. But from age seventeen to twenty- one, Sam had been a member of the U.S. Army's elite Rangers. The Rangers, founded in 1756, is one of, if not the oldest unit in the history of America. And not much is made public about them. Especially a tiny, very select group within them, made up of men from all services. Sam had been part of that unit.
Sam, even before the combat at Falcon House, was not a stranger to blood and killing. He had been assigned three kills during his tenure with a small force of men—and a few women—known as Dog Teams, unknown even to the most active military personnel, and had completed each mission. He was a skilled member of the martial arts community, and could kick as high as a ballet dancer—but with a much more lethal effect.
Right now, Sam was wondering how the man knew his name. And more importantly, why. 'You figure that's any of your business, pus-gut?' Sam asked, some clarity returning to him, the adrenalin overriding the murkiness in his brain.
