LIAR'S POKER

by

NOELLE SAXON

© copyright by M. A. Morin

September 1996

Chapter One

Andrea Wendt stopped abruptly, peering around at the woods, trying to find some landmark she recognized. That oddly bent palm tree looked vaguely familiar, didn't it? She sucked her lower lip thoughtfully a moment before a flicker of panic nipped at her.

She should never have allowed her date, Fabian, to talk her into playing war on the survival course. She wasn't cut out for this sort of thing! He was the outdoors type, not her!

When one got right down to it, it was just plain stupid to be wandering around the woods like this to impress a man she'd already concluded would never be the love of her life. Truthfully, she wasn't even altogether certain that she particularly liked Fabian. It was difficult to like someone that perfect and that arrogant about his perfection.

"Oh, Lord! Please! Just let me get out of here! I promise I'll never do this again! I'll be honest from here on out. I swear it. I'll tell Fabian this isn't working out between us. Just don't make me spend the night in these creepy woods!"

As if in answer to her prayers, faintly, in the distance, she heard a sound that was music to her ears. "A car!" she exclaimed in a joyous whoop and darted in that direction.

The gloom under the trees was such by now that, when combined with her enthusiasm, the wood had become treacherous. She tripped over concealed roots and low growing brush and sprawled out three times before common sense slowed her head-long progress. Even so, she fell over a two foot high sapling and blundered into a tree before she reached a rise she thought must border some road.

Almost at once she heard the sound of men's voices. She moved on eagerly then, slowing her steps only when she realized that the sounds she heard were of a heated argument.

Disconcerted, she stopped, frowning as she tried to identify the voices. None of them sounded familiar and she was beginning to wonder if she should intrude after all when she heard Fabian speak.

Relieved now, she grinned. It must be Fabian and his friends. They were probably just sore because she'd beaten them at their own game today. She should have expected them to be juvenile about the thing. After all, they were used to winning. This was the first time she'd managed to get the best of them. Or maybe they were just arguing because they thought she'd gotten lost.

She was on the point of calling out when she decided against it. An imp of mischief prompted her to sneak up on them, just to show them it hadn't been a fluke that she'd won today.

Stealthily, she crept through the brush till she saw the car. When she finally spotted it, however, something about the scene set off a tinkling bell of alarm. The car was parked along the side of the dirt road, all four doors standing wide, the engine still running, as if they'd just slued to a halt and jumped out.

She saw Fabian almost at once, however, and dismissed her qualms. Scant as the fast-fading light was, it was sufficient to limn his muscle bound, six foot frame and gilt his tow head, even if she hadn't had the aid of the car's dome light. The men with him didn't look familiar at all though, and she studied them curiously for several moments before she decided to move closer to get a better look.

They were still arguing, but she couldn't understand what the dispute was about. Quite suddenly, however, one of the men addressing Fabian spoke loudly enough that she heard him with perfect clarity. "I'm glad to hear that, Korloff," he sneered. "I was hoping you'd be stupid."

Surprise halted Andrea in her tracks. They thought Fabian was some guy named Korloff? Who were these men? Certainly not friends of his or even acquaintances if they thought his name was Korloff.

Now that she could see them more clearly, she realized at once that they didn't look like the sort anyone would want to associate with. Not only did they look distinctly unpleasant, but they had no sense of style! She just couldn't imagine Fabian, who always looked so GQ, rubbing elbows with this sort.

On the other hand, as unlikely as it seemed that Fabian would know these men, it seemed even less likely that he could be mistaken for someone else. Fabian wasn't the sort of man that could be easily mistaken for anyone else. He was just too uncommon.

Regardless, the rather stocky man with the 'Friar Tuck' hair cut that suddenly seized Fabian in a choke hold seemed pretty convinced he had the right man by the throat.

Andrea stifled a gasp.

"Look, Korloff," said a second man, this one tall, lanky and chin-less, reminding her forcefully of Ichabod Crane. "You know we can make you talk. Why don't you make this easy on yourself?"

That sounded distinctly sinister. Andrea crouched lower in the brush, suddenly certain that what she was watching was absolutely real, though it looked like something out of an old 'B' gangster movie. Fabian was in deep trouble.

Even if those fools had gotten him confused with someone else, they didn't look like they'd take anyone's word for it that they'd made a mistake. In fact, they looked like the sort that would be only too happy to erase, permanently, any mistake they might make.

That realization set Andrea to shivering so badly that she had to clamp her teeth together to keep them from chattering. She glanced up and down the deserted road, wondering just how far they were from the headquarters of Central Florida's Survival Games.

It occurred to her almost at once, however, that it really made little difference. They couldn't be close enough to get help quickly enough, even if someone was still there.

That seemed doubtful since the place usually closed at dusk, unless Fabian's friends had waited around for them, but then that, too, seemed unlikely. His friends usually left as soon as they'd been taken out of the game, and she'd long since 'killed' them.

She transferred her attention to the men once more, wondering what to do, wondering if she should do anything, wondering if she could do anything. She didn't really think she had the nerve to interfere, but, as frightened as she was by now, it went against the grain to simply stand by and do nothing.

Fabian was a big man. Ordinarily he seemed more than capable of taking care of himself, but he was outnumbered three to one. That wasn't exactly fair odds. Not only that, but the third man, a whopping big fellow that looked like a cross between Lurch and Bigfoot, held a rather nasty looking gun.

The sight of it set her heart to pounding out a deafening, double-time staccato. She quickly discovered, however, that she didn't really need to hear what they were saying to know what was happening. They were trying to force Fabian into the car. The Lord alone knew what they had in mind for him once they managed to kidnap him.

Frozen with fear, for many moments she could do nothing but stare at the tableau before her, her mind a total blank. But she sensed the very moment Fabian tensed to resist and knew he was about to try a last ditch effort to escape them.

She never consciously made a decision. She couldn't even recall afterwards what she'd done except in a vague sort of way. Like a nightmare one only half remembers on waking, she could remember scraps of action here and there, but mostly only that she was terrified.

Standing, she lifted her pellet gun and fired. Her paint pellet caught the largest man right between the eyes just as Fabian threw 'Friar Tuck's' arm off and slammed the point of his elbow into the man's throat.

"Run, Fabian!" she screamed as she blasted 'Ichabod' in the temple, blinding him with paint, and turned, catching the third man in the chest in quick succession.

Everything, everyone, seemed to be moving in slow motion. She saw her pellets splatter against their targets in neon orange, saw Fabian plant his elbow in the first man's throat and his fist in her second target's abdomen. The third man, the one she hadn't succeeded in blinding with a paint pellet, caught Fabian's foot in his groin. She winced as he screamed in pain and sprawled in the dirt, holding himself while he writhed in agony.

In the next moment Fabian bounded over the trunk of the car, hit the dirt on the other side and charged up the opposite embankment before she could gather her wits to call after him. Where was he going, for heaven's sake? Couldn't he tell where she was? She stared after him in blank incredulity, unable to believe he was abandoning her.

Thunder crashed close at hand. Almost instantaneously, something struck Fabian in the back, lifting him from his feet and tossing him through the tangle of vines in his path. He let out a sound that was partly a grunt of exertion and partly a cry of pain.

She was so stunned she forgot to duck back down. They were using red paint pellets? Everyone else used neon yellow or orange.

Comprehension hit her just as thunder rolled again and lightening shot past her head so closely she could've sworn she smelled brimstone. "Blood. Oh, my God!"

It was black as pitch. The light from the flashlights the three men carried looked like little more than dancing fireflies on cave walls. The youngest of the trio surveyed the scene with a feeling of awe that bordered on admiration. "Do you suppose they found what they were looking for?"

The man beside him grunted. "After what just went down?" He shook his head in disgust, a rustling of movement heard rather than seen by either of his cohorts. "Maybe. Maybe not. If they didn't, they'll have a hell of a time finding it now, won't they? Fucking morons."

The young man lifted his brows at his companion's vehemence. "What about the woman, Scotty?"

"What about her?"

The third man spoke up. "Looks to me like we're going to have to have a little heart to heart with her."

Scotty's head snapped around at that. It was too dark to make out expressions, but his whole attitude seemed threatening. "Rough her up a bit, you mean? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Is that how you get your rocks off, Stephens?"

"Maybe it is! Anyway, I figure, why the hell not? We're not getting anywhere. I'm sick of sitting around with my thumb up my ass, doing nothing but watching."

The first man laughed a little uneasily, glancing from one of his cohorts to the other. "Thought you were enjoying it, Stephens."

Stephens snorted. "Not me. You got me confused with lover boy here."

'Lover boy' surged forward with an angry snarl. The younger man leapt between them. "Hey, fighting isn't going to get us anywhere either....Hold on! Somebody's coming!"

Chapter Two

Andrea couldn't seem to stop shaking. She was so weak-kneed from fright, it had taken all she could do to hold the gas pedal down. She didn't know how she'd managed to make it home. She couldn't even remember the drive up highway one to her apartment in Titusville. She supposed there must not have been much traffic, either that or she'd functioned on automatic. Maybe God had been her co-pilot.

At that thought, she laughed shakily, a laugh that ended on a sob, and dropped her head to rest against the steering wheel. "They shot poor Fabian! They shot at me!"

She lifted her head, sniffing and swiping at her eyes, then looked in the rear-view mirror automatically to check her mascara. Another half-sob, half-laugh escaped her as she realized what she was doing. What possible difference could it make if her mascara was smeared after what she'd just been through?

She fought off the urge to give in to tears and squall her head off. She could do that when she was inside and safe, after she'd called in the cavalry, when she'd bathed and doctored all the scratches and friction burns she'd gotten blundering through the woods in her escape.

If only she could magically transport herself from her locked car to her locked apartment!

Where, she wondered with sudden, irrational anger, were her nosy neighbors now? When she could have used some of their nosiness? Inside, of course, where they couldn't do her any good! So what if it was dark! Couldn't someone have been out doing something?

She stared at the black, unwelcoming windows of her own apartment, feeling an involuntary shiver skate down her spine. Peering into the dark shadows that separated her from her haven, she sucked her lower lip fretfully. "They wouldn't have followed me," she assured herself doubtfully. "Anyway, they could scarcely have gotten here before me, even if they did try to follow me."

She still couldn't completely accept that what she thought had happened had actually happened. It was too nightmarish to be real.

However, even if she accepted that it was real, and not the results of somebody slipping something nasty in the coke she'd had with her lunch, she had to be right about not being followed. It had to be physically impossible, if nothing else, that they would have arrived at her apartment before her. She was positive of that much at least . .Or pretty certain...And it still took an act of will to make herself unlock her car door and dash for the door of her apartment.

Not that it was much of a dash. She thought, in fact, that her legs would buckle under her the moment she tried to stand up. "That's the problem with adrenaline," she muttered irritably. "It always deserts you when you need it most."

But she gritted her teeth and charged the door on spaghetti legs, key in hand so that she could ram it into the lock, give it a quick twist, jump inside and slam and lock the door behind her.

It didn't work out quite that way. She couldn't seem to get the blasted key in the hole. It was too dark to see what she was doing even if she'd been able to keep her mind on the business at hand, instead of darting frantic glances over her shoulders. And she was shaking as if she was attached to one of those 'fat-shaker' machines at a health spa, which made it amazingly difficult to ring a tiny key hole.

Finally, she succeeded, leapt inside and locked her door, breaking three fingernails in the process. Ignoring her throbbing fingers, she leaned her forehead against the door once she'd shot the bolt home, taking deep breaths to try to calm herself. She was safe now. Safe. She had to quit thinking about what might have happened if she hadn't gotten away. She had to fight off the fear that they would come after her.

Because it was paranoia. They had no reason to come after her, even if they knew who she was, and they couldn't know that. They couldn't have any idea of where she lived, and they certainly had no reason to come after her. Whatever their problem was, it had nothing to do with her.

She moved away from the door finally and headed for the bathroom. Her whole body was a mass of stinging scrapes and bruises from her flight through the woods. What she needed was a long hot soak to alleviate the bone deep chill that had descended upon her from the moment... But she wasn't going to think about Fabian right now. And, unfortunately, she couldn't allow herself the indulgence of a soothing soak. She could and would take the time to tend her scrapes, however, before she talked to the police.

She paused, though, when she'd passed the doorway that led to the living room and stepped back, reaching up to flick the switch on. Her jaw went slack with stunned surprise.

Her computer was on, its bright blue screen displaying her financial statement, which was strange enough in itself considering she hadn't updated the thing in a month.

Except for that her computer was just as she'd left it that morning when she'd gone to meet Fabian for an early luncheon before hitting the survival course. And she might have convinced herself that she had inadvertently left it on, except that it looked like the eye of a hurricane, amazingly untouched, and surrounded by utter destruction.

Her lamps were lying on the floor, broken, the tables that had held them now leg-less. Her beautiful Queen Anne couch was overturned, the stuffing ripped from its back and rolled arms, and the cushions torn from their covers. The wing-backed chair that had matched it was in no better condition. Her bookshelves had been emptied and upended, her books and carefully selected nick-knacks strewn and broken. Even her fish tank had been overturned and shattered.

Numbly, she picked her way across the living room and stared down at the broken mess and the tiny bodies of her lovely fish. She sniffed, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Poor little fish.

Anger surged through her as she turned again to survey the damage. There was no sense in it. None at all! If someone had wanted to steal from her, why tear everything up? Why hadn't they just taken what they wanted and left something for her?

Apprehension struck her suddenly. "Monster? Monster?"

She looked searchingly around the room and moved into the kitchen. Here, the same wanton destruction greeted her. Her refrigerator and cabinets had been emptied all over the floor. Glass shards were mounded beneath the cabinets that had once held her dishes and glasses, as if some fiend had taken them out one at the time, examined them and dropped them. She stared at the senseless mess for several long moments before she picked her way through it carefully and moved into the hall once more. "Monster?"

Something grabbed her calf and she screamed, jumping a foot off the floor before she whirled to face her attacker. A dark, splotchy blur streaked past her and disappeared into her bedroom and she began to laugh and cry at the same time. "Monster! You nearly scared the life out of me! Come here to me!"

Monster wanted to play, however. She slunk back at Andrea's call and crouched in the doorway, pumping her hind legs, preparing to launch herself for a renewed attack. Andrea stared down at her with a mixture of relief and annoyance. "Some watch cat you are!"

Monster merely stared at her with wide yellow eyes, her tail twitching so hard it made a distinctive thunk as it struck the carpeted floor. When Andrea took a step toward the cat, she leapt to her feet and disappeared into the bedroom again. Andrea followed her, discovering with renewed anger, if little surprise, that her bedroom looked like the rest of the apartment, as if some madman had come for the sole purpose of ripping everything to shreds.

Quite suddenly Andrea felt the hair on her head prickle. Was the madman long gone as she'd assumed or still in the apartment with her? As that last thought coalesced, she froze in place, like a dress shop mannequin in an action pose. She could neither move nor think. Weapon leapt to mind, not as a full grown thought but rather more as instinct, and her gaze made a slow sweep of the room in search of one before coming to rest on one of the objects at her feet.

She stared down at it for long moments, unable, at first, to command herself to move. Finally, her erratic brain impulses connected. Slowly, carefully, she knelt to pick up the hammer that had been tossed out of her junk drawer and onto the floor along with everything else. Hefting it like a club, she edged her way carefully to the bathroom, slamming the door back against the wall to make certain no one was hiding behind it and flicked the switch on.

Thankfully nothing with the consistency of flesh caught the door. It banged against the wall and rebounded, catching her on the shoulder. Absently, she shoved it open again, her gaze darting around the tiny room. The shower curtain was closed. Had she left it that way? She inched toward it, hammer at the ready, and jerked the curtain aside. At that moment, something grasped her leg and she screamed, jumping and whirling with the hammer raised.

Monster streaked for the bed and went under it. "Damn it, Monster! I don't want to play!" But relief flooded through her. At least she wasn't going to have to get down on her hands and knees to check under the bed. There was no way Monster would have run under it if there'd been a stranger hiding there.

Still, there was the closet. She moved toward it slowly, heart thrusting against her chest wall like the alien thing in Alien, trying to get out. The doors were standing wide, cock-eyed actually, having been knocked from the tracks. She was about to reach inside to thrust the clothes aside when she thought better of it. Instead, she swung the hammer and pounded hell out of her clothes. And, to her immense relief, it was nothing but clothes.

Weak-kneed with relief, she collapsed on her bed, flopping back. "Nobody here but me!"

Monster hopped on the bed and attacked her hand, wrestling it like she might another cat, except that Monster didn't wrestle other cats. She wrestled people, it never having occurred to her, apparently, that she was unlikely to wrestle a person to the floor and get the better of them. "...And my monster," Andrea amended with an affectionate chuckle.

What she would have liked, desperately, was to cuddle something warm and alive to chase off her fears, but Monster was not the kind of cat to suffer cuddling. Nor was this the time to indulge herself. In a moment, she bounded up with a renewed sense of urgency and darted for the living room.

What had she been thinking of to consider coddling herself before she called the police? It didn't matter that she knew Fabian must be dead and beyond help. She couldn't let his killers' trail grow cold.

Monster decided it was 'the' game. She was in the habit of considering such an action as a sign that she had her prey on the run and acted accordingly, chasing Andrea to the living room and swatting at her heels all the way. "Stop it, Monster!" Andrea snapped distractedly, shoving the cat away while she scrambled around on the floor, sifting through the debris in search of her telephone.

She found the phone at last, or rather the receiver. It took several moments more to locate the rest of it. She was relieved to discover that nothing was missing and that, once she had put it back together, it worked. But then she simply stared at it, trying to think what she would say. Her mind seemed curiously void at the moment. Finally she simply punched the numbers in, hoping something would come to her.

"Sheriff's Department?"

"Uh..uh..sorry, wrong number." Andrea slammed the receiver down. It hadn't occurred to her until she'd heard the voice on the other end that it was going to be a little difficult explaining what had happened.

She put her fingers to her temples, massaging them. Her head was throbbing as if it might split wide open at any moment. Trying to make sense of the last hour made it pound all the harder.

Why had those men shot Fabian? What did they want?

Quite suddenly a coldness swept over her. She lowered her hands slowly and surveyed the destruction around her, realizing finally that it was no coincidence that she'd been burglarized on the same day Fabian had been shot.

It didn't really matter, at the moment, that she was convinced those thugs had the wrong man. They thought otherwise and they wanted something badly enough to shoot Fabian and tear her apartment apart looking for it.

But why her apartment?

The only way she was likely to find out was if they came back. That thought mobilized her. She didn't want to be in her apartment if there was even a slight possibility that they might.

Jumping to her feet, she leapt the debris that surrounded her and sprinted for her bedroom. It didn't take long to locate a change of clothes considering her entire wardrobe was piled on the floor in plain view. Grabbing a pair of blue jeans and a cowl necked sweater, she darted for the bathroom, stripping as she went and tossing her clothes aside.

She took a moment to dash water over her face, hands and arms, to wash away the dirt from her many falls, dried herself haphazardly and jerked her jeans on. She broke another fingernail trying to get the zipper of her jeans up, but finally succeeded and snatched her sweater over her head. Darting back into her bedroom, she dropped to the floor and began a desperate search for her tennis shoes, throwing clothes left and right. Having located one, she thrust her foot into it before searching for the other. She found the second shoe across the room from the first, pushed her foot into it and dashed for the front door, skidding to a halt only when she remembered Monster.

She couldn't leave Monster, not when she had no idea when she'd be back. Not when she had no desire to come back at all.

"Kitty? Come here, kitty, kitty," she crooned a little desperately.

Monster charged her from the living room on her hind legs. Andrea made a grab for the cat and missed, and Monster darted for cover once more.

Andrea stamped her foot. "Damn it! I don't have time to play with you! If you don't come here, I'm going to leave you!"

It took a good deal of coaxing, but finally she managed to catch her elusive pet. She snatched up her pocketbook and headed for the door. She paused once she'd wrenched the front door open, peering around cautiously a moment before she darted for her car.

Monster did not like cars. The cat howled mournfully as the car jolted into motion and zipped out of the apartment complex's parking lot, darting from one window to the next and battering herself against it in an effort to escape. She swung from the sun visor. She leapt into Andrea's lap, onto her shoulder, to the back seat and from there up onto the rear window ledge, and finally scurried under the driver's seat where she settled herself to spit and growl threateningly.

Andrea fought the cat off absently each time she darted for the driver's window, keeping her total concentration divided between driving and watching her rear view mirror to make certain she wasn't followed.

Chapter Three

"You're sure this is where the alleged crime took place?"

Frustration surged through Andrea. It was the third time Detective McCall, who reminded her of nothing so much as Java the Hutt of Star Wars-fame, had asked her that particular question. "This was not an alleged crime! I told you, I was standing right over there. I saw the whole thing!"

"Look, ma'am," Detective Smith, the second of the two stooges who'd brought her out to investigate, said with a notable lack of patience. "There ain't no body any where around here. No blood. And we haven't seen the first foot print. We ain't found so much as a button or a cigarette butt. Now, either you've got the place wrong, or this is somebody's idea of a joke."

It was obvious from the way he said it that he didn't consider it a very good joke. "You think I'd drag you out here for a joke!" Andrea said, aghast. "Look at me! Do I look like I'm joking!"

He did look. He gave her a suspicious once over that suggested that she was a liar and a creature of ill-repute. It infuriated her, but it set off alarm bells, as well. Andrea returned his look with one that suggested he was a worm and no woman would have him, not even a desperate one. She then ignored him, turning to detective McCall. "OK! Look, I told you it was almost dark when it happened. Besides, it's black as pitch out here now and everything looks different. Maybe we have got the wrong place."

"Or maybe somebody just cleaned everything up nice and tidy after they got through murdering your boyfriend, huh?"

Andrea's eyes widened. "Do you suppose they would've done that?" She frowned in the next moment. "Why would they do that?"

Detective McCall rolled his eyes. "Right. What would the point be in doing that when they let the only witness get away?"

"Witness?" Andrea repeated, feeling a nauseating chill descend upon her as she acknowledged at last a fact she'd been studiously trying to ignore.

Then again, those men hadn't really struck her as the type to worry overmuch about witnesses. Moreover, they had trashed her apartment before they'd killed Fabian and chased her all over hell's half acre. She'd had the distinct feeling from the first that, having disposed of Fabian, they thought she might have the answers they sought. Would it help to tell the detectives that? Or would they just give her another one of those nasty, suspicious looks, like she was the villain here?

"I was just sure that tree over there was the one I was standing beside, but maybe it isn't. Maybe we were a little further along the road when it happened."

"Or maybe this isn't the right road at all?" commented the devil's advocate.

What was going on here anyway? Weren't they supposed to play good cop, bad cop? They always did in the movies. "This is the right road!" Andrea snapped.

"Well, there ain't nothing on this road, lady! We've combed the area for five miles in both directions from the main office down there! You're not going to stand there and tell me you ran more than five miles to get your car, because that I'm never gonna believe!"

Unfortunately, she couldn't argue with that piece of logic. Scared or not, she probably would've dropped dead long before she'd run three miles, much less five. Besides, she was fairly certain it hadn't taken her more than a few minutes to reach the car, even though it had seemed a nightmarishly long run.

Before she could come up with a response, one of the patrolmen who'd joined the search called out. "Hey, McCall. There's a call for you over here."

Andrea stared after the man as he ambled off. He turned to study her as he took the mike from the patrolman and spoke into it. From where she stood, the response at the other end sounded like nothing more than static, but something in the man's demeanor changed drastically.

Undoubtedly, the patrolmen Detective McCall had sent to Fabian's apartment were reporting in. She decided to walk over to discover what they'd found. Detective Smith blocked her path.

"Why don't we go over your statement one more time?"

Andrea glared at him. "I've already told you a dozen times."

He shrugged. "So. Tell me one more time. Maybe we missed something."

"The guy's name is...was Fabian Kramer. I've been seeing him for several months, almost from the time I moved down here three months ago. We got into the habit of meeting some of his friends out here a couple of Saturdays a month to go over the course, just like we did today...."

She hadn't noticed McCall's return, but he interrupted her at that moment. "Why don't we take this back down to the station and finish up? We've got reports to file and we can't do that here."

Andrea's shoulders slumped. She was tired, frustrated and frightened. She didn't want to go to the police station and spend several more hours filling out their blasted reports! She wanted to find a safe place, a bath and a bed, in that order. She knew it was useless to say so, however. At any rate, her car was at the police station. She shrugged. She didn't even object when Java the Hutt grasped her elbow and started guiding her toward one of the patrol cars.

"I'll have one of the guys take you on down. Me and Smith are going to drop by your place and have a look at it."

"You'll need the key," Andrea said dully, realizing she was probably going to be kept twiddling her thumbs for an hour or more before 'Java the Hutt' McCall and Howard 'the blob' Smith even got to the station. She dug in her purse till she found her key ring. It was then that she remembered she'd already given her door key to the officers that had left from the police station to check out her apartment.

"I forgot," she said a little sheepishly. "I already gave it to the policeman that took my cat home for me."

"Don't seem like there was much point in locking it."

She looked at him, surprised, and finally shrugged, acknowledging that it didn't make much sense considering the state her apartment was in. "Force of habit."

She paused as he opened the rear door of the squad car. "I don't suppose they found anything at Fabian's apartment?"

McCall grunted and finally shrugged. "Sounded like it looked about like your place, like somebody was looking for something." His gaze grew speculative. "Or maybe there'd been a hell of a struggle there."

In the process of clambering into the car, it was a moment before that last remark registered. "Struggle? How could there have been a struggle? Fabian wasn't there. He was here."

"He's there now," McCall said and slammed the car door in Andrea's gaping face.

She would've gotten right back out and demanded an explanation except for two circumstances. Two patrolmen got in the front seat and started the engine before she recovered sufficiently from her surprise to even consider a response, and the door had no handles.

McCall patted the driver's door even as they began to pull away. "Take real good care of your passenger now, boys. You hear?"

"Excuse me, but I think you made a wrong turn back there," Andrea suggested helpfully. The silence from the front seat was really starting to unnerve her. Not one word had been spoken by either officer from the time she'd gotten in the car and what was more, neither man looked even vaguely familiar to her.

Why was that, when she'd just spent the past two hours combing the woods for any sign of Fabian with them? What was it about the patrol car that didn't seem quite right? And, why was it that they seemed to be traveling in entirely the wrong direction if their destination was the police station?

"I said, excuse me!" Andrea said a little less politely. "But, this isn't the way to the station, is it?"

The man sitting in the front passenger seat deigned to speak. "Look, lady. Why don't you just sit back and shut up?"

Andrea gaped at him indignantly. "Well! You don't have to be rude!"

"Shut up!"

Andrea focused a glare at the back of his head that should have singed his hair off. In a moment, however, her anger vanished and full fledged panic took its place as the certainty settled upon her that she'd never set eyes on either of the men before now.

"Look! I don't know what's going on here, but I'm certain this isn't the way to the police station. Now, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to report you!"

The man at the wheel chuckled and Andrea felt her flesh creep. "You aren't policemen at all," she said in a suffocated voice, looking wildly around for a door handle. None magically appeared. She moved to the door and thrust her shoulder against it several times in panic before she realized it was useless. She scooted to the edge of the seat almost immediately.

"If you don't stop and let me out of here, I'm going to scream bloody murder! The police are expecting me down at the station to give my statement," she added a little desperately.

They'd gone back to ignoring her. She balled her hands into fists and started pounding on the grill that separated them. That got their attention. Both men whirled at once and snarled at her to sit back and shut her mouth if she knew what was good for her.

At that moment, a movement outside caught Andrea's attention. She glanced toward it just as a car veered out of a side street on two wheels. Screaming, she threw herself to the floor. She never made it. The impact as the other car rammed them threw her into the back of the front seat. She bounced against it painfully, hit the back of her own seat, caromed off the grill and finally came to rest in the floor of the car against one of the doors.

Stunned, she lay motionless, trying to figure out what had happened, trying to determine if she was seriously hurt, if so, where, and if anything important to her was crushed, maimed or missing. She'd been body-slammed, and she felt like it, but aside from a couple of knots on her head, a multitude of soon-to-be bruises, and minor cuts from flying glass, she thought she was reasonably intact.

She's scarcely reached her conclusions when the door was wrenched open. She tumbled out. Before she could orient herself, she was jerked to her feet. She slumped against the man who'd helped her from the car, her legs feeling as limp as wilted flower stems. If he hadn't been gripping her arm so tightly, she would have fallen. Finally regaining some usage of her limbs, she pushed away and looked up at him. "Thank you! Oh Lord! They weren't policemen! You have no idea what I've been through! They were kidnapping me!" she babbled, bursting into tears.

They ceased abruptly when she saw who had 'helped' her from the car. It was one of the men she'd seen with Fabian earlier, one of those who'd undoubtedly murdered him, the one Fabian had kicked in the groin. The thought had scarcely formed in her mind when she executed a similar attack.

The high-pitched scream he let out at the blow left her ears ringing. She didn't wait for grass to grow under her feet. Giving him a shove that sent him sprawling, she sprinted for the sidewalk amidst cries of "Get her! Don't let her get away, you fools!", dodging and leaping obstacles as she went.

She'd always considered the fact that she was five ten in her stocking feet as something of a curse, but never had she been more glad of her long legs. She leapt over a second man who dove to tackle her, 'Ichabod' she noted absently; onto the hood of a car and off again; into the darkened alley and out the other side so quickly the whiz of air past her ears almost deafened her to all pursuit.

She traversed three city blocks before the pain in her side became so acute she was forced to stop. She almost collapsed then, gasping so deeply for air that she gagged. Doubling over, she emptied her stomach. Finally, she raised herself to her full height, looking around for her assailants. They were no where in sight, but she was only slightly reassured.

"Oh Lord! What's going on? Who are these people? What do they want?" She sniffed, feeling a rush of tears, wishing she could give in to them, sit down, and rest while she cried her eyes out.

She didn't dare. Frantically she searched her mind for a solution to her dilemma, even a temporary one. "People. I need to find people. They wouldn't dare accost me in a crowded place."

She looked around, trying to get her bearings. The area looked vaguely familiar. Downtown would be locked up tight by this time of the night, but wasn't there a shopping mall near here?

She began to walk, discovering in the process that she'd hurt her ankle. Her leg was hurting too, but she thought it was probably only bruised, possibly from the crash. "With my luck, I've probably torn a muscle," she muttered under her breath, but forced herself to hobble a little faster.

She began to think she'd never reach the mall. When finally she did, her initial leap of relief dissolved in the face of the peculiar looks cast her way. She ducked into the first lady's room she came to and stared at herself in horror. "Good Lord! No wonder everyone was staring at me! I look like the Wrath of God!"

She set about repairing the damage, relieved to discover she still clutched her purse. She was a little embarrassed, as well, wondering how she could have clung to the thing while running for her life. If she'd had any sense, she would have discarded anything that might slow her.

A watery chuckle escaped her as she realized that it hadn't slowed her down at all. She could scarcely have run any faster. She would've been willing to bet that she'd set a new world's record.

Her naturally curly hair was standing out around her head like a fright wig. She dampened it and doused it good with 'curl tamer' before she raked her comb through it. Even that failed to tame the wildly curling, dark blond hair she'd inherited from her father, however, and she dug a scrunchy from her purse and bound it in a pony tail. Next, she sluiced cold water over her face and arms until the multitude of tiny cuts and scratches stopped bleeding.

The damp paper towel she used to brush at her clothes didn't do much to remove the dirt from the knees of her jeans, but it helped a little. The best she could think to do about the tear in her sweater was to tuck it in.

Finished, she stepped back to survey herself in the mirror and was dismayed to see that her handiwork hadn't improved her appearance greatly. However, at least she didn't look quite as bedraggled as she had when she'd come in.

From the lady's room, she made her way to the nearest phone, punching the numbers with shaking fingers.

"Police Department."

"Yes. This is Andrea Wendt."

"Hold please."

Andrea frowned, looking down at the receiver in consternation. The voice that spoke to her next was a man's voice. Howard the blob if she wasn't mistaken. "Miss Wendt? Where are you?"

"At the mall. Some men were trying to kidnap me."

"Look, Miss Wendt," he interrupted, "if you'll turn yourself in, it'll go easier on you. Maybe I can even help you."

"Turn myself in!" Andrea repeated stupidly. "For what?"

"The charges aren't as bad as you might think. We're figuring manslaughter for the boyfriend, since there was obviously a hell of a struggle. And it looks like Sgt. Stone is going to make it."

"Manslaughter? What are you talking...Uh, Sgt. Stone?"

"The police officer you shot when you escaped custody," came the sharp retort.

"Now, wait just a damn minute! How am I supposed to have shot someone? With my finger? Officer? Are you trying to tell me those men were policemen?"

There was a momentary silence. "Of course they were policemen. Who did you think they were? Some of your bad guys? If you're thinking of trying a mental..."

"You're the one that's a mental case!" Andrea snapped indignantly. "Those men were not policemen. They were not taking me to the police station!"

"Officer's Stone and Pendleton have been on the force here for nearly ten years. Both of them."

Andrea felt her heart jump into her throat. "You're one of them, aren't you?" She slammed the phone down. Not for a moment did she believe anything the man had said. Those men weren't policemen and they hadn't been shot. Unless. "Oh God!"

She looked wildly around and began to move away from the phones, slowly at first and then more quickly. She didn't want to draw attention to herself, she kept reminding herself. But she wasn't about to wait around for the police. She'd already tried explaining about Fabian's death. It would be useless at this point to try to convince the police that Fabian's murderers had tried to abduct her. The police wouldn't believe her about that any more than they'd believed the other. She had to get away, somewhere where she could think things out, put them into perspective. She had to think of some way to convince those Neanderthal idiots that they were barking up the wrong tree.

She ran right into the man, grunted as the air left her lungs and fell back a step. "Sorry. Excuse me." She tried to step around. A second man blocked her path and she looked up at him in surprise. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place him and she had no desire to try at the moment. "Excuse me."

"Andrea Wendt?"

She looked at the man that had spoken with both surprise and suspicion. "No." She started around them again.

"Ho there, Missy," the first man said, grasping her arm. She tried to shrug his hand off and he tightened the grip.

"Let go of my arm!" she snapped.

Several shoppers stopped to stare. The man who held her smiled at them. "Look, honey. I know you're mad, but Frank and me have been looking for you all over everywhere. If I say I'm sorry, will you come home?"

Andrea gaped at him. "Come home?"

The shoppers smirked and moved on. The man gripping her arm tried to urge her forward. Andrea dug in her heels. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Come on, honey. Don't make a scene now. I told you I was sorry, didn't I? Let's go home and talk things over." He placed one arm around her shoulders and started hustling her toward the exit. Andrea's tennis shoes squawked noisily with every step, drawing more curious looks.

Not that she cared at the moment. In fact, the more the better. Surely, if she drew enough attention to herself, loathe though she would have been to involve herself in a scene under ordinary circumstances, it would discourage the men who were trying to make off with her?

She could hope anyway. Or, failing that, that someone would step forward to help her.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Andrea rasped, glancing around desperately for help. "I don't know these men!" she said to several shoppers as they passed.

"Don't know your own husband? Stop kidding around, Andrea," said the second man, and chuckled so convincingly Andrea glanced at him in deepening dismay. She recognized him then, or thought she did. Hadn't he been one of the young officers that had made up the search party? Or was he the one who'd offered to take Monster home for her? She hadn't really paid him that much attention.

A small crowd was gathering to watch them and she turned to them, searching each face for some hope of help. Thank the good Lord for nosy people! "I don't know this man.....either of these men. Somebody help me."

They merely stared back at her with curiosity and Andrea felt frustration surface, overlaying much of her fear. "Do something!"

Still no one stepped forward, and she struggled against the man, trying to free herself. The second man moved to her side, slipping his arm around her waist in a way that suggested they were all bosom buddies.

Andrea's eyes locked with those of a man several yards ahead of her and her abductors. Shoulders propped against the wall, he studied her with an intensity in his hazel eyes that sent a surge of hope through her. He looked like an ex-prize fighter, or maybe an ex-marine. His dark hair was cut in an extremely short, spiky cut that reminded her of military men, and he looked tough, and hard muscled.

"Look," she announced desperately, "do I look like the kind of girl that would have anything to do with Yankee slime balls like these?"

The man grinned slowly, showing even white teeth. "I'm a Yankee myself."

Andrea felt her jaw go slack as he effectively knocked the wind from her sails. She rallied quickly. Desperation had a way of lending one a nimble mind. "Did I say Yankee? I think the key word here is slime."

She thought she saw a gleam of appreciation in his eyes then, but nothing at all helpful.

Someone nearby muttered loudly, "Well, maybe you're in the wrong place!"

Andrea seized on it. She hadn't seen the man who'd spoken, but she knew a 'good old boy' when she heard one and that meant there was still hope. 'Good old boys' fought just for the sheer joy of smashing faces. "Somebody do something!"

At that moment, two uniformed policemen entered the doors. "Help!" she yelled, clasped her hands together and used the force of both to drive her elbow into the mid-section of the man to her left. He doubled over and gagged for air. Before the second man had time to react, she brought her elbow back in the opposite direction, striking him a glancing blow across his ribs. If he'd had a good grip on her, it wouldn't have been enough. Fortunately, he had only moved to her side to box her in.

At the blow, he released her, as well, clutching at his ribs, and Andrea whirled to dart back through crowd. The grinning Yank that had refused his aid before, moved then, surprising both her and her abductors as he plowed between them, knocking both to the floor. Grasping Andrea's wrist, he led the way, sprinting down the mall like a quarterback with the goal posts in sight, elbowing people aside right and left. "This way!"

Andrea was fairly certain she wanted no more to do with him than she had the other men. However, he was going in the general direction she wished to go, and he was doing a marvelous job of clearing the way. She looked back as he bowled three people over. "Sorry!" she called back.

"Why don't you just yell at the cops while you're at it?" her rescuer snapped irritably. "This way! We're over here!" he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice.

She glared at him. "It's rude to knock people down and not even beg pardon!" she snapped. "Anyway, how could they not know when you knocked over that entire display of fine china back there!"

They burst through the exit doors at just that moment. "This way. My van's over here."

Andrea jerked her wrist free. "Look! I don't know you from Adam and I'm not about to get in the car with you. Thanks for helping, but no thanks!"

His eyes narrowed. "I thought you were looking for a hero."

"Some hero!" Andrea retorted indignantly. "You didn't do a thing until I'd already gotten loose myself!"

"I was working out a plan," he informed her repressively. He studied her speculatively for a moment. "Suit yourself! You hang around and explain everything to the cops. I'm leaving."
She stared after him as he struck off across the parking lot at a brisk trot. Glancing around, she wondered which direction to take, where to go, how to go. "Wait!" she called rushing after him.
Chapter Four

"Can't you go any faster?" Andrea asked anxiously as she peered back at the men that scurried back and forth across the lot, some with flash lights, some moving unobtrusively amongst the parked cars. The latter soon moved off, to get their vehicles, no doubt. They couldn't be any more anxious than she was to talk to the police. She wasn't certain, but she thought she'd seen 'Ichabod' and his cronies as well, turning into the mall as they had pulled out of the parking lot.

"Sure," replied her companion dryly. "If you want them all to know we're running. You might as well put a sign in the rear window while you're at it."

"Oh," Andrea said meekly, settling in her seat more comfortably when she realized that no one had seen their departure. She turned to her companion finally and extended her hand. "Thanks. I'm Andrea Wendt."

He glanced down at her hand, gave her a rather piercing look then shook it briefly. "Ian Chandler."

She noticed he didn't say she was welcome. She wondered if he was always so rude or if he'd dropped the accepted response to indicate that he was sorry he had helped. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, fighting the urge to apologize for involving him in her troubles.

He'd involved himself, after all. After she's helped herself. When she hadn't really needed his help anymore. And, anyway, he was rude. And she hated apologizing to rude people because they never accepted graciously. They only used the apology as an opportunity to get in a few more digs, usually accompanied by 'I told you so's'. Not that he was in any position to do that.

"You can set me down just anywhere.."

He glanced over at her again. "Your place?" he asked in a carefully neutral voice.

Andrea shuddered. "No!"

"I didn't think so. We'll go to my place. I have to get some things from there anyway."

Andrea stared at him. Like she would go within a mile of some strange man's apartment! Another lunatic! Lord! The place must be overrun with them! "You can drop me off anytime . . any place will do... This is good!" she said firmly.

"Look," Ian said shortly. "It may have escaped your notice, lady, but I just stuck my neck out for you! Now I'm involved in whatever you're involved in...and don't hand me any bull about marital troubles, because I noticed you weren't exactly anxious to run to the cops.. and you're not going anywhere until I find out just what kind of mess I'm in....And I mean to beat the cops to my place and get a few things I need. Its not going to take them long to figure out who helped you get away. I saw at least two people in there that know me."

Andrea stared at him, torn between the shocked realization that what he said was very likely true, relief that he did not, apparently, have designs on her body, and indignation. Indignation won out. "Fat lot of good it'll do you to hang on to me!" she snapped scathingly. "I don't know what's going on myself! I wish to the Lord I did!" A thought occurred to her just then, however, and she decided it was time for a little backstroking. "All right. I see your point. We'll go to your place so that you can pick up whatever it is you need. Then we can go by mine.."

He gave her a look that was a curious mixture of speculation, surprise and irritation. "I thought you said you didn't want to go there? I got the impression you were afraid you'd run into the cops at your place . . Or those other guys. Or were they detectives?"

"I don't . . I didn't . .The thing is, I have to go to my apartment. There's....something there I really need to get...And I don't know who those men were, but they weren't detectives."

"Just what is it that's so important that you'd risk getting caught now? When you just managed to get away from them?"

Andrea looked away from him. "Something," she said evasively. "Look, its really important or I wouldn't risk it. But you don't have to. You can just drop me down the block and I'll go in and get it myself."

"Fine!" he growled irritably. "Just don't expect me to stick my neck out again! You may be a working man's wet dream, baby, but there's not a woman alive that's worth going to jail over! Particularly not for a damned stupid stunt like that!"

"Fine!" Andrea came back shortly. "As if I asked you to! And you don't have to be crude about it. And, if you ask me, its more stupid to go to your place than mine! If you've been identified, all they have to do is radio it in and the police can be at your place to meet you. They've already been to mine and they won't be expecting me to go back there . .not tonight anyway."

They had stopped at a red light and Ian took the opportunity to give her a lingering, though irritated, once over. He finally conceded her point however. Who would believe she'd be dumb enough to go back to her place?

"The light's green," Andrea pointed out stiffly.

Ian negotiated the turn before he gave her his attention once more. "All right. My place and then yours...But, if you run into trouble, you're on your own."

Andrea nodded acceptance. "Agreed." She fell silent, contemplating what lay ahead and trying to think of a game plan, but soon realized it would be impossible until she'd had the chance to check out the situation there. Her irritation with her companion waned and some of the tension left her as she enjoyed the first few moments of relative peace she'd had in what seemed like ages.

It occurred to her with a start of surprise that it had been only hours, not days, weeks or months since she had taken a leap into the 'Twilight Zone'. It seemed impossible that everything that had happened to her could have happened in that short a space of time. Her stomach growled just then, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since lunch and had lost that after her hundred yard dash from 'Ichabod' and his cronies.

To distract her mind from her stomach, in the forlorn hope that it would cease grumbling and spare her from embarrassment, she turned her attention to her companion, actually studying him for the first time. He wasn't really what she'd call handsome, particularly not to someone who was accustomed to Fabian's flawless perfection. But she realized that he was attractive in a rugged sort of way with his hard, chiseled features and those gorgeous green eyes that were so well complimented by his heavy, almost straight, black brows. Even the very definite Roman hump on the bridge of his nose didn't detract from his looks. Quite the contrary, it made him seem potently male...And as for that hard, thin lipped mouth...Just looking at it made her stomach muscles quiver spasmodically.

Nor could she find anything to quibble about with the rest of him, for he looked tautly muscular, without being too muscular . .in the way of men whose sole interest in life seemed to be to add a few more inches of muscle tissue here and there...He was well proportioned and she'd be willing to bet her eye-teeth he had gorgeous legs beneath those skin tight jeans, a thing few men possessed...

Of course, he was too short, she told herself. He couldn't be much taller than she was, certainly no more than five eleven at the outside, and she really preferred men who were a lot taller than her...But he'd certainly do in a pinch...

In all honesty, she had to admit to herself that she found him far more attractive than she ever had Fabian. It made her feel extremely warm, just looking at him and she'd never felt that way about Fabian . . Or any other male that she could recall for that matter. How odd! How perverse! How uncomfortable, when she didn't even know the guy!

To distract herself from her companion, she glanced around the van. There were, she discovered, only the two front bucket seats. The other seats had been removed to carry cargo. It was dim in the back, but she could see that there were several boxes in the rear, an old blanket and some sort of electronics. "What's all that?"

"Hmmm?" He sounded distracted.

Andrea nodded her head in the direction of the back.

"Oh . .odds and ends. Mostly camera equipment," he replied off-handedly.

There was an air of alertness about him now, however, that puzzled Andrea briefly. "Oh?" she asked, mildly interested. "You're a photographer? I wouldn't have taken you for a photographer."

He smiled faintly. It was the first time she'd seen him smile. It did peculiar things to her stomach. "Not really. I dabble in it...Do a little freelance once in a while to make a few extra bucks. What would you take me for, anyway?"

He sounded faintly amused, but genuinely curious. Andrea studied him for a long moment. She shrugged finally. "I don't know. Don't laugh, but when I first saw you I figured you must have been a boxer at one time or another . .Maybe a Marine."

He sent her a startled look, but smiled a little uneasily after a moment. "Actually, I was in the Marines . .And, oddly enough, I was a boxer. . for a while. Did pretty good too. I was the welter weight champ for a while . .a short while. Then I went a couple of rounds with this black guy. About half way through the second round, he landed a right jab, smack in the middle of my face...splattered my nose...Not that I remember any of it."

"So that's how you broke your nose. I wondered about that."

"Yeah. Looks like hell, don't it? They tried to fix it, but this was the best they could do. It's a damned shame too. You won't believe it to look at me now, but I used to be a regular Adonis," he finished self-depreciatingly.

"I suppose you'll think I'm strange, but I think it makes you look rather..... sexy." She was almost immediately sorry she'd used that particular adjective.

He flashed her a pleased grin. "No kidding?"

Embarrassed and a little chagrined by his reaction, Andrea looked away. "I suppose you've heard that before?"

He sobered. "Actually I haven't. My ex-wife used to pester me to get a nose job. Claimed my hump made me look like a boxer," he added, tongue-in-cheek.

Andrea stared at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious. He didn't look like he was kidding. All the same, she felt as if he was being a little patronizing. "You're pulling my leg," she said a little stiffly, sorry now that she'd told him she thought he was attractive. So much for wounded vanity. Obviously the guy was in no need of having his ego stroked. She should have known that just by looking at him.

"No. I'm serious. I thought about doing it, just for the sake of peace . .But then I figured . .What the hell was the point? By that time it had gotten to the point that there wasn't much about me that she did like."

"Why that hateful old thing!" Andrea said indignantly. "Even if it was true, which it isn't. . especially if it was true, she didn't have any business telling you she didn't like your nose. It's enough to give a person a complex! If she was like that, you're much better off without her!"

He grinned. "And you?"

"What?"

"Married?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Never? What are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six? . .So that wasn't your husband back there?"

Andrea glared at him. "I was starting to like you well enough. I didn't realize you were a chauvinist. . It must have something to do with having been a Marine!...No, I've never. I've never found anyone I wanted to marry . .yet. And I'm twenty-three, thank you very much! . .Anyway. . I already said that Neanderthal back there wasn't my husband. I told the whole mall he wasn't my husband!"

"Ok! Ok! Don't get your panties in a wad!" he exclaimed, grinning.

She hated that expression! She truly hated it! She compressed her lips, refusing to rise to the bait. The look she sent him, however, should have taken his head off at the shoulders.

He looked her over with patently feigned innocence, his eyes gleaming with suppressed amusement. "Maybe if you'd ditch that hairdo...? Damned if I can figure out why one out of every two females want to dash down for a kinky perm, just because some gal in a movie wore her hair that way."

Andrea glared at him. "I didn't dash down for a perm! God gave me this perm, for your information....Or rather, daddy did! It's absolutely permanent. I was born this way! And I'm not about to dash down and get it straightened, just because some dumb as.. Neanderthal chauvinist pig thinks it would look better straight as a board!"

He laughed outright at that. "You don't take teasing well, do you? I was teasing, you know. Actually, I think it looks sexy as hell. . makes a man wonder what you've been up to," he added with a suggestive grin. "Didn't I already say you were a working man's wet dream?"

Andrea turned red to her toes. "Must you be so crude!" She was horrified at his choice of words. Of course she was. Not that she wasn't accustomed to hearing some pretty rough language. Her father was in construction, after all, and men like that, that were more used to being around other men than women, were prone to be just a tad crude when they talked. And she supposed it was rather flattering ...In a crude sort of way, of course. Except for being immensely overdone. She couldn't imagine herself being anybody's . . .dream.

He frowned, losing his good humor. "Jesus! No wonder you aren't married. You're a damned prude!"

"I am not a prude!" Andrea ground out, severely nettled.

"You could have fooled me. . Damned if I give you any more compliments!"

Andrea bit her lip, suddenly amused. "Oh, do! Pretty please!" she exclaimed, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. He sent her a strange look and she chuckled, but shook her head. She didn't think she understood herself why she suddenly felt so amused. She was certain she couldn't explain it to him. "So. . .tell me," she said, to change the subject, "Why the camera equipment. I mean, now? Have you got something particular in mind? Or do you just carry it around, in case something pops up that you want to catch on film?"

He studied her for a long moment, but finally shrugged. "Both."

"Both?"

He looked her over in a way that seemed meaningful somehow, though Andrea couldn't quite figure it out. "Well, I never know when I might run up on the perfect subject for a picture. Then again, I hope to get some good shots of the next shuttle launch."

"Really?" Andrea asked excitedly. "You're interested in the shuttle launch? Is this the first time you've covered it?"

He shrugged. "Isn't everybody? At least a little? Yeah. This is the first time I've actually been here when one was going up."

"I don't know. It seems to me that people have gotten to thinking about it as almost commonplace these days. No one seems to really keep up with it any more. That's why I'm here too, by the way. To be in on the launch, I mean. Actually, I'll have a little bit to do with it myself. I work for NASA."

"No kidding? What do you do?"

He sounded surprised, but somehow he didn't really look surprised. Andrea puzzled over it a moment, but finally dismissed it as overactive imagination.

"Actually," she replied, a little embarrassed at having made herself sound important, when she wasn't important at all, "I'm just a junior operator . .a gofer really. But I've just always wanted to be involved in some way with the space program. . as far back as I can remember. I couldn't believe it when I got the job. To actually be working on the project. Even if I don't really have much to do with it. Well, its just about the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me. I can't wait till the launch! I've been counting the days!"

"I guess that gives us two things in common then," Ian said wryly. "I work for NASA too."

"No kidding? Isn't that the darnedest thing? How come I haven't seen you out there?"

Ian grinned. "No kidding. Not really, since half the people in this area work in and around the Cape. And probably because I work in maintenance and I just started a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh." Andrea reddened, feeling like a gauche teenager. She supposed she must have sounded feather brained, rattling on like that, but she still thought it was a heck of a coincidence. Almost like they were meant to meet. "What's the other thing?"

Ian pulled the van over to the side of the street and parked it, turning in his seat so that he faced her, his arm draped across the back of his seat in a pose that seemed wonderfully relaxed considering their circumstances. "It seems we're both wanted by the cops now. The only thing is, I don't know why. Why don't you tell me just what it is that I've gotten involved in here?"

Chapter Five

"I thought you were in a hurry to get to your place before the police arrived," Andrea said evasively. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him. Well it was, she supposed, but only because she knew he wouldn't believe her when she told him.

Of course, it also occurred to her that, believe her or not, he might well want to ditch her once he'd heard it all, and she supposed that accounted for some of her reluctance, but only a minute part of it . .Well . .Maybe a little more than that...All right. A lot more . .So it was comforting to be around a man just now! One that looked capable of protecting her. It wasn't as if she would actually consider lying to him about it or anything. It was just that she would rather put it off for a while. . Until she felt a little more capable of taking care of herself.

"Not that big a hurry, baby. At least, not till I find out just how anxious the cops are to get their hands on you, anyway. I've discovered its always a smart move to find out what you're up against up front . .when ever possible," Ian said with forced patience, not really surprised to discover she wasn't overly anxious to clue him in, but determined regardless to get her story out of her. Not that he expected to get the truth, at that. But he had to hear it before he could track down the flaws in it and get to the bottom of it.

"Well . .It's a very long, very complicated story, and I really think it should wait..... All right!" Andrea snapped at the expression on his face. "But if the police get to your place before you, don't blame me!"

She gnawed her lower lip while she tried to think where it would be best to start and finally shifted in her seat, bringing one knee up beneath her and resting her back against the door so that she was facing him. "This guy I've been seeing . .Fabian Krammer, and I. .We'd gone to the survival course for a run with some of his friends.

Everything was pretty much the same as usual at first, but then I realized that I'd gotten separated from everyone and it was getting really late. On the way back, I came upon Fabian and these men. . There were three of them . .no four . .I forgot about the one in the car." She frowned thinking back, trying to get a clear picture in her mind, but finally shook her head. "I've never been much for cars, so I couldn't say what kind it was. .just big and dark. .maybe maroon. .Anyway, they must have thought he was someone else, because they kept calling him something. .What was it? Korloff! That's it! You know, like Boris."

"So, what did these guys want with this Korloff."

"Well. .I couldn't figure that out. .I couldn't really hear them very well, because I was in the woods and there was a pretty stiff breeze rattling the dry leaves---besides the engine noise from the car. I figured it must have to do with drugs though. I mean, those guys looked like Mafia, if you know what I mean. But I don't know that.

Anyway, I could see they were pretty rough characters, and they meant to force Fabian into the car. So I waited until I could see he was about to try to make a break for it and I let them have it. .I must say it was about the best I've ever done. Ordinarily I can barely hit the broad side of a barn. .And I was scared so bad my teeth were clacking together like castanets. .But I got two of them right between the eyes...well, almost dead on the money, and the third one in the chest..."

Ian held up his hand to halt her. "Wait a minute! Are you saying you shot three men?"

Andrea stared at him blankly a moment then burst out laughing. "With paint pellets! I told you we were playing survival games." He didn't look amused. In fact, he looked downright furious, which so took her by surprise that she didn't think to wonder why he should be. Apparently, he wasn't the sort to leave one wondering long, however. He put it rather succinctly.

"Let me get this straight. .You stood up and shot paint at three desperate men who were no doubt armed to the teeth! Good God! Woman! You need a keeper! It didn't occur to you, even for a moment, that they might shoot back?"

"Actually it didn't! Not until they did shoot at me, at any rate. I was kind of occupied at the moment with the fact that they were trying to abduct a friend of mine!" Andrea retorted defensively. Who did he think he was anyway? Her keeper? As if it was any of his business what she chose to do. "What was I supposed to have done anyway? Just stand there with my finger in my ear while they dragged my friend off to the-Lord-alone-knows-where and did who-knows-what to him?" She shuddered then, remembering what they had done to him when they caught up to him.

Ian said nothing for several moments, instead studying her in furious silence, trying to decide just what it was about the tale that ticked him off most. "Were you in love with him?" he asked tightly. He was almost as stunned by the question as she was, wondering, the moment he'd uttered it, just where the hell it had come from.

Andrea gaped at him, totally stunned at the direction of his thoughts. It was the very last question she would've expected him to ask...though she supposed, after a moment it wasn't as personal as it seemed. It was only natural, after all, to assume one didn't take that kind of risk for just anybody. "No!" she snapped indignantly, angry over the assumption for no reason that she could fathom. "What's that got to do with anything? I saw it happening! I had to do something! If it had been someone you knew, would you have let them take him without even trying to help?"

Ian watched her changing expressions, trying to find some flaw, some chink, a different interpretation that might be placed on her words so that he could read between the lines. He could find none, no indication at all that she wasn't being perfectly honest with him. Her face appeared to be an open book and totally without guile. Which he had a hard time believing, considering what she was involved in. .or appeared to be involved in. It was simply too hard to swallow.

Maybe because he discovered he wanted to swallow it. He wanted it so damn bad it left a sour taste in his mouth. One thing was for damned sure, he couldn't trust his judgment when it came to her. .Which left an even more bitter taste in his mouth...Hell! She was a fine looking woman. .damned fine! But he wasn't in the habit of loosing his head over women, fine or not. . And it irked the hell out of him to admit to himself that he couldn't trust his instincts with this one. "I doubt it," he said after a long moment. "But then I'd have known what I was doing. You didn't and it was a damned fool stunt. You're lucky you didn't get your fool self killed."

"Well I damn near did get myself killed!" Andrea snapped. "But, you know something? If I had it to do again, I'd probably have done it anyway! I mean, how does a person live with their self if they let someone else get killed without lifting a finger to help, knowing that they might have made a difference?"

"There's plenty of people that do try to help and end up dead in their place!" Ian pointed out angrily. Unfortunately, Andrea couldn't argue with him. She'd very nearly ended up dead herself. After a moment he spoke again. "Did it make a difference?" he asked quietly.

Andrea felt the sudden sting of tears in her nose and eyes. She looked down at her hands in her lap, biting her lip. "In the end. .No." She looked up at him again. "But I had to try. I didn't really think about it, you know. It was. .like instinct, I guess. I just did it. I suppose if I'd thought about it, maybe I'd have been too scared to try. But I couldn't bear to watch and do nothing!"

"And this is where the police came in?"

Sniffing, Andrea shrugged. "Sort of. We got away all right. .At least I thought we both did. We got separated, you see..." She couldn't bring herself to tell him Fabian had thoughtlessly abandoned her. "At any rate, I made it out all right, but when I got back to my place I discovered someone had ransacked it.

At first I thought I'd been burglarized, but after a bit it came to me that it had to be the same men, though I still can't figure out how they knew where I lived because, I give you my word, I'd never laid eyes on any of them before. I would have remembered weird looking goons like that. So I figured I wasn't safe there, besides needing to find out what had happened to Fabian and what was going on. I didn't want to just go to the police with the story I just told you because I was afraid they'd think I had something to do with whatever it was that was going on.

The thing is, I couldn't get hold of Fabian. I tried the hospital first, because I was pretty sure they'd wounded him. .Then I tried calling his place and still I couldn't reach him. So I decided to go over to his place. When I got there, I discovered that his apartment had been ransacked too. .And he was there...dead. That's when I called the police."

Ian's brows lifted in surprise. "You called the police?"

"Of course I called them! He was dead. I had to report it, didn't I? Not that they didn't make me very sorry I'd decided to play good little citizen, because they questioned me for hours. You would've thought I'd done it! As if I was capable of that. Besides which, if I had, surely it would've been crazy then to turn around and report it myself. Anyway, I told them everything I knew. I don't suppose you'll be at all surprised when I say they were extremely skeptical about the whole business."

"So you ran?"

It was more a statement than a question. Andrea shook her head. "No. I went with them. But that's when things started getting really weird. I was supposed to go downtown and give them a statement, only I realized they weren't taking me downtown at all. That scared the pants off me, I can tell you! I began to think they must be friends of those other guys, but then they, the ones that had tried to get Fabian, came tearing out of a side street and plowed right into the police car and wrecked it.

I didn't realize it was them at first, and I was so grateful for being rescued! But then I saw who it was and I kicked the guy, the big one that looked rather a lot like Lurch---You know, on the Adam's Family?---right in the. .Well I kicked him and he let go of me and I ran like hell!

I called the police as soon as I got to the mall to tell them what had happened. .Then I found out that the policemen were shot. Not that I believe for a moment that they were police officers. You wouldn't believe how rude they were. .Aside from the fact that they weren't taking me to the station. And Howard the Blob..."

Ian burst out laughing. "Who?"

"That hateful detective that reminded me of that slug-like thug, in that science fiction movie----Anyway, I don't believe he was a detective either because he made out like those other two were actually policemen, the ones that were abducting me, and he said they thought I did it! Which is stupid! They knew darn well I didn't have a gun. .and was locked in the back of the patrol car besides, so how could I have done it? So I decided not to stick around until they got there. .And you know the rest."

Ian was silent for so long that Andrea thought he wouldn't comment at all. When he did speak, she wasn't surprised at all to discover that he didn't believe her any more than the police had. It angered her that he didn't, despite the fact that she was obliged to admit, in all honesty, that she wouldn't have believed such a story for a minute.

"And you expect me to buy all this? Baby! That's probably the biggest crock anybody's ever tried to feed me!"

"It's not a crock! And it happens to be the only story I've got, damn it! Whether you believe it or not. Look! I know it sounds crazy! How do you think I feel? I'm the one it happened to!" She studied him for a moment, seeing the skepticism and his suspicions in his expression, and frustration surfaced.

"And, to be perfectly honest I don't believe it myself. I just dreamed it! That's it! I don't really have bruises and cuts over ninety percent of my body from car wrecks, outrunning thugs, and being manhandled by every psycho in the state of Florida! I'm just imagining the whole thing! Even you aren't real! Here," she finished, balling up her fist. "I'll just punch you in the face to prove it! You won't feel a thing, because you're a figment of my imagination. You've got to be, because you were there when those last two men tried to abduct me and they were a figment of my imagination!"

Ian grabbed her fist, but grinned. "All right! All right! I get your point. Though they could have been detectives."

"Pretending to be my husband?" Andrea asked incredulously. "And, if they were detectives, why is it that they avoided those policemen like the plague? Tell me that!"

Ian scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "I don't know. But this whole thing sounds crazy as hell to me. There's got to be some explanation, other than drugs. Because that just doesn't click. Not when you look at the whole picture, or the pieces you gave me, at any rate. They don't make those kind of mistakes. If they did, it'd be a sight easier to catch them."

"Well, if you come up with an idea that does click, be sure you let me know!" Andrea snapped, sitting back in a huff and regarding the view through her window coldly, wondering if she should just exit now or wait around for the boot. She was mad enough at the moment to try for a grand exit. Her pride demanded that she take the initiative if there was a possibility that he was going to dump her. .and there was certainly that possibility.

Only pride wasn't going to keep her alive. And the plain fact was that she was still deep down scared stiff. And she felt at least moderately safe around him. .And really he was just going to have to shove her out and lock the doors if he wanted to get rid of her now, because she just wasn't ready to face this thing alone again.

Silence reigned for perhaps five minutes. Ian broke it by opening his door. Andrea ignored him, determined to give him the cold, silent treatment for being such a beast as to believe she would think up such a tale. He seemed oblivious to it. In a moment, she heard the rear doors of the van open and the sound of sliding cardboard as Ian moved the boxes around.

Curiosity got the better of her when he left the back and rounded the van on her side. She rolled the window down. "What are you doing?"

Ian stopped, hefting the blanket wrapped object more securely.

"I figured I might as well dump some of this stuff while we were here. I don't expect I'll be needing it right now and it'll probably be safer in the house."

"You live here?" Andrea exclaimed, startled.

"What's wrong with it?" Ian asked absently, his mind obviously elsewhere.

"Nothing's wrong with it. It's just. ...Why didn't you tell me this was your place?" she asked irritably, feeling foolish for no reason that she could think of.

"What did you think I'd stopped for?"

Andrea glared at him, but it was a wasted effort. He'd already turned away and was moving quickly up the walkway. "You're not just going to leave me out here, are you?" she snapped at his retreating back, more frightened than angry now and too tense to try for a more conciliating tone.

"I didn't figure there was much point in asking you in," he threw over his shoulder without breaking stride.

"Well, why not?" Andrea asked indignantly.

He turned to look back at her as he shifted his load to one hip and fished in his pocket for his keys. "Because I could see you thought I was going to try to get you inside so I could ravish you, that's why."

"Be funny!" Andrea retorted irritably. "Like...I really thought you wouldn't be able to control yourself!" Of course, the thought had occurred to her, but she wasn't about to admit it when he made it sound as if she had the big head. The thing was, she really didn't want to go inside with him. She didn't know him well enough to trust him. On the other hand, she'd become entirely too well acquainted with 'Ichabod' and his cronies, and she didn't want to wait outside for them to come along. Under the circumstances, she was willing to opt in Ian's favor. At least in this case it was only one against one, and although that still meant she was out-muscled, it wasn't nearly as bad as three against one.

"If you're waiting for me to come carry you across the threshold, you're going to be waiting a long time," Ian called to her as he went inside.

Andrea sent him another killing glare, which he also missed. It took the paint off his front door, however, as he shut it behind him. Jerking the van door open, she slammed it with a little more force than was strictly necessary and followed him inside. At the door, she bumped into him on his way out again. "Where are you going now?" she asked blankly.

"To get the rest of that stuff in. Make yourself at home."

She followed him out the door instead. She hadn't realized, until now, just how much being with Ian had steadied her nerves by giving her a feeling of security, however precarious. She didn't really want to let him out of her sight just now for fear he might abandon her to fend for herself again..Visions immediately assailed her of him hopping into his van and burning rubber as he made good his escape. "Don't you want me to help?" she asked a little hopefully.

He stopped and turned back to study her for a long moment. Apparently, he read all her worst fears in her expression, for, after a moment, his own softened. "I'm not going to leave you, you know," he said quietly.

Andrea smiled a little tremulously, trying to pretend she wasn't concerned at the prospect, one way or the other. "Promise?"

"Promise," he replied solemnly. "Why don't you have a look in the kitchen and see if you can scrounge us up something to eat?"

He couldn't have said anything more calculated to distract her. She'd been too terrified at first and in too much turmoil afterwards, to realize just how hungry she was. Now that the immediate danger had passed, and the magic word, eat, had been uttered, she discovered that she was ravenous.

Scrounge, she realized when she reached the kitchen, however, was the key word. His kitchen, and cupboards, looked like the rest of his apartment, bare. There was a half-eaten, stale bag of cheese puffs, cringing shyly in one corner of a barren cabinet. In the refrigerator, she found half a six-pack of light beer. "Gag!" she exclaimed and slammed the door shut again. She might, if she were dying of thirst, be able to drink beer but she rather thought not.

Stuffing a handful of stale cheese puffs in her mouth, she chewed them while searching for anything that resembled a drinking vessel. Finding nothing at all, she finally moved to the faucet and used her hand to catch drinking water. Feeling slightly better, she moved back to his 'living room' to look for Ian.

She used the term loosely. Certainly it was meant for that purpose, but aside from a couple of boxes, a crate and a telescope mounted on a tripod, the place was empty. She heard Ian moving around in what she assumed must be his bedroom. Relieved, but having no desire to follow him into his room ----there was no sense in tempting fate, after all, even if he seemed disinclined to ravish her at the moment---- she moved to the window where the tripod stood and peered out to check the view. "I see you do a little star-gazing too," she commented, stopping to admire the powerful scope.

"What? Oh. Yeah! I've been doing it since I was a kid," Ian replied, appearing in the living room doorway at her words.

Andrea threw him a smile. "I've always been rather fond of it myself, but to be frank, I've never been able to tell one constellation from another."

She turned to the telescope then, bending slightly to look through it. It took her a moment to realize that she was seeing only blackness because the protective cap was over the end. She reached up then to remove it.

"Don't touch that!"

She snatched her hand back. "Sor-rry!" Andrea apologized rather stiffly. "I wasn't going to break it." She gave it a careful berth, however. Some people surely were touchy about their things! But then, she supposed it must be expensive.

It was dark outside, but after a moment she made a surprising, though rather pleasant, discovery. "I'll be darned!"

"What?"

His voice sounded so strange, and so close, Andrea turned to look at him. She was a little startled to discover him next to her when he'd been half way across the room only a moment before. Quick, and very quiet, she thought feeling a queer little sizzle along her nerve endings. She dismissed it in the next moment, however, preoccupied with her findings. "You're not going to believe this, but, we're practically neighbors. Look there."

"Where?"

She grasped his jaw between her thumb and forefinger, tilting his head in the direction she'd indicated. "There. You see that building right there? The second apartment building? Well the apartment at that end, that's mine!" she said, turning to beam at him in expectation.

He was studying her face rather searchingly, but after a second, his face relaxed into a smile. "No shit!"

"No...Really!" she said and chuckled, so pleased at his reaction she decided to ignore his 'word'. She gave his cheek a friendly pat and handed him the bag of chips. "Where I come from, that definitely makes us neighbors. Isn't that just the weirdest thing? Although, I guess it isn't really much of a coincidence, now that I think on it. Titusville isn't all that big, and of course this area is closest to the Cape."

"True," Ian agreed, stuffing his mouth full of cheese puffs and talking around them as he headed for the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and retrieved a can of beer for himself. "Want one?" he asked, sending her a questioning look over the door of the refrigerator.

Andrea stared at the beer can in his hand and, without realizing it, made a face of disgust. "No thank you," she said politely. "I don't care for beer."

He gave her a quizzical look. "Don't tell me. You're opposed to drinking too."

Andrea frowned slightly. Too? Oh, the prude thing! "No. I don't mind having a mixed drink now and then. I just hate beer."

He grinned. "Yeah, I know. It tastes like panther..."

Andrea threw her hand up. "Don't say it!"

He chuckled and said the word, three times, like an incorrigible child trying to test his limits. Andrea bit her lip to keep from grinning, half amused and half shocked by his language, but shook her head. Men! He must be at least thirty..probably closer to thirty-five..and still the little boy peeked out.

On the other hand, she supposed most everyone kept a bit of the child they were tucked away inside, allowing it to escape now and then, most often when they were sick, but sometimes just for fun.. And it wasn't such a bad thing either, now that she thought on it. The very, very mature could be very, very dull.

"Ready?" Ian asked.

Andrea felt a sudden tightening of nerves, but nodded.

"On to your place then. At least now I won't have to ask for directions, right, neighbor?" he asked, placing his arm over her shoulders and giving her a friendly squeeze.

Andrea smiled weakly. "Right."

She was following so closely upon his heels that she smacked right into him when he stopped abruptly at the front door.

"Uh oh," Ian said, shutting the door once more, grasping her hand and heading in the opposite direction.

"What?" Andrea asked, allowing him to lead her away a little reluctantly.

"The back way will be better, I think."

"Why?"

"Because, unless I'm mistaken, and I don't think so, your two buddies from the mall are coming up the front walkway."

Chapter Six

"Get in the van, quick," Ian said in a harsh whisper.

"What are you going to do?" Andrea asked in a similar voice.

"Would you just get in the van!"

"All right already!" Andrea snapped and stalked off. She remembered herself as she reached the van, however, and carefully pulled the door until the door latch caught. In a moment, Ian joined her, slamming his door and turning the ignition key at the same time.

Andrea looked at him, aghast, and whirled to see if he'd been heard. He had. And he'd been right. The two men charging out Ian's front door were definitely the same two from the mall. She slammed the door lock down just as her 'husband' grabbed for the handle. He missed it as Ian sped away. She rolled the window down and stuck her head out, watching as they raced for their car.

"What did you do that for?" she gasped as she whirled on Ian. "We could have gotten away without them any the wiser! Now they're right behind us!"

"They're not going anywhere. I took their distributor cap off." He shrugged. "Besides, they would have heard us anyway when I started the engine."

She relaxed slightly, conceding his point. "Well, they know I'm still with you now," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "If there's anything to that story you gave me, I don't think it would have made a lot of difference to them if they'd found me, with or without you. They saw us leave together."

She had to concede that point too, and it made her feel guilty as the devil. It was bad enough that her own life had suddenly been turned upside down and would probably never be the same again. She, at least, had had some inkling of what she was getting herself in to, however.

Of course, she hadn't any sound clues as to what, exactly, Fabian had been involved in..If he'd been involved in anything at all and wasn't just some poor fool that just happened to have the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or resembling someone he shouldn't. But she'd known from the moment she started blasting away with her paint gun that she was risking involvement with potential murderers.

Ian hadn't known any of that when he'd decided to help her. Very likely, he'd believed her 'husband'. At first, anyway, though he must have wondered, fairly quickly, why she'd run away from the police instead of to them for help. Certainly those two had done a darned good job of convincing everyone that they were witnessing a marital spat, and not an abduction.

And, although Ian had undoubtedly realized pretty quickly that things weren't what they'd at first seemed, and that she was far too anxious to avoid the police not to be in some kind of trouble, he'd already been in by then. And doubtless without any ideas on how to get himself out. Which meant that he was in over his head because of her. "Ian..," she began and paused, trying to gather her courage.

"Hmmm?"

He sounded distracted again, but she supposed he must be preoccupied with making certain they hadn't been followed. "Why don't you just drop me down the block from my place?"

"I was just thinking about that. I ditched the distributor cap in the shrubbery. But if those guys are really anxious, they're liable to find it pretty quickly. Is there some place near your apartment I can hide the van while you do your thing?"

"Not really. But it doesn't matter. I want you to just leave me there."

She had his full attention now. "What do you mean by that?" He sounded angry. She couldn't imagine why. She would've thought he would be ready to jump at the chance of getting rid of her by now.

"Look. You're not really all that involved, yet. You haven't really done anything. Well, I haven't either, for that matter. But what I mean is, the police don't suspect you of having done anything more serious that helping me get away, and you could explain that."

He didn't speak for several moments. "Let me guess. You've decided I'm not of any use any more, now that they'll be able to identify both me and my van, and you figure you might as well ditch me now. Right?"

Andrea stared at him, trying to make out his expression in the dim interior. It was useless. The residential streets weren't nearly as well lit as the city streets they'd been traversing before. "That's not what I meant at all! I'm trying to help you.. Trying to do what's right. There's no sense in both of us being on the run like this! Go to the police. Tell them you never saw me before in your life and you just thought you were helping a woman get away from her husband..Surely they'll believe that! There's no reason on earth why they shouldn't."

"Except that they didn't believe anything you told them and they obviously want you pretty bad. And, even if I did manage to clear myself with the cops, I'd still have to worry about those other goons breathing down my neck..always assuming you were straight with me and they weren't detectives. No thanks, lady! I'd just as soon not spend the next few weeks, or months, looking over my shoulder and wondering when they'll catch up to me and want to know where you are.

Hell! Maybe I could convince the cops I don't know you. If they're stupid enough..But you're forgetting...we're practically neighbors and we both work at NASA..Do you think they won't do a little checking and find that out? Do you think they're going to believe I just happen to live near you, work at the same place and accidentally ran into you at the mall?

And as for that pair we left back there," he added, jerking a thumb in the direction they'd come from. "If they had anything to do with your boyfriend's murder, do you really think they're going to worry about doing one more? You can only get executed for murder once, you know. Or, do you figure, once they catch up to me and I tell them I don't know where you are, they're just going to beg pardon and go elsewhere?"

Andrea stared at his shadow shrouded profile, refusing to acknowledge the relief she felt at his words, smarting over the fact that he was right and she'd been too naive to think the thing through and arrive at the same conclusions. Guilt surged through her that she could feel either in the face of what she'd done to him. Because he was right. By accepting his help, she'd dragged him in every bit as deeply as she was herself.

But the relief couldn't be totally ignored, not when she realized that she was fiercely glad that she was no longer in this thing completely alone. It shamed her that she could be so self-centered, particularly in the face of his selfless act in helping a complete stranger. When he had no reason to care what became of her. It shamed her so much that she realized she couldn't simply leave her half-hearted effort at that. She had to try to work him out of it. "I shouldn't have involved you," she said, biting her lip. "But, it might not be as bad as you think. The police could put you in protective custody, couldn't they? Till they get the murderers?"

"If you're so hot for protective custody, you go for it. I don't mean to spend time in jail on any pretense. Besides, they must have somebody inside. They got to you, didn't they? Or was that all a crock?"

Andrea bit her lip. She hadn't really considered that, but there must be something to it. Otherwise, how would old Howard the Blob, and the other two have managed to do what they'd done? They couldn't have snatched her right from under the other policemen's noses unless they were policemen themselves. "No. It wasn't a crock. Crazy as it sounds, it was true. You're certain you wouldn't rather leave me and at least try getting out of this before things get any worse? You have no idea what these men are capable of. I told you they'd murdered Fabian, but I didn't tell you all of it. They didn't just kill him. They did horrible things to him first. If they were to catch up to us..."

"I figured it wasn't pretty when you told me about it and, as I said before, it's not likely to make a hell of a lot of difference whether I'm with you or not. They'll be looking for both of us now. Look, I don't mind telling you I wish I hadn't gotten myself into this fix. But the fact remains that I did and I mean to stick to it until I can get myself out of it---smelling like roses---and I need you for that. Somehow you're the key here. You've got to be, whether you realize it or not. Or, at the very least, I'm hoping you'll eventually remember something you saw or heard that can help us get out of this in one piece."

"Well. If you're certain?"

"I'm certain. Sh...Damn!"

"What?" Andrea asked anxiously, wondering what new calamity had befallen them.

"There's a cop standing by your front door."

Chapter Seven

"This ought to do it," Ian said with a touch of satisfaction as he killed the engine.

"But, it's right out in the open," Andrea objected. "Wouldn't it be better if we drove back over to that field and tucked it under those trees?"

"No it wouldn't. Somebody'd be bound to notice it and it'd look damned suspicious. If nothing else, the people around there'd figure it was a couple of teenagers making out and call the cops to roust us out."

"But..A used car lot?"

"Can you think of a better place? Who's going to notice there's one more beat up van on the lot? The owner? At eleven o'clock at night? On a weekend?"

"Alright! So, you're probably right. But it is almost eleven, and it's every bit of two blocks to my place from here! I'll probably get mugged before I get there. And what if I have to run?"

"I told you I'd go for you if you'd tell me what to get."

"Absolutely not! You've done enough. Besides I have to do this myself. Believe me. You couldn't get what I'm going after," Andrea said firmly and got out of the van before he could begin the argument again. Or rather the 'discussion' they'd been having for the last fifteen minutes. No sooner had he spotted the policeman at her door than he'd done a complete about face about 'sticking his neck out for her again!' And she wasn't about to let him. It was bad enough as it was. She didn't want to chance being responsible for him getting himself hauled off to spend the night in jail. Anyway, she didn't see why she didn't have just as much chance of successfully completing her mission as he did. He might be ex-marine, but that was war training, not housebreaking training, and she at least knew the lay of the land.

"If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming after you," Ian warned.

"Well for heaven's sakes! It'll take me that long to walk it!"

"Jog!" Ian snapped.

Andrea glared at him. It was a shame it was too dark for him to see it, otherwise it would certainly have turned him to stone. "Give me twenty-five minutes. All right twenty!" she snapped when he cursed under his breath. Jeeze! The man was bossy!

"Twenty," Ian repeated firmly.

She stared at him a long moment, fighting the urge to tell him, just in case, that she was glad she'd met him. Because she was glad--bossy or not. It would have been enough in itself if he'd only helped her in her escape from the men at the mall. But the comforting sense of security he'd given her since then, however brief, had been more precious to her than jewels.

She wanted to tell him that. She wanted to thank him again, just in case the policeman at her door hauled her off and she didn't get the chance later. But, if she was to say something like that, he'd surely begin to argue with her again about going to her place in her stead, and she simply couldn't allow that. After a few moments, she turned away and began a jog/walk back.

It was really creepy, being on the streets at night. She kept to the shadows, using anything she came upon as cover; shrubs, trash cans, telephone poles; and reminding herself over and over that it really wasn't much different than the survival games she'd played with Fabian. Unfortunately, she had never done it before in the dark, on city streets, or with dogs chasing her and barking their heads off. She nearly had heart failure when she passed a fence enclosed house and a Rottweiler barrelled into the chain-link fencing, snarling and salivating in anticipation of having her for supper.

"Nice doggy," she said weakly, wondering if that thing that was beating in her throat was the heart she'd just misplaced. He didn't respond to her flattery and after a moment she remembered that they didn't understand English. They only understood German---the language of her forefathers---her father's native tongue. Too bad she'd never been interested in learning it. Too bad she'd been so certain she couldn't master it. Because, unfortunately, the only German she could think of was dumkoff from the old Hogan's Heros shows and she didn't think he'd react well to being called an idiot by someone he already wanted to tear limb from limb.

She backed away slowly, watching the dog, watching the front door of the house, expecting someone to come out at any moment. They never did. Apparently, they were accustomed to hearing their dog trying to eat people..Or maybe they were only confident that no one in their right mind would try to get by the brute.

The policeman, she discovered when she'd crept as close as she dared, had made himself comfortable by her front door. He looked like he'd dozed off but she decided not to count on it. Even if he was asleep, he might be a very light sleeper.

Circling around, she approached the apartment from the back. To her relief, she saw no other signs that the place was being guarded. Of course, there could be one inside.....

After a moment, while she tried to calm her frantic heart, she decided to chance it. Moving as stealthily as possible, she approached the bathroom window. She paused when she reached it, checking the shadows around her. Having reassured herself that no one was close enough to grab her from behind, she turned to the window and pried it up, thinking how fortunate it was that she'd thought to crack the window to give Monster ventilation.

The window had never been opened more than a crack however, and it was strongly opposed to opening wide now...Either that or her awkward angle made it difficult. Finally she had it open, however, and was able to turn her attention to another problem-- getting inside.

It was a high window, even for someone as tall as herself. After a couple of attempts at clambering over the sill, when she managed to do nothing more than give herself a few more painful bruises, she looked around for something to stand on. The only thing nearby was her garbage can and that was really too tall to work well. She finally realized, however, that it was the can or nothing and moved it as quietly as she could, turning it upside down beneath the window.

The metal bottom bowed inward when she clambered up on it, making a hollow sound like distant thunder, and she paused, her heart thundering in her ears so loudly she mistook it for several moments for pounding footsteps. As the moments passed and the policeman failed to appear around the side of the building, she relaxed slightly and turned to her task once more.

She tried throwing one leg over the window sill first, but discovered that the window was far too small for her to enter that way. Besides which, the darned trash can kept trying to tip over. Finally, she went through head first catching herself with her hands when she reached the floor on the other side. She hung suspended there for several moments, trying to figure out how to get the rest of her body through the window without knocking the can over.

With a little hip wiggling, she managed to dislodge her jeans snap ----which had caught on the window ledge molding---- and began sliding into the room. Unfortunately, she quickly discovered that she couldn't hold herself up with her hands any longer and when she lost her balance, her legs flailed automatically, and completely without her express consent, as her body instinctively sought to balance itself. The toe of her shoe caught the trash can and sent it over with an enormous clatter and she sprawled in the bathroom floor.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she muttered as she clambered to her feet, looking wildly around, too panicked to think what to do.

When several moments had passed and nothing happened, she stuck her head out the window and looked around. The policeman was no where in sight. Was he out there, sneaking up on her? Or was he that heavy a sleeper? She found it hard to believe anyone could have slept through all the racket she'd just made, but finally decided not to delay any longer.

Monster, she discovered, was watching her with patent feline boredom from her bed on the dirty clothes hamper. If that wasn't just like a cat! she thought in some dudgeon. Any dog would've been beside himself with excitement by now, jumping all over her..licking her in the face. Heck! If she'd had a dog, the thing would've greeted her at the window with gleeful yips and tail wagging to beat the band. But was her cat glad to see her? Apparently not. She hadn't even gotten excited enough to get up when her darling mistress had fallen in the window on her face. She'd merely watched her do it with that superior attitude of hers and vague curiosity.

She left the cat there and tiptoed into her room. She was halfway across it when she realized the futility of that at this late date. If the policeman hadn't heard the trash can, he certainly wasn't going to hear the patter of her tennis shoes.

Reaching her bed, she snatched up a pillow and dumped it from its case. She'd reached the bathroom door when a thought occurred to her and she stopped in her tracks. As long as she was here, she might as well get a few things she might need, she decided.. Because, she was obviously going to have to hide out somewhere for a few days..until this thing blew over.

Shrugging, she moved back into the room and stuffed a pair of jeans and a shirt into the pillowcase. After a moment's thought, she added another pair of jeans and two more blouses, four pairs of panties, a couple of the heavy duty 'harnesses' she had to wear to keep her breasts from beating her to death, and her make-up bag. The way she was abusing her clothes lately, she might well need the extras. Anyway, there was no sense in walking around like a hag simply because she was being chased by the entire mental ward from the local hospital, was there?

Tying a knot in the top, she reached for a second pillow case and returned to the bathroom. Stepping over to the window, she looked out cautiously and then dropped the case full of clothes onto the ground. Now for the difficult part.

Monster was still perched on top of the dirty clothes hamper. She rose and stretched as Andrea approached her, yawning hugely. Andrea picked her up and stroked her affectionately. "There's my girl! You never doubted me for a minute, did you? That's why you didn't get excited, wasn't it? You knew mama wouldn't abandon her sweet little darling, didn't you?" she crooned to the cat, hugging her affectionately before she quickly stuffed her in the case and tied the top.

Monster immediately let out a low snarl and started fighting.

"Hush now! I know you don't like this..and I don't like to do it, but as much as I love you I'm not about to let you take the hide off of me while I'm trying to rescue you! And I don't have time to chase you around the yard either!"

Monster only fought harder. Andrea ignored her, moving back to the window and lowering the pillowcase slowly and carefully to the ground. Now for the hard part.

After studying the window for several moments with her hands on her hips, she finally decided to try going out backward. The fall to the ground was further than the fall to the floor and she had no desire to try it head first. Throwing one leg over the sill, she struggled for several minutes and finally managed to get the other leg out. Unfortunately, she realized almost immediately that she couldn't go out like that. She had to turn over and go out backside first. She wedged her hips between the window and the sill as she tried to turn over and thought for several panicked moments that she was permanently stuck.

Finally, she managed to wiggle around, however, slid out the window slowly as far as she could go, then took a deep breath and let go. She lost her balance when she hit the ground and sat back ...right in the middle of the trash can, crushing it flat with the ungodly sound of crumpling metal.

Leaping to her feet, she grabbed up the pillowcase that was wiggling madly and tore it open with frenzied fingers, pulling Monster from it and tucking the wriggling beast under one arm. As she leaned over to reach for the other pillowcase, she was grabbed from behind with such squeezing force that it crushed the air from her lungs.

Too stunned to move, too stunned to think, she merely hung suspended from his arms. "Where is it?" said a raspy voice in her ear. He shook her when she didn't answer immediately. "Where is it, you stupid bitch! I've searched the apartment. It isn't there. That fool didn't have it on him either. What did you do with it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Andrea gasped out desperately, still trying to hang on to Monster, who was struggling to get free. As her mind went to the cat, however, she reacted to the thought not even fully formed in her mind. Jerking monster up, she shoved the cat in the man's face. Predictably, Monster ----who was firmly opposed to close encounters with people she hadn't accepted yet---- spat and, in the blink of an eye, swatted the man four times across the face.

With a scream, the man released her abruptly, covering his bleeding face with his hands. Clutching Monster under one arm, Andrea tore off around the side of the building. She had sprinted perhaps half the distance when the policeman rounded the corner from the front of her apartment, staggering drunkenly and holding his head with one hand while he waved his gun in the other.

She changed course in mid-stride, heading for the next apartment building. Two shouts followed her, one from the policeman and one from the other man who'd recovered sufficiently to look around for her. Andrea muttered an unladylike word under her breath. She'd hoped they would see each other, give up on her, and chase each other for a while.

Glancing back as she rounded the next building, she saw that the policeman was the one that had given up. He'd sunk to the ground, holding his head in his hands while he emptied the contents of his stomach in the grass...a sure sign of concussion.

She realized then that that was probably why he hadn't heard any of the noise she'd made. Undoubtedly the man that was after her had knocked him out...And she'd thought he was sleeping!

Lord! He'd just been waiting for her! He'd probably hoped she was getting whatever it was he'd wanted!

She tripped over an uneven walkway and sprawled out, losing her grip on Monster in the process. The cat shot for a clump of shrubs. Andrea leapt to her feet and darted after her, falling to her knees when she reached the clump of shrubs and wiggling under. She lay there, panting and trying to catch her breath. In a few moments, her assailant rounded the building and stopped, looking around for her.

She held her breath, trying to breathe through her nose, afraid he'd hear her panting for breath. She thought she might pass out from the effort her body was so desperate for air by now.

After what seemed like aeons, the man moved away and Andrea relaxed slightly, discovering that she could breathe more easily now. Looking around, she saw that Monster was still crouched under the hedges with her, about two yards away.

"Kitty. Come here, kitty, kitty," she crooned in a whisper, inching toward the cat. Monster eyed her distrustfully and carefully removed herself from Andrea's reach. Andrea inched forward again. "Come on, baby," she whispered desperately. "I'm not going to hurt you..."

She inched forward again. She was almost within reach when Monster rose and sauntered out of the concealing shrubs as casually as you please. Andrea stared at her for several moments in consternation, looked around, and finally crawled out from under the bushes herself, still calling to the cat in a breathless whisper.

Monster ignored her. Finally she had the idea of enticing the cat to play and began scratching her nails against her pants leg. Monster perked up immediately and slunk forward in a low crouch. Andrea made the noise again. Monster made a dive for the creeping fingers and Andrea made a dive for the cat.

Unfortunately, Andrea had been so preoccupied with trying to catch her pet that she'd forgotten her assailant might still be in the vicinity. He made a dive for her just as she caught Monster, having circled around and come up behind her. Grabbing Monster, Andrea brought her free arm back, driving her elbow into the man's throat. He made a horrible sound, falling to the ground and clawing at his throat.

Andrea didn't wait around to see if he would regain the usage of his esophagus. Jumping to her feet, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. It was several moments, and she was almost upon her apartment when she realized that she was running in the wrong direction.

Her steps faltered at the realization, but, hearing pounding footsteps in her wake, she picked up speed again, rounded the corner of her apartment, scooped up her bag of clothes and hit for the alley behind the apartments.

She screamed as a man leapt from a darkened corner and caught her, clamping a hand to her mouth and cutting off her cry mid-scream.

"Shit!" Ian snapped, releasing her almost immediately as he turned to run. "Do you want to let them all know where we are!"

"Ian!" Andrea exclaimed, feeling a burst of joy and relief as she adjusted her stride to match his.

He grabbed her elbow. "This way! I left the van at the end of the alley!"

They were almost upon it when the man stepped from behind a parked car to block their path. Andrea screamed again. Without breaking stride, Ian rushed the man, crouching to give him the old fullback shoulder/elbow to the gut and leaping over him as he bowled the fellow over.

Andrea jerked the door open on her side, tossed her belongings into the back and dove into her seat. In a moment, Ian joined her, revving the engine as it caught, throwing the van into reverse and burning a long streak of rubber as he tore out of the alleyway backward. It was only as they plowed into something so hard that it threw her from her seat that Andrea noticed the wail of sirens and realized that the injured policeman had managed to get in a call for reinforcements.

She lost her grip on Monster as she fell and the terrified cat darted for the rear of the van. Scrambling up, Andrea glimpsed the patrol car they'd broad-sided as she crawled over her seat and went after Monster. The van jerked forward again, throwing her to her knees on the floor just as she cornered Monster with her outstretched hands and Monster was away again.

Leaping through her outstretched hands, the cat landed in the middle of Andrea's back and bounded up, landing on Ian's shoulder. Ian let out a yelp and went up the curb, narrowly missing a telephone pole and totally annihilating two bicycles and a tri-cycle before he managed to get the van on the road again.

Andrea made another grab for the cat and fell across Ian. Ian shoved her into her seat and swerved to miss a second patrol car, side-swiping three parked cars in the process. Bouncing up from her seat, Andrea charged the rear again, tackling Monster as she raced around the back and headed for the front. Gripping the wildly wriggling cat firmly, she staggered back and fell into her seat, trying to calm the terrified animal and hold onto her seat at the same time.

They met a third patrol car at the corner, hit its front end a glancing blow and burned rubber as Ian stepped on the gas pedal again, gunning the engine to speeds Andrea would never have dreamed the dilapidated looking van could achieve. They turned another corner on two wheels and skidded sideways. After a short fight with the wheel, Ian regained control and floored it again, shooting forward two blocks, making a hard left and shooting forward once more to make a right.

They made so many turns Andrea began to feel a little nauseated. Finally, Ian began to slow however. Andrea glanced into her rear view mirror. "Did we loose them?"

"I think so," Ian said absently as he, too, peered into the rear view mirrors.

Andrea looked him over in new respect, grinning now in relief. "You did it! I can't believe we managed to outrun them! I thought they had us for sure!"

Ian turned to glare at her. "What in the hell are you doing with that damned cat!"

Chapter Eight

Caught off guard, Andrea merely gaped at him for several moments. Finally the self-defense mechanism, attack when attacked, kicked in and she sent him a disdainful glance. "Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question? Because I should think its perfectly obvious that I'm just sitting here with her on my lap."

He ground his teeth. She could hear them grinding all the way over in her seat. "Don't tell me we went back for that cat! Don't tell me we just nearly got ourselves killed over a damned cat! Because I'm not going to frigging believe anybody's dimwitted enough to risk their life, not to mention mine, over a frigging cat!"

Andrea pursed her lips. "Alright, then. I won't!" she said tightly.

"You won't what?" Ian snapped, caught off guard.

"I won't tell you...any of that stuff."

She didn't like the way he was massaging the steering wheel with his fingers. It looked very suggestive and distinctly threatening.

"Is that what you stuck your neck out for?" he asked in a more reasonable tone. He thought it sounded reasonable at any rate, all things considered.

"Well! How am I supposed to answer that, for the Lord's sake! You make me sound like a complete fool! I didn't know there would be any danger! How could I have known that! All I wanted was to get my cat..And that isn't unreasonable. I'd shut her in the bathroom. I couldn't just leave her there when I didn't know when I might be able to get back! She would've starved!"

"So it was the cat...That's the really important thing you had to get!" Ian snapped in very obvious disgust.

"You act like you think I'm clairvoyant or something! How was I to know that man would be there? Tell me that! Or do you think I should have just left my poor cat to die there? Well! I'm not apologizing! I told you I'd do it myself! I told you I didn't need any help!"

"If you didn't need any help, what was all that back there, huh? I didn't see you turning me down when I showed up. In fact you looked downright happy to see me, and damned anxious to take me up on my offer!"

Andrea sent him a fulminating glance. "That is beside the point! I didn't ask you to...I wasn't about to turn you down when you showed up! And you wouldn't have been involved in this at all if you'd just waited for me!"

"If I'd waited for you, I'd still be waiting for you. Because if those guys hadn't gotten you, the cops damn sure would have!"

"All right, already!" Andrea snapped. "You made your point!"

Silence reigned for perhaps ten minutes while they both fumed. Finally Ian spoke again...muttered, actually. "And what the hell we're to do with a cat, I'm damned if I know!"

"It's not like she'll be a lot of trouble, you know. Cats aren't. She doesn't eat much. And at least she doesn't bark. She hardly ever even meows," Andrea said placatingly.

"If that wasn't trouble back there, I'm damned if I know what is!"

"Well," Andrea said reasonably, "she was frightened. She had a nasty encounter with that man, besides being chased all over everywhere, which she isn't used to..And she doesn't like cars. They remind her of the vet..Because that's the only time she ever goes for a ride..When I'm taking her to the vet...and I couldn't just abandon her, Ian! She's always been a house cat. She doesn't know how to take care of herself."

Ian looked down at the cat. Monster glared at him balefully, issued a rumbling growl and hissed. "She could learn."

"Well, she's not going to!" Andrea said belligerently. "If you don't like cats..fine! If you don't want her along..fine! You can just put us out anywhere. We'll get along just fine without you!"

"Don't tempt me, lady. You're more trouble than you're worth!"

It was on the tip of Andrea's tongue to ask him pertly just how he thought he knew what she was worth, but she decided against it. He really was in a rotten mood since the chase...Not that she could understand why. Sure it had been frightening at the time, but they had gotten clean away and in her opinion that was cause for celebration.

Ian fell silent, brooding on it no doubt. Andrea wisely kept her tongue between her teeth. Bravado was all very well, but she was fairly certain they both knew her suggestion had been false bravado. She had no desire for Ian to take her up on her offer and drop her on some dark, lonely street with only her cat for company.

"Do yourself a favor," Ian said after a bit.

"As in..?" Andrea asked cautiously. He didn't sound angry anymore. In fact, he sounded downright amused. She just wondered if it was some sort of trap for more unpleasantness.

"If you've ever considered burglary as a sideline..forget it. You're just about the worse housebreaker I've ever laid eyes on."

"What do you mean by that?" Andrea asked, though she was beginning to have a fair idea.

Ian smiled faintly. "I don't believe I've ever seen anyone make more noise going in a place..or take longer doing it." He frowned slightly, sending her a speculative glance. "You couldn't have made more noise if you'd tried."

She missed the look, but not the tone. "If you think I wanted to get caught, you're out of your mind!" Andrea snapped. "Could I help it if that twice damned trash can.... You were there then? You saw the whole thing? Well! You could've at least given me a hand!"

Ian grinned. "I suppose I should have, but you looked like you were having so much fun! I didn't want to spoil it for you. Anyway, I kinda had my hands full."

"Doing what, pray tell?" Andrea asked sourly.

Ian threw her an annoyed glance. "In case you didn't notice, the guy that grabbed you wasn't alone. One of them waylaid me when I came looking for you."

"Oh. You aren't hurt, are you?" Andrea asked in concern.

"Not as bad as he is, anyway...I hope. Nothing to speak of..But I figured I'd keep him busy until you wiggled that cute little rump of yours back out the window. By the way, its a damn fine one," he added, sending a lingering look down her length that made her feel warm all over.

She shrugged it off, too irritated at his other comments to appreciate the compliment she doubted the sincerity of anyway, assuming it had been meant as sugar to make the pill easier to swallow. "Thanks," she said dryly. "So, where were you when... never mind." There wasn't much point in starting another argument now. It was over and done with, and she'd gotten out of that tight spot on her own, after all.

"When the other goon was chasing you around the yard? Still busy. That was the biggest son-of-a-..."

"It must have been Lurch!" Andrea cut in. "Did he have the most ridiculously cute blond curls?"

Ian grinned at her description. "I can't say that I noticed his hair. I was kind of busy watching his fists, if you know what I mean."

Andrea nodded. "Yes. I've noticed its really hard to stay alive, and observe objectively at the same time." She was silent for several moments, thinking back to her own attack. "I couldn't really place the one that grabbed me. In a way, his voice sounded kind of familiar. But I suppose it was just my imagination. I didn't really get a good look at him, but I'm almost positive he wasn't one of the men that tried to grab Fabian earlier. I suppose he could have been the one inside the car, but I don't really think so."

She shook her head, still plagued by the familiarity of his voice and confused by the fact that it didn't match any of the faces she could remember. Finally she shrugged it off. "Maybe it'll come to me later. Right now I'm so tired I could sleep a week. Can't we get a motel or something?

We've got to find some place to rest, because I just can't think, I'm so tired. And I'm starving too. I haven't eaten since lunch. We could go halves. " She looked at Ian hopefully.

Ian studied her for a long moment and finally shrugged. "It would be a risk..but I suppose we can try it...I guess our best bet would be to go to one of the big motels. They're bound to be full of tourists. And with a bunch of tourists coming and going, they'll be less likely to remember us if anyone asks."

He considered a moment. "I probably ought to stop somewhere and clean up a bit first. Looking the way I imagine I do just now, I'm bound to attract attention."

Andrea peered at him. Now that he mentioned it, he did look a little the worse for wear. His hair was far too short to get really mussed, but, as scant as the light was, she could see that his face looked a bit battered.

She gasped when she got a really good look at it. One eye was already beginning to blacken and a corner of his lip was swollen.

"What do you think? How do I look now?" Ian asked, having cleaned up in the service station rest room and changed his shirt.

"Like you've been in a fight," Andrea retorted frankly. "Wait a minute," she added, getting out of her seat and moving to the back to retrieve her make-up pouch from the pillowcase.

"What are you going to do?" Ian asked suspiciously when she returned to her seat, unsnapped the case and began digging around in it for her face powder and cover stick.

"I'm going to put just a touch of make-up on that eye and lip so it won't look so discolored," she replied absently. "Ah! Here it is!"

"Oh no you're not!" Ian said emphatically.

"Why not, for heaven's sake! Do you want them to know you've been in a fight?"

Ian sent her a narrow-eyed, thin-lipped look of vexation. "No. Then again, I don't want to be taken for a pansy either!"

Andrea bit her lip to keep from smiling. She couldn't imagine anyone mistaking Ian for a pansy. "Nobody'll notice. I swear it!" She could see he was weakening. "Look! The idea is not to draw attention to ourselves. If you go in looking like that, they'll remember you for sure!"

"All right already!" Ian agreed shortly, mimicking Andrea's earlier retort. "Do your worst!"

"I think we're going to have to go into the rest room. I need some light."

"Fine! Let's just get it over with."

They hit another snag when they reached the rest rooms. "Where are you going?" Ian asked when Andrea grasped the handle on the door to the ladies room.

"I told you we needed light," she replied, surprised.

"I'm not going in the ladies room."

"Well! You're crazy if you think I'm going in the men's room!" Andrea snapped. "Besides. I bet there isn't even a mirror in there!" she added triumphantly to clinch her point.

"We don't need a mirror if you're going to do it," Ian pointed out smugly and pushed the door open, gesturing with his hand. "After you."

Andrea scowled at him, tight lipped. "You could at least make certain it isn't occupied!"

Ian stuck his head in the door and looked around. "Nope!"

"Well..what if someone comes in?"

"We'll lock the door..Do you want to do this, or not?"

After glancing around to make certain she wasn't observed, Andrea stalked past him and into the men's room. She was staring at the urinal on the wall when Ian locked the door behind him. She whirled at the sound, fighting down the pounding waves of embarrassment that were pulsating in her cheeks, wondering if he'd caught her staring. The thing was, she'd never seen one before since she wasn't in the habit of invading the men's room.

To cover her embarrassment, she assumed a very business-like air. "Over here by the lavatory. The light's better and I need something to put my make-up bag on."

He moved obediently to stand before her...Right before her, she discovered when she turned around with the cover stick in her hand. She took an involuntary step back, bounced her rump off the lavatory and collided with him. It embarrassed her all over again and sent a flutter of nerves through her stomach. "You don't have to stand quite that close," she snapped irritably, trying not to breathe deeply for fear she'd brush against him and he'd take it as an invitation. She did hate having large breasts!

Ian seemed unaccountably tense and irritable as well. "How about across the room?" he shot back.

"You don't have to get nasty just because I said you were too close. My eyes are crossing for the Lord's sake!"

"How's this?" Ian asked, taking a long step back.

"Are you going to cooperate, or not?" Andrea asked irritably and grabbed his shoulders and pulled on him till she had him where she wanted him. "There! Now just hold still. This won't take a minute." She dabbed cover stick on her finger and touched it to the discolored swelling around his eye.

"Ouch! Ouch! Damn it! You didn't say it was going to hurt like hell!"

"I'm trying to be gentle. I can't fix it if I can't touch....it!" She looked at Ian with the sudden realization that their words could take on a whole new meaning given other circumstances. She saw the same thought in his eyes. They burst out laughing. "It'll all be over in a minute. And I swear it'll feel good when it stops hurting," Andrea said in a voice still shaky with laughter.

Ian leered at her. "Promise?"

She popped his shoulder playfully. "Behave yourself!" she admonished, trying to concentrate on carefully blending the make-up. She leaned back a little when she'd finished, studying it.

"Well," she said doubtfully, "I'm not at all sure it'll pass in bright light, but it'll serve well enough otherwise. Here, let me see what I can do with that lip."

He didn't complain when she dabbed the make-up on his lip and he lost all signs of amusement. Andrea felt her own amusement fade, felt her stomach muscles clench spasmodically as she lightly stroked the outer curve of his lower lip and the reddened flesh at the corner where his lips met. Fascinated with the shape of them, with the feel of them against her finger, she traced their entire circumference in a sort of bemused trance. She paused when she realized what she'd done, feeling the heat of embarrassment suffuse her cheeks even as a different heat suffused her body, bringing her to a heightened awareness of his proximity. Slowly, she lifted her gaze from her fascinated perusal, meeting his intense green eyes.

What she saw there both puzzled and unnerved her even as it aroused her senses. She was no stranger to the look of desire in a man's eyes, and yet there was some subtle difference to this. It seemed more than the simple lust one might feel toward a stranger, much more....more intense than casual desire. . .more. .personal. .and more than desire only.

She hesitated, wavering between the desire to offer a taste of what he was asking, curiosity as to whether he could kiss even half as well as he looked like he was capable of, and the reluctance of natural wariness. Wariness won out. Her eyes dropped away, breaking the spell. She busied herself with her make-up bag to hide her embarrassment and confusion. "That's about the best I can do. Ready?" she asked with forced cheerfulness.

Ian cleared his throat, hesitated as if he would speak, and then moved to the door instead. "Yeah." He stuck his head out and looked around. "All clear."

Most of the motels they passed had the no-vacancy sign on. They stopped at two that had just filled up. At the third motel, when Andrea was beginning to think she would never again have the chance to sleep in a bed, Ian struck pay dirt. He came out grinning and waving the key in the air. Andrea beamed at him. He really was good to have around in a pinch. Her good opinion of him lasted almost exactly ten seconds after he'd let her into the room.

"Where's your room?"

"This is it."

"Oh...Where's my room?"

"This is it..I mean..It! They only had one room and I figured it would probably be better anyway to register as husband and wife. So, I registered us as Mr. and Mrs. Parks."

"You did what!" Andrea exclaimed indignantly.

Chapter Nine

Ian hooked his thumbs in his front jeans pockets, regarding her in irritated silence for a long moment before he turned away and moved to sprawl on the bed----the only bed, folding his arms behind his head. "Jee-sus! There's just no pleasing you, is there?"

"No pleasing...!" Andrea gasped. "When, pray tell, did I tell you I wanted to share a cozy room for two?"

"You said you wanted a room. I got you one." He shrugged, as if he considered the matter closed.

Andrea dropped her pillowcase full of clothes and flopped into the nearest chair, absently fondling Monster while she glowered at the far wall, trying to decide which she wanted to do most; squall like a baby, kill Ian, find something to eat, or sleep.

Monster glowered at the man on the bed, hissing now and then when he trained hostile eyes on her.

Ian glowered at both of them. He wasn't exactly thrilled about sharing a room with her either, damn it! Under the circumstances it was damned awkward. And damned uncomfortable. Because he was thinking exactly what she thought he was thinking.

It had been ever-present in the back of his mind ----when it hadn't been in the fore of his mind---- since he'd first laid eyes on her.

Hell! He was only human! And she was just about the foxiest lady he'd seen in a while. Every time he looked at her he was reminded of those fantastically shaped fashion dolls all the little girls were so crazy about, the ones that were stacked in a way few real women ever were. She had the kind of luscious rump that acted on a man like a strong aphrodisiac. A tiny waist that practically shouted 'grab me', and the kind of tits calculated by nature to get a man in real trouble. The bounce and sway of them every time she moved so mesmerized him that he couldn't keep his mind or eyes off them for very long at the time and had to concentrate like hell to fight the temptation to touch, even knowing she'd probably slap his head clean off his shoulders if he tried it.

And it didn't stop there. If it had, he wouldn't be in the damned mess he was in now. She was a knock-out and would've been an eye-catcher if her body had only been mediocre instead of spectacular. If she'd been cold, brain-less, or conceited, not even her undeniably delicious features would've been enough to tempt him. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, she didn't seem to have those flaws either.

He'd never seen a woman worry less about how she might appear. Generally, with women that looked like her, every movement was carefully calculated to gain the maximum stun effect on every male around. They wouldn't be caught dead crawling through a bathroom window after a cat. A woman like that would never have given her cat a second thought, because out-of-sight meant out-of-mind, since they were generally too damned self-centered to think beyond their personal comfort and desires. He ought to know if anyone did. He'd been married to a woman just like that.

He could've lived without this kind of frustration, to be stuck in close quarters with a woman that looked like a female out of one of Frank Franzetti's fantasy paintings, knowing that she was off-limits. Because she was sure as hell off-limits as far as he was concerned..Even if she hadn't been giving him 'don't touch' signals right and left. He might be crazy as hell, crazy enough to have let himself be drawn into this mess by wide blue eyes and a luscious figure, but he wasn't crazy enough to get in any deeper..

He could've used a rousing argument right about now, to take his mind off of his other problems, but it looked like she was hell-bent and determined to frustrate him all the way around tonight. "What? No argument?"

She didn't even deign to answer. After a moment, while he contemplated saying something outrageous enough to rouse her, he dismissed it, rose and went into the bathroom to make ready for bed.

She was still sitting as he'd left her when he came out again. For a moment, a he felt a spurt of sympathy..She really had been through hell today if only half of what she'd told him was true. With that thought, chivalrous instincts rose to the forefront, prompting him to offer her the bed. He quashed it, and the sympathy, certain that had been her objective all along and determined to have at least a half of the bed he'd paid for.

He was tempted to assure her he had no intentions of laying so much as a finger on her, but decided to save his breath. She wouldn't believe him if he told her, so why bother?

The thought irritated him all over again, raising the demon of perversity within. He began undressing. He always slept in the buff. He didn't see any reason to change tonight..Just because Miss Prude might dislike it.

He didn't realize he'd been hoping to provoke a fight until she looked up at him and a feeling of anticipation washed through him. She disappointed him again. "Are you through with the bathroom?"

Ian nodded, wondering if this was a prelude to a rousing set-to. He braced himself as she rose to her feet, then watched with a mixture of hope, disappointment, and puzzlement as she turned and stalked to the bed, snatched up a pillow and the top coverlet and started toward the bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

Andrea stalked past him with her awkward bundle. She turned to him when she was safely inside the bathroom. "I'm taking over the only lock-able room," she said with just a touch of triumph and slammed and locked the door.

Ian stared at the door blankly at first and then in gathering wrath. "Just what the hell do you mean by that?"

"I'm sleeping in here!" Andrea said through the locked door.

"What if I need to go in there?" Ian snapped.

"You'll have to wait for morning now...Or hunt another bathroom. This one's taken."

Ian cursed long and fluently. "Don't act like a baby! I'm not going to touch one hair on your precious head!"

"I know you're not," Andrea said calmly. "Because I'm sleeping in here!"

"There's not enough room"

"There is in the tub, thank you very much!"

Ian glared at the door for a long moment. "All right! Suit yourself. You sleep in the damned tub! I'm sleeping on the bed like normal people do."

No answer. After a moment, he stalked to the bed, jerked his jeans off with a controlled violence that failed to break the zipper but popped the fastener at the waistband off, and flopped onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling. It was a long time before he slept. His last thought before drifting off was the malicious one that he hoped she didn't sleep at all.

Apparently she'd slept very little, he thought with a strange mixture of justification and sympathy as he crouched beside the tub and studied her. There were dark circles under her eyes.

She moved restlessly in her sleep and he saw with an unaccountable spurt of anger that there was a bruise along the curve of her jaw, doubtless from one or another of her scuffles the day before. He frowned, reaching to soothe the painful looking spot with a careful finger. Her cat---Hadn't she called the thing Monster? How damned appropriate!---let out a deep chested growl and hissed. He glared at the cat, more than half tempted to backhand it off her stomach and bounce it off the wall a couple of times.

But then he noticed that the cat was resting on her bare stomach and his own tightened spasmodically as he became oblivious to all else. Instead of undressing the night before, she'd merely unfastened her jeans for minimum comfort. They gaped, showing a deep vee of soft white flesh that ended with a peek of blue panties just above the end of the zipper. He followed the vee of flesh upwards to where that blouse-thing she wore had ridden up to expose the creamy underside of one breast. He stared at it for a long moment and swallowed with some difficulty, fighting the urge to do more than just look.

After a moment, he shook off his stupor and removed his hand ----that had been creeping forward with a volition of its own---- from the vicinity of greatest danger, trying to study her with some of his famous objectivity. Something he'd been sadly short of lately.

She hadn't been exaggerating, he saw. She was sporting some damned impressive bruises this morning, and that was just in the places he could see. She was going to be sore as hell when she woke up.

He decided he'd better wake her up, before he was tempted to do something he was likely to regret..even if she didn't make him regret it. He waved the styrofoam cup of coffee under her nose carefully. Her nose twitched. Her eyelids quivered.

"Atta girl," Ian praised teasingly. "You can do it. Lift those lids and give me a shot of those baby blues.

Andrea slitted an eye to peer up at him. "They're not blue. They're gray...and it's too damned early for your peculiar brand of humor so just go away." She closed her eye again.

Ian grinned down at her. "I knew it. The minute I laid eyes on you I said to myself, now there's a female that's a real crab in the morning."

Andrea cracked an eye sufficiently to glare at him. "I hate cheerful people in the morning."

Ian chuckled. "I know what you mean, baby. I hate them myself. Now me, I've got to have my shot of caffeine in the morning before I feel human." He rose and made for the door. "There's coffee and donuts if you want some."

"Just go away," Andrea said with a die away air, then sat up with a jerk, abruptly wide awake. "How did you get in here?"

He stopped in the doorway and turned, propping one shoulder on the door frame and giving her a smug grin. "I picked the lock."

"You..!" Andrea gasped in dawning outrage. He slammed the door shut a split second before her pillow smacked into it. She glowered at the closed door for several moments before she settled back again, trying to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep. It only took her a few minutes to realize that it was hopeless. She opened her eyes again when Monster stood up, stretched and began sharpening her claws on her bare stomach. Bare? She stared down at herself in consternation for several moments before turning to yell at the door. "Pervert!" His only response was a wicked chuckle.

Shooing Monster away, she made a move to rise and fell back again with a loud moan. She felt as if she'd been beat half to death..well, maybe a little more than half. It took stamina to ignore her pain sufficiently to clamber out of the tub. Sleeping in it certainly hadn't helped her at all. Every muscle in her body, every joint, tendon and hair follicle, hurt like pure hell. She began to wish she was dead and beyond pain as she struggled to remove her soiled clothing and discarded it, piece by painful piece.

One look in the mirror at her poor, abused body was enough to confirm what she'd already suspected. She was black and blue all over ...and that was just the bobo's that showed, because her muscles hurt far worse than her bruises, be they ever so horrible to look upon. One look at her face, when she finally got around to examining it, jolted her wide awake. "Oh! Good God!" she exclaimed, mortified at the realization that this is what Ian had looked upon.

"What?" came his muffled voice from beyond the door.

"Nothing. I'm going to shower. Could you hand me my...," she broke off, realizing that the pillowcase that held her things was lying beside the lavatory. Ian must have brought it in when he'd come in. The thoughtful cad! "Never mind."

"Need somebody to wash your back?" he called with a definitely licentious leer.

"No! Thank you!" She turned on the shower, drowning out whatever retort he thought to make.

He was sitting in the chair by the window, his feet propped on the side of the bed and crossed at the ankles when Andrea left the bathroom some forty-five minutes later, having stood under the pulsating shower head for much of that time in hopes that the hot water would help to soothe her aching muscles. It had, but not much. She still felt like the walking dead and, without a word, made her way to the cup of coffee that beckoned to her like a siren. It was black, but Ian had very thoughtfully brought cream and sugar along. She dumped five packets of sugar and all the cream she could find in her cup, stirred it and took a cautious sip.

It still tasted like something someone had washed their dirty socks in. She wrinkled her nose and drank it anyway. She was going to die if she didn't get some caffeine in her to rev her expiring heart.

"Have some coffee with your cream," Ian suggested cheerfully.

Andrea sent him a narrow eyed stare, but refused to rise to the bait until she was more capable of defending herself. By the time she'd drank half the cup, she was beginning to feel a little more human. "Thank you," she murmured.

Ian put his hand to his ear. "What was that?"

Andrea scowled at him. She didn't feel that much better. "Give me a break, will you? I feel like pure old T hades this morning...And if you felt half as badly as I do you wouldn't be so damned cheerful."

Ian sent her a look that was more speculative than sympathetic. "Yeah. I saw the bruises. Want me to kiss them and make them well? I'd be happy to oblige."

Andrea sent him a sour look. "No. Thank you very much! I think I'll survive without the curative powers of your no doubt wonderful kisses....What time is it, anyway?" she added before he could think of a comeback for that.

"Nearly eleven," he replied, rising and giving an all over stretch that cracked bones and aroused a spark of interest in Andrea sufficient to convince her that she wasn't dead yet. His shirt rode upwards with the movement, exposing his belly button and a trail of dark, curling hair that pointed north and south. Ah, she thought whimsically, to travel the southlands in an expedition of discovery...the terrain was bound to be fascinating considering the preview she was getting now. My! What a gorgeous..plain!

He straightened once more and his shirt dropped like a theater curtain going down. It snapped her back to her senses. "What?" she said absently.

"I said, it's nearly eleven," Ian repeated, brushing past her to stand over the donut box and studying the contents with all the serious consideration one might give a precious gem.

"Eleven?" Andrea echoed in disbelief, wilting into the nearest chair. "In the morning? Why did you let me sleep so late?"

Ian shrugged. "Why not? You looked like you could use it. You got an appointment this morning or something?" he added wryly.

Andrea opened her mouth to annihilate him, but then shut it again as it occurred to her that he was right...to a certain extent, anyway. "No. I don't have an appointment. But I have to work tomorrow. And I can't unless I can get this mess straightened out today. And I've already wasted almost half of it."

"Wait a minute," Ian said, holding up a hand to halt her spate of words. "Let me get this straight...You want to solve your little mystery today so you can go to work tomorrow?"

"This is not a joking matter! If you had any idea how long I've wanted this job..How hard I had to work to get it! I'm not about to lose my job just because some lunatic thinks I've got something he wants! And the police are too busy chasing me to look for the real killers! I've got to get this mess cleared up...today! ...and that's all there is to it!"

Ian shook his head, studying her in bemusement. "Lady! You amaze the hell out of me! You're under suspicion of murder..You've got men chasing you around trying to murder you..And all you can think about is that damned moth-eaten looking cat of yours and your damned job?"

Andrea pursed her lips. "Are we going to start that argument again? I thought we'd gone over all that last night! Obviously you've never had any sense of responsibility whatsoever, or you would understand it! Because, when you're responsible for someone or something, you take care of it..all the time..Not just when it's convenient to take care of it!..And the same goes for my job!...And my cat does not look moth-eaten!"

Ian stared at her a long moment and decided to ignore her insult to his maturity. "That is, without a doubt, the ugliest cat I've ever laid eyes on! She's got a face like a bat...long ears and pointed face and all...And that ugly, mottled coat of hers looks like where somebody pu.."

Andrea cut him off. "That does it!" She shot from her chair and made to pass him.

He grabbed her shoulders, chuckling now. "Whoa! Don't go away mad, baby. I was just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Well, you got one..Now..let me by, please."

"If I do, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get my moth-eaten cat and leave!"

"Then who'll help you solve your mystery, tell me that?"

"I don't need any help," Andrea snapped. "Regardless of what you undoubtedly believe, I'm not an idiot! I've managed to get along perfectly well, all by myself, for a while now...And I know a heck of a lot more about what's going on than you do."

Ian released her and sauntered back to his seat. "True," he admitted. "Just how are you going to solve it, by the way? On foot?"

Andrea looked at him in sudden consternation, realizing that transportation was going to be a real problem.

"You could always break your car out of the police impound.. Because that's where they took it. They always do when they can reasonably consider it evidence," he suggested helpfully. "..Or, you could stick with me," he added, fishing his keys from his pocket and waving them temptingly. "If you'll be nice..."

Andrea scowled at him. "If you mean suck up...!"

Ian grinned, giving her a once over that was decidedly suggestive. "That sounds tempting."

"Not on your life! Not no, but hel....Not if you were the last man on earth!"

Ian chuckled, not put out in the least. "Somehow I thought that was what you would say....Are you ready?"

"For what?" Andrea asked suspiciously.

"To go..If we're going to get everything tied up pretty for you so that you can work tomorrow, we should get going. Where do you want to start?"

Chapter Ten

Andrea settled in her chair again, chewing her lip in indecision..Not the least because she wasn't at all certain she knew where to begin. Then there was the little matter of whether she should yield so easily to the temptation to take him up on his offer and stick with him. She didn't really like the notion of giving him ammunition to throw in her face in the future.

Of course, she wasn't about to tell him she didn't have the faintest idea of where to start. He'd already insulted her intelligence so many times that she'd been tempted to inform him that she was considered by everyone who knew her well to be extremely intelligent, having graduated Cum Laude. But then, she'd forborne, not only because she'd never been terribly fond of being regarded as a 'brain' but also because she was well aware that she didn't 'show' well under stress and had done one or two things that might cause a person to doubt she was as intelligent as she claimed to be. As if everyone didn't have their weak points in the intelligence quotient.

"Well," she began, stalling for time, but then a brain storm hit her. "I thought I'd start by looking up Fabian's friends, the one's that were with us yesterday, to see if they know anything about Fabian's activities."

"You're just going to walk right up to them and ask them?"

She looked at him with a touch of surprise. "Yes. Why not?"

"Do you really think they'll tell you?" he asked dryly.

"Probably not," she said testily, "but surely I could tell if they were lying!"

"I doubt it. I might be able to tell, but you're just about the most gullible female I've ever seen in my life. Besides being the most unobservant. They could be loading drugs in the trunks of their car when you arrived and you wouldn't notice...Or, if you did, you'd probably think it was sugar and say something bright, like, 'Oh! You buy your sugar in bulk? Whatever do you need so much for?'"

"I am not gullible!" Andrea snapped indignantly. "Just because I don't have a nasty, suspicious mind, like some people. And I can't think of any reason to be proud of being a cynic. It only gives one a rotten outlook on life. At least I know how to be happy!"

"Yes. Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?"

"I'm not ignorant either! All right, Mr. Know-it-all, you make a suggestion!"

He grinned. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with your suggestion. As it happens, I think you might be on the right track..But I think you should let me do the questioning."

"Fine! I don't particularly want to talk to them anyway. They always gave me the creeps, if you want the truth of it."

"So, who do we start with?"

Andrea shrugged. "I don't know. I don't suppose it matters. To tell you the truth, I never could see that Fabian was particularly friendly with any of them, though I suppose Sam Waters might be our best bet. He worked down at the bank with Fabian."

Ian rose. "Let's go then. You can leave your stuff. I already paid for another night," he added when she began to gather her things together. "Do you know where he lives?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Better grab the phone book then. And I suppose we'll have to look for a city map. Unless you think you can find it?"

"I know the way to the grocery store, the mall and the Cape.. We'd better get the map."

Ian moved to the door. "Coming? You're not thinking about bringing that damn cat, are you?" he asked in exasperation.

Andrea looked down at Monster. "I suppose she'd be alright here. But I'll need to fix her up a box first and feed her..."

"Wait here a minute," Ian said shortly and disappeared out the door. He was back in a few minutes, carrying a box and a small grocery bag.

He set them down and Andrea moved to peer into the bag. Inside was a bag of cat litter, cat food and a feeding dish.

And she'd thought he hated her cat! What a kind, thoughtful.. darling man! "Thank you!" she said gratefully, and set about making Monster comfortable in the bathroom.

Ian shrugged it off. "Just hurry, will you? I'll wait for you in the van."

She was careful to hang the 'do not disturb' sign on the door knob as she left. Not only did she think it a good idea not to allow the maids to discover Monster, but she suffered some qualms that they might mistake her pillowcase full of belongings for dirty linens and take it into their heads to remove it. And, what little she possessed at the moment was in there. She didn't want to lose that.

They tried three convenience stores, a grocery store and eventually ended at K-Mart's before they finally tracked down a city map. From there, they drove to Sam Waters' residence, only to discover that the house was locked up tight and everyone gone.

"That's that. Where to now?" Ian asked once they were seated in the van once more.

Andrea bit her lip, severely disappointed. "It's a shame its Sunday and the bank's closed. I guess we can try one of the others. Let's see....," she leafed through the phone book. "Walter Phillips lives over on Kildare." She consulted the map and discovered that it was across town---only a couple of blocks from K-Mart, in fact. She decided to keep that bit of information to herself, firmly ignoring both the sign and Ian's disgusted look as they passed the store on the way.

Here too, they ran into a brick wall. Andrea stared at the empty house in consternation. "We'll have to see if Bill Baldwin's home, I guess," she said when Ian had returned and started the van up again.

He turned to give her a sour look. "No! Don't tell me! Baldwin lives next door to Waters, right?"

Andrea pursed her lips. "If you think you can do better, I'll drive and you can navigate!"

"I could hardly do any worse," he muttered. "What?" he exclaimed innocently when she sent him a frozen stare. "All right. Where to now?"

"Florida Avenue..And it is not next door to Mr. Waters house!"

She knew, even before they got to the door that he wasn't at home either. "What is this?" she asked rhetorically, when they'd beat on the door and waited for nearly ten minutes for an answer that never came. "Some kind of holiday, or something? How could everybody be gone? Church is over by now."

Ian glanced at her sardonically. "I believe I'll have a look around."

Andrea followed him as he rounded the house. "Do you really think we ought to do this? I mean, its broad daylight! What if someone sees us snooping around and calls the police?"

"If they don't see us, they'll certainly hear you," Ian responded tartly, and ignored her thereafter as he pushed his way through the shrubs and tried to peer into a curtained window. He moved away after a moment and tried looking in another window and finally tested it.

The back door was unlocked. Ian pushed the door open. "You wait here. It looks to me like this door was jimmied. I'm going to have a look inside."

He was half way across the living room when Andrea exclaimed behind him. "Why! It's empty. I wonder when he moved? I didn't know he'd moved. He didn't say anything about it"

Ian rolled his eyes. "I thought I told you to wait outside!"

"Well, someone might have seen me," she responded reasonably. "Besides, you said it looked like someone had broken in and I thought you might need help. If they were still here."

"Thanks," Ian said dryly. "I feel safer already."

Andrea ignored that provoking comment. In truth, she hardly heard him. There was something really strange about the place. It felt as if it had been empty a long while. Naturally, she refrained from saying so, however. There was no sense in giving Ian the opportunity of being snide about feminine intuition.

"I've got my doubts that your friend, Baldwin, ever actually lived here," he said, almost as if he'd read her mind.

"I was just thinking the same thing. But why would this address be in the phone book if he hadn't?"

Ian shrugged. "Who knows? All I know is that he isn't here now and it doesn't look like he has been for quite some time. I'd say, if he ever set up housekeeping at all, it was on a very temporary, very limited basis. The kitchen doesn't look like its been used. We might as well go. We're not going to find anything here. I think we'll just do a little backtracking. I'd like to see if we find anything at either of the other places."

Andrea didn't much care for the idea, particularly if he meant to go inside them as well, but she had no other suggestion so she kept her misgivings to herself.

They found, after looking Walter Phillips' apartment over, that the situation was much the same there. At Sam Waters' house, they found something altogether different. It had obviously been occupied, and vacated rather hurriedly. All the furnishings were still in place, but in the bedroom and study there were signs of hurried packing; clothes spewing haphazardly from drawers and papers scattered all over the desk and floor.

Ian gathered a few of the papers and looked them over cursorily, then dropped them again. "Nothing here," he said without surprise.

"He must have been in on whatever it was Fabian was doing, though!" Andrea said excitedly. "Why else would he take off?"

"Maybe. All right, probably," Ian conceded when she frowned at him. "..But, where does that leave us?"

Andrea stared at him, nonplussed. "I could go to the police.. Tell them what we've found. They can track him down."

"They might follow the lead, but I imagine its more likely that they'll just lock you up and forget it. You don't have any kind of proof that they were involved in anything. The cops'll figure you just made it up to save your bacon.

Come on. There's no point in sticking around here. We're not going to find out anything...And your 'friends', the ones that wasted Fabian, might decide to look up your Mr. Waters. That is, if they haven't been here already."

"Maybe that's where he is! Maybe they got him?"

"Do you really think they would've given him time to pack?" Ian asked dryly.

"Oh, I suppose they wouldn't have...Well! What are we going to do now? We can't just give up!"

"I'm damned if I know where to go from here. We might discover something at the bank..though I doubt it..But we can't even try that until they open tomorrow."

They returned to the van, but Ian made no effort to leave immediately. Andrea sat in thoughtful silence for several moments. "Maybe we could try Sheila's house? She might know something."

"Who's Sheila?"

"A girl I work with--a friend. She introduced me to Fabian, so I know she knows him. Of course, I doubt she knows anything about any of this, but she told me she'd known him from school days so maybe she can give us some ideas. She might know the names of some of the other people he worked with..that sort of thing."

"It's worth a shot. Where does she live?"

She didn't answer the door. Andrea raised her hand to knock again, but Ian forestalled her. "You might as well give up. She isn't home unless she's deaf as a post."

"She is here," Andrea insisted. "That's her car over there. Maybe she's in the shower?"

"Or, maybe she went off with someone else and left her car?" Ian suggested helpfully. "I'm going to look around."

"Ian! For the Lord's sake! You can't break into her house! She's home, I'm telling you. Let's just wait around a bit, give her time to get out of the shower, and try again."

"You wait. I'm going to try around back. Maybe she's in the kitchen."

Andrea watched him go in irritation, but refrained from further argument. It was like arguing with a brick wall anyway. She fidgeted for a few minutes and finally tried knocking again. Her heart leapt with relief when finally she heard footsteps approaching the door. The door opened and her smile fell flat. "Ian! What are you doing!"

He grabbed her arm and snatched her through the doorway and into the apartment. "She isn't here."

"You checked?" she asked in disbelief. "What if she'd been in the shower? Tell me that! What if she'd come out and caught you?"

"Is she good-looking?" Ian asked absently, as he looked the place over and wandered down the hall.

Andrea followed him. "Yes. What has that got to do with anything? Don't you dare go in her bedroom!"

Ian threw her a grin over his shoulder, ignoring her objection as he invaded Sheila's bedroom. "Then I would have had a rather pleasant surprise, wouldn't I?" He stopped in the middle of the room, looking around.

"Funny!" Andrea snapped, and stopped to look around as well. It looked as if Sheila, too, had been doing some quick packing. The place was a mess. Of course, that might not mean anything. It wasn't exactly a wreck, and Andrea wasn't exactly the best little housekeeper in the world herself. Just because it was a little messy didn't mean that they should jump to the conclusion that Sheila was in on whatever Fabian and Sam Waters had been doing. Did it?

"I'll see if her suitcase is missing," she added after a moment and got down on her hands and knees to look under the bed. She sat up on her heels. "Nothing here but dust balls," she said, smiling faintly. Good old Sheila! It looked worse under her bed than it did her own.

"Try the closet. Everybody doesn't keep their suitcase under the bed."

Andrea stuck her tongue out at him. "They don't?" she asked with feigned surprise, chuckling. She rose. "Well, I'll bet it isn't in the closet."

"Why?" Ian asked, smiling faintly.

"Because it's bound to be full of shoes. You won't believe it, but she wears a different pair of shoes every day. She must have a hundred pairs! And she has a pocketbook to match each one, if you can believe it! I've never seen anyone with such a fetish for shoes and pocketbooks."

She jerked the closet door open. Something large and heavy fell on her. With a cry of surprise more than pain, she staggered back under the weight and went down. Stunned, she looked down at the object that lay heavily across her, staring at it for long moments before it registered to her what it was. She screamed then and screamed again, struggling to thrust it away.

"Get it off me! Get it off me! Oh God! Ian! Get it off!"

Chapter Eleven

Ian thrust the body aside, grasped her upper arms and jerked her upright.

"It's alright, baby. Hush, now," he said roughly, but she seemed unaware of him, still struggling to be free. "Stop it, Andy!" he said more harshly and gave her a shake to quiet her.

"But, she's dead, Ian. She's dead!" Andrea wailed, shuddering convulsively, unable to tear her eyes from the horror beside her.

Ian gripped her head, pressing it against his shoulder, forcing her horrified gaze from the mutilated corpse. For a moment she fought him, still crying hysterically, but then she burrowed tightly against him, clutching the back of his shirt in her fists. "Ian..she's dead.."

"I know, baby. Hush. It's all right now."

She shuddered, shaking her head. "No! No! It's horrible!"

He stood, pulling her to her feet, holding her tightly against his side as he guided her out of the bedroom and into the hallway that bisected the small apartment. Once there, he braced his back against the wall, pulling her tightly against his length. As he'd hoped, she began to calm once she'd put some distance between herself and her friend's corpse. He gave her the time she needed to pull herself together, deciding he could afford to give her that small luxury, rubbing soothing circles along her back until she pulled away from him of her own accord.

"Are you going to be all right now?"

Her face puckered. Her chin wobbled. "I don't think so. I don't think I'll ever be all right again. It was so horrible..so horrible..so cold!" A sudden wave of nausea washed over her, bringing a tide of burning bile into her throat. She clapped a hand to her mouth and looked wildly around, finally darting in the direction of the bathroom.

Ian stared after her, wondering if he should follow to offer whatever he could in the way of assistance or leave her alone. The sound of retching killed any real desire to do so. He felt more than a little green himself after what he'd just seen and puking people made him feel like puking himself. If he followed her he was liable to end up fighting her for the toilet bowl. He finally realized, however, that he had even less desire of being berated as an insensitive male somewhere down the road, swallowed convulsively a couple of times and followed her.

"Do you need anything?" he asked sympathetically from the doorway, focusing his eyes on a point above her head and trying to ignore her difficulties. He just managed to step back out of the way to avoid being clobbered with the door she slammed in his face.

"No!" she said from the other side of the door. "Go away!"

He did so, gladly. So much for being the sensitive male, he thought, not without a touch of irritation. He stopped when he reached the bedroom door again, girding himself for the task at hand, and finally went in.

Andrea, he discovered when he went in search of her some twenty minutes later, was still locked in the bathroom. He tapped on the door gently, having ascertained that there were no longer any sounds of gagging coming from the other side. "Andy? Are you all right in there?"

"No! I'm not all right!" Andrea snapped petulantly, but she opened the door. She stared at him a long moment and rushed into his arms, holding herself tightly against him, shaking as if she'd just stepped from the deep freezer.

Momentarily surprised, Ian was slow to return the embrace, but finally enclosed her in his arms, rubbing her to try to generate some warmth when he realized that it was a shock-induced chill that wracked her. "I need to get you out of here..," he said a little absently, trying to keep his mind off the breasts that bobbed against his chest with each shuddering breath she took. It was a damned awkward time to become aroused and he doubted she'd be at all pleased if she discovered the effect she was having on him.

Andrea pulled away to look up at him with a combination of relief and hopefulness, trying to control her chattering teeth. "But..the police. Shouldn't we call the police? We can't just leave her there..like that..!" But, oh how she wanted to leave and just forget she had that responsibility, to pretend she had never seen what she'd just discovered in Sheila's bedroom closet.

"We can't do anything else," Ian said roughly, trying to hide his impatience. "If we were to call the cops now, they'd be swarming all over the place inside of ten minutes, and they'd haul us both off to jail before you could bat an eye...Did you touch anything? Can you remember anything you might have touched?"

Andrea frowned, trying to concentrate, retracing her steps in her mind. Finally, she shook her head. "I don't think so...I followed you straight into her room..," she paused, shuddering again. "The knob to the closet door. I opened it, remember?"

Ian nodded. "I already wiped it off. What about the faucets? You used that, didn't you?" She nodded and he disappeared into the bathroom, grabbing up a towel and carefully wiping down everything she might have touched. He was back in a moment. Taking her arm, he pulled her against his side, urging her forward as he slipped his arm around her waist. "Someone's bound to have noticed the van out front, but I think we'll be all right as long as they can't prove we've been inside...Come on. Let's get out of here. We can give the cops an anonymous call from a pay phone somewhere."

Neither spoke during the drive back to the motel. Ian threw several speculative glances her way, but Andrea preserved a rigid silence that discouraged him from making any attempt to talk.

She was glad he was sensitive enough to realize she had no desire to talk. It took all her concentration to keep her mind averted from the incident, and even at that it wasn't enough.

Her flesh crept from wrestling with that dead thing..Because, as ashamed as she was at the thought, that was the only way she could think of it. It had not been Sheila. It had long since ceased to have been her friend and become a thing of such repulsiveness that almost the only thing that occupied her mind was reaching a place to scrub from her skin the feel of it.

She made for the bathroom as soon as they reached the room once more, adjusting the water to a temperature just short of scalding.

"Are you going to be all right?"

Andrea turned from her task, staring at him for a long moment where he stood framed in the doorway, hands braced on either side of the door frame. It came as something of a shock to realize that he was still a virtual stranger. His face had become so comfortingly familiar it was hard to accept that she'd known him such a little while. His presence had come to be her only source of security in this bizarre situation she'd been pitched into so that, without quite realizing it, she'd come to lean upon him as if she had the right to do so. The thought embarrassed her. More embarrassing still was the realization that she'd allowed herself to become totally unglued in front of him. She, who prided herself on being a strong, independent woman. She looked away. "I have to bathe. I feel so.... unclean."

He nodded as if he knew exactly how she felt, and for some reason it caused a swell in indignation within her. How could he possibly know, after all, how she felt? And how dare he patronize her, as if her reaction hadn't been perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.

"But you'll be all right..?"

"Yes. I think so. After I bathe," Andrea responded slowly, hiding her resentment with the uncomfortable feeling that it was both uncalled for and unreasonable. She gnawed her lower lip, anxious for him to be gone so that she could strip away her clothes. She would've liked to have burned them, but she supposed she would have to settle for simply throwing them away. She couldn't bear to keep them. She knew that. Nothing would ever clean them sufficiently in her mind. She would've gladly discarded her skin if she'd been able, but she didn't think, even if she could've, that that would've served. She felt tainted, bone deep.

It wasn't just that she'd handled a corpse or even mostly because of it. It was more from being near a thing of mutilation, from having touched the handiwork of the foul monster that had done it. It made her sick to the depths of her soul to think of having touched anything that sadistic monster had touched.

"I've got a few errands to take care of. You sure you'll be all right until I get back?"

"Yes," she said tiredly, feeling drained suddenly, almost wishing that he wouldn't come back at all. She didn't care for her escalating dependence upon him. More than that, her guilt at having involved him in her troubles was beginning to weigh her down, outweighing the comfort his nearness gave her, and she realized that that was a large source of her resentment of him just now. "I'll be all right."

"Anything you want me to get for you? Anything you need?"

"No. Nothing," she said dully.

"Andy..."

She looked at him questioningly.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Ian said uncomfortably.

She felt her eyes fill with tears. They stung her nose, making it painful to breathe. "Why do you think they did that? Why? I can't understand why they would do that to her.."

Ian scrubbed his face with his hands and ran a hand across the short stubble of hair on the top of his head, ruffling it so that it stuck out here and there in a rather endearingly little boy look. Andrea quashed that thought aborning. Bad enough to be dependent upon his strength and level-headedness when hers seemed to have deserted her. It would be just plain stupid to allow herself to become romantically entangled with the guy.

"Maybe she was involved somehow. Maybe she knew something they wanted to know...I don't know.."

Andrea felt a reviving spurt of anger. "We don't know that she was involved! Look at how they've done me, and I'm not involved... And there is no way that that could have been necessary! No one would have kept anything from them if they'd done half those things..!"

Ian surged forward but Andrea stopped him. "No! Don't touch me! I couldn't stand it right now...I really couldn't."

She saw in his face a mixture of hurt and anger before he firmly erased the expressions. She was sorry for it, but she just couldn't deal with having him close to her just now. She was far too susceptible, and she knew it. "It isn't you. I don't want you to think it is. But I feel so...vile..so contaminated. Just leave me alone, Ian..Please."

He left, slamming the outer door behind him. Andrea stared at the vibrating door for several moments, wondering if she should go after him and try to explain things better, but finally dismissed the idea. She couldn't deal with Ian's hurt feelings right now. She couldn't deal with anything. She could apologize to him later..try to make him understand. At the moment, she couldn't think of anything but scrubbing herself clean.

She shut and locked the bathroom door, stripped and stepped into the shower, closing her mind to everything as the hot water beat down on her. When finally she emerged, her skin was reddened and chapped from scrubbing it, but she'd ceased to feel so ill.

Sneaking a peek into the room, she discovered that Ian hadn't yet returned and made a darting foray to the lavatory vanity, scooped up the guest pack and retreated into the bathroom again. The tiny bottle of lotion the hotel had provided did wonders for her chapped skin.

She spent nearly an hour primping, something she never did. Ordinarily, since she wore the bare minimum of make-up, and her hair au naturale, she was ready for anything inside of twenty minutes, but she needed something to occupy her mind, to keep from descending into hysterics again. More than that, she needed to make herself feel cleansed and renewed from head to toe.

She had nothing to occupy her mind when she'd done, however, except the events of the last two days. Skirting the discovery of Fabian's and Sheila's bodies by shrouding them with a mental curtain, she tried to summon her disordered thoughts into some sort of order that would make sense.

Try though she might, she couldn't make any sense of it, however. Even if she allowed for the possibility that Sheila had been involved. Even if she allowed the probability that the entire thing must revolve around drugs, she simply couldn't make everything click, because she just couldn't imagine either Sheila or Fabian being personally involved with the distribution of drugs.

Fabian was probably ideally situated for laundering drug money, though she wasn't even certain of that since she didn't totally understand how such a thing worked. And, if he was involved in some sort of money laundering scheme, that might explain Sam Water's involvement in this mess, since he, too, worked at the bank. But where could Sheila possibly fit in to such a scheme?

She didn't know, but the more she thought on it, the more certain she was that, logically, money laundering, or perhaps even some sort of real estate scheme ----after all, wasn't real estate big money in Florida these days?---- was more in line with the Fabian she'd known. Not that she would ever have believed before all this had started that he was involved in anything illegal. But, if he was, and it seemed he must have been, it would most certainly have been some sort of white collar crime. Fabian wasn't the sort to have dirtied his hands, or risked his neck, unless it involved big dollars.

She'd been waiting, staring blankly at the flickering TV screen for nearly two hours when Ian finally returned. She jumped when she heard the sound of the key in the lock, not realizing till that moment just how taut her nerves were.

Ian barely glanced at her as he came in, instead moving directly to the little table next to the window where he unburdened himself. "Hungry?"

Andrea felt her contrition vanish and resentment surface to take its place. How could he think of food at a time like this? How could he make her think of food? But he had, making her realize that the awful pains in her stomach wasn't cramping from her earlier sickness, but starvation pains.

She shouldn't be hungry. Not after what she'd been through. But the plain fact was, she'd scarcely eaten a thing in the last two days and, regardless of how her mind rebelled at the thought, her body instantly clamored for food. She would've liked to have ignored its demands. It didn't seem right, somehow, to want to eat when she should be in mourning for her dead friend..

At the very least, she shouldn't have any enthusiasm for it. "Yes. Thanks," she managed faintly and rose to join him at the table as he divided the contents of the bag he carried.

She was momentarily surprised out of her lethargy by the discovery that the sandwich he'd brought her was just as she liked it. No onions, pickles or cheese to discard as was usually the situation if she didn't special order her sandwich. It was odd how he always seemed to know just what she liked and how she liked it..like the coffee. Few people used as much cream in their coffee as she did, and yet he'd brought piles of it, as if he'd known she preferred her coffee almost half and half. It was odd, really odd, that he seemed to know her so well. Sometimes it almost seemed as if he could read her mind.

She dismissed the thought, shaking the urge to comment on it. Likely, he'd get entirely the wrong idea if she began speculating on some sort of supernatural link between them. There was no sense in making the guy nervous. Obviously, he was no more interested in considering any sort of relationship between them, other than the one necessity had forced upon them, than she was. And he was bound to think her a nut case if she commented on the fact that he seemed to know her so well when they were virtual strangers, almost as if they'd met before, in another life....or as if fate had thrown them together because they were meant to be together.

No one believed in the supernatural. She didn't really believe in it herself. It was just that she liked to think such interesting things were possible as reincarnation and loving souls entwined throughout eternity. It gave one a warm feeling only to imagine being loved like that. Not that she'd considered, even for a moment, to start spouting that bit of romantic nonsense. She didn't want to give the guy heart failure.

Dismissing it, she turned her attention to the more interesting, at the moment, task of eating. She'd scarcely taken two bites when he plunked the newspaper down in front of her, but her appetite waned almost instantly.

"I brought this too. I figured you'd want to see what they had to say about your boyfriend."

She glanced from the newspaper to Ian and back again, and finally moved to the bed with the newspaper, spreading it out and searching each page carefully. She went through it a second time before she gave up, looking up at Ian with a slight frown. "It isn't in here. I can't believe they didn't put anything about the murder in here."

Ian took the paper, refolded it, plopped it down in front of her with the front page facing up and pointed to an article with his index finger.

FOREIGN VISITOR FOUND DEAD. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

Andrea stared at the caption in incomprehension for several moments, then looked up at Ian inquiringly.

"Read it," he advised succinctly.

She stared at him a moment longer then turned to read.

Josef Dimitri Korloff was found dead in his apartment late Saturday afternoon. According to the coroner, the cause of death has not yet been determined, but foul play is suspected in the incident.

A native of Georgia, Russia, according to sources, Korloff had been living in the area for the past six months and was attached, in some undisclosed capacity, to the Russian Consulate in Central Florida.

Sought for questioning are Sheila Carmichael, alias Natasha Stefanovich Korloff, his former wife; an unidentified Georgia woman, thought to have been his girlfriend; and an unidentified Florida man, all of whom were seen to have entered and left the apartment of the deceased shortly before his body was discovered. The latter two are thought to have been spotted leaving a local mall later that same evening in the Georgia woman's car.

If you have any information on any of the three, please contact the Sheriff's Department.

Andrea looked up from the article to discover that Ian was watching her, his narrow-eyed expression calculating if not downright accusing. She gave a disbelieving laugh. "But.....this isn't true...any of it. Look for yourself! They don't even have his name right."

"I read it," Ian said tightly.

"Fabian's name was Krammer, not Korloff."

"So you said. But you also said that the men that were after him called him Korloff. Your boyfriend was murdered. Korloff was murdered. They both knew Sheila Carmichael. That's too damn much of a coincidence to be a coincidence in my book." He shook his head. "No. That's him all right. Korloff and Krammer are the same man. There's no other explanation that fits. That's the only thing about this whole mess that I'm damned sure of. The name aside, just how many murders do you think occur in this little town?"

"You think I lied to you about his name?" Andrea said, aghast. "Why would I do that? What would be the sense in doing that? All right. Maybe it's supposed to be him," she conceded, "but they still got everything all wrong!"

His expression only became more skeptical and Andrea flung the newspaper down and jumped to her feet. "Look! I don't know where this reporter got his information, but its pure fairy tale! Just look at the last part..."spotted leaving the mall in the Georgia woman's car". You know very well we didn't. And the two of us didn't go any where near Fabian's apartment until long after the police had already been through everything! And, the rest of it .... Why! It's just plain ridiculous. Sheila was not his ex-wife! She wasn't even his ex-girlfriend. And the first part doesn't even dignify a rebuttal, for the Lord's sake! A Russian! That is absolutely the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of! He was no more a Russian than I am!"

Ian leaned back in his seat, propping his feet on the side of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. "Granted the last part is totally inaccurate. But how do you know the first part is? It sounds to me like they checked with the consulate. I can't see why the consulate would lie about it. Hell! I'm surprised they claimed him at all considering the possibility...the likelihood..that he was involved in something. Seems to me that's a definite indication that the whole story's true. I guess it also rules out my first thought, though."

"And that was?" Andrea asked tightly.

"That he was a spy..I don't suppose they would've acknowledged him at all if that were the case..Unless he was up to something they didn't know about, which seems doubtful."

Andrea laughed scoffingly. "Well! Of course he wasn't a spy! That's more ridiculous than that is!" she snapped, pointing at the paper. "And, if he'd been Russian, he'd have had a very definite accent. Which I could hardly have failed to notice." She paused, frowning as it suddenly occurred to her that he hadn't had any kind of accent, which was really odd. Everyone had an accent...except maybe Californians, or rather movie actors. How peculiar!

"Not necessarily. An accent can be dropped..with the right kind of motivation," Ian pointed out, as if he'd read her thoughts.

Andrea stared at him a moment. "What about those men that were after him, then? Even supposing they'd gotten rid of their accents too. They were speaking English! Why would they do that instead of speaking their own language, tell me that! Because I would certainly have noticed if they weren't speaking English!"

"Maybe. Maybe not. You did say you couldn't hear half of what they were saying. You figured it was because of the background noise, but what if it wasn't? What if you only thought that was why you couldn't understand them? Even if they were speaking English, that doesn't rule it out. Look at it this way..If they were under cover, it'd be damned hazardous to let their cover slip, even when they thought it was safe to let it go. They would almost have to get accustomed to keeping up appearances at all times, or they'd be dead men."

Andrea stared at him for a long moment before anger took hold again. "Talk about my story sounding farfetched! You didn't believe me, but you can believe that..that..fairy tale!" She shook her head. "Accents aren't that easy to get rid of..particularly not that kind of accent. If Fabian had been Russian..If those men that were after him had been Russian, they would've had an accent. At least some of them would have had a very definite accent ...and I didn't hear one and I don't believe it! Not for a moment!"

Ian eyed her speculatively. "As to that..You don't have a Georgia accent, but you said that was where you were from."

"I do too have a Georgian accent!" Andrea snapped defensively, and not only because she realized he was implying she'd lied about where she was from. "And I was born in Georgia...in a little town called Donalsonville...The thing is, my parents weren't from Georgia..originally. Mom was French and Dad was Austrian before they immigrated to the U.S. and became citizens, and I might have picked up a little of their accents. But that doesn't change the fact that I was born in Georgia..which makes me a Georgian! And, as far as that goes, you don't sound like a Floridian either!"

"I never said I was."

"Oh," Andrea said, nonplussed. She thought back. "But you did say you were a Yankee..and you don't sound like any Yankee I ever heard either!" she added triumphantly.

Ian smiled faintly. "I'm from Montana. Don't you rebs figure anybody born north of the Mason Dixon line is a Yankee?"

"Oh," Andrea said again, realizing she was losing ground in her argument. "Well, I didn't lie either! And, as for that business about Fabian being a spy...It's just plain nonsense to consider it even for a moment! The cold war is over, or haven't you heard? Spies!" She started to laugh in earnest.

"If you'd known Fabian at all, you'd know just how ridiculous that idea was....Besides. He was a native Floridian." She frowned thoughtfully. "I think he was even from Titusville..though I can't be sure...But it seems to me that Sheila told me that once..when she was talking about going to high school with him. And that can be proved!" she added with a touch of excitement. "We'll just go down and check out the records tomorrow and you'll see!"

She felt a knee-weakening flush of relief at the realization that she could prove to Ian that everything she'd told him was true. For several moments she'd feared she might not be able to convince him that she hadn't lied about everything..and that he might abandon her because he thought she'd lied.

She would make him take her down first thing in the morning so that she could prove that much, at least, of her story. And if, horror of horrors, they ran into another dead end at the records office, they could always go down to the bank. They might even find out something about Sam Waters there. He was a bank officer, after all. He couldn't have just left without giving some indication of where he would be going or when he'd be coming back, even if he had left in a hurry. People in such high positions held a lot of responsibility. They didn't just disappear without telling someone when they'd be coming back.

Chapter Fourteen

The winter light was anything but weak. Andrea squinted her tearing eyes against the glare and peered around the parking lot. "Where's the van?" she asked, blank with surprise when she didn't see the familiar beat-up blue Ford.

"I ditched it yesterday," Ian said unconcernedly, fishing a set of keys out of his pocket as he headed for a dark green sedan that looked even worse than the van had.

"You ditched...?" Andrea said faintly, groping her way toward the sedan. "Why?...When?"

Ian sent her a speculative look. "You aren't very good at this sort of thing, are you? I ditched it because, if they've I.D.'d me now, they'll be looking for it...Even if they haven't managed that feat yet, there was always the possibility that one of your friend's neighbors had spotted the van...So I picked this up yesterday," he finished, gesturing toward the monstrosity with a touch of pride that was totally unwarranted.

Andrea wondered, without a great deal of interest, if it had an engine in it...or if anything on it worked. She didn't particularly care at the moment. She thought she'd just as soon turn around and return to the room and pass out on the floor. It couldn't be more uncomfortable than that damn tub she'd spent the last two nights in. She was almost ready to concede defeat and let Ian have his way with her if only he'd let her sleep on a real bed afterwards.

Not that he seemed terribly interested in having his way with her. Really the man was driving her crazy. She'd never seen anyone so contradictory. Because she knew she'd surprised a look of desire on his face more than once. She knew it wasn't conceit or pure imagination. And yet he'd made no attempt whatsoever to follow up those looks that left her weak-kneed.

She might almost think it was chivalry, because naturally she wasn't about to give him a 'come hither' look in response. Except that she rather doubted the man knew the meaning of chivalry. Sure, he was your basic macho male 'I can do everything better than you' type. But then he was also your basic modern man 'You're liberated so do it yourself' type too...As if that wasn't enough in itself to drive a female bonkers.

No. It wasn't chivalry. The thing was, she couldn't quite figure out what the restraint was that he put upon himself. But she was sure she was 'off-limits' as far as he was concerned, and she wasn't going to get anything more than those smoldering, 'I could eat you alive' looks when he thought she didn't notice.

Of course, it might, just possibly, be that, although he found her attractive, he had no desire to become intimately involved with a woman who faced the strong possibility of ending in a penitentiary if she didn't find the answer to the 'big question', and soon. Or it could be that he was leery of becoming involved with a woman whose last boyfriend had ended on a coroner's slab. But whatever it was, she was certain she didn't have to worry about the man foisting unwanted attentions upon her, because he had no inclination to do so...and she wasn't so certain they'd be unwelcome anymore anyway.

So why was she still 'sleeping' ----what a laugh---- in the bathtub with a door locked between them that she already knew wouldn't keep him out if he wanted to come in? Pride maybe? Because she wasn't as sure of her self-restraint as she was of his? Because she didn't want to give him the chance to turn her down?

The whole thing was ridiculous. As if she didn't have enough problems without adding personal problems to the quotient! She sent him a resentful look as she settled uneasily in the split vinyl seat beside him, trying not to think what might have been there before her..Or what might still inhabit the ragged seats. The car looked like it might have come from a junk yard instead of a used car lot. Please Lord, she thought, trying to sit lightly, don't let me be sitting on a rat's nest.

"Didn't sleep well, huh?" Ian observed, rather unnecessarily.

Andrea clipped his head from his shoulders with a hatchet glare. "What makes you say that?" she asked stiffly.

"You look like you've got two black-eyes. Can you open them or are they swelled shut?"

"Very funny!" Andrea snapped, fuming.

"Did you twist your ankle yesterday?"

"Why?"

"I noticed you were limping...?"

She pursed her lips. She wasn't about to tell him she'd hung her big toe in the tub spout. He was too damned cheerful already.

"Could we just get going..Or doesn't this dinosaur run?"

Ian grinned. "It runs." He turned the key in the ignition and the engine turned over and purred like a kitten.

Andrea called upon God to smite the engine bolts. It would do her a world of good if only the engine would fall out and wipe that smug look off his face. God declined the plea and they pulled smoothly out onto the highway.

"Where to today?"

"Coffee..," Andrea managed faintly. "If you could please just stop somewhere and get me another cup of coffee...Then we can go down to the health department and look through their records..."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we aren't allowed to give out birth certificates to anyone except the person they belong to," said the smirking clerk, looking very pleased with herself. "It's the privacy act."

Andrea resisted the urge to reach across the counter and snatch her wig cock-eyed. She chewed her tongue a moment, trying to gain control over her temper. "I don't actually want it..I just want to look at it....," she said with forced calm, managing to infuse a faint pleading note into her words. She knew this type. They got off on having people grovel...And she could manage a little groveling, just to get her way, if it killed her.

The middle-aged woman pursed her lips, pushing her glasses back up her long nose before she spoke with a notable lack of patience. "As I said...It's against the law to give out the information on anyone's birth certificate."

"Well! What do you do about children's birth certificates? Don't parents have to get them for school or something?" Andrea asked, justifiably exasperated.

"That's different, of course," the woman said, as if she were trying to explain something to an idiot. "They're minors.."

"Of course," Andrea agreed, trying not to grind her teeth. "Look...I just want to see if it's here..so I can tell my husband. Couldn't you just look through your files and tell me if you have a Fabian Krammer's birth certificate on file...So I can tell him if it's here?"

The woman studied her for a long moment. "All right," she replied grudgingly. "I suppose I can do that."

Andrea gave her a poisoned look as the woman turned and left. "Some public servant," she muttered under her breath. "Like..I help pay her salary just so she can be snotty when I want something!"

She arranged her features into an expression of neutrality when the woman came marching back like a drill sergeant.

"No Fabian Krammer on record," she snapped, looking pleased with herself. "Next!"

"Wait a minute," Andrea cut in, holding her place determinedly. She'd been waiting her turn for nearly an hour to get up to the 'holy presence' and she wasn't about to give up her spot until she'd gotten what she came for. "Did you check '52?"

"Yes," the woman snapped. "And also '51 and '53. We don't have it in our records. He must not have been born in this county...Next."

"But..I'm positive it was this county...Did I say '52? Silly me! I meant '50...I guess I was thinking about my brother..."

The woman gave her a speculative look. "I checked all the records within a ten year period. He's not in our files...Next!"

Andrea stalked out of the building and flounced into the front seat of the car, slamming the car door so hard it bounced back. She looked the defective door latch over with a touch of pleasure. "This car's falling apart. Look. I can't even get the door to close right."

Ian reached across her and closed the door. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Andrea said evasively, glaring at the wind shield.

"Did you get it?"

"No, I didn't get it! That hateful old hag gave me some rigmarole about a privacy act...As if anyone has any privacy anymore! The FBI, the CIA and IRS, not to mention your state and local governments have your life history on computer, right down to the tooth brush you purchased and what you paid for it, but your neighbor can't find out what you weighed at birth! Some privacy!"

Ian eyed her speculatively. "So..It was a wasted trip?"

Andrea pursed her lips in disgust. "She said it wasn't in their files."

"But you don't believe her."

"No, I don't! It's got to be there..."

"Why would she lie?" Ian asked reasonably.

"Because that hateful old thing didn't want to help me at all! You know..I despise public servants..They always act like you're a charity case and they're the donor!"

Ian said nothing for several moments. "You look all done in. Why don't we grab a bite to eat and go back to the room? We can check the bank later."

"No," Andrea said stubbornly. "Let's grab a bite to eat and go on to the bank. I'm fine..And I couldn't rest anyway. I'm too damned mad right now."

Ian went in when they reached the bank. Andrea was against the idea. She wanted to check it out for herself, hoping against hope that she'd find Sam Waters so that she could have some answers. Unfortunately, she couldn't fault Ian's logic. Anyone looking for them were much more likely to recognize her than him. But she watched the bank doors anxiously as Ian passed through them and disappeared. She didn't know what she would do if Ian was caught. She rather thought she would prefer to be caught herself than to see him taken and know she was on her own again.

When five minutes passed and then ten, however, her tension began to wane. Surely everything was alright, she thought, or she would've heard sirens wailing by now?

She spotted the man at almost the same moment that Ian left the bank building. For a moment, she merely stared at the man without recognition. In the next moment, however, her heart leapt into her throat and tried to strangle her. It was one of the men from the mall, the one who'd tried to convince everyone that he was her husband. Ian walked on, his step decisive as always, oblivious to the danger he was in. Andrea stared, her mind too sluggish to prompt her with any ideas as she watched Ian draw nearer and nearer to the man who waited at the corner of the building.

She gnawed her lower lip, her mind shouting 'do something! do something!' and giving her no ideas whatsoever. Ian was within a few yards of the man when it suddenly occurred to her that she should prepare for a hair-raising get-away. She slid into the driver's seat and groped for the key, then stared down at the ignition, dumbfounded. He'd taken the key! What a stupid thing to do! Now what?

She glanced up just as Ian reached the man, holding her breath, trying to think what to do. The man glanced up, looked Ian over. Ian nodded pleasantly and strolled past. Andrea stared at him in open-mouthed surprise. How could he have failed to recognize Ian at such close quarters?

She was so stunned with surprise, so relieved, she slumped as the tension left her and inadvertently dropped her elbow to the car horn. It let out a blast that made her hair stand on end and, after a moment of shocked surprise, she dove for the passenger seat. She lay panting with fear, wondering if the man had seen her, wondering if she'd aroused his curiosity, expecting to see his face appear at her window at any moment.

She let out a squeak of fright when Ian jerked the car door open.

"What did you do that for? Are you trying to draw attention to us?" Ian snapped irritably.

"Ian...That man..The man you just passed at the corner of the bank...It's him! One of the men from the mall! I can't believe you didn't recognize him! I can't believe he looked right at you and didn't recognize you! For the Lord's sake! Let's get out of here! You can yell at me later!"

"I recognized him," Ian said, thrusting the key in the ignition, "I just didn't see him until it was too late to avoid him..anyway, I figured he didn't really get a good look at me the other night and the odds were in my favor as long as I stayed cool." He gave the key a twist. Nothing happened. The car didn't even grunt. He cursed and reached for the hood release.

"Oh, God!" Andrea exclaimed in dismay. "I knew this stupid car would leave us stranded somewhere! Ian! Do something!"

"All right! All right! Don't get your panties in a ....," Ian snapped, reaching for the door handle.

"If you say that foul thing to me again, Ian Chandler! So help me, I'm going to sock you in the nose!"

Ian grinned suddenly, reaching over to pat her thigh affectionately. "Touchy little thing, aren't you?" he observed, and slid out of the car, neatly dodging the hand she swung at him. Her fist bounced off the back of the seat, making the springs twang nosily. Andrea inched her way upwards and peered over the edge of the door. The man had disappeared. She sat up straighter, looking around first in consternation and then in puzzlement. He was no where in sight.

Ian slammed the hood shut, rounded the car and slid into the seat beside her. "He's gone...So calm down. He wasn't even suspicious...In spite of that stunt with the horn."

"I can see he's gone...And it was an accident..And I still can't figure how he could've looked right at you and not recognized you. You did knock him down, after all."

"Yeah..But he had his mind on you..And I came at him from behind, if you'll remember...Why look a gift horse in the mouth?"

Andrea shrugged, conceding his point. "What did you find out in the bank? Was Mr. Waters there? Did you get to talk to him?"

"Your Mr. Waters doesn't work there and never has...Neither has your ex-boyfriend."

Andrea stared at him disbelievingly. She couldn't credit it. "But...He does..did! And Sam Waters too. I know it! Who did you talk to, anyway?"

"A couple of the tellers..some bank officer by the name of Randall and finally somebody in personnel...They don't work at this bank..They never did..Neither of them."

"Maybe this is the wrong bank..But I could have sworn..."

"Or maybe your boyfriend lied to you about where he worked. Maybe he just didn't want to tell you he was some sort of glorified clerk for the consulate?"

"Or maybe you think I lied?" Andrea asked tightly.

"I didn't say that."

"But you think it, don't you? You didn't believe me any of the time, did you? What I can't figure out is why you stuck around if you thought I was lying about everything," Andrea said hotly.

"Look, lady! You don't know what I think so why don't you just quit trying....And I stuck with you because I got myself in this frigging mess you're in and you're my ticket out...and I mean to stick to you like white on rice until you and me together get me out of this frigging mess!" Ian ground out angrily.

Andrea stared at him for a long moment and reached for the door handle. Ian stopped her.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm going," Andrea said through gritted teeth, "to check the other banks...He worked at one of the banks here in town and I'm damned well going to prove it!"

"What about that guy you spotted a few minutes ago?"

"He's gone now...And I don't see why you should be concerned about it anyway. Look at it this way. If they catch me, all your troubles are over!"

"Don't be a little fool! Why don't you just accept the fact that your Mr. Krammer..or Korloff..or whoever the hell the man really was..fed you a pack of lies!"

"Because you think I lied to you!" Andrea snapped, feeling close to tears now. She turned to stare out the window, trying to blink them back. How humiliating to succumb to tears in the middle of an argument! Knowing Ian, he was just the type to figure she was doing it on purpose, just to use feminine wiles against him because she couldn't win her argument any other way.

She resisted when he reached for her, grasping her jaw and trying to force her to look at him. He was determined, however, and shifted to meet her gaze. "I don't think you're lying. I never said I did. I just think...," he said roughly and stopped, sighing with exasperation as he released her, "you're just about the most gullible female I've ever run across. Do you believe everything everybody tells you?"

Andrea sniffed. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?... And, no! I don't believe everything everybody tells me..It's just ....It didn't occur to me to doubt him when there was no reason for him to lie."

"Undoubtedly he had a damned good reason to lie," Ian said shortly. "You just didn't know it...Look. If it'll make you feel any better, we'll try the other banks...We'll go anywhere you want to go..ask anybody any questions you want to ask..But I don't think it's going to change anything."

"I'd still like to check," Andrea said stubbornly. "You never know. We might discover something...We have to at least try!"

Chapter Fifteen

Andrea flicked the light switch on as she came in the door and dropped into the nearest chair, too tired and depressed to think beyond that point. Monster, who'd undoubtedly heard her come in, set up a howl immediately demanding to be freed from the bathroom. Wearily, Andrea dropped her purse and rose to answer the summons.

The moment the door opened, Monster, with a short dance of glee for freedom, raced past her, ran halfway up one wall and down again, ran up the back of the chair Ian was sitting in and over its back and bounded away at Ian's startled yelp.

Recovering from his start of surprise, Ian watched the cat race wildly around the room, springing from the floor to the bed, to the bedside table and from there to the window, where she swung from the curtains for a moment before she dropped to the floor and began to race around the room again. "You do realize that that cat is brain damaged, don't you?" he observed with some detachment.

"She is not!" Andrea defended her darling with as much heat as she could muster. "Just because she isn't one of those tame-to-the-point-of-boring pussy cats! I like having a lively, playful pet..and that does not make her brain-damaged. As a matter of fact, she's an extremely intelligent cat...."

"...That looks like a bat, climbs the walls and swings from the curtains..Why didn't you just get a dog?"

"Because they need more attention than a cat. I love my cat and she's good company, but I don't want to devote my life to my pets....If I wanted to devote all my spare time and energies to anything, I'd have a child."

Ian looked her over with raised brows. "You don't want children? I thought that was just about all little girls thought about..having a family..from the time they were hatched."

Andrea gave him a sour look. "They think of other things too ..like having a career...And, yes, I want a family. I'm just not ready for it yet...Don't little boys ever think about having a family? Or is that a stupid question?"

Ian was silent for a moment, studying her with a speculative gleam in his eyes that made her feel a growing, unaccountable tension. "As a matter of fact, it is," he drawled. "Men think of love, marriage and family...just like the other half of the human race...What made you think we didn't?"

Andrea shrugged uncomfortably, getting to her feet and grabbing up her meager pillowcase full of belongings. "I don't know.....I'm going to take a shower...," she added, changing the subject. "Or would you like first dibs on it?"

Ian rose as well. "Have at it...I'm going hunting..."

"Hunting..?" Andrea repeated blankly, stopping at the bathroom door to stare at him in surprise.

Ian moved toward her, propping one shoulder against the wall. "Yeah. Caveman bring food for his woman," he grunted.

"Oh ho, ho," Andrea said irritably. "Be funny." She dropped her pillowcase and moved back to her pocketbook, removing a twenty and turning to hand it to him. "My treat tonight. Get something good, will you? Maybe a take-out real meal instead of just a sandwich, huh?..Or a sandwich will do," she added when she saw that he was looking distinctly annoyed with her.

He gave her a long, hard look that she found difficult to interpret, finally stuffed the bill in his jeans pocket and turned to go. "Fine. I'll be back when I get back."

She stared at the door when he'd gone. "Well! What's eating him now!"

She shrugged it off. She was too tired and dispirited to really care, at the moment, that she'd wounded his tender male hide again. Let him sulk. He'd get over it. And she had too many problems of her own to worry about wounding his prickly pride.... Like the fact that she had reached impasse.

There wasn't a bank in town that had ever heard of either Fabian or Sam Waters. Nor had they been able to discover anything about either of the other two men Fabian had habitually run with. They hadn't returned to their apartments..Nor had they been seen lately at any of the places Andrea could remember hearing them mention. It was almost like none of them had ever existed.

But that, in itself, would merely have been frustrating, if not for the fact that she was fresh out of ideas on where to go from here. Unless Ian could come up with something, it was beginning to look like she would have to turn herself in and hope for the best.

Not that she had any intention of turning herself in anywhere in Florida. Not after what she'd already been through. If worse came to worse, she had already decided to hit for home and try to explain things to her home town police.

That was one real advantage to growing up in small town USA. Everybody knew everybody else and they were a lot more likely to take her side against outsiders. At the very least, she could expect a fair hearing, free from preformed suspicions like she faced down here.

Ian hadn't returned, she discovered, when she stepped from the bathroom, feeling more human and less like a zombie. She shrugged, trying to convince herself she wasn't concerned over it and, on impulse, moved to the phone and dialed her mother's number.

Her mother answered almost at once, sounding distracted as usual. "Mama? Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No," Dominique Wendt answered and chuckled. "I was just burning your papa's supper! How've you been, honey?"

Andrea chuckled dutifully, feeling a catch in her throat as she was swamped suddenly by a terrible feeling of homesickness. How she dearly wished she could run home to mama and papa like she had as a child! She'd been tempted..more than once in the past few days. The only thing was, she had been followed so many times that she was terrified of leading those horrible men to her folks and she couldn't bear to think of anything happening to them because she'd been stupid enough to involve herself in this mess.

But she was relieved, too, to hear her mother sounding so normal and unconcerned. She couldn't have heard anything yet.

"Oh! Fine. I'm doing fine," she managed to answer, trying to sound convincing. "I...I've gotten myself in a bit of a jam.. Nothing really serious," she lied hastily. She wanted to break it gently, after all..sort of lead up to things so that her parents wouldn't be terribly shocked when finally they heard the news. Thank God they lived in a tiny backwater where news traveled slowly.

"What kind of a jam?" Dominique asked quickly.

"Well..its not really that I'm in a jam...The thing is...This guy I was dating...Well...I don't know if you'd actually call it dating...I'd seen him a few times in the past few months...Sheila, that friend I told you about? Fixed me up with him..."

"What happened? ..Andrea! He hasn't..He didn't do anything to you did he? Because, if he did, I'm going to come down there and beat his brains in!"

Andrea chuckled a little wildly. That was her mama! Always fiercely protective, bless her heart! She'd known she could depend on her mama to take her side, whatever. "No...no! Nothing like that..The thing is..He's dead.."

"Oh my God! Honey! Are you all right? What happened? Was it a car wreck? You weren't hurt were you?"

"No..no...It wasn't a car wreck and I'm perfectly fine.. Really! The thing is..They think he was murdered and I knew I'd mentioned his name to you a couple of times and I didn't want you to read about it in the newspaper and jump to all sorts of conclusions."

Dead silence greeted that intelligence and Andrea felt a touch of panic. "Mama? Are you there? Are you all right?"

"Yes..yes. I'm still here..You know, I read about that in the paper, but the name didn't ring any bells and I never thought about him being the man you'd been seeing....You're sure you're all right? Do you want me to drive down?"

"No!" Andrea exclaimed more sharply than she'd meant to. "No. Don't do that...There's no need. I'll be up to see you in a few days anyway...But I can't get away right now and I didn't want you to worry."

She changed the subject after that, rambling on about this and that that had occurred at work, talking about anything that came to mind to try to lull her mother's suspicions. Not for all the tea in China did she want to get her mother involved in this mess. She broke off abruptly, however, when she realized that Ian's name had cropped into the conversation enough times to arouse her mother's interest in him, telling her mother that she had to go and would call again the following day.

She stared at the phone for several moments after she'd hung up, feeling a curious mixture of relief and anxiety. It had helped, as she'd known it would, to talk it out with her mother. Only now she had the added anxiety of worrying over whether or not her mother would come down, regardless of her protests, and either get mixed up in the same bizarre mess or discover all sorts of things she didn't want her to know.

She dismissed it after a moment, realizing that there was nothing more she could do about it and picked up the receiver again, dialing her supervisor's number. "Mr. Faircloth?" she asked when a man's voice answered.

"Yes?"

"This is Andrea Wendt. I'm calling to explain why I didn't make it in to work today...I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tomorrow either...The thing is..you see...My..uh..Grandfather is really sick...It was real sudden..That's why I was so upset I forgot to call you last night...They think it might be his heart...Well, anyway, he's in the hospital over here at Dothan.. Alabama, you know..And I really have to stay until he's out of danger...I hope you'll understand......," she ended hopefully.

Silence stretched out for so long that she thought she might have inadvertently broken the connection. "Mr. Faircloth?"

"Yes..I'm here...It's his heart, did you say? I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Wendt...," he replied slowly.

Andrea sighed in relief. She really was a rotten liar, but she'd discovered it was much easier by phone when one didn't have to look the person one was lying to in the eye. "Well..we don't know its his heart...They're running tests...But he's doing a little better today, I think."

There was a prolonged silence again before her supervisor responded. "When do you think you might be able to come back? We're at a crucial time here, you know, with the launch less than a week away."

"I know..and I'm terribly sorry to let you down like this..I wouldn't if it could be helped..But I think I'll be able to come back in just a day or two...Will that be all right?"

"I suppose it'll have to be," Mr. Faircloth responded a little shortly. "Get back as quick as you can."

"Yes, sir. I will. Just as quickly as I can."

Ian came in, balancing a couple of interesting-looking styrofoam boxes, just as she hung up. She jumped, startled since she hadn't heard him at the door, and looked at him with a mixture of fright and surprise.

He stopped in the doorway, glancing from her to the phone she'd just put down. "Who were you calling?" he asked sharply.

Andrea lifted her brows in surprise. "My supervisor. Why?"

"Your supervisor?" he echoed, frowning suspiciously.

Andrea didn't particularly care for the look. "Yes! My supervisor..at work..The place I work for..NASA..Mr. Faircloth! I called to let him know I wouldn't be in for a few days. Do you want to check on it?"

Ian seemed to relax slightly, moving to the little table and depositing his burden before he spoke again. "What did you tell him?" he asked curiously.

"I told him my grandfather had taken ill suddenly and I had to be with him," Andrea snapped defensively, still smarting over the suspicious look he'd given her.

"You did what!" Ian exclaimed, whirling to look at her.

"I told him my grandfather..."

"I thought that was what you'd said. I just couldn't believe it! Lady! You amaze the hell out of me! What did he say when you told him your nonexistent grandfather was sick?"

Andrea glared at him. "He said he hoped he got better real soon and he'd see me when I got back..And how do you know I don't have a grandfather! Most people do, you know!"

Ian studied her in silence for a long moment. "Because you told me your parents had immigrated to the US...Remember? And I'll tell you something else! Your supervisor knew you were lying right off...That was dumb! Really dumb!"

Andrea plunked her hands on her hips. "He did not! How would he know?"

"Have you forgotten your background check? You've got security clearance over at the cape, don't you?"

Andrea stared at him in dawning horror for several moments. "But...I've only got minimum clearance. They wouldn't have checked that far back....Would they?"

"You're damned right they would!..Particularly once they checked and discovered you were only first generation American..I'm surprised you even got a job there at all, considering...You must have some powerful friends if you got them to overlook that!"

"If you're implying that me getting that job was a fix, Ian Chandler! Let me tell you one damn thing! I got that job because I worked for it!...Me and nobody else but me..on my own qualifications! I didn't need friends to fix it for me!"

Ian studied her in fuming silence for a moment. "Well! You just fixed it again, lady! Because your supervisor, unless he's an idiot, already knows about your involvement in a murder..So he knows you lied to him..and would even if it wasn't for your background check! Didn't it occur to you that the police would already have been out to talk to your co-workers about this thing?"

Andrea stared at him in dismay. Had it occurred to her? Or had she buried her head in the sand and pretended nothing that horrible could possibly happen to her? She must have, because she knew he was right..And she knew she'd just lost her whole career ....And over a man she was heartily sorry she'd ever laid eyes on. Damn Fabian anyway for involving her in his mess! Couldn't he have left her out of it? Did he have to become involved with her when he was involved in something nefarious?

It wasn't fair! It just damn well wasn't fair! Not when she was perfectly innocent of all wrong-doing! She felt like crying.

"You're not going to bawl now, are you?" Ian asked with a touch of disgust. "Because I went to a lot of trouble catching this dinner for you and it's getting cold."

"No! I'm not going to bawl!" Andrea snapped, ignoring his heavy handed attempt at humor, moving to the table and flopping in her seat where she eyed her dinner with all the anger she would've liked to have trained on Fabian. She ate absently, not even realizing what she was eating, not even noticing that she mechanically emptied the plate until her fork came up empty.

Ian looked as if he was tempted to make some sort of jesting remark about her 'lack of appetite', but apparently changed his mind when she gave him a look that dared him to.

She discarded the empty box and moved to the TV, flicking through the channels until she came up with a station that reported the local news. She returned to her chair then, staring sightlessly at the TV screen while she went back over her conversation with her supervisor.

It didn't do any good. Try though she might to discover a silver lining, she couldn't. Things looked worse all the time. Even the lightening of spirits she'd gotten from her talk with her mother was long since departed.

And the news, when it came on, didn't help. It had finally been proven, it seemed, that Fabian...or Josef Korloff, was the victim of foul play, but they had not yet come up with any suspects...Or so the police had apparently told the reporters. She suspected she was their suspect.

There was speculation as to whether or not the murder might cause an international incident..Though the consulate was now disclaiming any knowledge of Josef Korloff. No one was buying it, not even Andrea anymore. Because, for some reason, now that the consulate was disclaiming any knowledge of him, she was convinced that they had a lot of knowledge concerning him.

The report on the discovery of Sheila's body was even worse. The news reporter halved his time between speculating on whether or not the two had been involved in some sort of sordid love-triangle, or if they were, in fact, involved in something scandalous that pertained to the consulate.

It made her feel slightly nauseous, just hearing it, because she feared she would see her picture on the screen some day soon, pegged as the other end of the triangle. And what her mother would think about the business, she shuddered to imagine.

She must have dozed in her chair, because when she opened her eyes sometime later, the room was darkened, the light filtering through the curtains the only thing preventing it from looking like the inside of a cave. She was vaguely aware of being held close, carried. She lifted her head from what she realized was not the chair arm but a man's arm. "Fabian?" she muttered vaguely, wondering if she'd conjured him from her dreams.

He cursed under his breath. In a moment, she heard the twang of depressed springs, felt the softness of a mattress at her back. She felt a moment of disappointment as the arms were withdrawn and a vague sense of triumph a moment later as his weight settled full length against her. "Ian," said a man's husky voice before a hard mouth covered hers in a kiss that was both angry and demanding.

"Mmmm," she replied vaguely, lifting her arms to hold him close as his tongue entered her mouth, spreading currents of warmth that sparked like tiny fireflies at her nerve endings as it possessively roamed the moist interior of her mouth.

"Ian," she responded dutifully when he lifted his mouth after a disappointingly brief kiss. She snuggled contentedly against him. If felt good..right. She fitted so well against him it was almost as if she'd been made to fit him. She liked that thought. What a nice dream! she thought. I knew Ian would be good at this.

Chapter Sixteen

The vague sense of well-being reached the point of better than well as consciousness rose. She drifted, flitting in and out of the dream world as his hands spread a delicious warmth through her, reluctant to let go of the dream state. But the warmth climbed and so did awareness as his hands roamed, along her neck and over her collar bone to her shoulder, flitting from there to cup and massage first one breast then the other, then downwards along her stomach to that secret place of deepest delight, where his clever, nimble fingers produced escalating shock waves of pleasure.

His face nuzzled her breast climbing from the valley to the summit where the moist warmth of his mouth enclosed it. Andrea moaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration, for the sensation was muted through the cloth that covered her breast and his ministrations served more to tease than to produce the delight it should have.

Cloth? Shouldn't she be naked for this sort of thing? she wondered vaguely.

She struggled to lift her leaden lids, staring down with blurry eyes at the dark head at her breast. As if sensing her movement, he lifted his head, his green eyes hot and shimmering with desire. "Ian?" she said bemusedly, though she realized she wasn't at all surprised to discover she was dreaming this particular dream again. She'd come to fantasize about the man far too much...Then again, this was far better than the fantasies she usually managed to conjure and she wasn't about to rock the boat. She relaxed again, giving herself up to it.

He shifted then, bringing his free hand up to grasp her nape as if he expected her to resist. "Damned straight," he muttered huskily, bringing his hard mouth down upon hers, kissing her with a ravaging hunger that immediately electrified her senses so that her whole body began to hum with the throbbing pulse of blood in her veins.

It didn't occur to her to resist or give even a pretense of resistance as an alibi in case of later need...when the heat was gone and her brain kicked back into gear, because she knew now that she wasn't dreaming..couldn't be. She surrendered as totally and completely as if it was the most natural thing in the world and Ian her mate for life, bringing her arms up so that she clung to him as tightly as he did her, arching her hips against the hand that was wringing magical notes from that wondrous nub of sensation nature had gifted her with.

She moaned as his tongue plunged inside her mouth, raking across hers with a sweet surge of sensations, sending a tidal wave of heat rolling upwards from the pit of her stomach to flush her breasts with aching sensitivity. She arched her back, writhing so that their nubs of sensory perception brushed against his chest, raking her fingernails lightly along his back until her fingers touched firm, rounded buttocks and curled into them, holding that hardened, throbbing evidence of his manhood tightly against her thigh.

He tore his mouth from hers, moving his lips feverishly to her ear and then down along her throat. "Ah..Sweet..sweet," he murmured raggedly. "I didn't know you'd be so sweet, baby... Jesus! I've wanted this since the first time I saw you!" He nuzzled her blouse aside, working his way to that spot Andrea so desperately wanted him to touch. It resisted his efforts only a fraction of an inch away.

Frustrated, Andrea reached for the vexing barrier, intent on ripping it away. He slid his hand under it as she lifted the blouse, tugging on it. Reaching her bra, he ran his hand lightly over it, testing its perimeters before settling the sensitive pad of his thumb on the pouting bud that thrust itself upwards to greet him.

Andrea moaned again, this time more in frustration than pleasure. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. "Ian...," she whispered a little desperately.

He nudged her blouse upwards, slipping her bra strap down along her arm and peeling the bra back until her breast dropped into his hand like a ripe grapefruit. He sought and captured the elusive bud, taking it into his mouth and doing wonderful, tortuous things to it while she writhed in exquisite torment and offered herself up for more.

He'd just obliging sought out the matching bud that begged for attention when a sound very like a drowning bugler made its vulgar intrusion. Up came his head with a snap of immediate alertness and, in the next split second, he'd leapt from the bed and raced to the window, peering through the crack where the curtains failed to meet completely.

"Shit!" he pronounced venomously. "Damn it to hell and back!"

Andrea came upright with a jerk, staring at him as if he'd lost his mind, her own senses still swimming. "Wha..wha..what?"

"The cops..And they're headed this way..fast. If you want anything, you'd better grab it quick," he snapped snatching up his jeans and jerking them up over his bare buttocks. He didn't bother to fasten them before reaching for his shirt and yanking it over his head.

Andrea, at the word cops, bounded out of bed, grabbed her bedraggled pillowcase and began stuffing her belongings into it with shaking fingers. Tying the top edges into a knot, she raced for the bathroom and snatched up Monster, who immediately let out a protest. She ignored it, racing back into the room just as the police set up a pounding at the door. She glanced at Ian with wide terrified eyes. "What now?" she mouthed.

He jerked his head in the direction of the connecting door to the next room and moved ahead of her. Opening the first door, he slipped an odd looking, slender knife from his pocket and inserted it into the lock while Andrea stared at him open-mouthed. In a moment, he had it open. He gestured for her to lead the way.

Andrea stepped into the doorway and peered into the next room. It was far darker in that room than theirs, but, thankfully, the bed appeared to be unoccupied and she hurried through with Ian hard on her heels. He closed both doors with extreme care, locking the second behind him.

"Now what?" Andrea whispered frantically. "They're right there! There's no way they'll miss us if we go out."

"The bathroom," Ian whispered back. "It has a window that opens out into the alleyway."

Andrea followed him into the bathroom and stared at the window in dismay. "Oh! Good Lord, Ian! I can't fit through that!" she whispered in horror.

"Do you want to stay and talk to the cops?"

Andrea shook her head and moved to the window as Ian opened it and peered out. "It's clear. The pillowcase first...Hand me the cat. I'll hold her until you're out."

Andrea looked him over distrustfully. "You're not going to leave her, are you?"

"I told you I'd hand her to you when you were out, didn't I?" Ian snapped in exasperation.

"You said you'd hold her till I got out..," Andrea reminded him.

The pounding on their room door increased in volume. There were more voices now as well, the hotel manager, the curious questions of the other hotel guests who'd been roused from their slumber. It was obvious the police were trying to bust it down and didn't much care if they roused the whole town in the process. Abruptly the pounding stopped and was followed almost immediately by the sound of breaking glass.

"Just go, will you?" Ian snapped.

Reluctantly, Andrea handed Monster into his care and turned to survey the window rather doubtfully. She managed to get one leg over the sill before she realized that she would never manage the other one.

"Here. Hold on to me," Ian said, surging forward as he slipped the wriggling bundle of fur he held under one arm, "and lift the other leg out."

She grabbed for him frantically, throwing first one arm around his neck and then the other as she lost her balance while trying to bring her other leg up to the window. Ian, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in her weight, staggered backward and she slipped back into the room, catching herself by her feet on the window sill. For a moment, she hung between Ian and the sill, draped like a drooping clothes line. He grasped her waist, lifting and shoving at the same time. Her legs bumped brusingly along the window sill, sliding awkwardly out until her rounded hips plugged the opening.

Panic clutched at her in those frantic seconds as Ian shoved at her to free her. In the next moment, her hips popped free and she shot through the window like the cork from a champagne bottle, bumping her ribs, breasts and chin as she went out. She landed in the alley feet first, pinwheeled her arms a moment while she tried to regain her balance and finally landed on her already abused posterior so hard it brought tears to her eyes. Ignoring the pain, she scrambled to her feet and moved back to the window to catch Monster.

Monster had escaped Ian's clutches, however, while he struggled with Andrea. Cursing under his breath, Ian chased the cat around the bathroom twice before Monster, determined to escape him, leapt to the toilet seat, from there to the window sill, and sprang from the window sill to land in Andrea's face.

With a little desperate maneuvering, Ian managed to work his broad shoulders and powerful chest through the tiny aperture, rotating his shoulders through one at the time like an infant struggling to free itself of its mother's womb. Andrea noted however, that his hips made it through without a snag. He slipped out relatively easily, as a matter of fact, once he'd worked his chest free, catching himself with his hands and tucking his body under in a dive and roll that would have wrung admiration from Andrea if she'd been in any state to appreciate it, and coming gracefully to his feet again.

Instead, she gave him a look that dared him to remark upon her own undignified exit as he grasped her elbow and hustled her down the alley and around to the back of the hotel. Pausing a moment, he listened alertly for sounds of pursuit then moved decisively toward a wall of hedges that bordered the back parking lot. Forcing their way through, they found themselves in the parking lot of a donut shop.

Early as it was, the parking lot was already filled with cars and people, rushing to grab a cup of coffee and a donut before work, and Andrea glanced around at the activity rather nervously, expecting to hear a shout of pursuit at any moment.

"You wait here," Ian said brusquely, "until I get inside the coffee shop, then stroll slowly toward the road over there."

"What are you going to do?" Andrea asked nervously.

"I'm going to get a couple of coffee's to go and some donuts."

Andrea gaped at him. "Are you out of your mind! Now?"

Ian clapped first his hand and then his mouth to hers to silence her. Andrea had some difficulty focusing her eyes when finally he released her. She did dearly hope they weren't crossed when she looked up at him again, but they certainly felt like it.

"Don't sweat it, baby.....I'm going to grab breakfast, stroll back over to the hotel and pick up the car and I'll meet you over there by the road in about five minutes."

She grabbed his arm when he would've turned away. "Don't, Ian. You'll get caught! We can think of something else...," she ended hopefully.

"I told you not to sweat it," Ian said with determined patience. "Look! They're not even looking for that old car. They're looking for the van, remember? All they're going to see is some working stiff, with his breakfast in hand, getting calmly into his car and driving off...Besides, those idiots have rousted just about the entire hotel by now. There'll be so many people milling around, they're not going to notice the one or two that are leaving."

"They're not as stupid as you seem to think...Besides, I know I heard the hotel manager over there...and if the desk clerk is out there, he's bound to recognize you..."

"Any idiot that hits the siren..which is what that numbskull did.... when he ought to know to make a quiet approach, isn't going to be terribly observant...Now. Do you want to stand around here until they figure out what we've done? Or do you want to do what I told you to do?"

"Alright!" Andrea snapped. "But I think its stupid to risk your neck for that stupid car! We could get another one..."

"With what?" Ian asked shortly. "I've got about two hundred bucks to my name just now...We could buy a bicycle with that, I suppose...Or are you suggesting I steal something?"

"I said all right...Go!" Andrea snapped irritably, but she felt a strong sense of doom descend upon her as she watched him walk away and wondered if she'd ever see him again.

After a moment, she tucked Monster more securely against her and lifted her pillowcase, trying to hold the ungodly thing unobtrusively as she strolled around the back of the donut shop and positioned herself against the shrub nearest the roadside. She got a few stares for all that she tried to melt into the greenery. She could well imagine what she must look like with her glaringly white pillowcase, a wildly struggling cat trapped under one arm and her hair, no doubt, sticking out around her head like Medusa.

It seemed an eternity before Ian pulled his old clunker around the corner and drew up along the curbside, but she supposed it couldn't have been more than ten minutes. The sounds coming from the hotel had escalated considerably in that time and more and more gawkers were hurrying toward the scene of excitement as two more patrol cars arrived, sirens blaring.

As nonchalantly as possible, under the circumstances, she tossed her pillowcase into the back seat and slid in beside Ian, settling herself with a strong sense of relief. It was rather an anticlimax, after their desperate escape, to pull away from the curb unmolested and cruise down the side street as if they had no where to go and all day to get there.

Andrea broke a rather prolonged silence with a rhetorical question. "I wonder how they found us?" she said musingly.

Ian sent her a wry look. "I expect, if you asked your supervisor the next time you give him a call, he could tell you."

She looked at him in surprise. "You mean to say they traced the call?" She frowned, considering it and found a flaw. "Don't they have to have some kind of special equipment hooked up to the phones to do that? How could they have guessed that I'd call Mr. Faircloth?"

Ian gave her an exasperated look. "I expect anyone who knew you well would've figured it out...Unfortunately, it never occurred to me that anyone could possibly be naive enough to call people they knew when they were on the run...I'm surprised you haven't called your mother..I'd be willing to bet they've got that line tapped too."

Andrea bit her lip, looked away and shrugged. She wasn't about to tell the hateful thing that she had called her mother. And why should she have thought of wire taps, for the Lord's sake! It wasn't like she was used to being on the run or anything!

"What are we going to do now? Find another hotel?"

He shook his head. "No. They'll be on the look out for us now...Now that they know we're still in the area.." He was silent for several moments and apparently came to a decision. "I think I know a place... A friend of mine has an old fishing cabin over by the St. Johns. I doubt he's using it just now..Or that he'll mind if we borrow it for a bit..Particularly if he doesn't know about it."

Chapter Seventeen

It was mid afternoon before they finally reached what Ian had euphemistically referred to as his friend's cabin. They didn't drive there directly. There seemed to be no real hurry since the police obviously had no leads on their new vehicle, and Ian thought it best to stock up on supplies first. With several hours to kill while they waited for the stores to open, Ian drove to the outskirts of town and found a quiet, secluded spot to park the car, where Andrea, at least, put the time to good use by catching up on lost sleep...Or tried.

Once she'd gotten over the early morning excitement of still another frantic get-away, the release of tension, in combination with several days of little or no sleep, had caught up with her. Weariness aside, even if she'd had no desire to sleep whatsoever, she rather thought she would have feigned sleep in order to avoid the possibility of any sort of confrontation concerning what had transpired between the two of them before the police had arrived to beat the door down. She found it very difficult to even look Ian in the eye after what had happened between them. Conversation, even necessary conversation, made her feel horribly self-conscious no matter how innocent. The possibility of a reference to the incident loomed ever present in her mind, and was enough right by its lonesome to make her wish for unconsciousness and, failing the benign hand of God, to fake it. She had no desire to discuss it, anything that pertained to it, or anything that might lead up to a discussion of it. She felt jumpy and defensive about the whole episode, not just embarrassed, and the little conversation they attempted very quickly became uncomfortably stilted.

With that as an added impetus, she announced her intention of taking a nap as soon as they'd parked the car, settled as comfortably as possible, and determinedly closed her eyes. If Ian took it as a rejection, or even an indication that the subject was permanently, not just presently, off-limits as far as she was concerned, he showed no signs of it...Or no signs of being put out over it, for she studied him for long moments through her lashes before firmly closing her eyes and ignoring him as he was ignoring her.

If anything, she thought, more than a little miffed, he seemed as eager, or more so, as she was to pretend nothing intimate had ever passed between them...Which seemed to indicate that he regretted it as much as she did..Which really made her want to hit him, damn his hide!

He might, at least, have apologized...Or, better yet, confessed that he wasn't sorry at all and assured her that he'd been well aware of what he was doing and whom he was doing it with...Because the unpleasant suspicion that he'd been as groggy as she, and might have been acting on instinct occurred to her. After all, he'd been married before.

Doubtless he was accustomed to waking up next to his wife, which meant it was quite possible he'd thought he had this morning and had thought he was making love to his wife, not her. Of course, he must have realized his mistake pretty quickly, but since she, brainless thing that she was, was quite eager to cooperate by that time, it wasn't really surprising that he'd considered proceeding as he'd begun..Until the police had arrived and brought him abruptly back to his senses.

It wouldn't have killed him to have given her some sort of reassurance that he'd meant it, instead of leaving her with this horribly embarrassing feeling that she was somehow at fault. ...Because she wasn't quite certain of just how much of it had been real and how much dream, which left her with the horrible suspicion that she might have done something in her sleep, when she'd thought she was dreaming about him, that had started the whole thing.

After dismissing the subject from her mind a half a dozen times and feigning sleep for the better part of an hour, she eventually did doze off. She woke some time later when Ian started up the car, yawned, stretched and sat up.

"What time is it?" she asked before she remembered she'd meant to treat him to the cold-silent treatment for being such a cad as to take advantage of her in her sleep when she was vulnerable...and then, if she was honest with herself, making no attempt to finish where he'd left off.

"About ten," Ian responded brusquely.

Andrea pursed her lips and lapsed into silence. What was eating him, anyway? He acted like it was her that had taken advantage of him instead of the other way around! Then again, maybe in his neanderthal male mind, she had. Men were prone, after all, to consider when they gave in to their baser instincts that they'd been enticed into it...Like, she'd enticed him in her sleep! When it was him that had taken her into bed with him in the first place!

The uncomfortable suspicion reared its ugly head again that, just possibly, she had done something in her sleep to entice him, but she firmly dismissed it. She knew, from what her mother had told her, that she was prone to do and say things in her sleep that she was unaware of, but she simply could not believe that she said or did things in her sleep that were contrary to her nature..And seducing a man was definitely contrary to her nature. She had always been terribly self-conscious and unsure of herself around men. That was the main reason why, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, she could count the number of men she'd dated on one hand..Well, with three fingers actually since she didn't think she could really count the one guy who'd gone out with her in high school on a dare.

Under the circumstances, conversation was extremely limited as they went about gathering supplies. Even though Andrea began to get a distinctly ominous feeling about the cabin when Ian stopped at a local hardware store and came out with sleeping bags, two oil lamps and a camp stove, she held her tongue, uncertain, at the moment, that she was up to the sort of argument that was bound to result from any comments she might make about Ian's new choice of a hideout. Because he was just hateful enough to point out that it wouldn't be necessary if she hadn't called her boss and she wasn't about to take any more lip from him over that.

They stopped for groceries last, stocking up on ready-from-the-can items for the most part, which looked even more ominous to Andrea. From there they drove out of town on a narrow, two lane highway, turned off eventually onto a single lane dirt road and meandered through the woods for the better part of an hour until Andrea was not only hopelessly lost, but she was beginning to wonder if they would ever reach the place at all.

Unfortunately, they did. Unfortunately, too, the fishing cabin was just that, not some quaint, comfortable little cottage tucked away picturesquely on the banks of the river, but a dilapidated building that looked more like a shanty or an abandoned tobacco barn and appeared to be in imminent danger of collapsing.

"My God!" Andrea exclaimed unthinkingly. "I could throw..Monster through the holes in the wall!"

Ian sent her cat a malicious look. "I'll do it for you if you like..."

"Very funny!" Andrea snapped, cuddling her pet protectively. "That was just an expression."

"So was mine..An expression of what I'd like to do to that animal..and may be more than tempted to do if she scratches me again. Why didn't you get the monster de-clawed anyway?"

Andrea glared at him. "Because she needs them to defend herself..It's the only defense she's got...And I couldn't contemplate..maiming her for my convenience, that's why!"

"She does a pretty good job of defending herself with her teeth, if you ask me!"

"Look. She's just a poor dumb animal, Ian. She didn't understand why you were trying to mangle her back there at the motel! What did you expect her to do when you had her by the neck under your arm? Purr and wag her tail? And she can't climb without claws, which is a cat's main defense."

"Well..I sort of had my hands full trying to get you through that damned window!" Ian snapped irritably.

Andrea blushed beet red. "I know...," she said, trying to sound placating. "And I understand that you didn't mean to hurt her, but she doesn't....If you'd like, I'll put something on those scratches when we get inside....I'm sorry she scratched you and I know she is too. Aren't you, Monster?"

Monster eyed the man and growled low in her throat.

Ian eyed the cat back with extreme disfavor. "Yeah. I can tell she's real sorry about it...Sorry she didn't do a better job."

"Well! She knows you don't like her! What do you expect?" Andrea snapped, sorry she'd even tried to placate the ape.

"Then she's not really a dumb animal after all, is she?" Ian shot back and flung the car door open.

Andrea stared after him, fuming. After a moment, she turned an accusing eye on her cat, lifting the animal so that she could look it in the eye. "What's eating you, anyway? I know darned well you've gotten used to him by now...so you don't have any excuse for this continued animosity..."

Monster merely blinked at her and turned to watch Ian as he shoved open the cabin door, with his shoulder, and turned toward the car once more. "Why!...You're jealous of him, aren't you?" she exclaimed with sudden insight. "You silly cat!" She settled the cat in her lap again and began stroking it. "..And after he's been so very nice to you..getting you food..and a litter box and everything..And he hasn't even tried to strangle you, not even once, you vexing thing."

Ian flung the trunk hood up and began scratching around in the trunk. A moment later he stuck his head out from under the hood. "Are you going to give me a hand with some of this, or are you just going to sit there fondling that damned cat all day."

Andrea twisted around to look at him with a mixture of anger and surprise. "I'm coming!" she snapped right back at him. She turned back to the cat. "You know, Monster, if I didn't know better, I'd say he was as jealous of you as you are of him." She frowned a moment and turned to eye him speculatively and finally shook her head, dismissing it. It wasn't really all that farfetched that he might be jealous of her attention, even to a cat, because jealousy was a totally illogical emotion. But he'd have to want her attention himself before he could feel any jealousy about it, and he hadn't shown any indications that he wanted her attention...Quite the contrary in fact.

Shoving the squawking car door open, she set Monster on her feet and moved around to the trunk, taking out one of the sleeping bags and an oil lantern. She halted in her tracks when she reached the door of the cabin, surveying the interior with dismay if without any real surprise.

There were screens on the windows, but not glass, nor any indication that there had ever been any. Instead, the openings ----there were two large windows with picturesque views, one of the outhouse and the other of the swampy area to the east of the cabin---- were covered with heavy wooden shutters, one of which Ian had just unfastened, lifted on its upper hinges and propped up with the brace apparently supplied for just that purpose. The floor seemed solid enough and the cracks between its board floor narrow enough they would be in danger of losing nothing more than smaller objects they dropped, like pens or eating utensils. She doubted a snake could enter that way, unless he was a very small snake. No, the wildlife would have to enter by way of the two rather large holes in the walls...that weren't windows.

The furnishings were equally crude. There was an abandoned ice chest, that looked like it might have been used to grow mushrooms..or some sort of fungi anyway. A rickety table stood in one corner. Crates provided the quaint seating arrangements and beyond that were two, narrow platforms she assumed must have been designed to hold the sleeping bags Ian had brought, possibly so that the rats that had gnawed the holes in the walls could have the floor to themselves at night.

She did her best to hide her dismay. She wouldn't say a word about their accommodations if it killed her..Though she rather thought she would've preferred sleeping in the car...Because she didn't doubt but what Ian was just itching for the opportunity to point out that it was all her fault....And there was no way she was going to give him that opportunity.

She moved into the one room cabin, studiously ignoring Ian as he turned to watch her. "Which bench..bed do you want?" she asked as she set the lantern on the table, still avoiding his eyes.

"I thought I'd take this one..," he responded and Andrea turned to see which one he indicated, focusing her eyes on the bench, not him.

"Fine," she said neutrally, and moved to the other platform. After studying it a moment, she looked around for anything resembling a broom. Finding nothing, she moved back outside with her sleeping bag, dropping it onto the hood of the car and turning to survey the area with her hands on her hips. After a moment, she spotted a clump of brush she thought might do the trick and moved toward it cautiously, watching the ground for snakes. It was cold enough they were bound to be sluggish just now, but she didn't want to chance stepping on one that had come out to sun himself.

Quickly gathering a good handful of brush, she returned to the cabin and used her makeshift broom to beat the dust and cobwebs from her side of the cabin, laid it aside and went to retrieve her sleeping bag.

Ian, who'd just come in with a bag of groceries, set them down on the table and turned to study her again. She felt his eyes on her, but continued to ignore him studiously.

"Look...Andy....," he said hesitantly.

"I'd really rather you didn't call me that. I never cared for it."

"...About this morning..."

The obvious response was 'what about this morning?' but she wasn't going to ask it. "Oh, yes," she said hastily. "I forgot to thank you for helping me out the window, didn't I?" She threw a fleeting, patently false smile at him over her shoulder without actually allowing herself to make eye contact. "Thanks."

He ignored that attempt to divert him. "I was talking about what happened before that.."

All right. She had to do it. "Oh?" she said vaguely, as if she could have forgotten, damn him! She concentrated on removing the plastic covering from her sleeping bag. Fortunately, it didn't give easily and she was able to drag it out without looking conspicuously as if she was deliberately doing it to keep herself occupied. She heard his grunt of exasperation, but pretended deafness.

"..The thing is..I'm sorry, all right? I was kind of groggy..I just forgot where I was, OK?" he lied uncomfortably, feeling his face heat at the lie, wishing she'd turn around and look at him, and then glad that she didn't.

"Groggy?" she said absently, grinding her teeth. He just had to have said that! He couldn't leave her with her pride intact, damn him! "...Oh, that!...I guess I was pretty groggy and forgot where I was too....Or rather, who I was with...," she said and managed a self-depreciating chuckle that sounded so convincing she felt like patting herself on the back. Take that and choke on it, she thought viciously. "Don't worry about it..It's already forgotten," she added airily.

She heard him grind his teeth with a great deal of satisfaction. "It's just...this is a damned awkward time to be getting involved..or anything, you know."

"True..so true," she agreed brightly, discovering that acting came easier every moment. She was well into her part by now. "Not that any time would be a good time..with you and me, I mean...We have absolutely nothing in common, after all..."

She turned from her task of carefully arranging her sleeping bag, smiled brightly at his angry expression and traipsed out the door to gather more supplies. Ian followed her out, shouldering her aside to grab up the camp stove in one hand and another bag of groceries in the other. "What do you mean we don't have anything in common?" he demanded.

She looked at him a moment with feigned surprise as she lifted a bag of groceries from the trunk. She was really starting to enjoy this. "Only that I can't think of a thing we could possibly enjoy about being in each other's company...For example. You're a morning person and I'm not. You're so cheerful in the morning, I could cheerfully strangle you sometimes."

"I am not a morning person! I'm just as damned surly as you are in the morning until I've had my coffee!" Ian snapped indignantly, following her back into the cabin.

"Then, of course, you're a beer person, and I'm not..," Andrea pursued, ignoring his rebuttal.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Andrea shrugged. "Well..for instance, beer goes with football games on TV and Honky Tonks..You know what I mean...."

"So...Just because I had one beer...And it wasn't even mine, I might add..."

Andrea blinked at him in surprise. "It wasn't yours? In your refrigerator? Who did it belong to, your neighbor?"

"As a matter of fact and in a manner of speaking..yes!" Ian snarled. "And just what sort of person do you consider yourself, anyway? Wine and Perrier?"

Andrea chuckled. "Actually..no. I can't drink wine. It goes right to my head..And I don't like it either. No. I'm a Royal Crown Cola sort of person...You know..homey..family oriented..no big excitements...Unlike you who seem to thrive on that sort of thing. You needn't deny it, you know. You enjoyed that little chase scene...even if you were angry at me at the time..You enjoyed the chase. I could tell. And you enjoyed outsmarting those policemen back there at the motel, too. You probably like jumping out of airplanes...But I don't like it, any of that sort of thing, at all. It scares me and I don't like being scared."

"With or without a parachute?" Ian asked sarcastically.

"You?..Probably either way....Now me, I wouldn't do it at all."

"Well, I've got news for you sister! Neither would I! I don't like planes, period! I'm scared of heights!"

Andrea was a little surprised to hear him admit such a thing, but she hid it well, dismissing it with a shrug. "Regardless, you strike me as the sort of person that likes living dangerously..a gambler..not necessarily for money...but you like taking risks... I never take risks, of any kind...So..you see what I mean..We're not at all compatible."

Ian's eyes narrowed on her face a long moment before they took a leisurely inventory of the rest of her assets. "I can think of one way we're compatible, Andy girl...And when we get out of this mess you can bank on me showing you!"

Chapter Eighteen

Andrea eyed Ian with a mixture of emotions she found difficult to sort and identify. She supposed this was what people meant about being floored. Naturally, surprise was uppermost, not that she should have been when she'd already concluded the man was the most contradictory one she'd ever run across. She was flattered, of course, and also both hopeful and wishful.

She was also extremely annoyed at his assumption that she would be agreeable when he found it convenient to pursue the matter. What colossal gall! "Always assuming I'm interested in being shown," she ground out, abandoning all pretense of being completely unmoved and indifferent to him, one way or another.

This, she thought angrily, was what a girl got when she trusted a man. Here she was in this God forsaken place, miles from anywhere..flat broke, because she'd given him every cent she had and didn't dare try to use her bank card, and now that he knew she was stuck with him, he meant to make full use of it and take her for granted!

His eyes narrowed with a spark of anger, but in a moment a knowing male gleam of satisfaction lit them. "Oh...I think you've given me reason enough to consider that you might be."

"That's what you get for thinking when you're not used to it," she snapped sarcastically and marched over to the table and began sorting through the groceries.

Thankfully, Ian allowed the subject to drop. By the time they had made the cabin as comfortable as possible, which was to say barely tolerable, and Andrea had managed the feat of heating canned spaghetti on a camp stove, she was able to dismiss much of her chagrin along with her vexation.

It returned over supper, descending like a clap of thunder when she least expected it.

They lingered over the meal, realizing that they had nothing to occupy themselves with when they had done. The meal in itself had done much to stretch their nerves taut, for there was something extremely intimate, even sensuous, about eating a meal by the mellow glow of lantern light. The sounds of the night creatures outside the cabin added to the feeling of greater intimacy, for they seemed encapsulated within the cabin, totally cut off from the rest of the world. Both were more conscious of the two narrow bunks that awaited them than either had been of the single double bed the motel had boasted.

Andrea, feeling finally that her nerves had reached the maximum stress point, rose abruptly and busied herself with cleaning up. It took all of five minutes to discard their plastic utensils, paper plates and cups, and the can their meal had come in; wipe the table down; and clean and put away the camp stove.

"Well...," she said, feeling rather more cozily domestic than she should have..and terribly uncomfortable with the role, "..if you don't mind..I believe I'll take the other lantern and read for a bit....I'm not at all tired."

Ian cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I think we need to talk.."

"About what?" Andrea asked reluctantly.

"I think we should go over the situation again, talk out everything, and see if we can come up with any ideas on what to do now...I don't know about you, but I'm not crazy about this place and I'd like to clear this up so we can get out of here."

Andrea eyed him doubtfully, uncertain as to whether she was relieved or disappointed that he had no interest in reopening their earlier discussion, although she was in perfect agreement with his sentiments.

If the 'cabin' alone hadn't been enough in itself, one visit to the outhouse had been sufficient to kill every last ounce of Andrea's sense of adventure..And it hadn't improved friendly relations around the cabin either...Because Ian had laughed when she'd come sailing out the door with her panties around her knees and her jeans halfway up her buttocks screeching 'Snake! Snake! Kill it! Kill it!'

The ape hadn't even gotten excited. He'd merely stuck his head in the door, looked the thing over and pronounced it nonvenomous. 'Don't you know the difference between a King snake and a Coral snake?' he'd asked, turning to grin at her, struggling with his amusement for several strenuous moments before he gave in to it and laughed until tears were streaming down his cheeks. 'Remember the rhyme?'

'No. I don't remember the damned rhyme!' she'd shot back at him with biting sarcasm. 'How's anybody supposed to think of a damned rhyme when they've got something like that crawling around their feet, I'd like to know!'

'Red and yellow, kill a fellow..Red and black, venom lack,' Ian had quoted in a sing-song voice that had really tempted her to beat him severely about the head and shoulders with a shovel...or a hammer, if she'd only had one.

'Well..That thing's red and black and yellow, so how's a person to know the difference..And I don't like snakes, so why don't you just kill it anyway!'

'The yellow bands are next to the black ones,' he'd retorted calmly, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. '..And venomous snakes have an arrowhead shaped head. And King snakes kill other snakes. We're lucky to have him around.'

As if she'd been in any mood to listen to a lecture about wood lore! She dismissed the humiliating memory and turned her attention to his suggestion. "I can't see what possible good it will do to go over it again, but I'm willing. Where do you want to start?"

"At the beginning, of course."

She frowned slightly. "You mean..when I came upon Fabian with those men?..Or when I found him dead?"

"I mean, when and how you met him...What were the circumstances?...You said Sheila introduced you to him...?"

Andrea studied him doubtfully a moment and finally shrugged and nodded. Moving to her bunk, she settled herself atop her sleeping bag cross legged. "It wasn't long after I'd moved down here..a couple of weeks..maybe a month. Sheila and I had hit it off almost at once and she started pestering me to go down to this nightclub she liked to hang-out at..I'm not much for those kind of places so I kept declining..then she said she knew this really good-looking guy and she'd told him all about me and he wanted to meet me...Well, I didn't really want to meet him..I mean, everybody's had a blind date, I think..and you know they're usually an absolute disaster... and I wasn't really interested in getting involved with anyone anyway because I'd just gotten my new job and apartment and I wasn't really settled yet.

She wouldn't give up, though, and finally I just got tired of fighting it and gave in, figuring I'd just go meet him..to get Sheila off my back.., have a few drinks and let it go at that...But then I met him and he seemed just..just..perfect..really just a little too perfect..but that was later. Just at first it was great. There was no getting around the fact that the guy was gorgeous...

Somehow, I never could really feel more than sort of luke warm about him, though. I don't know why. We just didn't click..Maybe because he seemed just too perfect, if you know what I mean.. And I honestly don't think he felt a lot more attracted to me. We went out a few times...What I'd call real dates. He had supper at my place once...Other than that there wasn't much to it.

He got me started on that survival stuff...I didn't really want to..because, really, I hate the great outdoors..except maybe to look at...but somehow I ended up going anyway..But I never considered that a date, even though, really, that was mostly what we did. We went there maybe five or six times..and usually we met his friends there..the ones we looked up and couldn't find."

"When was the last time you saw Sheila..Alive, I mean?" Ian asked piercingly.

Andrea looked at him in surprise. "The last day I worked. Why?"

Ian ignored the question. "You saw her every day..at work?"

"Not every day...We didn't work right together..if you know what I mean..She had a higher security clearance than me and worked in a different department than I did...Actually, I haven't really seen much of her lately...," she added, frowning now. "I used to see her just about every day..when I first started working at the cape..But then it got to where we almost never bumped into each other..And mostly, when we did, it would be on the weekend...."

"Before or after you regularly saw Fabian?"

"I didn't regularly see Fabian!" Andrea snapped, feeling defensive for some reason she wasn't quite certain of. "I told you it was more an off and on thing than a steady thing.."

"Did you usually 'bump into' Sheila before you saw Fabian though?" Ian prodded.

"Well! How am I supposed to remember that after all this time?" Andrea snapped indignantly. "And what difference does it make anyway!"

"Think!" Ian ground out with forced patience. "It might be important."

"If you're trying to bring Sheila back into this...."

"Just think about it, will you? And give me a straight answer ....It might make a hell of a lot of difference!"

Andrea glared at him, but cast her mind back. She'd certainly seen Sheila this past Friday...She remembered because Sheila had stopped her on her way out to talk...and then Fabian had called to ask her to meet him while they were standing there talking. She remembered that well..Because personal calls at work..even after she'd knocked off..were frowned upon and the security guard at the gate had given her an accusing once-over that had set her teeth on edge.

She remembered it, too, because she'd been in such a rush to find out what he wanted and get rid of him that she'd collided with Sheila and nearly knocked her down..and both of them had dropped their pocketbooks, spilling everything out on the ground. She had a tendency to remember embarrassing moments like that for years... because everyone had gaped at the two of them scrambling around to retrieve their belongings..and her own embarrassment had been multiplied because an interesting assortment of condiments, feminine products, and a half eaten sandwich from lunch had fallen out of her pocketbook and out on the ground..Not that it was anybody's business if she wanted to carry her lunch in her pocketbook and liked to be prepared for any emergency.

But, had it happened before?...Ever? Much less on a regular basis like Ian was trying to imply for some obscure reason? It hadn't happened the week before..But then she hadn't seen Fabian that week either...Or the week before that, for that matter.

As hard as she concentrated, she couldn't remember but two previous occasions when anything even similar had occurred. She was relieved. She even felt rather triumphant about it.

"No," she replied finally. "It didn't...I'm positive..well, almost positive...I did run into Sheila once or twice on a weekend before I went out with Fabian..but that was just coincidence.. Because, as I said, it had gotten to where that was just about the only time I did run into Sheila..And naturally I only went off with Fabian on the weekends, because we both worked during the week...." She trailed off, remembering suddenly that Fabian certainly hadn't been busy at the bank all week as he'd told her.

"On either of those occasions..or any of them..Did anything happen?"

"Like what, for instance?" Andrea asked testily. "You know.. You're starting to sound like those hateful detectives that drilled me for hours."

Ian grinned briefly. "I think the word you're looking for is grilled, honey..."

Andrea pursed her lips, glaring at him as heat rose to her cheeks. "Drilled? Grilled? What's the difference! I don't much care for being given the third degree!"

Ian's amusement vanished. "You haven't come up with dick on your own, baby..And I sure as hell can't draw the answers out of a hat when I don't know the half of what happened!"

"If you're going to start being crude again, I'm not going to talk to you at all," Andrea said stiffly.

Ian cursed under his breath. "Look..Ask yourself this...What would two employees at the Cape..one of which is the girlfriend and the other the ex-wife of, a native of Russia who also just happens to have political connections, have in common? It stinks to high heaven of some sort of espionage, if you ask me!"

Andrea stared at him for a full minute, trying to decide whether she felt more like laughing at such an outrageous suggestion or punching Ian in the nose. Anger won out. "How dare you imply..even for a moment...that I'd have anything to do with espionage against my country..you..you...," she couldn't think of anything bad enough to call him that would also sound ladylike. "I'm just as much an American as you are, damn you!...Besides... It's ridiculous! Maybe you haven't been listening, but I'm not in any position to carry on with spies! I'm nothing but a gofer...Minimum security and all! I don't have access to anything a spy would want!"

"Maybe you don't..But what about Sheila?"

Andrea glared at him, thinking. "I couldn't say about Sheila.. because I haven't got the faintest idea what she did at the cape..Except that she had a higher security clearance than I did..But that was Sheila..not me! Where do you think I came in?"

"As courier, maybe?"

Andrea jumped to her feet. "I will hit you! I swear I'll sock you right in the nose if you imply one more time that I'd do something like that!"

Ian got to his feet as well, facing her almost nose to nose. "Swing away..If you think it'll change anything."

She didn't think she would have done it if he hadn't gotten in her face, because she'd never, in her whole life, actually hit anyone..that didn't attack her first, but that was like pouring gasoline on a fire. She balled up her fist and smacked him in the eye before she even thought.

Ian fell back a step, clapping his hand to his eye as he stared at her in surprise. Andrea felt her jaw drop in shock. She put shaking fingers to her lips, wondering if he was fixing to beat her silly. "Oh! Good Lord! Now look what you made me do!" she exclaimed in a tone that was both defensive and filled with dismay.

"Made you....!" Ian gasped in outrage. "You hit me in the eye!"

Andrea bit her lip. "I know...And I'm awfully sorry, Ian..But you made me so mad..And then you got right in my face..And I just didn't think...Does it hurt very much..?...You're not going to hit me back, are you?"

He glared at her with his good eye. "Yes, it hurts, damn it!" He eyed her for several moments, as if he was contemplating swinging back, then grasped her hands firmly. "I wasn't trying to imply that you'd do anything like that intentionally..but..Don't you see the set-up? They could have used you without you ever being aware of it! You had minimum clearance..so the guards wouldn't have paid you that much attention...Sheila could have planted anything on you..notified Fabian that you were carrying something out..then Fabian contacts you..asks you out..That gives him the opportunity to retrieve whatever you brought out...Don't you see?"

Andrea stared at him, wondering if it was possible. After a moment, she shook her head. "How could they possibly have planted anything on me without me being aware I was carrying it? Or that they'd done it? Even supposing any of this makes any sense..And it doesn't! It's too..farfetched! They don't spy any more..Remember? The cold war is over! We're friendly with the Russia now!.. And even if we weren't..even supposing the spy business was still going on..What would they want at the Cape? They have their own space program! If they'd wanted any part of ours, surely they would have tried to get it..and succeeded..long since!"

"First off," Ian retorted shortly, "It's downright stupid to assume that a country that's been enemies with ours for generations suddenly adores us! Second..You're also assuming that everyone in Russia is tickled pink about the new regime, when the fact of the matter is it's stepped on a lot of people's toes over there..cramped their style..taken power away from them that they once had and aren't likely to be ecstatic about giving up...You haven't taken into account, either, that the space program might not be the target at all..We send up top secret military equipment pretty regularly..Or didn't you know that?..And there are plenty of things small enough that could be planted on you without you being aware of them..and ways to plant them that you wouldn't notice..."

Andrea merely gaped at him in dawning horror and Ian gave her a little shake. "Think about it..They could use the same method to plant..a micro dot, say..as pickpockets use..a little bump..excuse me, so sorry..and they've dropped it in a pocket..Maybe you drop an ear ring and they help you find it..Only they've attached the micro dot to it by then...There are hundreds of ways it could be done."

Andrea felt a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach, recalling her 'accident' with Sheila that last day...And then there was the time Sheila had given her that pair of ear rings..and she'd lost one when she went to the theater with Fabian...She felt distinctly unwell...But it was so hard to believe!

"Even if there's something to this theory of yours..even if what you say is true..How will we ever prove it? Oh, God, Ian! What if they think I'm a spy? Do they still shoot spies?" If Sheila and Fabian had used her as their courier, how in the world would she ever prove that she hadn't known anything about it..that she was completely innocent? Even she could see that she would look guilty right down to her toes...Good Lord! Her father was originally from Austria!....which was a very bad neighborhood, under the circumstances, now that she thought on it...They'd have a field day with that..Might even try to drag her father into it somehow!.. and, even if she could, somehow, prove her innocence of complicity, would they even care? Wasn't there something about ignorance not being an excuse? Would that count here? Could they charge her even though she hadn't known anything about what was going on?

"No," Ian said grimly. "They send them to prison."

Andrea felt like crying. "Well that's a big help! What are we going to do? What am I going to do? How could I prove I didn't have anything to do with it?"

"First off, you need to prove they did!"

"How are we going to do that?" Andrea asked hopefully.

"We've got to find whatever it was they passed..They obviously didn't get it..Fabian's friends..I don't know why..or what went wrong..But undoubtedly he got hold of something important and didn't pass it along and his friends got pretty pissed about it..And, undoubtedly, they're still looking for it or they wouldn't be chasing you."

"Well I don't have it on me..whatever it was. I'm not wearing anything I had on before!"

"That's why we've got to go back to your apartment and look for it..And his too, if we don't find it there..Because it might already have been passed..One thing's for damned sure. We've got to find it before they do..!"

Chapter Nineteen

Andrea felt an involuntary shiver skate down her spine as she stared at her darkened apartment. They'd driven by it twice before Ian finally pulled the car into a parking spot to observe the building..and they'd been observing it for nearly thirty minutes.

"What are we doing?" Andrea asked finally, her nerves stretched as tautly as an over-wound clock spring.

"I'm checking out the apartment...I don't really feel like making a run for it tonight...How about you?" Ian asked dryly.

Andrea sent him a sour glance. "Not particularly..But I can't see a thing...."

"Neither can I..Ready?" he asked and opened the car door before she had the chance to answer.

Andrea rolled her eyes, but got out of the car. "Do you really think this is going to do any good? The police have already taken the place apart..what was left after the spies..or whoever they were..went through it, that is...," she whispered.

Ian stopped beside her, studying her a long moment before he answered. "What have you got to lose?"

She stared at him, realizing that he was absolutely right. She had nothing at all to loose..except maybe her life if those men happened upon them..and she wasn't terribly sure she was going to want that if she couldn't find something to prove her innocence. It was bad enough to contemplate a ruined career that had just gotten off to a promising beginning. It was unthinkable to contemplate spending her youth, or what remained of it, in a federal penitentiary somewhere. "Let's go."

The bathroom window Andrea had used to enter when last she'd visited her apartment, had been boarded up, they discovered when they reached it. After staring at it in disgust for several moments, Ian moved swiftly and silently toward the front of the apartment once more. Digging that odd looking knife out of his pocket, he opened her front door as easily as if it hadn't even been locked.

"What is that thing, anyway?" Andrea asked when he'd closed the door quietly behind them.

Ian glanced at her sharply before moving into the living room. "Just a handy tool," he replied rather absently as he picked his way carefully across the room in the dark and checked the drapes to make certain they completely covered the windows.

"I'll say," Andrea responded wryly, peering through the inky blackness at the ruins of her living room. "What do you use it for..besides picking locks, I mean," she added with a touch of amusement. "..And how on earth, and why, did you get to be so good at picking locks, anyway?"

She heard, rather than saw, him shrug. "This and that.." He threw her a sheepish grin over his shoulder. She knew because she saw the white flash of his teeth in his swarthy face. "..And I suppose I got good at it because I was very bad about remembering my keys..It's easier on upkeep if you pick your door lock instead of breaking in by way of the windows every time you lock yourself out." He reached into his pocket again and withdrew a small pen light, flicking it on. After a moment, he handed it to her and fished a second one from his shirt pocket. "Where do you want to start?"

She'd expected him to tell her where to start..he was such a take-charge kind of guy. "My room..I suppose. That's where I usually change..You did say they would have planted it on me...?"

He nodded and she led the way. "I think it's safe to turn the lights on in here. I have room darkening shades..and heavy drapes besides..When I get the chance to sleep late, I don't want daylight waking me."

"Wait.." He moved to the window and checked the curtains. "All right."

She flicked the switch and then blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness. When her eyes had adjusted, she surveyed the room, looking for the clothes she'd worn to work that last day. They had been in the dirty clothes hamper, but nothing was where it had been. She moved further into the room, sifting through the 'rubble'.

"What were you wearing, anyway?" Ian asked, looking her dresser over, picking up and examining first one thing and then another.

"I'm pretty sure it was my aqua outfit..It's one of my favorites..The slacks are a deep aqua gabardine..And there's a pale aqua sweater that matches it with a cute little lace peter pan collar..." She broke off when she saw the sardonic look on Ian's face. "What?"

"What is a peter pan collar and what color is aqua, for God's sake?"

Andrea pursed her lips. "Aqua is greenish blue..only this outfit is more greenish than bluish..and a peter pan collar is a small, two piece collar that's rounded on both ends...You do know what lace is, don't you?..Cotton lace..sort of like it's been tatted or maybe crocheted.."

"Whoa..you lost me..What's a tat?..Never mind...Is this it?" he asked, holding the sweater up.

"Yes!" Andrea leapt the mound of clothes in front of her and crowded close. "Do you see anything? What does a micro dot look like, anyway? I'm not sure I'd know one if I saw it..."

Ian was studying the sweater frowningly, in particular the small button that fastened at the back of the neck opening. "It's like a tiny, black speck..You wouldn't happen to have a magnifying glass, would you?"

"A speck?" Andrea echoed in dismay. "Good Lord, Ian! We'll never find anything like that..And even if I had a magnifying glass, which I don't, we'd never find it in this mess.." She looked around the room, feeling doom settle upon her shoulders. She was an optimist by nature, but she wasn't an idiot. The chances of finding something like Ian was talking about were about a million to one, and she knew it.

"I didn't say it was a micro dot..Hell! How would I know? I just said it might be..so make sure you examine anything you pick up very carefully..Or better yet, let me look it over if you suspect it, huh?"

"Alright," she responded rather glumly and turned back to her task of digging around for the slacks. She finally found them..across the room from where Ian had found the sweater, but there was nothing in the pockets..except lint. She surreptitiously removed the size tag before she handed them to Ian..at least, she thought she did it surreptitiously. Old eagle eye caught the movement and immediately demanded that she hand it over.

"It's just the tag!" she snapped. "They could hardly have put anything there without me noticing it!"

His hand remained where it was, however, outstretched, demanding. She slapped the tag into his hand and stalked off, flopping on the edge of the bed. "Well?" she asked after a moment.

He looked up at her and grinned. "You wear a ten!" he exclaimed in mock horror.

"Oh, ho! ho!" Andrea snapped. "You're so very humorous! Did you find something, or not?"

"Not," he replied in disgust, his humor vanishing. "What else were you wearing?"

Andrea pursed her lips. "Panties and a bra! And don't tell me they could have slipped anything into them when I wasn't aware of it because I'll never believe it!"

Ian grinned, but forbore comment. "Any kind of jewelry? Ear rings? Hair gadgets?"

She sighed deeply with disgust, but rose to search for them. He examined each piece..since she couldn't remember exactly what she'd been wearing..and still they came up with nothing.

"What else? Anything else? Anything at all? Think!"

Andrea collapsed on the edge of the bed, fighting tears. "Nothing! There's nothing else! How are we ever going to find it when we don't even know what we're looking for?"

Ian knelt in front of her, taking her hands. "Wrong..We might not know exactly what we're looking for, but we've got a pretty good idea now...I know we're on the right track...Don't quit on me now, Andy! Think, girl! You're absolutely, positively certain there isn't anything else that you regularly carry with you to work?..A lunch pail? Anything like that?"

Andrea stared at him a long moment, her eyes widening. "Ian! My pocketbook! I always take it..and I hadn't even thought about that! And..you know what you were talking about before?..About ways they could have planted it? Well..Sheila and I bumped into each other..I mean literally..last Friday when I was rushing to catch the phone..and everything spilled out..I thought it was my own clumsiness..But what if that was the plant?"

She grabbed her pocketbook up, unfastened it and began dumping its contents onto the bed beside her.

"Easy!" Ian told her. "If its in there, you'll lose it shaking it around like that."

She stopped, looking at him in dismay. "Lord! If its that easy to lose, I could already have lost it..just about anywhere. This thing's been jolted around so much..with all the running, and jumping and climbing..it could have fallen out anytime!"

But she smoothed the sheet carefully before emptying her pocketbook and giving it a shake to make certain nothing had hung up in it. Ian took the purse and examined it while she carefully picked through its contents.

Her shoulders slumped when she'd finished. "Find anything?" she asked hopefully.

Ian shook his head. "You?"

"Not a thing. Not a blessed thing! You check it. I'll look the pocketbook over again, just in case.."

But a further search still produced nothing. "What now?" Andrea asked glumly, plunking the articles back in her purse one at the time. "Do you suppose I lost it?"

Ian shrugged. "It's a possibility..But there's also a possibility that Fabian had already retrieved it when he was killed. He had the opportunity, I would imagine..Was he here? At any time after the incident with Sheila?"

Andrea shook her head. "No. He was supposed to have come over that night, but he called and said he couldn't make it and asked me to meet him the next day out at the range...I suppose he could have gotten it then..But I think its doubtful. I usually locked my pocketbook in the trunk of my car when I did a run."

Ian studied her a moment. "He could have doubled back at any time, picked the lock, taken it, and you would never have known anything about it...You weren't with him all the time, were you?"

"I wasn't with him at all..except at first," Andrea replied, feeling the stirrings of hope again. "We weren't playing partners. It was every man for himself..We all went off in different directions."

"So," Ian said, rising to his feet and offering his hand to help her up. "We check his place out."

Andrea repressed a shudder. "Do you really think that's necessary? I mean..Isn't it likely they would have found it if it was there?..Those men? He must have hidden it somewhere else."

Ian studied her for a long moment and finally reached up to touch her cheek, almost as if he didn't realize what he was doing, his expression unreadable. In a moment, he let his hand drop. "You don't have to go in if you don't want to..I'll check the place out. You can wait in the car."

Andrea swallowed, hard, wishing he'd done more than lightly caress her cheek, wishing he'd pulled her into his arms and just held her tightly. There was a strength in him that was far more than physical that she needed at the moment. She would've liked, just for a few moments, to feel safe and protected..loved. She couldn't bring herself to ask for it, however, even by way of gesture and she looked away before she was tempted to throw herself at him. "It's all right. I'll be all right," she murmured and turned away.

Ian stared at her bent head, fighting a hopeless, sort of sinking sensation that made his chest feel uncomfortably tight. Jee-sus! He did hope he wasn't going to do anything really stupid...like fall in love with her..Because that would be one dilly of a stupid thing to do! "Let's go," he said brusquely, and turned to lead the way out, checking the area carefully before he let her out of the apartment and carefully locked it behind them.

The approach to Fabian's apartment felt almost like an instant replay. Andrea could certainly see the need for caution, but she wasn't at all certain studying the outside of the apartment was all that helpful. She supposed they might have been able to see the beam of a flashlight if anyone inside was careless enough to let them..Or they might have noticed the twitch of a curtain, if anyone had been peering out..or happened to brush against it, but she thought it doubtful trained spies would make that kind of mistake..if they were spies, that is. She still wasn't a hundred percent convinced of that.

As for the outside of the apartment, they would certainly be able to notice the fiery end of a cigarette, if one of the men was obliging enough to be smoking one. They might even have been able to notice some movement if there'd been any. But the shadows in the area surrounding the apartment were deep enough to conceal a small army of men if they were disobliging enough to remain reasonably still.

All the same, she couldn't quibble with Ian's caution and didn't, waiting in nerve-wracked silence until he decided to park the car and signaled for her to get out. Her nerves tightened considerably as they reached the apartment and Ian signaled for her to wait near the entrance while he reconnoitered on foot, searching for the easiest way in.

She almost jumped out of her skin when the front door opened, almost silently, and a man's husky whisper emerged from the cave-like interior. "Looks clear..Come on.."

"Ian?" she asked shakily.

"No. Count Dracula," Ian snapped wryly. "Will you get in here before someone sees you lurking in the shrubbery."

"Well! I like that! You told me to wait there!" Andrea whispered indignantly as she followed him inside.

She shivered as she stepped into the hallway, feeling goose bumps rise along her arms as she recalled the last time she'd been inside Fabian's apartment. "Where do you want to start?" she asked nervously.

"Let's start at the back and work our way forward."

She knew by the time they'd searched both the apartment's bedrooms and the bath, that they were fighting against hopeless odds. She voiced none of her doubts, however, merely going through everything she came to methodically before she discarded it.

Every muscle in her body was protesting the continual bending, squatting, stretching and lifting they'd been doing for what seemed like hours by the time they had searched the kitchen and moved on to the living room. She surveyed it from the doorway with disgust, more than half tempted to suggest they give up..for the night anyway..and come back another time.

She didn't, however. She merely followed Ian wearily into the room to continue the search, examining the walls first for any signs of a built-in safe and everything in the room that might possibly have some sort of hidden compartment. Having discovered nothing along those lines, she turned to examining books, which didn't take long as there were few of them. Undoubtedly, Fabian hadn't been much of a reader.

She dropped the last of them and simply stood for several moments in the middle of the room, wondering where to go next. After a moment, Fabian's stereo system caught her eye and she moved toward it. "Ian?" she said with a touch of urgency.

"What?" he asked absently, not even bothering to look up.

"Do you think there's any possibility it might be a tape? Or even a CD?"

"Doubtful..Extremely doubtful."

"Why?" Andrea asked a little resentfully, because, really, it seemed like an awfully clever idea to her..And she'd seen movies where perfectly innocent looking tapes had been used to carry information, simply by switching the cover label.

"Do you honestly think they could have planted a tape in your pocket with you none the wiser?"

She stared at his bent head resentfully. "They could have dropped it in my pocketbook."

"Right. From the looks of it, you carry everything except the kitchen sink in there...I expect you wouldn't have noticed if they'd dropped a tape in it..Better have a look."

She plunked her hands on her hips and glared at him for a long moment. He remained maddeningly oblivious to her daggers-look, however, and, after a moment, she stalked over to the area where Fabian's tapes had been dumped and began examining them to see if any of the labels looked like they'd been tampered with.

She'd gone through almost half the pile when some slight sound or movement caught her attention. She looked up a little absently and froze. "Uh oh...Ian?"

"What is it now?" Ian asked irritably.

"I think we're in deep....do do," she said a little more urgently, feeling her vocal chords thaw slightly..along with her brain cells.
An involuntary chuckle escaped Ian. "We're what?" he asked, turning to look at her.
And then all hell broke loose.
Chapter Twenty

She hadn't seen the other man. The one standing behind Ian. Undoubtedly, Ian never saw him either. He hadn't straightened to his full height when the man brought the butt of his pistol down on the back of his head.

Ian dropped like a felled ox and lay still. Andrea screamed, leaping the obstacles in her path as she rushed toward him. Someone grabbed her from behind before she reached him and she turned on the man mindlessly, raking her fingernails down his face. He yelped and released her and she flung herself at Ian, landing on her knees beside him and pulling his head into her lap. "Ian? Ian?" she gasped desperately, suddenly aware that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. She bent over him, cradling him to her. "Ian! Oh, God, Ian! Don't be dead! Please don't be dead!"

They wrenched her lose from him, dragging her backward. She whirled to attack again, kicking, biting, scratching any part of their anatomy that came within reach, attacking first one, and then the other man as they came at her.

Having fought them, briefly, to a standstill, she turned to Ian again. She never reached him. She was grabbed from behind again. A brawny arm caught her in a choke hold and a suffocating cloth was pressed to her nose and mouth. She gasped, fighting for air, and a sickly sweet odor invaded her lungs. Her head swam. She struggled to break the hold, holding her breath as long as she could, trying not breathe in more than shallow gasps of air as she fought to tear the cloth away. He only held the cloth tighter, until she couldn't breathe at all. Terrified, she clawed at the hand that was suffocating her. It loosened slightly and she gasped for air, feeling her head swim more sickeningly still with each breath, staring wide-eyed at Ian's still form as the light dimmed and went out.

"Jee-sus! You look like hell! Your wife's going to want some answers..You look like you got hold of a wildcat..or one got hold of you."

"Damned bitch!..And you don't exactly look like hot shit yourself!"

"Shut up! Both of you! You should have been expecting it..You didn't think she was going to just drop into your hands like a ripe plum, did you?..You shouldn't have..not after last time."

"I didn't expect to get the hide torn off me...I don't get paid enough for this kind of shit!"

"Naw..Generally you could expect to get a bullet hole in the head for that kind of stupidity..You were supposed to sneak up on her and catch her off guard...Anybody's dangerous when they're cornered and fighting for their life..Even little gals like this."

"Humph! Little gal! I've had men hit me that didn't throw nearly as hard a punch as she does...And I'll probably get blood poisoning from these damned scratches."

"My heart pumps piss.."

He grunted in disgust, but then laughed. "I don't think she was fighting for her life anyway..I figure she was all broke up about lover boy over there. What do you think, Frank?"

Frank chuckled. "Sure. That was it....Otherwise she might have tried to give us the slip again..Only she couldn't tear herself from his side," he mocked mournfully. He paused a moment, then added, "Think we can use it?"

"I told you two dimwits to shut up. She may be coming around. If you two jackasses keep it up, you're going to let something slip..We're trying to get information here...Not give it out."

Andrea frowned slightly. The voices sounded peculiar, almost as if she was hearing them from under water. Or was she only dreaming them?

Slight as her movements were, apparently they didn't go unnoticed. The first man spoke again. "See? She's coming around. I told you I didn't use too much!"

"You can thank your lucky stars...Because, if you'd killed her, I'm afraid I'd have been forced to carve you into little pieces and use you for 'gator bait..I told you to be careful with her, you son-of-a-bitch....If she's dead we don't get anything! Understand?......Now, out! We can question her later..when she has her wits about her."

She heard footsteps and then a door closed somewhere nearby. A moment later she heard the key turning in the lock. Still, she didn't move. Her mind was still far too foggy, and as she swam upwards into consciousness, her head began to swim, faster and faster so that she lay very, very still, fighting waves of nausea.

It began to recede after a time, slowly. "Ian?" she gasped finally, managing no more than a faint whisper. Even at that, she thought for several horrible moments that the slight movement would make her gag. She swallowed convulsively, repeatedly, and tried again. "Ian?"

A faint moan came to her ears..Right in her ear..almost. Her eyes snapped open..At least, she felt them move. She could see no more than she'd been able to see with her eyes closed. Inky blackness, unrelieved even by a faint glow of light, greeted her.

She felt a start of terror that drove the nausea from her mind. She tried to move and couldn't. She closed her eyes again, fighting panic.

"Ian? Is that you? Are you alright?"

He nodded. She felt him nod. He must be right behind her..or beside her. Again she tried to move and, again, failed. She realized then that she was tied hand and foot. It sent a claustrophobic surge of mindless panic through her. She struggled against the bonds, not even aware that she was rubbing her wrists and ankles raw until she felt the moist, warm, stickiness of blood.

"Stop it, Andy!" Ian said sharply. "That's not helping...In fact, if you keep it up, I'm reasonably certain I'm going to puke down my shirt...My head hurts like hell!"

Andrea burst into tears. "Oh, Ian! I thought they'd killed you! Are you sure you're alright?"

"The way my head feels, I'm almost sorry they didn't..Now, don't start bawling again...I'm OK. What about you?"

She sniffed back her tears, managing a nod. "Yes..But, Ian! I think I'm blind! I can't see. Everything's black."

"Then we're both blind," Ian retorted bracingly. "Because I can't see a thing either."

"Oh." She swallowed convulsively a couple of times. "Ian?"

"What?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Oh hell!..Don't! Breathe slow and shallow."

She closed her eyes, trying to comply. After a few moments, the nausea receded again. "And don't curse at me!" she managed finally.

He chuckled and then groaned as it shot a shaft of pain through his head. "Atta girl! You sound almost back to normal!"

"I am not back to normal! I'm scared to death..And I'm tied up and I can't stand it, Ian..Really I can't! I can't move my hands or my feet..and I'm tied to something sort of hard and lumpy..and I'm starting to get claustrophobic!"

"That's me!" Ian retorted irritably.

"You too?"

"No! The hard, lumpy thing..It's me," Ian snapped indignantly.

"Oh!" A giggle escaped her that was only slightly hysterical.

"No wonder you panicked when I said puke." She moved her head around experimentally, discovering that he was right. She was tied to him.

"Don't do that! Your hair's tickling me like crazy and I can't scratch!"

Andrea went obediently still. "Ian?"

"What?" he asked in exasperation.

"How are we going to untie each other when we can't even reach each other's hands?"

"I couldn't say for certain," he said sarcastically, "but I think that's what they had in mind...keeping us from untying each other. But, don't panic. I think I've gotten the rope on my wrists loosened a little."

She'd been wondering what those odd contortions were that he was doing. She was relieved, and not just about the ropes. She'd feared his movements might have something to do with his head injury. "Do you think you can untie it?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm working on it."

She started working at her own. She quickly discovered, however, that it was useless. All the twisting and pulling she'd done before in her panic seemed to have tightened, rather than loosened, her own.

"Don't..do that," Ian said in a strained voice.

"What?" she asked blankly.

"Just hold still, will you?"

She felt it then..a very hard lump..about the size of a baby's arm. It sent a shaft of warmth through her that wasn't all embarrassment. She stopped struggling abruptly, holding herself very still, though her mind was clacking away like a high tech computer, whizzing thoughts across her mind so quickly she couldn't grasp them.

But it occurred to her that she'd been given a perfectly innocent opportunity to do a little cuddling like she'd wanted to do before when she was so scared and Ian had turned her away. She didn't even have to humiliate herself to get what she wanted. It was doubtful he would even notice, under the circumstances.

She allowed herself to relax against him as if she'd grown tired of holding herself tensely at the limit the ropes allowed. Immediately, she felt the comforting warmth and strength she'd coveted. It was a shame her arms were tied so that she couldn't hold herself more tightly against him. She turned her head, shifting so that she could lay her head on his comfortingly hard shoulder, resting her forehead against the side of his throat. His scent filled her nostrils, adding to the sense of being enveloped by him and she sighed gustily with contentment.

"Will you be still?" Ian said testily.

"I'm only trying to get comfortable!" Andrea exclaimed with an injured sniff.

"If you get any more comfortable," Ian enunciated between his teeth, "I might well explode."

Andrea felt her face flame. "Are you trying to be crude again?"

A half laugh, half groan escaped him. "Damn it..Andy...Wait! that's got it!" he added in relief. In a moment, she felt his arms slide around her and his hands covered hers. "Now you." He paused a minute. "What's this sticky stuff? Is that blood?"

Andrea nodded. "I'm sorry. I know it's gross..But they were so tight..And I'm afraid I panicked, just a little....I can't stand being restrained like this...I know it's crazy, but it makes me feel like I can't breathe."

Ian was silent for a long moment. "Don't worry about it, baby. I'll have them off you in a minute....Those bastards ought to be strung up by their balls!"

"I really wish..," Andrea started to object to his language and then let it drop. What was a little crudity, anyway? It was the sentiment that counted, and she couldn't object to that. It made her feel warm all over to hear the concern in his voice. Almost, she could convince herself that he cared, really cared about her.

Unfortunately, she couldn't be certain that it wasn't anything more than plain, generic, male chivalry coming out. Surprisingly, hazardous situations could bring those latent instincts out of the rudest men. Not, she added loyally as an afterthought, that Ian was the rudest of men. He was certainly a chauvinistic pig. But he was a rather nice chauvinistic pig, when one got right down to it. And it was really nice to have a chauvinist around, even if you were a femininist, when you were in desperate need of a little male-type protection.

She gasped, partly in relief and partly in pain as Ian slid the ropes off her wrists. She rubbed them together to try to get the circulation going again as he reached up and began tugging at the knot at her back.

"How are your wrists?"

"Better...I'm starting to get the feeling back in my hands. It hurts like pure old T hades I can tell you!"

"Do you think you could loosen the knot at my back?"

"I can try." She struggled for several minutes and finally managed to work her arms around him beneath the ropes. She found she couldn't really reach the knot well, however, since her arms weren't quite long enough to reach comfortably around him. She shifted closer, struggling to reach it better.

"Never mind," Ian said, a little hoarsely. "I think I've got this now."

He did. In a moment Andrea felt the ropes slide loose. She untangled herself and sat up, reaching for the ropes around her ankles. Her fingers were still stiff and somewhat numb, however, and she was still struggling to untie the rope when she felt Ian's hands groping for her in the dark. "Here. Let me help."

He pulled at them for several moments and Andrea bit her lip to keep from moaning as pain shot through her feet and ankles. Finally, however, she felt the ropes go slack and she shook them free.

She looked up, at the spot where she knew Ian must be. She could make out little besides a darker darkness within the inky blackness that surrounded them. "Where are we, do you suppose?" she asked, trying to keep her mind off the pain as she rubbed the circulation back into her feet.

"Beats me."

She felt him move away. "Ian?"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to see if I can find us a way out of here..Or at least discover where we are.."

"Oh." She sat perfectly still for several moments, but the inky blackness that swirled around her began to prey on her nerves. She felt beneath her and her palms touched a cold, hard surface. Concrete? She groped blindly around her, as far as she could reach without moving, terrified that she might be sitting on the edge of a precipice of some sort.

She didn't find the edge of anything, however, and after a few moments, she got on her hands and knees and began groping her way along the floor, looking for a wall. She would feel much better if she could put her back to a wall. She needed something solid to lean against to stop this vertigo, because she definitely had a dilly of a case of vertigo.

Something hard hit her in the side and she toppled over, gasping in pain. "Ian? What was that?" she asked as she heard a hard thunk on the floor next to her.

He was cursing under his breath. "What the hell are you doing there? I left you on the other side of the room!"

"Something..or somebody, just hit me!"

"That was me..And I fell over you. What are you doing on the floor, anyway?"

"I can't see! And I can't walk when I can't see! I don't know how you can."

"It really isn't all that difficult..as long as something doesn't move in your way that wasn't there the last time you walked past," he said wryly.

Andrea got on her hands and knees again, waving her hand in front of her every few feet until she came into contact with a wall. She shuffled toward it quickly, turning and pushing her back up against it. She felt slightly better almost at once..having discovered two points of orientation, the wall and the floor.

"Did you find anything?"

"I found a door. It's locked."

"I know. I heard them lock it when they went out."

He was silent for several moments. "You heard them? Did you see who it was?"

She shook her head, realized he couldn't see the movement and replied, "No...Not just now..but before, in the apartment when they caught us..It was those two from the mall. And one of the guys called the other one Frank..I remembered that. There was another man with them, but I didn't recognize his voice...To tell you the truth, I didn't recognize any of their voices. They sounded really weird. What do you think that was they gave me?"

"They gave you something? Drugged you?"

She nodded again, before she thought. "They didn't actually give me something..One of them put a rag over my mouth and nose..It was the most disgusting stuff! It must have been chloroform..or something like that, because it knocked me right out...Do you think you can pick the lock?"

"I doubt it."

Andrea felt a sickening sinking of dismay. "You don't think your thingy will work on it? Or can't you do it just by feel?"

"I don't have my thingy..It would have been nice if they'd been stupid enough to leave it with me, but unfortunately they didn't."

"Oh," Andrea said in a forlorn voice. "So..we can't get out?"

"Unfortunately..Not at the moment..But don't sweat it. I'll think of something."

Andrea was silent for several moments, but it felt as if the walls were closing in on her and the almost deafening silence made it worse. "What kind of place is this, anyway?" she asked rhetorically.

"It's my guess it's a cellar."

"A cellar?" Andrea echoed. "In Florida? I didn't think anybody in the south had a cellar..particularly not one without windows."

"Most people don't..That's why I figure this must be beneath some sort of public building..maybe an abandoned one that hasn't been torn down yet..," Ian speculated. "Maybe we're beneath the old high school."

"My!" Andrea snapped sarcastically. "That is comforting! Thanks a heap! I suppose we can expect the roof to cave in any minute now."

"I don't think its the roof we need to be worrying about," Ian responded tartly. "Obviously those men are getting pretty damned desperate to locate their 'property'."

"Getting! Andrea exclaimed. "Oh! You're just full of good cheer tonight, aren't you? Don't bother to spare me! Just tell me like it is!"

"Well it won't do any good to stick your head in the sand!" Ian snapped.

"I can stick my head in the sand if I want to!" Andrea shot back, fighting a sudden rush of tears as terror descended upon her like a tidal wave. She closed her eyes, fighting them, fighting the images of Fabian and Sheila's mutilated bodies that rushed upon her. It didn't do any good. She kept seeing them in her mind's eye, still-lifes of every different angle and perspective, like the frames of a slide projector dropping into the slot, one by one.

"Ian?"

"What?"

"I'm scared!" she exclaimed in a little girl voice. "I'm scared to death!"

Chapter Twenty-One

She heard the rustle of his clothing as he moved toward her. In a moment, his hand touched her head and he settled beside her, placing his arm around her shoulders.

It was something, but not nearly enough. She turned to him, burrowing her face against his chest, seeking warmth. She was cold... so cold with fear that her jaw muscles ached from trying to keep her teeth from chattering. His hand fell to her waist as she turned and remained there, no more than a token touching. "I'm cold, Ian..," she complained, wanting him to put his arms around her.

He lifted his hands to rub her arms beneath the sweater she wore. "It'll be all right...I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Andy..I promise."

It was a comforting, if useless, promise and they both knew it. How could he protect her from men with guns when he wasn't armed? She snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around his waist to hold him tightly against her. "Hold me, Ian...please." But then she realized even that wouldn't be enough. She lifted her head, nuzzling his neck. "Make love to me," she whispered.

He expelled a hissing breath of impatience. "For God's sake, Andrea. Get a hold of yourself! What if they come back? Do you want to be rutting on the floor like a couple of animals?"

If he'd slapped her, she couldn't have been more stunned or humiliated. She jerked back, as if she'd been burned, suddenly hideously conscious of the fact that he'd made no attempt to respond to her overtures..no more than a token response. She couldn't see his expression, but she didn't need to. She disengaged herself carefully and moved away from him, pulling her knees up and holding herself very tightly.

"Andy..Don't think I wouldn't love to make love to you..But this is a damned awkward time, baby..," Ian said a little helplessly.

"Don't!" Andrea said coldly. "Don't you ever throw me a bone! I'm not a damned dog!...And if you think I'll ever give you the opportunity to make me feel like a fool again, you don't know me very well..Just stay the hell away from me from now on."

She pushed herself to her feet then, clutching the wall with one hand as she moved away from him. She had to put some distance between them before she was tempted to scratch his eyes out.

He caught her as she reached the corner, jerking her around and shoving her against the wall hard enough it rattled her teeth in her head.

"Let go of me, you..you jerk!" she snarled through gritted teeth. Curling her fingers into claws, she swiped at him, raking them across his chest, discovering in the process that he'd discarded his shirt.

"No," he said implacably, trying to capture her hands as she alternately shoved and pounded on him. After a brief, wordless, struggle, he caught her wrists, holding them against the wall on either side of her head. "It wasn't a bone, damn it!" he growled, thrusting his body tightly against her. "You naive little fool! Can't you tell when a man wants you? Can't you tell when it's eating at his gut till he can hardly think straight? When it's eating at his soul?

I want you, all right, baby..I want you so bad want isn't even the word for it..I can taste it every time I look at you...I crave you..like water or air..And I'm damned tired of trying to be noble and denying myself what I want..and getting kicked in the head for my pains..I wanted you the first time I set eyes on you..and the only thing that's stopped me from taking what you've offered is the fact that you're addictive as hell. The more I get of you, the more I want..and I don't think its going to stop..In fact, I know it isn't going to stop!"

Andrea was beyond listening..or caring if she had. She struggled to pull her arms free, thrusting against him in an effort to push him away. It was like a bird, beating itself against a glass window. He didn't budge. Not an inch. "I said let me go!" she ground out. "I'll kill you if you don't let me go!"

He thrust her arms behind her back, capturing both wrists in one large hand. He caught the nape of her neck in a vise-like grip with the other and bent his head to nuzzle her neck. "No!" he said huskily, lifting his mouth to her ear..trying to capture her mouth.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she exclaimed, evading his questing mouth, realizing suddenly that it had become a power struggle between them, feeling panic swell inside her. Her voice began to shake with suppressed tears. "Stop it, Ian..Please!" she choked out on a sob.

He froze, lifting his head in an attempt to study her expression. When he couldn't see her, he released her hands and lifted his own to cup her face, touching it lightly, testing its contours with his fingertips like a blind man, wiping the hot, salty tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. A groan escaped him, a sound of frustration..of hopelessness. He dropped his forehead to rest against hers, nuzzling nose to nose. "I'm sorry, baby.. Sorry..It's just...You make me so crazy, baby..," he murmured, dipping his head to nuzzle her cheek in wordless apology then lifting it slightly to nip lightly at her ear lobe.

"Every time I look at you I get a stiff..leg and then I think..Jesus! What a hell of a time to have something like that on my mind..Right in the middle of this damned mess!..And I don't want you to hate me for it later.."

It was enough to drive a red-blooded male insane, trying to think with his brain when that mindless beast in his jeans was itching to snatch what was offered the moment it was offered. But he'd known he didn't have any choice but to fight the call of the wild..Because she was going to hate him for this once she'd had time to think it over..and the Lord knew that was the last thing in the world he wanted. A few moments of pleasure just weren't worth what he was going to have to pay later...Not once he realized that once would never be enough and twice would only make it twice as bad...Because he'd begun to think along the lines of something permanent..at least fifty years or so..if he could get them both out of this damned mess in one piece.

Andrea sniffed, wondering whether to believe him or not.. wondering if she really cared, at the moment, if he didn't mean what he was implying...Because, what he was doing to her felt absolutely wonderful and she didn't really want to think beyond that. She had gotten to the point that she didn't want to think about the next hour, much less tomorrow. "What makes you think I'd hate you later?" she asked, vaguely puzzled.

"You might get the notion I was taking advantage of the situation..of your fear..that sort of thing..," he responded a little absently, having made his way to her other ear by now. He was done with apologizing..and holding back too, for that matter. His mind had already packed up and gone on holiday and except for dim echoes of warning, which he ignored, he'd given over to instinct...And his instincts told him now, right now or his juices were going to back right up to his brain and cause permanent damage.

"Are you?" Andrea asked, faintly interested.

He lifted his head to stare at her in the darkness, trying to see her expression. "Baby..I'm about ready to use any advantage I can get," he murmured raggedly and covered her mouth with his own, sawing his mouth back and forth across hers in a hungry, nibbling sort of kiss that stoked the embers and sent flames licking through them.

She sighed, in relief, in delight, opening her lips to him as his tongue came seeking, feeling a rush of heat engorge her breasts and the center of her femininity with stinging sensitivity as the rough, warmth of it skated across her own in a sensuous waltz of pleasure. She waltzed with him, exploring his mouth in her turn, beckoned him back and then seized the initiative again until the thrust and sway of their tongues became a mating in itself.

His breathing became short and ragged. He thrust himself more tightly against her, dropping his hands to her hips, kneading the sensitive area near her pelvic bones with his thumbs until Andrea feared her knees would buckle. She lifted her arms to drape them around his neck, ruffling the spiky stubble of his dark hair with her fingers, tracing the contours of his ears, the sturdy muscles of his neck; running her palms over the hard muscles of his shoulders and upper back before she slid them along his chest and around his sides for better access, first stroking the firm muscles of his back, then teasing by raking her fingernails lightly up and down them. He shuddered, groaning his pleasure against her mouth and she traced a path back along the 'wash board' of muscles that covered his ribs to his chest, exploring the hard ridges of muscles there and the wiry mat of dark, curling hair.

She followed the 'happy trail' south, remembering she'd been dying to head south for a while now..to check out the natives..and see what came up.

"Ian...Ian?" she said a little breathlessly when he lifted his head. "What if they do come back?"

"I'll kill them," he ground out and captured her mouth once more, sliding his hands upwards now, catching the edge of her sweater and burrowing under it with his fingers to grasp her around the ribs for a long moment before his hands crept to the back of her bra. He struggled for some moments with the multitude of fasteners at the back and pulled away, cursing under his breath.

"What is this thing, anyway? It feels like armor."

Andrea felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. How many times had she wished she could wear those dainty, ultra feminine little wisps of a bra? They made harnesses for full-breasted women! Ugly, utilitarian flopper stoppers! "It's my bra," she retorted stiffly.

"Well it's got too damned many hooks..you'll have to stop wearing it..Aaah! Success!"

He recaptured her mouth as he brought his hands around under the edge of her bra, shifting it so that the weight of her breasts dropped into his hands. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as he massaged them and Andrea forgot her embarrassment over the excessive nature of that particular asset.

He left off kissing her to roam farther afield, kneeling before her as he peeled her sweater upwards. Andrea shivered as the cold air of the basement caressed her skin, but it turned into a shudder of pleasure as she felt first his cheek and then his lips against the sensitive skin of her midriff. She sucked in a breath and held it as his lips meandered a trail upwards, over the curve of her breast, expelling it as he captured the pebbled peak.

Pleasure akin to pain shot through her like thunder bolts, gathering heat and moisture like molten lava into the core of her femininity, electrifying her senses so that each new touch was almost as much torture as it was pleasure. Wonderful torture, she thought, gasping as he moved to her other breast, sucking the tone from her muscles even as he suckled there until she shook with the effort to stand. "Ian..?" she said faintly, the word both warning and paean, as she gave in to the weakness and began to sink to her knees before him.

He released her, catching her to him as she sank, so that her breasts slipped along the faint abrasiveness of the hair along his chest, dipping his head to nip playfully at her shoulder. "The Lone Ranger rides again," he murmured with a husky chuckle against her neck.

She shuddered as the moist warmth of his breath sent a legion of goose bumps careening out of control. "Mmmm?" she murmured vaguely.

He captured her hand, carrying it down to mold it about the soft mounds at the base of his sex. "The bells rang.." He lifted one of his own hands and cupped a breast. "The mountains shook..." His other hand slipped downwards to cup her sex, massaging it. "..And the Lone Ranger rode off into death valley."

She chuckled huskily, dipping her head to nip at his shoulder. "When does the Lone Ranger ride?"

He lowered her slowly to the floor, covering her body with his own. "Now..," he said, unsnapping her jeans and carefully lowering the zipper until he could fit his hand inside the opening, parting the petals of her woman's flesh until he discovered the font of delight that guarded the well of pleasure.

Andrea gasped, tugging at her jeans to give him better access. She gasped again, with shock, as her bare buttocks felt concrete as cold as a block of ice, coming up in an arch that was only partly from pleasure. "C.cold!"

Ian rolled to his side and then onto his back, bringing her with him. "Shit!" he gasped as his back came into contact with the floor. "Up."

She rolled off him and onto her knees beside him.

He grasped her shoulders, kissing her briefly on the mouth. "Hold tight..I'll be right back."

She heard him move away. In a moment he was back, wearing his shirt now..though it was open. He pulled her to her feet and knelt to tug her shoes off, placing them carefully to one side before he turned back to tug at her jeans, hooking his thumbs in the waist and sliding both jeans and panties down over her hips in one movement. She bent to grasp his shoulders as he lifted first one foot and then the other, jerking the jeans off and dropping them on top of her shoes.

She shifted from one foot to the other as he turned away from her, feeling doubts surface as to the wisdom of all this..feeling uncomfortably embarrassed that she was standing around in nothing more than socks and a sweater. The only bright spot was that it was too dark for him to see.

He turned back to her, grasping her waist and burying his face against her abdomen and she felt her breath catch in her throat. "Ian..Ian!" she gasped in shock as she felt his nose and chin against the mound that hid her femininity.

He groaned. "Just a taste, baby..?"

She stared down mutely at the spot where his head should be..or rather shouldn't be, but was, frozen with shock.

He chuckled huskily. "Alright..we'll save some of the good stuff for later," he murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her arm a yank so that she half fell atop him. He caught her, bringing her hips firmly against him, drawing her knees down on either side of his hips, grasping the back of her head with his other hand and tugging her down until their lips met once more in a kiss of such hunger and fiery magnitude that she forgot about everything else. The rough abrasiveness of his jeans against her nakedness as he arched up to meet her sent flaming, tremulous shudders through her so that her muscles tautened, aching with a tension that never faltered but kept building and building until she felt feverish with it.

Her breathing became so erratic, she felt light headed. She reached a point where she couldn't decide whether to beg him to stop or finish it..and still he teased and tormented with his hands and mouth until she felt like screaming. "Ian..Ian..Do something!" she gasped.

He unfastened his jeans, fumbling with the zipper for several moments before he managed to lower it, hissing on a long, drawn out curse as he worked his erection free of the confining folds of cloth. Impatiently, Andrea tugged at his jeans, trying to help him slide them down his hips. He gasped, cursing again as his bare buttocks touched the icy floor, coming up against her before he settled himself gingerly and positioned her above him, probing, guiding himself into her by touch.

He thrust..and made no discernable headway that he could discover. Jee-sus! he thought. Either she has the tightest snatch this side of heaven or I've missed the damned mark! He felt around a tad frantically, discovered he had her dead in his sights, grasped her hips and thrust again, groaning with a mixture of relief and ecstasy when he felt himself gliding slowly into her tight passage.

"Damn! You're tight, baby," he grunted with a mixture of satisfaction and relief when he'd worked his way deep inside her, feeling beads of sweat pop from his pores to chill in the cool air surrounding them.

He shivered, realizing hazily that she hadn't said a word or let out a peep. "Andy..? Baby..? I didn't hurt you, did I angel?"

She shook her head slowly, her hair tickling his throat and chest as she did so. She moved against him experimentally and felt her senses skyrocket toward explosion. "Ian..?" she said on a husky note.

It was that certain, unidentifiable note in her quavery voice that did it. He lost it right then. "Oh God! Baby..hold on!" he gasped raggedly, grasping her hips and pumping into her like a berserker, mindlessly racing to catch the wave as it built upwards and bulged outwards like the lava of a volcano about to explode.

It erupted with soul shattering force, like a ten on the richter scale when she cried out her paean of ecstasy, sending hot, molten pleasure gushing through his veins to pound in his temples and explode from his loins.

Andrea collapsed weakly atop him, still feeling the after shocks of ecstasy..feeling her stomach muscles quiver and tighten in response to the after shocks she felt in him. She dropped her head to his shoulder, trying to catch her breath..feeling dazed and disoriented. He caught her to him, squeezing her tightly a moment before his arms dropped to the floor.

For long moments, Andrea lay, unmoving, trying to gather her wits and the strength to move. She stirred finally, lifting her head as a horrible thought occurred to her. "We should get dressed..they might come.."

He caught her hips when she would have risen, holding her to him for a moment more before he released her. She rolled off him and brought herself up on her knees, feeling around blindly for her jeans, fighting a touch of panic when she didn't discover them immediately..Because she had cold, hard logic for a companion..now and she wasn't about to be caught buck naked if she could help it.

As she groped for them, she became uncomfortably conscious of a warm stickiness between her thighs. She froze as the full realization of what she'd just done came to her. She had, as Ian had so crudely put it such a short time before, rutted in the floor like an animal..a mindless animal, without any sort of protection.

And what did she know..really know about Ian, after all. Nothing, you idiot! she answered herself. Absolutely nothing..Except that he'd been married..past tense, or so he claimed..She didn't even know, for certain, that it was past tense. And she'd just exposed herself..to pregnancy if nothing else..like a stupid teenager with hot pants and no care for tomorrow!

Her hand brushed her jeans and she snatched them up, jerking her panties on wordlessly and then stuffing her legs into her jeans. Her feet felt like two popsicles as she pushed them into her tennis shoes...Another reminder of insanity barely past.

She heard Ian adjusting his clothes and felt her face heat, feeling suddenly cheap and tawdry about the whole affair. She went to him reluctantly when he reached for her again and pulled her down beside him, dropping his arm over her shoulder.

She said nothing. She couldn't think of anything to say. She didn't feel up to commonplaces just now..And she certainly wasn't going to start flinging accusations around. It had been her own fault, after all. She couldn't accuse him of anything but accommodation..She'd practically begged him to make love to her, after all..But she felt like it. She felt like behaving really irrationally and demanding to know why he hadn't come prepared... But that would mean she would have to admit that she hadn't come prepared either..and she shuddered to think what his reaction would be when..if..he discovered that a twenty-three year old woman..a brainless twenty-three year old woman hadn't considered contraception. Doubtless, imminent fatherhood was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

"You alright?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder.

"Fine," she managed.

"Andy...?"

"What?" she asked, trying really hard not to sound petulant.

"You weren't a virgin, were you?"

"Of course not!" she snapped defensively, getting to her feet abruptly. "At twenty-three? Who in their right mind would consider that possible in this day and time!"

He was silent for a long moment before he responded to that. "You're a damned liar, baby..On two counts," Ian ground out angrily.

Chapter Twenty-Two

"If you mean to imply that I'm a rotten lay then you can just go straight to hell!"

"You know damned well that wasn't what I meant, and I didn't imply anything!"

"Well I didn't lie!" Andrea said through gritted teeth and flung her back against the wall angrily, sliding down it until she was sitting on the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees, holding herself in a tight little ball as she rested her cheek on her knees. "I wish I had been!" she muttered under her breath.

She didn't doubt he'd heard the muttered comment, but he remained maddeningly silent. It was too dark to see, even though her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the deep gloom, but she didn't need to see his expression to know that he was waiting for her to continue.

She considered ignoring his silent request. It was a highly personal matter..and none of his business. Just because they'd been intimate, didn't mean he had that kind of rights.

But she discovered she wanted to talk about it. She'd never talked about it before with anyone..not even her best friend. And she was tired of carrying it around with her like an incurable tumor. It was time and past that she opened that old wound and drained the poisons from it so that it could begin to heal. Because it hadn't begun to, not after all this time. She hadn't tried to make it heal. She'd tried to pretend it had never happened...She needed to at least try to work it out of her system .....It was either that, or allow it to hang over her for the rest of her life like a black cloud...

Besides, it had meant something, something important, to her to give herself to Ian. It hadn't been just that she was terrified and groping for basic human comfort. She cared for Ian..a great deal. She wanted it to mean something to him too..Which meant he did have certain rights...rights she'd given him..The right to know why he'd gotten secondhand goods when there was nothing in the world she would've liked more than for him to have been her first.

"It happened in my senior year of high school...Have you ever heard of date rape?" She didn't wait for a response. She'd meant the question rhetorically anyway.

"I didn't date...I mean, I never dated..Not that I didn't have a few chances..but I didn't want them. I grew up in a small town where just about everybody knew everybody else. And all the guys in my senior class were the same ones I'd been to school with since kindergarten..and I disliked them..I mean, I really detested them.

You see, by the time I got to the sixth grade, I was as tall as I am now..and I was..fat. Not just pudgy..plain old fat. You have no idea how cruel children can be to the 'fat kid'. They tormented me unmercifully, most particularly the boys..almost relentlessly. They made my life a pure misery to me.

Eventually, and by sheer determination, I stopped being the fat kid, but I never forgot the way they'd treated me before and I never forgave them...so when they finally got around to having an interest in me aside from tormenting me, I turned them down flat. It wasn't for spite, you understand..I just couldn't stand any of them any more...and it didn't take many turn-downs before they lost interest in me altogether..or so I thought.

Then one day this new guy moved to town..Roger Dalton..He was a real hunk..and very popular, right from the start..the captain of the football team and all that..And I fell for him like a ton of bricks..from afar. I was pretty shy back then and I would never in a million years have gotten up the nerve to flirt with him.

But then..out of the blue..he walks up to me one day and says 'how about going out with me Saturday night?' I was..stunned. Absolutely knocked for a loop. I said 'yes' of course. I never even really considered it...never thought about looking for a catch..even though I knew enough about life by then to know everything has a catch..and the better it looks, usually, the bigger the catch..But I was just so..enchanted, I never thought to look for one...It was like...like a fairy tale..where the ugly princess suddenly becomes beautiful and the handsome prince comes to sweep her off her feet.

I think that's one of the things about the whole business that really smarted later..the fact that I'd acted like a total dimwit.. Just because he'd deigned to notice me..Because I was a real brain in school. That's what the nice people called me, 'the brain', though to tell the truth I didn't particularly care for that nickname either. Regardless, I knew I was intelligent..And still I acted so stupid.. like a brain-less bimbo!

Anyway, I wasn't so smitten that I didn't notice that his buddies were hanging around in the background, giggling like five-year-olds at an adult movie. But I figured it was because they were expecting me to give him that 'go to hell' look, like I'd given them when they asked me out..Because they'd stopped calling me Andre the Giant by then, or lard ass and started calling me big tit and tight ass....I guess if I responded to their laughter at all it was with satisfaction, knowing it was going to shock the heck out of them when I agreed to go out with Roger.

For a couple of days, I walked around on cloud nine...I just couldn't wait for the weekend. But then, a few days later, I just happened to overhear some of the girls in the locker room giggling about the 'big date' between the 'stud' and 'miss tight ass'..Isn't it strange how other kids can despise you for something like that? It wasn't like I tried to make a big issue out of it or anything and there were plenty of 'good' girls around..a lot more of them than there were 'bad' girls..and nobody disliked them. With me, it was like I couldn't do anything to please them..except fall on my face...

Anyway, I was a lot more than stunned by what I overheard. I don't even remember how I got home that day...

This is going to sound really crazy..but I actually considered suicide," she stopped and laughed scoffingly, shaking her head at that bit of stupidity. "Looking back, I wonder where my brain was.. but at the time all I could think about was that I just couldn't face the kids at school ever again, that I couldn't bear to walk down the halls, knowing that a good half of them were snickering about me behind my back..It's amazing how anything that..petty..that really amounted to absolutely nothing..could make a teenager feel as if their whole world had caved in....

I must have cried buckets that night..But when I got through, I wasn't hurt any more...I was just plain fighting mad..I was determined not to give them the satisfaction of killing myself. Because I knew if they hated me bad enough to do something like that to me, they sure weren't going to be sorry to see me go and I wasn't going to give them the chance to gloat.....And, anyway, by that time all I could think about was getting even....I was determined to get even.

Everything would've been alright, except for that. If I'd just let it go..canceled the date, everything would've been back to normal..Only I didn't. I called up a couple of my girlfriends and cooked up a way to get even..with Roger Dalton, at least...and make him and his friends' little gag backfire.

Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on Roger getting absolutely stinking drunk to gather his courage..And I didn't count on him being a really mean drunk. When I called a halt, he refused to stop. So, instead of my friends catching Roger looking like a jackass..with his pants down. They caught Roger raping me...So in the end, all I did was outsmart myself..not Roger and his gang of rats." She paused a moment. "I didn't lie..I was definitely no virgin...He was...thorough...the pig."

"What did your parents do?" Ian asked tightly.

Andrea shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing!" Ian echoed furiously. "That little bastard raped you and they did nothing about it!"

"I never told my parents..I was too ashamed in the first place..Because you have no idea how..nasty I felt..and guilty. And, if I'd told them my father would have killed Roger..if my mother didn't beat him to it..And there was no way I'd ever get my parents into something like that when it was all my fault..Because it was my fault. I shouldn't have gone out with him when I knew what they had planned for me....I shouldn't have tried to get even. I should have just ignored the rats..like I always had before." She paused a long moment. "What else did you figure I lied to you about?"

He didn't speak for several moments. "You weren't going to hate me for it, remember?"

She gnawed her lower lip a moment, then covered her face with her hands. "I don't...I hate myself," she said in a muffled voice.

He didn't have a reply for that and a strained silence fell between them as each turned their thoughts inward. Andrea's thoughts weren't particularly comforting ones. She felt better. She was a little surprised at how much it had helped to talk about the incident...And that was to Ian, a man, who couldn't possibly be expected to really understand what it had been like.

How much better would she have felt about it if she'd ever gotten up the nerve to discuss it with her mother, who ----if she didn't murder her for keeping something like that from her---- would have known just what to say..just the right words to make her feel better about herself..Or, if she'd talked to her girlfriends? Instead of shunning them afterwards until they'd stopped trying to be friends and gone away..Because they'd been real friends, she realized now. Not only had they helped her through those first few hours of crisis..but they'd never breathed a word about what had happened that night.

She began to regret having told Ian, however. That whole incident had made her feel just..like trash. And she wanted Ian's good opinion. It was a little scary to realize just how important it was to her...

"Andy?....."

"Mmmm?" she said a little absently.

"Why did you let me make love to you when you've never let anybody touch you since then?" Ian asked quietly.

Andrea felt her face heat. She didn't particularly like the tone of his voice..or the tone of the question. He wasn't asking out of idle curiosity. She knew that. She also knew that she'd gone her limit. She wasn't spouting any more confidences tonight..Most particularly, she had no intention of telling Ian just how significant tonight had been..Not when she was so uncertain of his feelings. "It was that obvious, huh?"

"Are you going to answer the question?"

"I don't think so," she snapped, suddenly angry again for no accountable reason. She stood up abruptly, moving away from him restlessly. It was so unsatisfactory to pace when one had to keep one's hand on the wall at all times!

"You know," she said into the darkness. "I almost wish they'd come back and get it over with..I really hate waiting! Don't you?"

"At the moment? No! I don't think I mind waiting at all..," Ian said dryly, angry that she had ignored the question when he had a particular interest in it. After a moment, he dismissed it. His personal life could wait..or should. He had other things to think about just now. "Look! There's no sense in dwelling on what might happen...Talk. It'll help to keep your mind off it..And maybe we can even put it to use..Why don't you tell me about Fabian?"

"Tell you what about Fabian? I think you've already guessed we weren't lovers..If you want the God's honest truth. He never tried to make it with me. I thought, at first, it was because he respected my position..because I told him right off that I didn't sleep with the men I dated..I didn't see any sense in allowing him to think it might be otherwise..

Only, after a while, I began to wonder if, maybe, he was gay, because he didn't even try ..very hard. I guess he wasn't, though, if he was married to Sheila."

"I didn't ask about your love-life," Ian snapped irritably.

"Well, what do you want to know?" Andrea snapped right back. "Was he a spy? I don't know! Where did he hide the thingy, which we don't know that he did..or if he did, what it was? I don't know! If I knew, I'd have given it to the first men that tried to kill me!

I'll tell you what I think! I don't think he was a spy at all and I don't think he had any kind of thingy that was stolen from the Cape..Because those men out there look like drug people to me!"

"You know he was connected to the Russian consulate," Ian snapped. "That much we both know..It was in the newspaper..and on the evening news as well."

"I also know that half of what they 'reported' was a crock! Why should I believe the other half..from strangers, instead of believing something someone I knew told me?"

"You mean, believe him when you know he lied about just about everything he told you!"

"I know he lied about working at the bank!" Andrea shot back. "But it’s not like it’s the first time a guy ever lied to try to impress a female..And it could have been that! He never told me he hadn't been married to Sheila..so that wasn't a lie..and I'm not altogether certain he told me he was from Titusville..or even if he ever said where he was from, so I can't say that that was a lie...And I don't see how working at a consulate, if he worked there..You recall they're denying him now?...would rule out the possibility of drug involvement! Maybe they're trying to undermine the country by turning everybody into drug addicts! Maybe they're working on some kind of scheme to bankrupt the government..before our congressmen can do it!

All I do know is I'm sick of this place! I hate it! I really hate it..And I'm scared and I want out of here! Can't you do something? Can't you think of some way to get us out of here?"

Ian said nothing for several moments. "There may be a way..," he finally said, slowly, reluctantly.

"How? What?" Andrea asked quickly.

"I could jump them as they come in the door..take them both out."

"Oh, God, Ian! That's not a plan! That's suicide! They've got guns! They'll just shoot you! Then where will we be?"

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming!" Ian ground out angrily. "I did think about the guns!"

"Well what about the third man? Did you think about him?"

"There's at least a fifty/fifty chance that we won't have to worry about but one...There's no reason for all of them to come for us..Not when they think we're tied up."

"And there's at least a fifty/fifty chance they'll all come!" Andrea snapped. "Why move us? They can torture us to death right here!"

"Well if you've got a better idea..or even any ideas, do tell!" Ian ground out angrily. "Because I'm fresh out! There isn't a stick of furniture..or anything else in here that might be used as a weapon! There aren't any windows..I checked..And I can't pick the lock without something to do it with..I'm not even sure I could pick it if I had a tool!"

Andrea didn't deign to respond to that. It occurred to her that, as dark as it was, there could be knives, pistols and machine guns right under their noses and they'd never find them...But she decided to take his word for it that he'd checked. She wasn't going to leave the comforting security of her wall to go blundering about in the darkness to look for herself.

Because this dark hole was really starting to prey on her nerves. She thought, a little hysterically, that another roll on the floor might stave off terror for another little while, but she thought better about suggesting it.

Besides, she didn't think pretending nothing horrible was going to happen to them was going to help any more. And she didn't think she could bear the suspense of waiting and doing nothing at all. She moistened her fear dried lips. "What..exactly..did you have in mind?"

Ian didn't speak for a moment. "Nothing elaborate. Simple plans usually have more success..Because there's less that can go wrong. I thought I'd tie you..where you were before..so that it would look as if we were right where they'd left us..It's dark enough in here it's doubtful they'd notice, at first, that I wasn't with you. I could wait behind the door, catch whoever comes in off guard and knock him out..Then we go out the same way we came in. Simple."

"Simple!" Andrea said scathingly. "I don't think..no! I know I couldn't stand being tied up again..Not when it might be hours and hours before they decide to come back!..And how would you knock them out anyway? You don't have a weapon of any kind!"

"I'm not going to actually tie you..It's not necessary and it would take too long afterwards to untie you. I'm only going to drape the ropes around you in such a way as to make it look as if you're still tied...And I don't need a weapon. I have my hands..I was a marine, remember? I was trained in hand to hand combat... Thank you very much for your vote of confidence!"

Andrea still didn't like the idea. Not at all. She saw no alternative, however. "I don't even know where I was before..And they're bound to notice something's fishy if I'm no where near the spot where they put me," she pointed out.

She heard Ian get up. In a moment, she felt his hand on her elbow. "I know approximately where you were. We only have to be close. Not dead on the money. They're not going to be looking that closely."

Andrea allowed him to lead her back and position her as he saw fit, remaining docile and silent as he wrapped the ropes loosely around her. Primarily that was because, the moment she left the wall, disorientation set in again..and claustrophobia along with it. She was shivering by the time he'd finished, despite her best efforts not to. She had to clamp her jaws together to keep her teeth from chattering. Ian noticed, naturally. She was hoping he wouldn't. She would have much preferred that he didn't know just how big a coward she was.

"Cold?"

"Yes," she replied tightly. It wasn't a complete lie. She was bone deep cold, but it was only partly because of the chill in the air around them. "It'd be a real shame if I caught pneumonia and died before they had the chance to murder me, wouldn't it?" she said with a touch of graveyard humor.

He patted her shoulder reassuringly. "We'll be out of here..soon. Promise."

She nodded and he moved away, apparently satisfied he'd reassured her. She didn't know how long she lay there. It felt like hours. Her shivers didn't abate..not one whit, but they didn't get any worse either. Her muscles began to cramp, however, from lying in one position so long, every muscle in her body tensed against the shudders that wracked her. She moved experimentally, trying to ease some of the ache, discovered that the floor around her was even colder than the spot where she lay and drew back into her original knot.

After a while, she sensed approaching footsteps. She didn't actually hear them. It was more like a slight vibration along the floor, against her ear. "Ian?" she whispered.

"What?"

"I..I think they're coming."

"You might be right."

She was silent a moment. "Ian?"

"What?" he snapped in exasperation.

"Be careful, will you?"

He didn't speak for a moment. "Look...The minute..the very second I jump the guy..I want you to jump up and run. Understand? Don't wait for me..Don't look back. Just run like hell. Got that?"

"I'm not leaving you!" she said stubbornly.

"If you don't do what I say..just as I say..I'm going to beat the living hell out of you when we get out of this!" Ian threatened through his teeth. "I'll be right behind you. You can bet on it."

She didn't have time for another retort. Ian's whispered threat was still hanging in the air when they both heard the key in the lock. Andrea squeezed her eyes shut, going as rigid as a piece of steel. Her ears seemed almost to elongate, however, and twitch in the direction of the door. She heard the minute sound it made as it swung open on its hinges. A moment later, she heard a grunt followed by a distinct thud..as a body hitting the floor. She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, cringing, more than half expecting one of the men to walk up and put a bullet through her head..as they had Sheila when they'd gotten tired of trying to pry information out of her.

She heard several more thuds and grunts of pain and stuffed her fingers in her ears to blot it out, berating herself all the while. She should be helping Ian. She should have sprang up at once and leapt to his aid. But she couldn't move. With the best will in the world she simply couldn't command her body to respond. It was almost as if it had turned to stone as she lay there encapsulated in a frozen block of terror and could not now reverse the process.

She gasped when she was roughly seized and yanked to her feet. He had to yank her up the second time, because her knees gave way beneath her. Ian gave her a shake. "Move! Damn it! They won't be out long!"

"I..Ian?" she managed in a quavery voice.

"No! Jack the ripper! If you don't move that tight little ass of yours, I'm going to beat it now!..Instead of later."

She stumbled forward at that prompting, half blinded by the light spilling through the open door. She tripped over something in her headlong flight, sprawling in the floor. Ian yanked her to her feet and, with a vehement curse, tossed her over his shoulder, darting for the door...running down a long, dimly lit corridor.

Andrea shut her eyes, fighting for air. She managed no more than a gulp at a time, for, with each jogging step Ian took, his shoulder knocked the breath from her. She lost consciousness about halfway down the corridor...She greeted oblivion, however, like a long lost friend.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The lightly stinging slaps didn't really hurt, but they didn't feel particularly good either...and they were immensely annoying. Andrea came up swinging.

Ian caught her wildly flailing hands. "Damn! You had me worried, baby! I was beginning to run out of ideas for bringing you around."

Andrea rubbed her stinging cheeks, glaring at him. "Well that was a dandy idea!..What were you trying to do anyway? Bringing me around, or beat me to death?...Couldn't you have tried chaffing my wrists or something?"

"If that isn't just like a woman!" Ian growled, sitting back. "I save your ass..and I had to lug you out to do it, mind.... bring you around, and all you can do is complain about the way I did it!"

"Wait a minute..Bring me around? You mean I fainted!"

"Dead away," Ian said absently. Having slid under the wheel of the car, he had turned his attention to running his hands under the dash experimentally. Apparently he didn't find what he sought. He abandoned that exploration and began feeling around under the seat.

They were in a car..a strange car. Andrea sat up, more interested at the moment in a more personal discovery. "Jeeze! I've never fainted before!" she exclaimed, awed and even a little pleased to discover she could react like a delicate female..until she remembered that Ian's rough and ready removal tactics had been largely responsible for her loss of consciousness. She hadn't fainted, she thought in some dudgeon. She'd lost consciousness from lack of air. She rubbed her battered ribs, looking around. "We got away!" she exclaimed in surprise. "..Where are we?"

"Still in the process of making our daring getaway!" Ian retorted, leaning down to reach under the car seat. He sat up almost immediately, a tire tool in his hand, and proceeded, to Andrea's shocked horror, to beat the lock off the steering wheel. Yanking wires out the hole he'd created, he bit the plastic coating off the ends of two and twisted them together. The engine obligingly roared to life.

"My God!" Andrea exclaimed. "You hot wire cars too!" She thought about it a minute and a horrible suspicion came to mind. "Ian..Ian you're not a thief, are you?...I mean, I'm not passing any judgments on a person's background or anything, but really you shouldn't be able to do the things you do! I don't know a soul that knows how to pick locks and hot wire cars!"

Ian chuckled. "You'd be surprised at the things I learned in the military...but, I'd make a damned poor thief, baby. It took me every bit of five minutes to jimmy the door locks," he retorted, shifting the car into gear and flooring it so that the car shot through the roughly graveled parking lot, careened around the curving driveway and out onto the old gravel-type road beside it.

Andrea stared at him. "They taught you that in the military?"

"I didn't say they taught me..."

But he hadn't said they didn't either and Andrea began to wonder just what he'd done when he was in service. One thing was for sure. He'd learned some darned handy tricks..And it was really starting to worry her.

Hearing a shout as they pealed around the corner of the building, she dismissed that anxiety for a more pressing one, whirling in her seat to look back. "Uh oh! They're right behind us!"

"I didn't think that would hold them very long, but I don't think they'll be going anywhere tonight," Ian replied with grim humor.

Andrea turned to look at him as he picked up a distributor cap and tossed it into the back seat. She started to laugh. "You didn't!"

"I did."

"Again?" she chuckled. "I could almost feel sorry for them...," she laughed, but then the laughter died in her throat. "..Except..I think they've got another car..one that works!"

Ian looked into his rear view mirror. "Shit!" He mashed the accelerator to the floor.

Andrea, watching the speedometer climb, reached a little frantically for her seat belt. She didn't feel much better when she had it fastened. The car felt as if it would become airborne any minute. She twisted around for another look. The car behind them was steadily gaining. Her heart leapt into her throat, fluttering like a broken-winged bird. "Ian," she said weakly. "They're gaining."

"Hold on, baby..This might get a little hairy!"

It would have been nice, Andrea thought peevishly, if he'd warned her before he took the turn on two wheels. She screamed and grabbed frantically for something to hang on to as the car skidded off the road and onto the shoulder, cut a wavy track down the side of the ditch and up it again, crossed the road and went off onto the other shoulder and then, with a hard jerk of the wheel, bounced up onto the road again. "I think," Andrea said, only half joking, "that I just swallowed my panties."

Ian threw her a quick look, glanced at her lap and up again, grinning. "Look at it this way, baby..You won't have to worry about them again."

"Ver-ry funny!" She looked hopefully behind them. The car following slammed on brakes as it reached the turn, burnt a streak of rubber some thirty feet long, spun a donut in the middle of the road and shot forward again, almost on their tail.

Andrea swallowed against the sick feeling in her throat. "We didn't loose them...I..I think they're closer.."

Thunder exploded on top of them, shattering the back window and sending tiny fragments of glass showering down over them.

"Shit!"

"My God!"

They looked at each other for one frozen moment. "They're shooting at us!" they both exclaimed, sliding down in the seat.

Three more shots thudded into the rear of the car in rapid succession and Ian slammed on the brakes and whirled the car onto a dirt track, narrowly missing a stand of oaks that bordered the road. Andrea managed to stifle all but a squeak that time. The car behind them slammed into the trees, loosing a fender and two hub caps in the process, swerved across the road and then evened out again, still in hot pursuit.

"Actually," she said, to reassure herself, "they're not very good."

"They haven't missed us yet," Ian retorted grimly.

"I know..but they keep hitting the trunk."

"..Which means they're either trying to hit the gas tank or they're trying to shoot the tires out."

"Oh," Andrea gulped. After a moment, she inched her way upwards and peered over the back of the seat again. "I knew it!" she exclaimed, then screamed, ear piercingly, and ducked as yet another bullet slammed into the car, this one smacking into the rear window frame then ricocheting through the front window only inches from her head.

"Andy!" Ian shouted over the roar of wind and shattering glass, reaching for her. "Are you hit?..Are you alright, baby?"

"Yes," she said shakily. "I'm alright..I wasn't hit..Ian! It was that guy..Lurch! I know it was! I recognized the hair when he poked his head out the window and shot at me!"

Ian threw a quick look over his shoulder. "Shit! Where the hell did they come from!"

It was a rhetorical question, but Andrea verbally thrashed it out in her own mind. "I don't know! I saw the two from the mall run for their car and then that car came barrelling out of no where! They must have had it parked in the back..or the front, rather," she amended, for they had come from the rear of the building.

Ian threw her a sharp look. "Well..where ever they came from, we've got to lose them..and fast. They're getting too damned close for comfort! Keep your head down and hold tight."

Andrea cut trails through the upholstery on the door and dash with her fingernails as Ian spun the wheel wildly and sent the car barreling down yet another road..this one little more than a wagon track. Andrea's bottom struck the floor of the car before the springs rebounded, nearly driving her through the roof. Ian grabbed her head and shoved her down in the seat again as another bullet whizzed past. "I told you to stay down, damn it!"

"I'd be happy to!" Andrea snapped in a gravelly voice. "If you'd just stop trying to bounce me through the roof...uh oh!"

"Oh hell!" Ian snapped as the farm house loomed into view. Slamming down on the brakes and whirling the wheel, he spun the car in a hard circle that left Andrea's stomach a mile behind, crashed through an old time rail and stile fence, and shot through the farmer's corn field. Andrea looked back just in time to see the irate farmer surge through his front door wearing nothing more than brilliant white boxer shorts..and a double barrelled shotgun.

"Gun..gun!" she managed just before he let fly with both barrels. A near deafening roar followed hard upon her words and a split second later they were pelted by a stinging shower of tiny lead balls.

"Bird shot," Ian pronounced with some relief, casting around for their pursuers. The other car slammed to a halt as the shotgun blast ripped through the air, jolted into reverse and tore down the cart track backward. Ian gunned their engine, trying to beat them back to the main road. The car bounded from corn row to corn row, mowing down some unidentifiable winter crop as it went and beating Andrea against the floor, roof and door until she began to feel like a ping pong ball. But that was nothing when compared to the jolt she got when Ian jumped the narrow ditch and landed in the middle of the road, scarcely three car lengths ahead of the other car.

They were almost neck and neck by the time they reached the paved road once more and whirled into it. Instead of making a tight turn, however, Ian jerked his wheel sideways as he went into the turn, slamming their car into the one beside them and forcing it off the road where they hit a slick patch of grass, spun three circles and plowed into a pine tree.

Andrea stared back at the car numbly as they sped away, watching as steam rose from its battered hood..watching as Lurch, Ichabod and Friar Tuck tumbled from the car and staggered up the embankment to the side of the road to stare after their departing tail lights.

She collapsed into her seat only after they'd disappeared from view, tossing off her seatbelt. "We lost them."

Ian only grunted but he slowed the car somewhat. Reaching over, he squeezed her thigh in a gesture that was both possessive and reassuring. "You alright, Andy?"

She felt her chin quiver. She sniffed back the tears of relief that threatened and managed a nod.

"You're sure?"

She nodded again. "Yes," she tried, her voice cracking slightly over the word.

Ian put his arm around her and dragged her close, lacing his fingers through her hair as he tucked her head against his shoulder with rough affection, massaging her scalp with his strong fingers. Andrea felt some of her tension subside at his ministrations. She liked his hands. He had big hands and she'd always liked big hands on a man. In fact, she thought as his hands slid from her scalp to massage the tension from her neck, she adored his hands.

She relaxed to the point that she dozed. He roused her some time later. "Time to ditch this car...All else aside..The thing's obviously been wrecked recently and I don't want to get pulled over by some curious cop."

Andrea nodded numbly and crawled out Ian's door with all the painfully stiff movements of an eighty year old. She glanced around as they moved away from the car, realizing with a shudder of revulsion that Ian had parked it less than half a block from where they'd left their own car...near Fabian's apartment.

Some of the stiffness left her as they moved quickly along the road toward their car, but she dreaded the morrow. A two hour workout in a fitness spa wouldn't have left her as sore, and if she was this sore already, she wasn't at all sure she could make it through the next few days...She wasn't even sure she wanted to try.

They were no closer to a solution. Not even by a hair. She was weary past thinking, but she didn't think if she'd had her wits about her that her outlook would have been any brighter. There seemed to be no solution...other than discovering, and recovering, the object so many people coveted. And they had no idea of where to look.

She dwelt on that thought morbidly throughout the long drive back to the cabin...And that was another thing. She'd hated the place on sight. If Ian had tried he couldn't have found a place more calculated to encourage her to throw in the towel.

She wanted to..oh so badly! She felt like just throwing up her hands and shouting, 'kill me and get it over with! Just don't torture me any more!' She wanted, more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life, to run home to her mother and father. She no longer cared whether it seemed immature to want such a thing or not. She didn't even care if Ian knew she wanted her mama. She was tired of trying to be a strong, independent adult. She wanted to be a little girl again! She felt like throwing herself to the ground and beating her feet and fists against the dirt and bawling till they heard her in Donalsonville. She might have done it too..if she'd had the energy.

It came as something of a pleasant jolt of surprise, therefore, that Ian seemed to sense those sentiments she hadn't even voiced. When they reached the cabin and Andrea crawled from the car, he promptly scooped her off her feet and turned to carry her inside. She threw her arms around his neck instinctively to hang on, too surprised to speak for several moments. No one had carried her since she was a child. No one had even attempted to...Not even her father who was big enough not to be intimidated at the thought of carrying an amazon. "What are you doing?" she asked a little blankly. He didn't respond to that and after a moment, when she realized he wasn't going to and that she really ought to watch out for the poor brainless..poor, sweet, brainless thing, she tried again. "Put me down, Ian..I can walk..And I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Just get the door, will you?"

She reached down and turned the knob and Ian turned slightly, forcing it open with his shoulder and carrying her inside. Instead of putting her down then, he turned and kicked the door shut, then carried her to her bunk. He settled her there.

"Don't move," he commanded and moved away. In a moment a match flared as Ian lit the oil lantern. He set it near her bunk and moved away again. Catching up a cloth and a bucket of water, he moved back to the bunk once more and settled himself beside her.

He stared at her a long moment, studying her face before he lifted her hands, one at the time, and examined her arms. Andrea stared back at him with a mingling of curiosity, pleased surprise and vague suspicion.

Apparently satisfied, he finished his cursory examination, studying her from head to foot before he dampened the cloth and began to carefully bathe the small scratch along her jaw she hadn't even realized was there. It stung when he placed the cool cloth against it and she sucked in her breath.

"Hurt?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

There were several scratches on her arms as well, from flying glass no doubt. He carefully bathed those next, either ignoring Monster, who hopped up on the bed beside Andrea, or unaware of the cat. When he'd finished, he dropped the cloth into the bucket, scooped Monster, to her immense indignation, off the bunk and deposited her on the floor, and slid onto the bunk beside Andrea, gathering her close. She snuggled against him quite willingly, wondering if it was the prelude to something interesting.

It was. He fitted her snugly against his length and began to rub soothing circles along her back until she relaxed totally against him, her eyes drooping with fatigue. "What are we going to do, Ian?" she asked drowsily, just before she succumbed to sleep.

He shrugged slightly. "Tomorrow we try again."

Chapter Twenty-Four

He was gone when she woke late the following morning, Monster curled up with smug contentment in his place. Andrea sat up with a jerk, staring around the empty cabin first in consternation, then irritation.

Ignoring her protesting muscles, she moved to the door and peered out. Sure enough, the car was gone. She pursed her lips in vexation. If that wasn't just like a man! Had it occurred to him to ask if she wanted to go? No! Had it occurred to him to even tell her he was leaving and when he'd be back? No!

She stared at the vacant spot where the car had been parked the night before, feeling her annoyance slowly wane as consternation took its place. Maybe, she thought, he hadn't said anything because he wasn't coming back?

She shook her head, trying to shake the uncomfortable suspicion off. He wouldn't do that to her..She didn't think. Probably he'd just needed to go into town for something and had figured it would be safer for her here...Or maybe it was self-preservation. After all, it seemed like every time she went into town, they ended up being chased by maniacs with guns, and blood in their eyes.

She spent a peaceful day at the cabin, alternating between cursing Ian and praying for his safety, praying for her own, and hoping that the nasty suspicion that he'd gotten well out of a bad situation was just that.

It was late afternoon when finally she heard the sound of a car coming along the narrow, rutted track that led to the cabin. She perked up immediately and moved to the side of the cabin to watch for it, torn between conflicting emotions, the most dominant of which was a fear that Fabian's thug friends had found her.

Her first glimpse of the car wasn't promising. It didn't look like the car she'd seen the thugs driving..but then, she rather doubted that car would ever be drive-able again..And it was most definitely not Ian's car.

She didn't wait to see any more. Scooping up Monster, who was twined around her legs, she sprinted for the woods; oblivious to sore, aching muscles; oblivious of the trees, shrubs and briars that caught at her; oblivious of any possibility of running across a snake. A car horn tooted behind her. It was as if someone had goosed her. She leapt a three foot high shrub with barely a pause and no preparation beforehand.

"Andy!" called a distinctly familiar voice behind her. It brought her to a dead standstill. She turned, breathing gustily, blowing the hair from her eyes.

He was still chuckling when she trudged back to the car. "Just what is it you find so damn funny!" she snapped sullenly, still trying to catch her breath.

"You looked like a white tailed deer bounding through the woods. All I could see was the white flash of the seat of your pants as you disappeared through the brush."

Andrea looked down at her white jeans before she glanced up again and gave Ian a 'laugh again and you die' look. "You don't know how happy I am that I amused you! You might have warned me you were going to switch cars again....And, while I'm on the subject..Isn't that used car salesman starting to be a little curious about you changing vehicles every day or two?"

Ian studied her for a long moment and finally leaned back against the hood of the car, crossing his feet at the ankles in a casual stance and, in direct contrast, crossing his arms in that way that suggests a defensive position. "I'll admit I'm pretty much a dumb brute, but I'm not stupid enough to go to the same place twice...Why don't you tell me what's eating you? Are you pissed because I scared you, or what?"

Andrea felt her cheeks flush a bright red. "I didn't mean that..or even to imply it," she apologized, biting her lip. "It's just..it's just..," she looked at him helplessly a moment then surged forward, slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. After a moment, his arms settled lightly, warily, around her shoulders. "You were gone so long...," she muttered against his shirt. "I..I thought maybe you weren't going to come back."

He squeezed her tightly a moment then slid one hand up, threading his fingers through her hair and palming the back of her head. He sighed gustily, almost despairingly. "I hope you realize that really makes me feel like hell," he murmured gruffly.

Andrea pulled away to look up at him in surprise. "Why?" She looked down at his shirt, plucking absently at his buttons. "I don't think I'd have blamed you if you hadn't...I'd get out of this myself if I knew how..."

He studied her bowed head for a long moment, dismissing the guilt he'd felt over his duplicity in light of that comment, feeling a surge of anger take its place. It made some uncomfortable doubts surface. Some damned uncomfortable doubts. "Tell me something..If it was the other way around..If it was me that was the one in desperate trouble..Would you sneak off the first chance you got and abandon me?"

She looked up at him quickly. "No!" she gasped, horrified at the suggestion.

"Then, how do you think it makes me feel to realize you think I'd do it? Baby, you must really have a low opinion of me is all I can say!" He put her away from him and started toward the cabin.

"Ian?"

He stopped, his back to her.

"If I'd really believed that of you, I wouldn't have been here when you got back...And I wouldn't have wanted you to come back... I was just..scared..and worried too. I thought of so many things that could've happened..," she admitted, coming up behind him.

He turned to look at her, studying her face for a long moment. "Hell," he said roughly and jerked her against him, bringing his mouth down on hers forcefully in a kiss that was hungry and almost desperate, capturing her mouth and her soul in one fell swoop as he joined with her in a substitute mating ritual that sent licking flames and flashes of heat lightening through them both. Andrea was just getting into the swing of it when he tore his mouth from hers and put her slightly away from him. "I might be crazy..," he said shaking his head as he released her. "Hell..I know I'm crazy...But I'm beginning to think I don't give a damn any more."

Crazy? As in, crazy for wanting to become involved with a woman on the run? Or crazy for turning down what she was offering? she wondered, studying him with a mixture of disappointment, puzzlement and hopefulness.

It was the hopefulness that disturbed her most. She was reasonably certain that it would be the worst mistake of her life to become too attached to Ian, that he was not the sort of man to commit himself totally to one woman. But she was too intrigued by him to be wary enough to settle for nothing at all from him. She wanted what she could have of him..She just had to be cautious, that was all. She just had to be careful not to allow herself to come to want more than he would willingly give..But then, what good would her being cautious do if he meant to keep her at arm's length? That wasn't in her game plan at all. "You mean..about getting involved with me...now?" Or did he mean ever? she wondered.

"Among other things," Ian said grimly.

She placed a hand lightly against his chest. "Ian....I know this is a bizarre situation....And it's bound to affect a person.. Oh...in a lot of ways...But you needn't worry..If you feel differently later..when things are back to normal, I'll understand, if that's what's bothering you."

"That's mighty white of you," Ian said through his teeth, shrugging her hand off, "but maybe I won't!"

Andrea stared at him, feeling a blush mount her cheeks. "I don't think I understand.." Or maybe he hadn't understood? Had she missed something somewhere...Wasn't 'no strings' supposed to be the magic words?

"No? Tell me, if you didn't need me, would you still want me around? If you and I had met when lover boy had still been alive, would you have given me a second glance? Somehow I don't think so, baby. You made it pretty damned plain before that I wasn't your type.. Which makes me wonder why you decided to make it with me..Or was that your idea of a cure? A hair of the dog that bit? Make it with another jock to cure you of the revulsion you got the first time around? Does that about size the situation up? Yes? No? You don't know?.." He paused. When she merely stared at him, saying nothing, he continued angrily. "Just tell me this, then, when this is all over, and you don't need me anymore, are you going to kiss me off and turn to the next guy as quickly as you turned to me?"

Andrea stared at him a long moment, trying to decide whether she was more hurt or angry about his assumptions..or accusations, tempted to slap him, and finally turned away with the intention of stalking off.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him once more. "What?" he ground out. "No answers?"

"I didn't deserve that," she said tightly. "And I'm not going to dignify it with an answer. Now..let go of my arm."

He released her, staring after her angrily as she walked away, disappearing around the corner of the cabin. "Shit!" He pronounced vehemently. "Smart move, Ian! Don't wait till she leaves! Run her off!" He turned and slammed his fists down on the roof of the car. It didn't help. He gave the front tire a vicious kick. It blew a raspberry at him on its way down. He stared at the flat for a long moment. "Well, hell!"

She was sitting by the river bank, playing with her cat when he went to find her some time later. He stopped and propped on a handy tree for some time, studying her, glaring at the cat and entertaining a pleasant fantasy about tossing it in the drink.

He liked cats. He didn't know why he hated her's...Aside from the fact that the feeling was mutual, and the damned thing seemed to go out of its way to annoy the hell out of him...Unless it was because it was so damned obvious she loved the damned thing better than..He cut the thought off abruptly and stood away from the tree. He wasn't about to admit, even to himself, that he was jealous of a damned cat. That was the stupidest..most asinine..Hell!

It wasn't half as stupid or asinine as what he'd done. He just had to fall for the one woman in the world he trusted less than his ex-wife. He should have known better. He was damn sure old enough to have known better.

Of course, he'd long since acquitted her of murder..in his own mind, at least. Clouded as his judgment was when it came to her, he was certain, in his mind, and his gut, that she'd had nothing to do with either her boyfriend's murder or his ex-wife's murder... But, she was involved in this thing, up to her lovely neck, and as much as he, admittedly, wanted to believe it was pure happenstance and that she was totally innocent, he couldn't. He could believe that she was mostly innocent..But he couldn't believe that she was totally innocent...Not when she was in this deep. It just didn't click....and the way things were shaping up, even partial guilt was probably enough to send her up for a healthy spell.

He was beginning to be heartily sorry he'd had the bad judgment to go to the mall that first night. It had been a serious error in judgment. .which annoyed him as much as all the rest, because he wasn't in the habit of making bad judgments. If he had been, he wouldn't be alive today.

Of course, there was always a first time for everything...But that didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel worse, because he'd had plenty of warning and, instead of following his gut instinct and heeding it, he'd allowed his groin's instincts to fog his brain, like a green kid, when he should have known better than that by now. If he'd been using his brain, he would have known to avoid her like the plague.

Hell! The first time he'd laid eyes on her he'd felt as if someone had just kicked him in the gut..and the head. If that wasn't a sure fire indication that a woman was dangerous, he didn't know what was...and, instead of backing off and bowing out, he'd looked at those wide gray eyes of hers and convinced himself that she was innocence incarnate..and that he knew exactly what he was doing...Which just went to show what a damned fool he was, because no man ever knew just what he was doing when there was a beautiful woman around. He was too busy sniffing around for the possibility of a hand-out to think.

Hell! As long as he was going to do a little soul searching, he might just as well go ahead and admit, to himself at least, that he'd been a goner long before she'd been aware of him...That he'd just been looking for an excuse to fall the rest of the way...And she hadn't helped..Not even a little bit, because she seemed determined to bear up his fantasies about her in every way.

And now he was into this thing neck deep too and getting deeper, and he was beginning to feel the noose he'd fashioned for himself, tightening.

All other considerations aside, he'd screwed up royally. Once everything came out..even if he managed to get the two of them through this smelling like roses, there was going to be hell to pay ...And he could see right now that he was the one that was going to be paying it. If she didn't cut his throat..Hell! She didn't need to! he thought in self-disgust. He'd already cut his own throat.

"I've been thinking....," she said as if she'd known he was there all the time, startling him out of his morbid thoughts.

He felt his gut tighten in a way that set his innards to roiling and made him feel slightly ill. Her words had an ominous ring to them. In his experience, when a woman did a lot of thinking after an argument, it inevitably boded ill for the man in her life..and usually led to the old 'kiss off'. "..And?" he prompted warily.

"..and I think you were right..." she said thoughtfully.

Right? Either his stomach caved in or the ground suddenly dropped out from under him. He looked down at his feet and decided it must have been the former. It made him feel damned ill. He wondered which piece of idiocy she referred to. The cure thing? Hell! If it was that, he was going to strangle her! Weren't women supposed to be sensitive and intuitive? Didn't the little fool realize he'd been fishing for a little reassurance?

"About what?" he asked cautiously.

She turned to look at him then, her brows lifted in surprise for a moment before they descended in a frown. "You look a little pale..You're not coming down with something, are you?"

"No. I'm not coming down with something," he snapped, propping on the tree once more for support, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his shaking hands out of sight beneath his arms. "..You were saying?"

She shrugged. "I just realized that I've been burying my head in the sand..I'm afraid I've always had a tendency to pretend not to see what I don't want to see..."

"But now you see everything clearly, is that right?"

Andrea pursed her lips, but decided to ignore his sarcasm. "Not clearly..No. But I realize..no matter how farfetched it still seems to me...that you're probably right about Fabian."

Ian stared at her blankly a moment, totally disoriented. Fabian?

"...This whole thing must have to do with espionage..."

Ian opened his mouth and then shut it again without speaking, fighting an irrational surge of anger. Hell! he thought. If that wasn't just like a female...to take a quantum leap, right in the middle of a discussion..to another subject entirely!

"Espionage?" he said, as if he'd never heard the word before, stalling for time while he tried to re-orient himself.

"Yes," Andrea replied, trying for patience. "I think I just refused to see it before because its just so hard to believe..not just the espionage thing..though I know such things happen..but the rest of it...I mean, its hard to conceive that people you know.. that you think of as friends..could be that devious!

Maybe its just because I don't have a devious turn of mind myself, but, even knowing they must have used me, I find it hard to accept.... Imagine! Hatching an elaborate plot like they must have..Sheila picking me out and befriending me..setting up a blind date with Fabian..and then Fabian going through this elaborate courtship thing...just so they could use me to smuggle things out for them! How could anybody think like that?"

Ian cleared his throat uncomfortably, started to speak, thought better of it and simply shrugged.

"..Anyway, it makes it a lot clearer..what to do, I mean, if you accept the theory that it all has to do with spies...I've never been into spy books...but I've seen all the 007 movies..and its obvious spies are ruthless..which is one of the things I was having trouble with...because one doesn't think of government people being like that..as killers. I mean..the Internal Revenue service is totally ruthless, but they wouldn't kill anyone..At least, I don't think they would..And I suppose the FBI and the CIA must be pretty much the same..like the police..who are determined to get their man..no matter what..even if they have to plant evidence on the guilty party...At least, they're accused of doing that....

Anyway, as I said, I think part of my block was in not taking into consideration that foreign governments..especially a communist one..wouldn't be overly concerned about murder..or torture, in pursuit of their aims..And that was the reason I was so certain all this just had to do with the drug trade..Because we all know they're killers.

And, if we accept that they're spies, then we have to accept that it must have to do with the Cape..and probably the military satellite that's supposed to go up with the next launch..Tomorrow!"

Her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet. "Oh, good Lord, Ian! It's tomorrow!" That realization brought to mind a sudden, horrible suspicion. A wave of dizziness hit her, right between the eyes. She moistened her suddenly dry lips with a tongue that had lost all its moisture as well. "Ian......I just thought....What if they weren't smuggling something out at all? What if they were smuggling something in? Maybe piece by piece? Maybe they weren't trying to steal anything at all! Maybe they mean to sabotage the launch!"

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ian stared at her, all his latent suspicions immediately aroused, his mind working furiously. Was this a rat? Was she just guessing as she seemed to be, or did she know something and had decided to spill it? He'd ruled out the possibility of sabotage..or thought he had..Then again, he'd been thinking in terms of the satellite alone. He hadn't considered the possibility that they might sabotage the launch itself. It had seemed highly unlikely that they would go to those lengths and risk being discovered when they could simply cripple the satellite with no one really the wiser..cripple it in such a way that it would just be put down as a malfunction. Should he re-evaluate the situation? He frowned. "Do you think that's possible?" he asked slowly.

"Well! Good Lord! Anything's possible!" She stopped, frowning. "Isn't it?" She chewed her lip, examining the idea again. It clicked if one figured that everyone was racing around trying to discover something that wasn't, apparently, there. But then, what if they were running around trying to find something they knew was there, but just couldn't find? That wasn't inconceivable either..particularly when one considered that the object everyone might be looking for might be a mere speck of microscopic information.....Which brought another thought to mind.

"Ian...," she gasped. "Could it be.... Do you think its possible that the thing everyone is looking for could be a computer chip?...Out of the satellite, maybe? You said yourself it was more likely they were interested in the satellite..because of its military significance...And its not really a deep dark secret that one's going up..Even the newspapers have been speculating on the possibility that it might be part of the 'star wars' network.

Just suppose they managed to remove one of its micro chips ....They would've had to replace it with something else..something that would work..at least temporarily, or the service crews would have caught it by now...But it could have been done..Which would practically guarantee that they could sabotage the thing in space ...And the original chip..the one they'd removed, would be extremely valuable! They could study it and...Ian! I'll bet that's it!" she exclaimed.

Ian stared at her. "I thought you just said you didn't have a devious mind! That's the most convoluted supposition I've ever heard!"

"Well, I'm not an idiot! Just because its against my nature to be devious..and I don't expect it out of others, doesn't mean I can't grasp complicated ideas when I put my mind to it..!" She paused, gnawing her lower lip while she considered whether he'd meant it was too farfetched to be likely. "Does that mean you do or you don't think it's possible?"

"As you said..At this point, anything's possible..But I don't think we need to go charging out to the Cape and inform them of our suspicions."

Andrea gaped at him. "Why not! It seems to me like that's the best thing to do..under the circumstances."

"Because," Ian said grimly, "A. We have no proof. Likely the only thing we'd accomplish would be to get ourselves arrested. B. If they believed us, which is doubtful, the only thing it would accomplish would be to delay the launch..possibly indefinitely.. which might be their primary aim..and the idea here is not to give them what they want. And C. If we blow everything wide open like that, likely they'll all scurry into the woodwork and leave us hanging, with no proof, and no way of getting it."

"Oh...So what do we do?"

"We go back and look some more.."

"Oh, Ian," Andrea said plaintively. "That's not doing the least bit of good! They've been over it..We've been over it..The police have been over it! There's nothing there! Someone would have found it by now if there had been...Or, if it is there, we'll never find it! It's like looking for a needle in a hay stack!"

"Unless you've got any better ideas, we've still got to try..." He paused, waiting for suggestions he knew she didn't have. "No? Then let's go. We'll start with Fabian's apartment this time, I think..."

One thing was for certain, Andrea thought as she peered around the gloomy interior of the apartment. Familiarity did breed contempt..in this case at least.

They had decided to widen their search this time to include Sheila's apartment..for all the good that was likely to do. They had widened their search as well, to include papers that might possibly prove valuable..Though Andrea had her doubts that Fabian would have been clumsy enough to have left any conveniently incriminating papers laying around.

Regardless, Ian had given her the task of looking for any kind of communique with the consulate..no matter how innocent it might seem, while he concentrated on searching the walls, floors and ceiling for some sort of hidden compartment. After nearly three hours of searching, when they had once again covered the apartment from end to end, they were forced, again, to concede defeat and move on.

At Sheila's apartment, they fared no better. It had the added interest of being 'fresh' territory, but that only meant it took them longer to go over it..Particularly since Sheila had had a penchant for collecting all sorts of fancy little bowls, bottles, boxes and baskets to hold an even odder assortment of odds and ends.

Andrea found one small wicker box filled with buttons; buttons of every color, size and shape. Apparently the woman never sewed buttons back on once they'd fallen off..either that or she had a fetish about buttons as well as shoes and handbags...And those were another headache. She went through, and counted, twenty five different pocketbooks, most of which had never, apparently, even been used. She checked an equal number of shoes, most of them high heels, looking for false heels. She found nothing. But she developed an acute headache..and an acute dislike of pocketbooks and high heels.

Ian went through a drive-through hamburger joint and picked up sandwiches on the way to her apartment, which they ate as they rode...Or, Ian ate. Andrea, after a botched attempt to remove the melted cheese from her burger, which wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, gave up on it after a couple of bites, stuffed it in the bag and tossed it into the back seat.

"Why didn't you just throw it out the window?" Ian demanded, irritated.

"You mean litter?" Andrea exclaimed, genuinely shocked. "They fine people for littering, you know. What if I'd thrown it out and a policeman had pulled us over? Then we would've been in for it."

"Hell! There's not a cop in sight. Just throw the damn thing out!"

"I will not! Too many people litter as it is. It makes everything look ugly..besides being bad for the ecology.."

Ian rolled his eyes. "I give up. Don't give me a lecture about the ecology. Frankly, I'm sick of hearing it!...You would be one of those!" he muttered as an afterthought.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Andrea demanded, spoiling for a fight.

"Nothing," Ian growled, refusing to rise to the challenge.

"Well, why did you say it?" Andrea retorted, refusing to give up on a promising fight so easily.

"Because I'm a glutton for punishment," Ian muttered irritably.

Andrea glared at him for a long moment, but finally gave up and gave her attention over to her cold, greasy french fries. They attacked her immediately when Ian pulled the car up to the curb in front of his apartment. "Don't tell me we've got to search your apartment too!" Andrea snapped irritably. Of course, it was illogical, since Ian couldn't possibly have had anything to do with the thing and hadn't even gotten involved until everything had gone down, but Ian didn't seem to worry overly much about logic, the slave driver. They'd already searched two apartments that were highly unlikely to yield anything of any value..after they'd been searched so many times already.

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "This is my place. Why would we look here?"

"I just figured you were having such a dandy time trashing apartments, you wanted to include yours as well," Andrea snapped, flinging her car door open and stepping from the car.

Ian emerged as well, slamming his door behind him. They glared at each other over the roof of the car. After a moment, Andrea felt her lips twitch. Really! They sounded like an old married couple..bickering about the most minor things..

Her amusement died at the thought. Not only weren't they an old married couple, it was beginning to look as if they weren't going to get old at all. "Alright, already. So I knew you were just parking here!"

Ian turned and stalked off across the street. Andrea hurried to catch up to him.

"I'm glad you can take this so lightly," he muttered.

"I'm not taking it lightly..But I'm dog tired! And it not only seems useless, it seems hopeless. We could search these apartments till Kingdom Come, and never even come close to finding what we're looking for!"

"You got any better..."

"No!" Andrea snapped, cutting him off. "I don't have any better ideas, damn it!...And that launch is scheduled for 9 o'clock tomorrow morning! What if we don't find anything here? What are we going to do, Ian? We can't just let the shuttle go up without warning somebody that there's a possibility that its been sabotaged!"

"We'll think of something...If nothing else, we'll call in an anonymous tip...They'll probably figure it's just a hoax, but they'll have to check it out...and that'll cause a hold, which will give us a little more time."

Andrea sighed with relief. It wasn't much, but it was something. Her stomach muscles relaxed somewhat.

The file Ian used to pick her door lock didn't work nearly as well as his 'thingy' had. It took far longer to jimmy the door than it had before and Andrea's nerves were jumping once more, her cold, greasy french fries lying like cold chunks of granite in her stomach, by the time he finally jimmied the lock and they entered the apartment.

She supposed that was why the apartment 'felt' strange. She'd had enough bad experiences lately, however, not to ignore it completely. "Wait a minute!" she whispered, grabbing Ian's arm to hold him back when he would have gone ahead of her into the living room.

"What?" Ian asked, stopping and turning to her in vexed surprise.

She shook her head. "It feels strange," she said uneasily.

Ian frowned. "What feels strange?"

"The apartment....It feels..alive...If you know what I mean."

"No. I don't know what you mean..What the hell do you mean?"

"It feels..crowded...Ian, I think there's someone else here.."

Ian stared at her for a long moment, so long that she fully expected him to dismiss her qualms out of hand. After a moment, he turned, flashing the beam of his pen light down the darkened hallway and scanning each gaping, black doorway. He killed the light then, after the most cursory examination, and Andrea was about to protest further when he reached behind him, pulling a gun from the back waistband of his jeans.

Andrea stared at it in horror. He was wearing a jacket, of course, against the night chill, but it was a light jacket and how he'd concealed anything that big, she couldn't fathom...or where he'd gotten it..or when he'd gotten it for that matter..Though she supposed he'd picked it up when he'd gone into town earlier. She rather wished he hadn't. She knew the bad guys had guns and they needed some kind of protection, but she didn't like the idea of being caught in a cross-fire any more than she liked the idea of dodging one way bullets.

"Wait here."

She nodded.

"I mean it. Don't move from this spot."

She shook her head. "I won't."

"..Because I don't want to shoot you by mistake."

"If you shoot me it'll be a damn fine trick!" she retorted. "Because I'm not fixing to hang around anybody that's got a gun that damned big and's worrying about shooting me by mistake..I'll go wait in the car."

"No you won't! You'll wait right there. In that very spot.."

"I would rather wait in the car, if you don't mind! I don't like guns."

"Well, I do mind!" Ian snapped. "Look....Do you want to stand here arguing while some creep slips up behind us? Or do you just want to do what you're told..for once!"

"Alright, already! Go!"

He turned and started off.

"But if you shoot me..on any part of my body..I'll never forgive you!" she whispered after him.

He paused a moment and then continued, as if he hadn't heard her. She stared after him, so frightened that it was several moments before she began to analyze what he was doing. But then she realized that he looked just like the actors in the movies always did, the ones portraying police and such, as he methodically checked the apartment room by room, and she felt a touch of relief. At least he seemed to know what he was doing..Maybe it was his military training?

Somehow, that didn't seem quite right, however. She couldn't imagine that soldiers would be trained in house search. Maybe, like her, he'd just seen a lot of movies and learned how to do it?

She still felt just a tad uneasy with her reasoning, though she didn't quite know why, but she dismissed it as Ian strode back down the hallway toward her. It was just plain stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth, anyway. She was glad Ian seemed so capable..In every sort of situation. She'd have been in a heck of a mess if some very nice, very gentlemanly....accounting clerk had taken it into his head to rescue her, wouldn't she?

"No one here, but us."

She sighed with relief, but shook her head. "It felt so strange! I was sure...But I'm glad I was wrong."

Ian gave her a sardonic look and tucked his gun back into his waistband. "You check out your room again..I'm going to have a look around the living room."

"Fine," she replied, beginning to feel a little better. It couldn't take long to look her tiny apartment over..And then they could go somewhere, place that call..and she could go back to the cabin and rest easy for the first time in days.

She almost felt cheerful by the time she'd examined everything that she could possibly have worn on any occasion when she might have been used as a courier. She had examined every piece of jewelry she owned..which didn't take long, since she only had a very few pieces. She'd examined all three of her own pocketbooks, shoe buckles, belt buckles..everything.

She met Ian in the hallway, trying not to look as relieved as she felt. "Nothing?"

He shook his head. "You?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

She shook her head, then followed him back into her room, feeling justifiably ----she thought---- irritated that he didn't want to take her word for it.

"There's got to be something we're missing...."

"Ian!" Andrea said plaintively. "We haven't missed a thing! We've been over every single thing in this apartment!..Two or three times, at least! Everything!"

"You checked all of your work clothes..Everything you regularly take to work?"

"I checked every single, solitary thing I own, shoes, pocketbooks and jewelry included!"

Ian moved restlessly around the room, picking up first one thing and then another and discarding it. "There's got to be something we're missing..," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He moved to the closet, rifling through the few items that remained on their hangers, checking pockets. After a few minutes, he turned away, studying her.

Andrea returned his look. "What?" she asked after a moment, unnerved by the intensity of his stare.

"That pocketbook you're holding..Is that the one you usually carry?"

Andrea looked down at the comfortably battered purse and wondered how anyone could doubt it was her favorite. "Almost always. Every once in a while I carry one of the others..But I don't like to..Because, frankly, I can't keep up with the others. I'm used to this one and if I carry one of the others, I always mistake it for someone else's..."

They had the same thought at the same time. Each of them grabbed a purse and turned it inside out, examining seams, snaps and zippered compartments. "Nothing here," Ian announced finally, with disgust.

"Nothing here either," Andrea said, sighing gustily with disappointment as she tossed it over her shoulder.

"Let's have another look at that one."

Andrea stared at him a moment, but finally turned, smoothed a clear spot on the bed and dumped the contents out for his inspection, no longer particularly embarrassed about having him look through her things...Privacy had become a thing of the past anyway, she thought wryly. Everyone had been through, touched, and inspected, everything she owned, right down to her feminine products.

Ian, sorting through the pile systematically, finally picked up a pin and held it up. "What's this?"

Andrea gave him a disbelieving stare. "My name tag..Everyone at the Cape has one just like it.."

"Do you always carry it in your pocketbook?"

"No. I usually..." She broke off, her eyes widening. "..wear it." She butted heads with Ian as both of them bent to look at it at the same time. She sat back, rubbing her forehead as Ian snatched the tag out of her reach, turning it over and over in his hands.

"Why do you have two?"

Her jaw dropped. "I don't have two..Nobody has two! They have to keep up with those things you know..Security!"

Ian looked up at her. "You have two. I found one on one of your blouses in the closet."

Andrea stared at him. "You couldn't have! You must be mistaken. You work there! You know how they are about the tags..Besides. I always drop mine in my pocketbook as I leave work. Because I'm terribly absentminded....Fortunately, I'm also bad about picking up habits, so, when I kept forgetting to take mine with me, I just made it a point to drop it in my pocketbook as I was leaving work, so I'd be sure and have it with me the next day. I don't even think about it anymore. I just do it."

Ian got up and moved to the closet. In a moment, he returned, dropping her blouse in her lap. She stared at the security badge pinned to her blouse for a long moment before she looked up at Ian. "One of these isn't mine..!"

"That's because one of them is a forgery," Ian said grimly.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Andrea unfastened the badge from her blouse, studying it carefully. After a moment, she handed it to Ian and took the one that had come from her pocketbook. "They look just alike to me," she said after a moment. "What do you think?"

"Damned if I can see any difference....You didn't lose one and ask for a re-issue?"

She shook her head, idly thumbing the badge in her hand. "I might be absentminded..and I might have had trouble remembering to pin it on before I left for work, but I don't lose important things like this...." She paused, frowning as she ran her fingers lightly over the back of the pin. "Ian..?"

His head came up in response to the suppressed excitement in her voice. "Find something?"

"There's a lump in this card..How about that one?"

"It's probably just the other end of the pin.."

"It's not!..It's..sort of rounded....Give me your knife.."

"Oh, no you don't!" Ian retorted, taking the badge from her. "If there's any possibility of a delicate piece of electronics being inside this thing, I'm not about to turn you lose on it with my pocket knife."

"Well! I like that!" Andrea said indignantly.

Ian only grunted and moved closer to the lamp they'd replaced in its spot on her night stand. Andrea crowded close, trying to peer over his shoulder. He turned to look at her.

"Well?" she asked excitedly.

"I think..."

"Yes?" she gasped in anticipation.

"..If you'd move back, I might be able to work on this thing."

She gave him a deadly look, straightened and stalked across the room. "Is this far enough?" she asked sarcastically.

He didn't even look up. "That's good," he replied absently, pulling a magnifying glass from his pocket and examining the pin through it for so long that Andrea began to feel immensely impatient. She controlled the temptation to walk up and snatch it from him and examine it herself only with the thought that the hateful thing would just take it away from her again. "It's in the 'a'," he muttered finally.

"What?"

Ian threw her a grin over his shoulder. "The micro dot we've been looking for..It's the speck next to the 'a' in your name pin. I thought at first it was just a speck of ink."

Andrea gave an excited whoop and did a cheerleader's routine.

Ian, who'd turned his attention back to the pin, mumbled something unintelligible.

Andrea subsided immediately. "What?" she asked a touch fearfully. "Don't tell me it isn't what you thought it was..!"

"It is....But it looks like we were both right...There's something inside, too....and it looks like its a computer chip.."

"No kidding?!....Ian! We've done it! Oh! Thank you, Lord! Thank you! Now I we can turn it in and I can have a life again..A real..normal..life..No more being chased by guys with guns! No more sleeping in that horrid cabin!..And..Home! I can go home! Without worrying that those maniacs will follow me!

I can't wait to tell my mother all about this..She'll never believe it..Of course, she's probably going to be a little sore that I didn't tell her..But..Ian..! You're going to love my mother! And I just know you and my dad are going to hit it off..."

"Andy...," Ian said quietly, something in his tone cutting across her euphoric ramblings like a knife.

She stared at him blankly a moment. "You don't want to meet my folks?" she said in dismay.

"Andy..," Ian said harshly. "This doesn't solve anything..."

"Of course it does!" she snapped angrily. "It solves everything! We can take it to Mr. Faircloth..Expose the whole plot..Save the launch..."

"Tell him what? That we found top secret information and a micro chip that belongs in a top secret military satellite concealed inside your security pass?"

Andrea stared at him in dawning horror. "But..!..But, Ian! You know I had nothing to do with that! You were the one that figured out how they were using me to smuggle out the information! We'll just explain that to them!"

"We could explain all day and well into next year..But that doesn't change the fact that the only proof we've got is in this security badge..that apparently belongs to you and was found in your apartment..in your purse, to be exact...And I'm damned if I'd risk trusting your Mr. Faircloth either! You'll recall, you gave him a little call..and in no time, the heat was breathing down our necks? I doubt we'd get two words out before he set the cops on us..again."

Andrea gaped at him. "You think I'm guilty, don't you? You honestly believe I'm capable of something like this? Something this...this heinous? Well, you can just go straight to hell, Ian Chandler! I don't care what you believe! I'm going to Mr. Faircloth and I'm going to turn that thing over and I'm going to explain everything...!"

"..And go right to jail..Because that's where you'll be going."

Andrea felt a bone deep chill start at her feet and envelope her. "Well..What do you suggest? It's got to be turned over to them! We can't keep it and we certainly can't just throw it away and pretend we never saw it! People's lives might depend on that chip!"

Ian studied her thoughtfully for a long moment. "We could put it in a safe place..Give them a call to come pick it up..Even place a second call to the local paper. Once its been returned..And the news people plaster it across the front headlines..You'd be home free. There wouldn't be any point in our 'comrades' chasing us around if it was out of their reach."

Andrea stared at him a moment, tempted..oh so tempted. She didn't want to go to jail. She didn't even want to risk going to jail, but, as badly as she would have liked to snap up Ian's suggestion and run with it, she knew she couldn't. It was a totally irresponsible thing to do. She couldn't bring herself to trust in fate and let it slide. She had to see that it got into the right hands..personally...even if she had to pay for it later. She had to live with herself.

"I can't do that..," she said finally. "There's too much chance that the Russian's would find out somehow and beat them to it...and I won't take that kind of chance..not when people's lives might be at stake...I'd never be able to live with myself afterwards if I did.....But there's no reason why you should be involved in it. I'll turn it in myself. They don't ever have to know you had anything to do with it..They already suspect I'm involved, anyway....

And my folks will help me. They'll get me a good lawyer, if I see I need one..And if worse comes to worse...Well..when you do something stupid, you usually have to pay for it..one way or another...."

"Very true," said a voice almost directly in her ear.

Before she could react, before she even realized what was happening, she was seized in a choke hold and something horribly cold and heavy settled near her breast.

She glanced up a little wildly at the man who held her, at the other men who crowded into the room behind him and then at Ian, feeling stark, cold terror seep into her pores, the tiny, painful shards collecting, as if magnetized, to her heart to freeze it into a hard, icy cube. Ian, too, had been so involved in their discussion that he'd been taken unaware, but his reaction had been far more swift than hers. His gun, she saw with some relief, was in his hand, and pointed directly at the men who stood beside and behind her.

"You might just as well put your gun down Mr..Chandler," said Lurch. "You don't have a chance..and neither does she," he added, nudging her breast, just above her heart, with the barrel of his gun.

Andrea peered down at it, feeling her heart lurching upwards with each pounding beat to brush her breast against that cold, deadly thing, more horrible even than a snake to her. For several moments, she was so terrified, she thought it might actually pound its way out..Or that she would really and truly faint, for the first time in her life.

After a moment, however, a strange sort of calm descended upon her. It wasn't the calm certainty of continued life. It was the calm certainty of imminent death. She was going to die, and she knew it..No matter what she or Ian did. It was odd, the detachment it seemed to give her, and the effect it had upon her perceptions.. So that she viewed everything as if from inside a glass jar, looking out..Or through water, where sounds were muted and actions slowed, even deadly actions seeming slowed to a point that they ceased to seem threatening.

"I'll take that now," Sam Waters said, stepping forward into Andrea's line of vision, his hand outstretched.

She felt little surprise at seeing him with the others, though she hadn't made the connection before...Because she realized quite suddenly that he was the man that had attacked her the night she'd gone to her apartment to get Monster. She supposed she hadn't put the voice with the right face because she'd been trying so hard to place his voice with those of the 'gang' she knew....Of course, she should have long since guessed the men were all tied together when they'd disappeared after Fabian's murder. Ian had suggested it even then.

"Don't give it to him," Andrea said tautly. The arm tightened around her neck so that she could scarcely breathe and she clawed at it, fighting for air.

"Kill her," Ian said coldly. "And I'll make damn certain you don't get anything."

The arm loosened immediately and Andrea choked as she caught her breath, gasping with relief. But it was just a momentary reprieve. They both knew it..Ian, however, still had a chance. A slim one, true, but some chance. He stood on the side of the bed nearest the bath. He could duck inside. Lock the door..that would hold them for a few moments..which might be all he needed to escape by way of the window.

She looked at him, wanting to convey those thoughts, realizing how very badly she wanted him to live...How much she wished she could live too. She loved him. It was odd how she was suddenly so certain of it..so certain of so many things...Because she was absolutely certain she wasn't going to let them do the things to her that they'd done to Fabian and Sheila.

"I suppose Baldwin and Phillips..or whatever their real names were..must be around here somewhere..?" Ian said in a tone that sounded almost idle, though it was far from that. He wanted to know exactly where everyone was before he made his move, and there was some hope they would drop that helpful piece of information right in his lap..Particularly since they knew they held all the cards and must feel secure in it.

Sam Waters paled slightly and looked at Lurch. "I'm afraid our comrades are no longer with us...they went for a swim..," Lurch said, grinning.

Friar Tuck grinned as well. "It was remorse..you understand ... For failing us.."

"More like," Ian said dryly, "it was remorse over not succeeding in selling the item before you arrived for it. That is what happened, isn't it? Old Fabian figured he might as well make a few bucks off of it, as long as he'd gone to all that trouble.. But he didn't want to share it with his comrades in arms.. And the mother land wasn't particularly happy about being forced to pay for something they figured was already theirs, right?"

Ichabod cursed, in Russian. One didn't have to understand the language to realize it was a curse. "The capitalist pig! Your decadent country corrupts!"

Lurch snapped something at him in their native tongue and Ichabod subsided.

"And the girl? Where did she come in?" Ian asked, indicating Andrea.

She knew he'd only asked to stall for time, but it sent a shaft of pain through her all the same..Because she knew he still doubted her..She thrust the thoughts aside. They threatened her icy calm and she didn't want to let go of that now.

Lurch grinned again. "The American whore?" His grin broadened when he saw Ian's fingers tighten on his gun. Even though he managed to hold his expression of politely bored interest, that slight gesture gave him away. "Shall I ease your mind? I can see it eats at you..the doubts," he said with a harsh laugh. "Maybe I will...But it won't make any difference to you..In the end....She was so trusting, you see...You Americans..You are so..arrogant! So certain of yourselves! It does not occur to you how easily you can be used and manipulated. You are all so complacent that no one would dare to interfere with your American freedoms! She was so stupid, she didn't even know she was being used....Now....I give you that. You give me the micro chip..." He paused a moment, saw the indecision in Ian's eyes and added, "It would be a shame to blow a hole in your lover..now."

Andrea stared at Ian for a long moment, catching his eye. She glanced toward the bath then, trying to give him the word. His only chance was to take them off guard and she could do no more without ruining his chances altogether. Relief flooded her as she saw his eyes flicker in the direction she'd indicated. He was quick to catch such things, she knew.

She smiled at him faintly. Slowly she lowered her hand until it was resting over Lurch's hand, her finger over his. "It's alright, Ian....Shoot him!"

Ian stared at her blankly a moment before comprehension dawned. "No!" he roared, launching himself at them as Lurch threw her hand off. She grabbed for his gun hand again, bringing it up to her mouth and sinking her teeth into it just as the gun roared, setting off a deafening explosion, right at her ear.

Screaming, in surprise as much as pain, he slung her loose so that she flew backward just as Ian impacted with him with a meaty thunk she heard even above the mighty roar of the ocean in her ears. She struck the edge of the bed and bounced off onto the floor. Scrambling up on hands and knees, she looked around to see the other three men converging on Ian and Lurch, who wrestled for possession of Lurch's gun not three feet from where she'd fallen.

Ian no longer had his gun, she saw, and after staring in indecision at the mass of heaving, tangled bodies before her, she looked desperately around for it. Spying it finally on the other side of the bed, she made a dive for it. Ichabod beat her to it, kicking it out of her reach, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her to her feet. She screamed, in pain, in frustration, whirling to attack him with fingers curled into claws, attacking so swiftly and viciously that he fell back a step in surprise. She surged forward, so intent on the 'kill' that she didn't see his fist as it came flying at her. It connected with her chin, her head snapped back on her shoulders and the lights exploded and went out.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

She landed hard on something equally hard, banging her elbow and her head. Sharp needles of pain shot through both, making her wish for the oblivion that was slipping through her fingers. However, it was useless, she quickly discovered, to try to recapture it.

Somewhere close at hand, doors slammed and a deeper darkness descended around her. A moment later an engine roared to life and the hard floor beneath her began to quiver, a quiver that very quickly became the vibrations of movement.

She was in the back of a truck of some sort then..and going somewhere...She dismissed that thought. She dismissed the flickering orange glow that appeared and disappeared behind her eyelids with a regularity that told her there were windows nearby, and street lights passing by.

Instead, she turned her mind to trying to locate the source of her pain and realized that most of it was centralized in her head. Her jaw and chin ached worse than she would've believed it could and still been in one piece. She moved it experimentally, discovered that it would move, but caused excruciating pain, and subsided. The instinctive urge to massage away the pain brought her to the realization that she was tied..again. She discovered, however, that she was in too much pain to panic over being restrained, and turned her mind back to locating her hurts.

Her teeth ached. She touched them carefully with her tongue and discovered two that were loose..and bleeding. She turned her head and spat, uncaring, at the moment, of where she was or who might observe such a deplorable sight. She wasn't about to swallow the blood...and then she realized that she couldn't wipe her mouth and chin..and that her lip was puffy with swelling, and bleeding as well. She angled her head downward and swiped at her mouth and chin with her shoulder, then groaned with pain.

She heard an echoing groan..a masculine echo and finally opened her eyes, struggling with her bonds until she finally managed to turn toward the sound. Ian was lying beside her no more than a foot away. She thought it was Ian. His face was battered until it was a little difficult to be certain in the uncertain light that spot-lighted him and faded, spot-lighted and faded, almost like a delayed strobe light, making the entire scene an eerie, flickering picture in stark black and white.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he opened his eyes briefly, his beautiful green eyes, and she felt a sob swell in her throat. "Oh, Ian..Look at you!" she sobbed, wriggling until she could reach him, trying to cradle his battered face against her shoulder. "Why did you do it? Why didn't you go when I tried to give you the chance? Now we're both going to die..And it's so stupid! And useless!..And they got the chip too!"

"Stop worrying about that damned chip, will you!" Ian growled in vexation.

"But..we're going to die anyway..And now it'll be for just nothing!...And damn it! It makes me just so mad..Because we had it!"

He lifted his face to nuzzle her neck. "We're not going to die!" he said against her throat. "And I don't want to hear any more of than kind of talk. Understand?"

Andrea sniffed, nodding and he moved a little away from her.

"Oh hell!"

"What?" she exclaimed fearfully.

"I got blood on your blouse..Sorry, baby.."

A hysterical giggle caught in her throat. "Oh, Lord, Ian! Do you think I care about the damn blouse?..Now?..Anyway, it's as likely mine as yours."

He looked up at her then, squinting his eyes to peer at her in the gloom. "Son-of-a!....I'll kill the bastard!"

Andrea felt a shiver skate down her spine. There was something in the way he said it that made it more than an exclamation..or an intent to do extreme bodily harm. There was something in the quiet, deadly way he said it that made it sound as if he truly meant it. "It doesn't hurt..much," she said a little shakily.

Ian studied her a long moment before his eyes slid away, scanning the walls of the paneled truck. Two small windows in the rear doors allowed in a stingy light from the street lights they passed, indicating that they were still in the city. He sat up, angling himself so that he had his back to her. "Give me your back.."

Andrea tried to get up, couldn't, and finally rolled toward him, presenting her back. After groping for several moments, he finally fell over beside her, wriggling back to meet her and reaching for her bonds again. She bit her lip as the ropes cut into her wrists, trying to contain the sounds of pain.

He heard her anyway. "I know it hurts like hell, baby.... Damn! Those bastards tied it tight enough..Can you feel your fingers?"

She tried to wiggled them and discovered her hands were entirely numb. "No."

"Mine aren't much better. It'd make it easier if I could feel something..."

Darkness descended upon them while Ian struggled with the ropes and Andrea glanced over her shoulder at the windows. She could see nothing but midnight blue sky and a sprinkling of tiny stars. "We've left the city limits...I wonder where they're taking us.."

"I'd just as soon not stick around and find out," Ian said tautly. "Damn!" He stopped, easing into a more comfortable position and resting a moment before he began working at the ropes again.

"Ian?" Andrea said on a sudden, hopeful thought.

"What?"

"Did they get your pocket knife?"

"I imagine they did..I don't guess it would hurt to look though...You'll have to do it..Wait and I'll turn over." She heard the rustle of his clothing as he shifted painfully around to face her. "There," he grunted. "Check my pockets."

Obediently, she reached for him, wriggling back until she touched him, but it was difficult to find anything when she had no idea of what part of him she was touching. Her fingers were so numb as to be nearly useless. "There? Is that it?"

"Not..quite," Ian said through his teeth. "Try the pockets."

Andrea felt her cheeks flame. She didn't ask what it was she'd grabbed. She didn't want to know. "I thought that was a pocket," she muttered, groping blindly once more. "I don't feel anything," she said finally, disappointed.

"Wish I could say the same," Ian muttered, rolling onto his back, resting a moment and then rolling to his other side. "Here," he added, before she could question the comment..as if she wanted to, "try if you can loosen mine."

She felt for the tight knot and began picking at it with her nails. She was working on her third attempt when the truck began to slow some forty-five minutes later and finally pulled up to a dead stop. They stiffened, waiting in held-breath silence to see if the truck had only stopped at an intersection. Apparently it hadn't. In a moment, the engine died and they heard the sound of doors opening.

Andrea swallowed, hard. "It's alright, Ian...We tried..."

"It's not over yet, baby...Have a little faith," Ian said grimly.

The lock in the rear doors rattled and the doors were swung open. Blinding light flooded the compartment. They peered into it, trying to discern the dark shapes of men behind it.

"Looks like they've come around....Untie their feet. They can walk this time."

A shape materialized out of the darkness and Andrea recognized the brawny bulk of the man she'd dubbed Friar Tuck as he bent over Ian's ropes and sawed through them with a knife. In a moment, he sawed through hers and she was dragged from the truck as Ian had been.

Her heart skipped a beat as she felt herself suspended over mid-air. She thought for several moments that they would merely drag her from the truck and let her hit the ground. Relief flooded her as her feet were lowered and touched something solid before she was grasped by one elbow and yanked upright. It disappeared when she realized her legs had become too numbed from her cramped position to hold her. She collapsed on the ground and was yanked up again, this time by her hair. She cried out at the pain in her scalp, without thinking. If she had, she'd have refused to give them that satisfaction.

"That's two," Ian growled under his breath.

The men ignored the muttered comment, to Andrea's immense relief, hustling them along an expanse of meticulously manicured lawn. Andrea peered around her at the rolling lawns and geometric designs of flower beds, highlighted by muted yard lights, wondering where they were. From the looks of the place, it could have been some vast pleasure garden. Somehow she didn't think so, however.

The building that stood highlighted on a slight rise perhaps a quarter of a mile away, was magnificent..and enormous, but it looked like a house..not a public building of any sort.

They were guided onto a wide pebbled walkway, but, instead of following it directly to the house, they veered off on a second walkway that rambled around toward the back, bordered on either side by tortuously clipped hedges. In a few moments, the walkway widened to embrace a pool of olympic proportions, surrounded by an assortment of fountains with reflecting pools ----one at each outside corner----, multi-level decks, and more beds of tortured greenery.

They were led to a tiny concrete block house, the door was unlocked, and they were shoved unceremoniously inside. The door was slammed and locked once more and they were left in a deep, clammy darkness.

"Ian?" Andrea said in a quavering voice, afraid to move from the spot where she'd landed.

"I'm here, baby..," he responded gruffly. "Talk and I'll find you."

She swallowed, feeling her mind go blank, unable to think of a thing to say. She would've hummed a tune if only she could think of one at the moment. Finally, however, a thought came to her. "Where do you suppose we are?"

She heard a rustle of movement. A moment later there was a loud thunk and the hollow clang of a pipe almost at her ear. Ian cursed a blue streak. "You mean, precisely?....At a guess, I'd say the pump house...there are pipes all over the damned place."

"Oh...But, I meant this place...I thought it might be something like Calloway Gardens..But it doesn't really look like the sort of place tourists would be invited to...I half expected to see an army of guard dogs come charging at us to rip us to shreds."

Something brushed lightly against her arm. She jumped, letting out a frightened squeak.

"It's alright. It's me," Ian said at her ear.

She released a sobbing breath of relief, surging forward to nuzzle against him, wishing her hands weren't tied so that she could hold herself tightly to him. She didn't allow it to stop her from seeking warmth and reassurance, however. She rubbed up against him and stroked, body to body, like a cat begging for attention.

He responded with comforting fervor, nuzzling his face against her neck, placing kisses at wild random that were surprisingly satisfactory. After a moment, he pulled slightly away, however. "Give me your back, baby...I think I might have loosened the knots on your ropes a little...If we can get ourselves untied, we'll have a better chance."

She turned from him obediently, if rather reluctantly, presenting him with her back. She didn't have much faith that he would succeed..and she hated to give up the only comfort she had.

She felt chilled the moment she'd turned away. Not even the warmth of his hands on hers kept it at bay. The cold seeped into her inexorably, chilling skin, then flesh and finally bone until it was an effort only to hold her muscles tensed enough to keep her shivers down to a gentle quaking.

Her fingers, hands and even her arms were so numbed from the restriction of blood flow by the time Ian succeeded, that she didn't even realize he had until they fell limply to her sides. She groaned as pain shot through them.

"Done! Now..See if you can get mine."

"I can't," she said through teeth gritted against the pain as she lifted her arms, then lowered them, then shook them, trying to revive the circulation. "You'll have to give me a minute."

"I don't know how many minutes we've got, baby..."

She swallowed against the knot of fear that comment brought to her throat. "I'll try..," she murmured, squeezing and opening her fists a few times...or making the attempt. She found she couldn't form fists, but she reached for him, touching his shoulders and following his arms down to his hands, trying to close her fingers together on the narrow ropes that bound his wrists.

Finding that her hands were still almost useless, she bent down, using her teeth to pluck at the knots, working her hands all the while. After a time, they began to feel more normal, though still awkwardly swollen, and she straightened, using her fingers once more. She found then that she'd managed to loosen the knots slightly with her teeth. In a few moments, she had his hands loose.

Not that she truly believed, anymore, that it would help them. It freed his arms for holding, however, and, after she'd given him a few moments to shake the circulation back, she made herself at home, without waiting for an invitation she wasn't certain she would get, sliding her arms around his waist and clinging to him as if he was a lifeline and she drowning. He surprised, and delighted, her by crushing her tightly against his length, reaching up to grasp a handful of hair and angling her head back so that he could crush his mouth to hers.

Her body thrummed to life. The chill of terror receded as his tongue slipped across the sensitive surface of her lips and delved inside. Thawing, warming, life-giving heat pulsed through her as the sweet, faintly rough texture of his tongue glided over hers, stroking sensuously, twining sinuously. She made a faint sound of pleasure, clinging more tightly still, though she could scarcely breathe. But she didn't need to breathe at the moment. She needed to feel..everything she could..as long as she could. She wanted to make it last forever.

He pulled away finally, holding her tightly still, but avoiding her silent plea to reclaim her mouth. Instead, to soothe, to apologize, he nuzzled his face against her throat, the side of her neck, her ear, nipping with the edge of his teeth tiny bites of flesh that sent pleasant shivers racing along her spine. "I'm sorry, baby..," he murmured near her ear. "I wish..."

She said nothing, waiting..waiting for a wish that was never voiced.

"Andy...I want you to remember something...," he said finally, his voice sounding oddly harsh, almost grim.

"What?" she prompted when he paused for a long moment, hopeful..ever hopeful that he would say what she so desperately wanted to hear, despite the odd note in his voice that frightened her.

"..No matter what comes of this..No matter what you might hear.. later...I love you." He nestled his face against her neck, holding her tightly, his voice roughened with some emotion she could only guess at. "I think I did right from the start..It's crazy..damned crazy. I know I felt like a damned fool...How can you love someone you don't even know..or don't really know? Just from looking...watching? I kept telling myself that..And trying to believe it couldn't happen like that.. Except I knew better...I knew you alright. I knew you so well I was more than half way there before I was even aware of it..But I knew..the first time I saw you that I was in deep...trouble.

Remember that, will you? ...And try to understand..I did what I had to...But most of it..Most of it..I did for you.."

Andrea pulled slightly away from him, wishing she could see his expression..trying to even though she knew the effort was useless. "I don't understand." She wasn't certain she wanted to. It sounded uncomfortably as if he was saying he loved her..but... It sounded as if he, too, had felt that strange bond she'd felt from the beginning..As if he, too, felt that fate had thrown them together for a reason..because they were meant to be together.. But he didn't mean to accept it..Didn't truly love her...Not enough, at any rate, to take a gamble on her. If he had, he wouldn't have said it and told her he wouldn't stay with her in the same breath.

"I didn't think you would..," he pulled away, turning and leading her unerringly to one wall, pulling her down beside him and sliding his arm around her waist to pull her close once more.

She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, 'but you will'. She wasn't certain, however, and she dismissed the puzzling words after a moment, burrowing up against him in search of warmth and comfort...hoping he hadn't truly meant what she'd thought he meant..hoping there was some hope for them. "Ian..?" she said after a moment, feeling terribly shy, but determined. "I love you too."

He kissed her then, a brief almost platonic kiss, her lips and then her forehead. "I know you think you do..now...Let's hope it lasts."

"Ian..You're starting to scare me..What is it? What's wrong?"

He distracted her, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her until she was a mindless rag doll, weak, hungry. She urged him on, wordlessly. He ignored it, controlling the pace..keeping their love-making to prelude only.

As much as it frustrated her, she was glad of it when the door was suddenly yanked open and blinding light spilled over them. She buried her face against his shoulder, trying to blot it out, trying to blot from her mind what she feared was coming.

Ian bent his head and brushed his lips against her ear. "When I give the word..go! Understand?" Ian whispered harshly. "Don't hesitate...If you do, we're both dead."

She nodded jerkily, and Ian put her away from him almost calmly and got to his feet. She blinked at him, trying to focus her eyes so that she could read his expression, trying to focus her scattered thoughts. His expression was cold and hard..in a way that she'd never seen before, in a way that made him seem a stranger to her. It sent a shiver along her spine, making the hair at the nape of her neck lift in anticipation..For she knew Ian meant to take as many of their captors with them as he was able..And he looked frighteningly capable of almost anything.

She stumbled as they left the building, still somewhat blinded, so frightened her bones felt rubberized. Ian caught her against him before they had the chance to hit her for her clumsiness as they had before, holding her close as their captors halted them outside the door and discussed between themselves whether or not to re-tie them while Andrea and Ian waited in tensed silence.

Finally they decided it was unnecessary, nudged them in the small of their backs with the guns they held, and urged them forward. They followed the paved patio around the pool, climbing from one deck to another until they reached a vast wall of glass. The doors were pushed open and she and Ian motioned wordlessly inside by the Uzi Friar Tuck held at the ready.

They stepped inside a palatial room with soaring ceilings, and deep, deep carpets. Andrea felt almost as if she was walking through water as they traversed the room, looking around in awe at the expensive sofas and chairs that were scattered in conversation groupings around the vast room.

They reached a wood paneled wall..a solid-wood paneled wall and halted before a heavily ornate paneled door of french provincial design with an equally ornate door handle. Ichabod surged forward to tap at the panel.

"Come."

He depressed the handle and shoved the door open, ushering Andrea and Ian before him. Andrea's eyes were drawn immediately across the room to a man who sat behind an enormous rosewood desk, of proportions generally seen only in a bank..or perhaps the homes of the very wealthy. She stared at the man as they approached. She didn't recognize him, but she was fairly certain that it was the same man she'd seen waiting in the car the day the attempt was made to abduct Fabian shortly before he was murdered.

They came to a halt before the desk. The man looked up, studying them both cursorily before he leaned back in his chair and fixed Ian with a cold eye. "Well...Mr. CIA man..It appears you were a few jumps ahead of us all the way." He tossed the security badge onto his desk top. "These, of course, are useless. What did you do with the original computer chip? Or need I ask?"

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Andrea felt her jaw go slack with stunned incredulity as she turned to look at Ian, waiting for him to laugh..or curse..deny it, however the mood struck him. He said nothing. Nor did he even so much as glance her way. She saw a muscle tense and flex in his jaw as if he was working to control his temper. When finally he spoke, however, it wasn't to her...and it wasn't to deny the ludicrous statement.

"As you say...We were several jumps ahead of you..I think you can figure out where it is..."

The man's eyes narrowed for a moment on Ian's face before they flickered to rest on Andrea's. A tight little smile curled his lips. It didn't reach his hard, cold eyes. "But! This is rich!" he protested with a laugh that grated like fingernails on a chalk board. "Our little pigeon didn't know, did she? Such innocence.." He shook his head, as if in disbelief. "I do believe I find it charming. Our young..they are so..I believe you call it 'street wise?' these days..They lose their wide-eyed innocence so young..Its such a shame that its come to that..And so refreshing to find one who has escaped..for a time...But she's wise to the ways of the world now..eh, Mr....Chandler? That is what you're calling yourself these days? It's so hard to keep up...But there..she served her purpose..to both of us, didn't she?"

Andrea glanced at Ian again, hoping he would deny it..knowing he wouldn't..feeling something inside her wither and die when he didn't. A burning, painful sickness welled inside her as she turned away from him again, staring at the wall behind the Russian consul's head..For she knew now, without surprise, that that was exactly who he was...No longer really listening to what was said, too stunned to think beyond the one word that pounded in her temples like a flashing neon sign, liar, liar, off and on...Liar.. Everything was a lie. Her entire life had become one great lie.

She'd been right before. None of it was real.

...Except the Russian involvement. That apparently, was all too real...So..She'd been led here to die..by Ian..of the CIA.

"I think," the consul said, turning his attention to Ian again, "that you were not so far ahead of us as you wish us to believe. Why don't you spare me from the necessity of more unpleasantness and simply tell me where it is?"

Ian bared his teeth then in a smile that wasn't quite a smile. It sent shivers scurrying up and down Andrea's spine. It made him seem a stranger to her...She paused at the thought, realizing that he was a complete stranger to her. She didn't know him...She knew the man he'd pretended to be...The one she'd fallen in love with.. Made love to..Thought loved her back.

This man..this stranger..was someone else entirely...capable of darkest subterfuge..capable of killing. She knew suddenly, that he could..and that he meant to..soon. She tensed, knowing that soon now, soon, he would say the word, because this part was real..this part hadn't been planned for her..for either of them..he would make his move..and then they would live..or die.

She felt a strengthening surge of anger suddenly that mushroomed up through her numbness..that he'd used her to the bitter end, that he'd given her something lovely that she'd wanted so badly to believe in and then carelessly snatched it away again. The least, the very rock bottom least he could have done was to have kept the last of his lies to himself.

"I thought we'd already established that I was before you...," he shrugged. "Why don't you answer me a riddle..Just out of curiosity, why establish peaceful negotiations at all? I'll admit that's the one thing about this that puzzles me."

The soviet consul studied him a moment and shrugged. "Let us just say that we were dealt a hand..In a game we didn't ask to play ..and were..constrained to play out the hand..despite our most fervent wishes that the game had not been instituted....It's an embarrassing position we find ourselves in..but there you are. I admit to you that we're not entirely perfect."

Ian eyed him shrewdly for a moment. "..So Korloff was playing his own game?"

Something flickered in the consul's eyes, but then he smiled again, faintly, that smile that reminded Andrea of the cat that ate the canary. "Precisely...."

He turned the subject again. "I'm afraid, Mr. Chandler..That I won't be able to take your word in the matter. I must give it some thought..Then perhaps we'll question you again. Take them back to the pump house..And..Comrade Bogdonovich," he turned to Ichabod, "Comrade Rostov, see that they don't slip their bonds again?"

Rostov, ----Andrea still thought he looked more like an Ichabod---- grasped Andrea by the arm and jerked her around toward the door. Bogdonovich, the man Andrea had dubbed Friar Tuck, grasped Ian's arm as well. It was what he'd been hoping for..waiting for. "Now!" he roared, twisting as he yelled so that he came up behind Bogdonovich, an arm encircling the man's bull-like neck as he grasped the Uzi with his other hand, aimed and bore down on the trigger.

Andrea, at the shout, turned startled eyes in his direction, saw that he'd gained Rostov's attention as well and rammed her elbow into his solar plexus. Rostov gasped for air, clutching at his stomach just as the Uzi Ian and Bogdonovich wrestled for went off, perforating Rostov's thigh, chest and throat before Ian yanked it toward the ceiling.

A crimson fountain spurted from Rostov's jugular even as he clapped a hand to it, forming three pulsing jet streams through his fingers. Andrea screamed as blood spattered her from head to toe. Backing away, she whirled to run even as Ian roared at her again.

"Go!" Ian shouted desperately, emptying the clip Bogdonovich was struggling to train on Andrea into the ceiling.

She ran for the door, cringing as the Uzi barked again and ceiling plaster rained down over her. She hesitated for a millisecond of pounding heartbeats as she stepped into the great room again, looking wildly around, wondering which direction to run. Sam Waters appeared at a door near one end of the room and she darted across the room at a tangent, making for the sliding glass doors where she and Ian had entered. With a shout, Waters leveled his gun at her. She didn't stop. She didn't even slow. Instead, she ran faster still. Bullets dogged her path, aiding that endeavor considerably as it ripped into the carpet and the upholstery of the furniture she passed.

She skidded to a halt as he switched his line of fire before her to cut her off, shattering the wall of glass just before she reached it. She hit the floor, scrambling for cover under a table that looked woefully inadequate, looking around frantically for Ian.

He dove from the door of the consul's office even as she turned to look for him, hit the floor, came up once more on his knees and sprayed Waters and the wall behind him with a half dozen bullets as he ran toward her. Without prompting, she scrambled to her feet and hit for the exit once more. Ian grasped her by one arm as he ran past her, tugging her behind him as he leapt through the shattered glass wall and sprinted across the deck, glass crunching beneath their pounding feet.

Another rain of lead pelted the wooden deck around them as they reached the steps to descend to the second level and Ian veered away, leaping from the side of the deck to the ground below. Andrea screamed again as they went over, and felt immediately foolish when she discovered the ground was little more than three feet below the level of the deck. They struck it with tooth jarring force and scrambled under it, crawling on hands and knees through a maze of supports and out the other side.

A wall of holly met them there and, after glancing over it briefly, Ian grasped her arm and dragged her under the deck once more, heading toward the lower level. Feet pounded on the boards above them echoing hollowly in the cavity below.

"I make it one," Ian whispered, pausing a moment to listen.

"Two," Andrea whispered back. Ian looked at her. "..I think," she amended.

She screamed and covered her head as a bullet tore through the joist beside her, sending splinters of wood flying in every direction. Ian rolled to his back, peppering the floor above them five times in quick succession. A scream and a heavy thud marked the spot. "One," Ian muttered with grim satisfaction, grasping her arm and shuffling rapidly away from the spot. "Move!" he roared.

It wasn't necessary. Andrea crawled for all she was worth, expecting the rain of lead that followed on the heels of Ian's marksmanship. She didn't scream when it came, she crawled faster, over or under the braces she passed, whichever seemed quickest, as she reached it. Ian grabbed her to halt her frantic progress as they ran out of deck cover.

Releasing her, he ejected the clip from the Uzi he held, examined it and tossed it aside with a curse. Pulling a Barretta from the back waistband of his jeans, he checked the clip in it, and replaced it. "We're going to try to make it to the truck we came in..When I give you the word..Go. Stick as close to the shrubs as you can..and stay away from those damned lights. Got that?"

Andrea nodded jerkily and scrambled up into a low crouch. Taking a deep breath, Ian plunged into the bed in a dive and roll, coming up with his pistol leveled and returning the fire he immediately caught from two different directions. "Now!" he snapped, firing twice more as Andrea dove for the bed and darted between the shrubs in a half crouch. He caught up to her before she had made it half way around the house, grasping her arm and dragging her behind him as he leapt the low wall that bordered the bed, sprinted the short distance to the opposite side and leapt the next low wall, plowing through the shrubbery.

He skidded to an abrupt halt as they reached the outside wall of the flower beds. Andrea, who'd just darted another fearful look over her shoulder, plowed right past him and was yanked back.

"Shit!"

Andrea stared out over the expanse of lawn. "What do we do now?" she asked shakily, staring at the three men who now guarded the truck..and the two that were making their way across the lawn toward them, moving their guns in slow arcs from left to right and back again, ready to fire at the slightest provocation.

"Back!" Ian ordered in a harsh whisper, and led the way, taking a tangent to the direction they'd just traversed. It seemed to take hours to traverse the grounds surrounding the pool-deck area, skirting it by way of the vast beds of shrubs, pausing to hide, then scurrying forward to hide again, when in fact it could not have taken much more than thirty minutes.

Ian hesitated for a long moment as they reached the other side, listening, scanning the area. "Shit!" he pronounced vehemently. "The roof!"

Andrea stared at him in utter incomprehension. "The roof? But..but..Ian..We'll have no where else to go when we get there..!"

"Dogs!" he said succinctly, grasping her by one elbow and half leading half dragging her toward the downspout that ran down one wall of the house.

"I can't climb...Dogs?" she said abruptly, listening now. And then she heard them. She immediately had visions of the Rottweiler that had charged her the night she'd gone to rescue Monster and, without another word, grasped the rain spout, lifted one foot to the heavy trash can beside it and hoisted herself aloft. Scrabbling for a second toe hold, she finally managed to wedge the toe of her tennis shoe against a bracket and, with Ian's hand planted firmly against her backside and shoving, shimmied upwards another few feet.

The rain spout groaned and rocked under her weight. Visions immediately assailed her of the thing coming loose at the top and leaning out to drop her in the midst of the pack of dogs she heard rounding the corner of the house now. With shaking, desperate fingers, she reached up and grasped the edge of the roof overhang with one hand. Several frantic moments passed before she managed to grasp it with her other hand. She was still searching frantically for a toe hold when Ian lifted his hand to give her another shove. Placing one foot in his palm, she managed to boost herself up high enough to throw one leg over and rolled onto the roof, gasping for breath.

She rolled to her stomach almost immediately, scooting to the edge of the roof and reaching down to give Ian a hand. Apparently, he didn't need it. "Just get back," he ordered.

She scooted backward and in a moment he heaved himself over the edge of the roof, took a few deep breaths and got to his feet, urging her up. She would've preferred crawling across the roof on hands and knees. She would've felt more secure in that. Ian obviously wouldn't allow it, however, and after a moment, she gave him her hand and allowed him to help her to her feet.

She slipped repeatedly on the slippery shingles as they scrambled over them, gasping in fear each time, too frightened to scream, expecting the Russians to appear over the lip of the roof at any moment. They'd almost made it to the second roof level when she slipped and fell. She skidded nearly halfway down the roof line, gathering friction burns on her hands and the underside of her arms as she went, before Ian caught her and dragged her back. She crawled the rest of the way, ignoring Ian's impatience.

The peak they'd reached was less than two feet higher than the one they'd just traversed, and yet it was a struggle for Andrea to throw herself over it. It seemed she'd lost all muscle tone after her last near disaster. There was certainly no strength in them. Flower stems would've held her up better. She collapsed, trying to catch her breath.

Ian hopped up onto the roof beside her as if he'd done nothing more strenuous than a routine work-out, scarcely winded. "Let's go."

She shook her head. "No." She didn't care if they got her anymore. She was too tired to care.

He jerked her to her feet and gave her a shake that nearly rocked her head off her shoulders. "You don't give up till I tell you you can!" he said through gritted teeth. "Understand?"

"Alright!" she snapped, trying to control the wobble in her chin.

He gave her another shake for good measure, grasped her arm and dragged across the peak. She quickly discovered that the going was slightly easier now that she could place one foot on either side of the peak..well, not easier. It was just that her feet were inclined now to slip in two different directions, and when she slipped, which she did, instead of sliding down the roof, she straddled it...painfully. It made her more careful.

She gazed up at the next level of roof with foreboding as they approached it. It climbed sharply upwards nearly six feet. She knew she'd never make it. Ian knelt on the roof as they reached it, one knee raised.

"Knee, shoulder and up!" he ordered brusquely, and held out his hand.

She stared at him, hands on her hips, fighting for a decent breath of air. Her heart and lungs couldn't handle this kind of situation. She was going to keel over dead at any moment. She knew it...and then she was going to just roll right off the roof. But it didn't matter, because she was going to be dead as a door nail before she ever hit the ground. "I can't do it!" she snapped gustily. It lost something, she realized, when it was said like that.

"Get your ass up there, Andy. Or I'm going to drag you up by your hair!" he ground out.

"No!" she said petulantly.

"Go!" Ian roared.

She was half way up before she realized she'd jumped at his command. Furious, she grasped the edge of the roof and threw herself over it. She turned to give him a piece of her mind as he scrambled over the edge, spotted three men scrambling over the roof in their direction, and decided to keep it to herself. "Ian...they're right behind us."

"Move!" he ground out and led the way.

"Go! Move! Run! Jump!" Andrea mimicked behind him. "I'm not a damned trained dog!"

A bullet ripped the shingles from the roof just inches from her feet and she hit the roof, screaming as she covered her head with her hands. In a moment, she felt Ian's hands on her and lowered her own.

"Are you hit?"

She shook her head jerkily, unable to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

"Then let's go.."

She peered ahead of him, but scrambled up on her hands and knees. "Ian..There's no where else to go."

"There's always down..," Ian muttered, then paused, listening.

Andrea paused to listen as well. She heard it then, the sound that had caught Ian's attention, and glanced around in time to see a helicopter shoot from the black line of trees in the distance. She scurried forward without prompting then, no longer nearly as dismayed at the prospect of leaping from the roof as she had been. It was bad enough to try to dodge the bullets of the men behind them, but at least they were on a lower roof level and unable to get a clear bead on them. They wouldn't have a chance on the roof with the helicopter buzzing over them.

Scooting to the edge of the roof, she stared down at the shadow shrouded ground beneath them, trying to judge just how far down it was. It looked like the Grand Canyon from where she lay, but she knew it couldn't be more than twenty or thirty feet... Just enough to break her neck...Of course, if they lowered themselves over the side first, that would shorten the distance. They could probably make it to the ground that way with only a broken arm or leg. Maybe they could even get by with just a sprain or two.

She looked over at Ian, who, while she'd lain, peering over the side, had climbed down the roof on either side to judge, she assumed, the best jumping off spot. He crouched beside her once more, staring toward the incoming helicopter for a long moment before he turned to look at the men on the roof.

They had paused to watch the helicopter's approach as well, but were moving again, directly toward them. Andrea glanced back over her shoulder and saw that one of the men had already reached their roof. He was moving slowly toward them, his gun leveled.

She swallowed with some difficulty and looked up at Ian as he stepped between her and the approaching gunman. "Now?"

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Hold! Don't move!" Ian said sharply, bringing his arms out slowly to either side of his body and holding them there.

Andrea stared at him. "You're giving up...Now! After what you put me through!"

He said nothing, and finally she glanced up, drawn by the deafening roar of the helicopter's engine and rotors to see just how close it was. It was nearly upon them. She gasped as she saw the man leaning from its open bay door, a lethal looking sub-machine gun trained upon them. The gunman on the roof with them raised his weapon slowly, in a salute. Slowly, she got to her feet, balancing precariously on the slope of the roof.

"Throw down your weapons!"

Andrea jumped and looked wildly around as the voice blasted from the electronic bullhorn, startlingly loud, confusingly omnipresent. If God had suddenly spoken to her she wouldn't have been much more stunned. She looked down at herself, more than half expecting to find she'd somehow picked up a weapon without realizing it. Seeing nothing, she held out her empty hands, hoping they would believe her.

"Now!"

"Ian..," she said in a loud, desperate whisper, terrified that they were going to start blasting away at them at any moment if he didn't discard the Barretta he'd stuck into the back waistband of his jeans once more...Too terrified to reach for it herself, for fear they'd get the wrong idea and shoot her instead. He didn't move. She wasn't even certain he'd heard her over the roar of the helicopter, but she quickly realized why he hadn't responded to the order. The Russian tossed his gun aside. It struck the roof, rattled along it for perhaps ten feet and disappeared over the edge.

The helicopter settled like a giant prehistoric hummingbird, hovering little more than a foot from the roof. Turning, Ian grasped Andrea around the waist and hoisted her up to sit on the floor of the helicopter. In the next moment, she was grasped by each arm and hauled inside. Ian joined them, settling in the seat opposite her. Andrea stared across at him for a long moment, looked at the two men who sat on either side of them and closed her eyes. The helicopter rose, dipped sharply to one side in an arcing turn and was away.

Andrea stared at the clock on the wall without really seeing it, listening to the voices that droned on and on around her without really hearing them. She had already discovered that most of what they were saying she already knew..or had guessed..and much of what they had to say were things she had no desire to hear a room full of people discussing.

..Like the basement interlude.

"...Having failed to locate any physical evidence connecting Miss Wendt to the conspiracy, we decided to contrive a situation of extreme duress, where she would be convinced that her life was threatened. Once we had her convinced that there was no way of escape and death was a likely possibility, the agent with her would contrive to elicit a confession from the subject. Since he was wired at the time, we had expected to have the confession on tape."

It took several moments for that to sink in. Once it did, Andrea's eyes flew, without her volition, to Ian, who sat in stone faced silence at the conference table across from her. He didn't look at her. He hadn't since they'd been picked up. She lowered her eyes almost immediately, studying her hands folded before her on the table for a moment, feeling her face flashing three shades of neon red. After a moment, she lowered her head to her arms, laying her hot cheek against the table.

Possibly, she thought, they wouldn't really notice. Possibly, they would think it was only exhaustion. Possibly, she just really didn't give a damn one way or the other, because if she didn't hide her face, they were going to know how embarrassed she was anyway. Who's bright idea, she wondered, grinding her teeth, had that been, anyway?

"..What were the results? I don't seem to have it on this preliminary report."

Frank Vallenti cleared his throat. He was the Frank of the mall, the young 'policeman' who'd so kindly offered to take her to her apartment to collect Monster..And, apparently, it had been a sincere gesture of kindness. Being a raw young recruit, he had, apparently, taken it upon himself to do so, figuring it couldn't hurt. She hoped he didn't lose his job over it..Because it was that incident that had led to her second run.

Andrea peered at him through the tangle of hair that covered her face.

"The results were..," he paused, clearing his throat again, "..not what we'd hoped. There was some trouble with the equipment. The wire went dead...However, in so far as the aim to create duress, that was certainly successful..and, despite prompting, the subject made no mention of the other conspirators...and seemed genuinely unaware of Mr. Korloff's plot..when questioned..Never, at any time, did she mention any of the others involved..Of course, we'd already established during earlier surveillance that she didn't seem to know them, but this incident seemed to support that earlier finding...and, of course, they, themselves, have already disclaimed any knowledge of the subject in question..."

The wire went dead? Andrea blinked, torn for a moment, between relief and disbelief. But then it occurred to her what must have happened. Ian's half panicked, 'Get a hold of yourself' took on a whole new meaning. How kind of the...jerk! To kill the wire while he soothed the 'subject's' nerves! How fortunate for him that he had! And her! She might yet get out of this if she wasn't forced to commit murder!

Not that it made a great deal of difference, really. Because she had only to look at them to know that they knew exactly what had transpired..even if they hadn't heard the whole thing. And she had no way of knowing just when Ian had thought it prudent to disable his damned wire!

Never had she been more mortified in her entire life! All life's other little embarrassments paled to insignificance.

One thing was for certain. She was never going to have sex again as long as she lived. Twice she'd tried it, and both times she'd ended up with a cheering section. With her kind of luck, the next attempt was likely to be televised. Some people, she realized, just weren't meant to have an intimate relationship. If she'd been Catholic, she would've been seriously considering joining an order.

Of course, she should have been expecting it from the moment she climbed into the helicopter and discovered that Frank Vallenti and Tom Smith, her pseudo husband from the aborted mall abduction, were actually Ian's, ----who ever the hell he really was---- partners, but she hadn't been. The night was rife with surprises. And she'd just had too damned many already and, really, she just couldn't think straight any more. It was a heck of a time to try to defend herself!

But that was just what she'd been doing for the past several hours. The question and answer session she'd had with Howard the Blob hadn't been nearly as grueling. She'd even been subjected to a lie detector test..during what they'd referred to as preliminary questioning. She was only surprised they hadn't gotten around to trying sodium pentothal yet. Certainly, it seemed against their rules to allow her to rest, even for a moment...But then, she supposed that was all part of the plan to keep her 'off balance'.

Which had been their plan almost from the beginning...When they'd decided to make her run...Or rather, keep running.

As far as she could tell, they hadn't had anything to do with that initial dash. The Russians had started that, first 'new' Russia and then 'old' Russia, when Fabian's cohorts had gotten 'annoyed' with him for holding out on them. The Feds had still been scratching their heads and trying to figure out where to go from there after discovering the head of the conspiracy had been 'taken out'. They'd known that would scatter the others into the woodwork once it came out and had been temporarily at a loss as to how to flush them out.

When she'd called the police, she'd been caught up in an official police investigation into Fabian's murder. The Feds had been johnny on the spot, however, and had decided a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush. The two 'policemen' who hadn't been taking her to the police station, who'd been wounded ----not killed, as she'd been told---- by the Consul's men, had actually been Federal agents, taking her in for questioning. When she'd managed to elude them, with the Russians help, it had only made her look more guilty.

Ian and his men, who'd been trailing her all the time, and therefore were ahead of the police, had meant to pick her up at the mall. It was at that point that they had, for some reason unknown to her, decided against it, and put her on the run again, a contrived run this time...Because all they had against her were suspicions, nothing substantial, no hard evidence to convict her, and they weren't about to give up until they could come up with something concrete. ..Besides which, they hoped that, by allowing her to run free, while keeping her constantly terrorized, she would run to the other conspirators for help, thereby incriminating everyone.

In a way, she supposed she could understand it all. There had been a dangerous security breach. The nation's security had been seriously jeopardized by the conspiracy...Naturally, they had to be thorough, and ruthless, in quelling it. She was a loyal American citizen, after all. She could understand how important it was.

And it still stunk! It was inconceivable to her that her own government, through Ian the rat fink, had used her to ferret out the scope of the conspiracy...Or tried to. They'd been shot out of luck there, because she hadn't known about her 'fellow conspirators' and could hardly lead them to people she didn't know about....

She would never, ever, feel quite the same about her government again....Not that she'd exactly idolized them before. But this...This really took the cake....And she'd thought she had rights!

It was beside the point that she'd been made to look guilty. She hadn't been, and if they'd bothered to ask her, she could probably have cleared herself long since, via the lie detector they'd hooked her up to...And she could've been spared the nightmare they'd put her through.

If they hadn't been so hot for her blood, they could probably have cleared everything up much more quickly. There had been at least three Americans, other than herself, involved, who'd long since been taken into custody. They were apparently guilty as sin.

From what she'd been able to piece together, the CIA ----or whatever branch of the government they officially belonged to. They weren't saying, and Andrea certainly wasn't asking.---- had been on to them almost from the start. Certainly, they'd been on to it from the time they had discovered that a brand new Russian born American citizen by the name of Sheila Carmichael, alias Natasha Stefanovich Korloff, had obtained a high level security position at NASA, a startling bit of news discovered during a routine security check, by a rent-a-cop no less.

It hadn't taken long to discover her real name and connect her to, surprise of surprises, a brand new secretary to the Russian Consulate, her ex-husband, Josef Dimitri Korloff..and of course that interesting little tidbit of information had been 'leaked' to the press to give her ----their number one suspect---- a boost in the right direction.

Their problem at that point was 'flagging' each of the Russians involved so that the Kremlin would politely withdraw them ----Apparently the game was played these days rather like the survival games she and Fabian had played. Spies, once 'tagged' were useless since they were under constant surveillance after that, and were, therefore, merely 'removed' once they'd become useless.---- and, more importantly, pin-pointing their American accomplices for prosecution...Because they wanted to make certain they bagged them all.

As for the Russian involvement, it seemed Gorbachev's government had had nothing to do with it..at first, at any rate. The general consensus was that those in the 'power that was', were seeking their former glory days and had instigated the mission, figuring that, if they could successfully undermine the 'Star Wars' project, Russian citizens might not be nearly as willing to talk disarmament, and old Russia could rise again. Unfortunately, their 'errand boy', Korloff, once he'd got the goods, didn't figure a few metals would be sufficient for his trouble. He wanted good old American green backs, lots of them...All to himself. His co-conspirators were in agreement over everything but the last part, and, when they discovered Korloff meant to edge them out, went after it themselves and ended up killing him..and Sheila..or Natasha..and still didn't get what they were after because Korloff had left it with her for safe keeping...And the CIA had already palmed their little plant by that time so that all their frantic searches were for naught.

As for new Russia's involvement, that had come in only at the end. They hadn't instigated it, and they weren't any too happy about it since it threatened to undo all that they were working toward...Unfortunately, once they ----Gorbachev's government---- discovered the conspiracy themselves, they hadn't been able to resist trying to get their hands on information that ----they thought---- was readily available to them. 'Thought', because, in actuality, the information everyone was after was never actually passed, but rather misinformation.

Which explained why she'd been dogged to death. It was little wonder she'd begun to think the world filled with lunatics, now that she realized what had happened, when she had American agents and two separate groups of Russian agents, as well as the local police, after her. Of course, the local police backed out almost at once..on orders. But that still left the other three factions...Concentrating their full energies on her, because the information had been planted on her.

It hadn't taken anyone long to discover that. All that had been necessary was to watch Sheila and Fabian...Which brought them directly to her....Which was where the surveillance on her had come in...Not that she'd been singled out for that favor. Two of her fellow workers, inside the Cape, and one minor government official, U.S. official, had also been involved, been under surveillance, and been 'bagged'.

It had been a desperate situation. She could understand that. She could even understand why she'd fallen under suspicion and why she'd been used..but she couldn't forgive it..Not of her government..and not of Ian...But then, she refused to think of him or his part in this at all..for the moment. She would think about it when it was safer to do so. Because, if she allowed herself to think about it, they were going to have to restrain her.

He spoke then, breaking into her thoughts, and though she tried to block out his voice, she found that she couldn't. That didn't stop her from pretending she was deaf to it, however.

"I discovered no evidence that Miss Wendt was ever aware that she was being used as a courier. Her contact with Korloff, while we had her under surveillance, was minimal. All telephone calls were strictly monitored and analyzed..as were her movements. On each occasion that information was passed, Miss Wendt's very carelessness with the planted data indicated that she was unaware that it was in her possession. Twice, when it was concealed inside a lady's handbag, a duplicate to one she owned, she left them behind and Mrs. Korloff was forced to risk exposure by calling her attention to it. A third time, the information was concealed in a pair of ear rings, which were given as a gift. On that occasion, Miss Wendt lost the ear ring before she left the premises...That, too, was retrieved by Mrs. Korloff and passed a second time. Mr. Korloff palmed it later that same evening when he took Miss Wendt to the theater. At that time, Miss Wendt, contrary to any logic, if she'd been aware of the significance of the ear ring, instituted a search by the majority of the theater employees and complained to the management when it wasn't recovered, despite Korloff's attempts to remove her from the theater quietly...On each of those occasions that information was passed she was contacted by Korloff immediately after the information was passed..never before..and arrangements usually made to meet him at the survival course, where he passed the information on to his accomplices without ever holding it in his possession."

With the best will in the world, Andrea could not keep from blushing all over again as the men in the room turned to study her. So much for a pretense of deafness.

But it was shocking to discover that she'd been under surveillance that long..maybe ever since she'd arrived in Titusville..Certainly since she'd begun working at the Cape. She'd thought, until now, that the surveillance had begun from the time Ian had picked her up at the mall...Which was bad enough. It was far more horrible to realize that it had preceded that encounter. Her mind supplied hundreds of different incidents that might have been observed under a microscope, in a brilliant kaleidoscope of visions, and abruptly went blank, like the screen on a computer that has experienced overload and shut down.

She wouldn't think...She couldn't bear to contemplate, just how intimate an invasion of her privacy that she'd suffered. Because she immediately thought about that high-powered telescope.. and there were some things it was just better if one never knew.. And she still felt naked..and exposed. She hadn't felt this..raped when she had been..physically. A wave of nausea washed over her. She swallowed against it. If it killed her, she wasn't going to get sick in front of these horrible men.

"Instead of picking her up for questioning after the initial investigation was completed, as we originally intended, the murder of Korloff and Miss Wendt's surprisingly successful attempts to elude the authorities..I felt..demanded further consideration..And at that point I decided to move in closer to the subject for surveillance. At no time did I discover any incidence of collaboration. She made no attempt to contact any one of the others involved, even when situations were contrived so that she could do so...The Russians, when questioned about her, admitted, voluntarily, that Miss Wendt was used as courier without her knowledge or consent...And when an offer was made to allow her to cooperate with this investigator, she made every effort to give her full cooperation and aid in every way."

"So...You found no evidence linking Miss Wendt to the others at that time? Physical evidence? You were thorough?"

"None. No physical, or circumstantial evidence...Although a closer association allowed access to Miss Wendt's more personal possessions....Nothing whatsoever to indicate a need to press charges against Miss Wendt for espionage against her government."

The man, who hadn't bothered to identify himself, turned to Ian's partners. "Are you in agreement with this?"

Neither man looked her way. "Yes sir."

The man closed the file before him and turned to her. "Well..Miss Wendt. It appears you're in the clear. I thank you, on behalf of your government, for your full cooperation in this investigation...I must point out, however, that you will be expected to be discreet in this matter. I'm sure you see the necessity of this and will volunteer cooperation?"

Andrea stared at him. Either the man had completely lost his mind or he was unaware of the fact that she'd never been informed that she was cooperating. She was tempted, severely tempted, to inform him of a deep, dark place where he could stow his thanks. She curbed the temptation. "Certainly," she said through gritted teeth. "Are we through?"

He nodded. "I believe so...You're free to go. Can I offer you a lift back to your apartment?"

Andrea stood up on legs that, oddly, felt both stiff from all the hours she'd sat, and weak. "No..Thank you very much!" she said stiffly. "I believe I'd rather walk."

"But..It's several miles..."

Andrea turned at the door, one hand on the knob. "You did say I was free to go?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She curled her lips in a smile that wasn't a smile. "Then..I hope you can appreciate the fact that I'd just as soon end our..association..right here and right now...Mr. Who-Ever-You-Are. I do not appreciate your suspicions...And, frankly, if I was dying, I'd crawl home before I'd get into any car with any man here!" She slammed the door behind her with satisfying violence.

Chapter Thirty

She knew, the moment she closed the door and took a deep, cleansing breath, that she was going to be violently ill. She wasn't totally familiar with this area of the NASA complex, however, and it took her a few moments to locate a lady's room. By the time she did, she was moving with the desperation of a person driven. She barely made it.

Afterwards, she almost felt better. The cold water at the lavatory helped considerably. She splashed her face with it, uncaring of where it landed. She gargled. She bathed her cuts and scratches. She just wished she could bathe away the feeling of having been violated. She didn't succeed in doing that and after a while, gave up on it, realizing that it was more important, at the moment, to distance herself from the place. That was bound to help..somewhat at least. At all costs, she wanted to avoid running into Ian.

She stopped at the first pay phone she came to in the visitor's area and placed a call for a cab. He was waiting for her when she turned around. Her eyes glazed over with ice. She felt it forming. She blinked it away, focused on a point to the right of his broad shoulder and stalked past him as if he wasn't there.

"We need to talk."

She didn't hear that. Walls didn't talk. She kept walking. He grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop. "I said," he said through gritted teeth, "we need to talk."

Alright. He refused to be ignored. There was nothing for it. "No. We do not need to talk. Everything's been said..repeatedly. I understand, completely...You spied on me..You used me to get your man!..or men...You ruined my life and you damn near got me killed!.. Now! Get out of my way, Mr...Who-ever-the-hell-you-are!"

"For God's sake, Andrea! I was only doing my job!" Ian ground out impatiently.

Blinding pain shot through her. It took her breath. She averted her face, staring blindly at the muddied toes of her tennis shoes while she fought to regain some semblance of normalcy. "I did say I understood," she managed finally. She lifted her head then, her eyes blazing with the backlash of anger from the pain he'd inflicted. "I'm curious though..Do you get paid extra for sleeping with the..'subject' to get information out of them..Or is it sort of a fringe benefit?" She had the satisfaction of seeing that he looked as if she'd slapped him before the sound of a cough drew her attention.

It drew Ian's attention as well and his swarthy complexion took on a ruddy hue. "What is it, Vallenti?"

"You're wanted in the conference room."

"I'll be right there.."

Andrea stalked past him, managed a semi-polite nod to his partner..She owed him something for being nice about her cat, after all...And slammed out of the glass doors that fronted the exit. Ian was right behind her. He grasped her arm, jerking her to a stop again.

"What the hell do you mean by that asinine remark?"

Andrea glared at him. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear..Run along now. You've been summoned and I wouldn't want to keep you." She jerked her arm free and moved away again.

The third time he grabbed her arm, she whirled on him with murder in her eyes. "If you don't stop grabbing my arm, I'm going to call security!"

"If you think I'm worried about those wimpy rent-a-cops, you're badly mistaken!" Ian growled furiously.

"As it happens, I don't need a security guard..Because if you don't go away and leave me alone..so help me..I don't care where we are or who's here to see it..I'm going to punch you right in the nose!"

He grabbed her wrists before she could suit action to words.

"We need to talk, damn it..And we will...You owe me that much, God damn it!" he ground out, but then wrestled with himself a moment and spoke more calmly. "I know you're really pi..mad...and you've got every right to be...But..Damn it, Andy! You looked guilty as hell..I got you off the only way I knew how...."

"..Well! Thank you for that magnanimous gesture..Mr. Who-ever-the-hell-you-are!"

Ian ground his teeth. "You know damned well who I am, so stop calling me that!.."

Andrea gasped, blinking at him in feigned stunned amazement. "No! You mean to say that wasn't a lie?...But..Your lips were moving..."

Ian's grip tightened on her wrists. Andrea winced, despite her intention to pretend to be unmoved and he loosened his grip somewhat. "I know I deserved that...But..! Damn it, Andy! You know what went down..And I never lied to you when I could avoid it!"

"My! That was a concession, wasn't it? Which thing did you tell me that was the truth? Think hard, Ian! This may be important..and I'm not at all sure you can remember one!"

"Look! I don't have time to explain it all now..."

"Fine! Just let go of my hands and go away! I already asked you to..several times!"

"Not until you agree to talk with me later," Ian said grimly.

"It'll be a cold day in hades, Ian Chandler..and you don't have that kind of time!"

He released her hands, but he didn't move. "You need to rest.. think things over...It'll be clearer to you then..."

"Oh..I need to rest alright..But it couldn't get any clearer..And I frankly don't want it to..I mean to put it from my mind, just as quickly as I can!"

"You're being unreasonable!" Ian ground out angrily.

"I'm..?" Andrea gasped, placing her hand over her heart. "Excuse me..I don't believe I heard that correctly...I'm being unreasonable! You got what you wanted, damn it!..Everything you wanted!..Or the man I thought I knew did..I don't know you. I don't care what your name is. I don't know you..And I don't want to know you....Now go away!"

"You act like I had some choice in this...Damn it! I had no more choice than you did..You play the cards you're dealt!"

"Cards? You think of this as some kind of game? What were we playing? Liar's poker? Well somebody forgot to clue me in!..... Let me tell you something, Ian Chandler..the next time you decide to play a friendly game of liar's poker, deal me out! Because if you ever come near me again, I'll shoot you so full of holes a sieve would hold water better, so help me God!..And if you don't think I mean it, just try me!"

"Oh..I'll try you alright!" he gritted out. "You can bet on it!"

She ignored that remark as she brushed past him. She couldn't think of a suitable come back..And wasn't it just like him to get in the last word?

He didn't try to stop her as she stalked away that time. She was glad of it. Relieved. It saved her the necessity of behaving really ugly..like punching him in the nose in front of God and everybody..She was well shed of him. She was glad, fiercely glad that she'd gotten him told, and never had to lay eyes on him again...Because he'd put her through pure hell over the last week and more..and he'd lied to her..and she was never, ever going to forgive him for it, not if she lived to be a hundred.

She stood by the curb fuming for nearly fifteen minutes before the taxi arrived. It took a strenuous effort to be civil to the man when she gave him her direction. She didn't know what his problem was anyway. If this had been a movie, she would've been able to exit after that last line. It would've made it much more effective. Instead, she'd been forced to stand by the curb feeling like a square peg in a round hole, feeling the security guard's interested gaze....But, there you were! Real life stank! And nothing ever happened like it was supposed to.

She stared stonily at the road ahead as the taxi pulled away from the curb. She hadn't heard Ian go back in and, if he just happened to still be standing where she'd left him, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of looking back. She wouldn't look back if it killed her.

She looked back as the cab pulled out of the parking lot..very casually. Ian was no where in sight. "Well!" she muttered under her breath. "That's a relief." She thought on it for a while, the argument they'd had as she was leaving, not the other things...She couldn't allow herself to think about all that. She couldn't deal with that right now.

"Men!" she muttered. "Why is it that women think they want a man in their life? They're more trouble than they're worth...! I mean, just when you think you've found one that's a little bit different, halfway bearable, despite his faults, you find out he's a real... stink wad! Jerk! Bully! Arrogant, self-satisfied, self-gratifying, ungrateful, despicable...stink wad!"

She noticed the cabby was staring at her in his rear view mirror. "Do you mind? I'm having a private conversation here," she snapped testily.

"Jeeze! Don't jump my case, lady! I ain't done nuthin' to you!"

For a moment, she felt like belting him..just for being male, if nothing else. But then, unfortunately, logic and reason, reared their unwelcome heads. "Sorry," she muttered. "I've had a bad day.." She sniffed, feeling a rush of tears. "Actually," she added, between tears and slightly hysterical chuckles. "I've had a bad week....What day is it anyway? I can't seem to remember how many bad days I've had lately."

He didn't reply. She supposed he had assumed the question was rhetorical. Either that or he thought if he ignored her she might not break down utterly and ruin his peace. She sniffed her tears back, mopping at them with the heels of her hands and drying her hands on her jeans. She felt more composed when they arrived at her apartment...until she looked at her apartment.

She didn't want to get out. She really didn't. But the cabby was eyeing her with a mixture of uneasiness and irritation. She scratched around in her pocketbook and managed to come up with the required fee, much of it in loose change, dumped it into his open palm, and crawled out. She stood by the car while he carefully counted it, and finally held out a nickel. She shrugged it off. "Keep it."

"Jeeze. I'm overwhelmed," he muttered sarcastically.

"Look!" Andrea snapped. "If I had any damn money left, I'd give you a damn tip!...But a man got all my money when he was helping me escape a bunch of thugs he sicked on me in the first place!"

The cabby threw her a disbelieving look, jerked the car into gear and burned rubber.

"What's the matter with you?" Andrea yelled after him. "Haven't you ever seen anybody have a nervous break-down! Don't you think I deserve one! Well, I do! And I'll have one if I want to!"

He didn't hear her of course. Some of her neighbors did. She turned and stalked up to her door, pretending she didn't notice them peering out their windows at her. They didn't have any business being up at this time of the morning anyway! It wasn't even daylight, for the Lord's sake!

She dropped her pocketbook on the floor by the door after she'd slammed and bolted it, and moved into the living room, just staring at it. It looked the same as it had the last time she saw it. She couldn't bear the sight of it.

She moved into her kitchen and from there to her bedroom, pacing restlessly. She was too keyed up to sleep now. She had been so tired only a few hours before that she'd almost fallen asleep during her questioning..or rather harassment. Now that she had the opportunity to rest, she found she couldn't.

She flopped on the edge of her bed, staring at nothing in particular, refusing to allow her mind to hesitate for more than a moment on any of the thoughts that flitted through it like swarming bees, darting in and out, hovering, flashing by with blinding speed. She jumped when someone rapped sharply on her front door.

Rising rather like a sleepwalker, she moved into the hallway and hesitated, staring at her door as if she might suddenly be able to see through it and discover who was on the other side. The rap came again, impatient, demanding. Her heart echoed that sharp rapping, surging painfully against her chest wall with each blow, a quickening that was more hope than anything else. She began to move, slowly at first, and then more quickly. Reaching the door, she paused a moment in sudden fear. "Who is it?"

"Detective Smith."

She broke a fingernail getting the door open, certain it must be a message from Ian, and then blinked at the man without recognition. "You're...."

"Detective Howard Smith..Titusville Police Department."

"Oh." Why had she thought it was Ian's partner? Why had she hoped it was Ian's partner. She didn't want to see him, ever again..and she didn't want to hear from him either. So, why had her heart jumped into her throat at the very thought? she asked herself, suddenly irritated. "What do you want?" she asked ungraciously.

Instead of answering, he pulled out a set of car keys and dangled them before her nose. She stared at them for several moments before recognition dawned and her eyes went automatically to the parking lot. Her car was parked in its usual place..as if nothing had ever happened..except that there was a squad car behind it. She looked back at Howard the Blob, noticed that he was giving her the once-over and glared at him.

"We were notified to return your car from impound...No hard feelings, I hope."

Andrea snatched the keys from his hand. "A very great deal of hard feelings!" she said through gritted teeth and slammed the door in his face. She stood by the front door, back braced against it, and listened as he departed, horrified that she'd talked so rudely to a policeman.

After a moment, she shrugged the thought aside angrily. He'd been rude, after all. He'd looked at her rudely...And he'd been nasty before when he'd questioned her after Fabian's death. Which had been totally uncalled for. She heard the squad car pull away, listened until she could no longer hear it.

She stared down at her car keys in her palm, feeling a sudden surge of energy, excitement, determination. Flinging the door open, she jogged to her car and got in, backed it up, reversed it, jumped the curb and slammed on her brakes just short of the stoop. Climbing out once more, she opened the hatch back and darted inside the apartment, heading for her bedroom. She stood in the doorway for several moments, surveying disaster, then moved forward and began grabbing up clothes, shoes, cosmetics, anything her hand came to that was still relatively in one piece, and tossing them onto the bed. When she'd cleaned the room out, she pulled up the four corners of her spread and tied them into a laundry knot.

She felt rather like an ant must feel dragging an over-sized bread crumb, she decided, as she struggled to drag the awkward bundle through the bedroom door, down the hallway and out the front door. She shoved it into her car and returned to her room for a sheet. Moving to her living room first and then the kitchen, she repeated the process. In less than two hours, she'd managed to stuff everything she owned that was really worth saving into the back of her car. Most of her furniture had been destroyed. The few pieces that hadn't been, or were repairable, could wait. She could pick them up later. Right now, she was going home.

Home! The word sang in her veins, driving everything else from her mind, sending surges of new energy into her tired, aching muscles. She would rest, she decided, when she was home. Right now, she just wanted to get there.

It was scarcely daylight when she pulled out of the apartment complex for the last time. She didn't look back. She didn't mean to ever look back...or come back. If she couldn't get her father to pick up her furniture for her..well, it was no real loss..particularly not when compared to the trauma of coming back.

Anyway, she rather thought she liked the idea of starting fresh, from the bottom. Everything new..or even second hand would do..or third..Just as long as it didn't remind her of this place.

She stopped at the automated teller and closed out her account..or took the money. She'd give them a call and close it later..From Georgia.

She felt a definite plunge in her spirits as she pulled up to the old, dilapidated cabin she'd shared with Ian. But she refused to think about it as she got out of the car and went in. Monster greeted her with flattering fervor. She scooped the cat up, cuddling it, stroking it. Monster returned the affectionate greeting, purring like a cement mixer as she butted and rubbed against her long lost mistress...the one she hadn't seen in more then ten hours. Had her whole life collapsed in that short a space of time? Andrea wondered. The answer, of course, was no. It had collapsed in approximately two seconds...'Well, Mr. CIA man..'

She shook that thought off and focused her attention on her cat. "You don't fool me, you little devil! I know you're only glad to see me because you're looking for food."

Monster looked her dead in the eyes and mewed, as if she'd understood and was agreeing that, yes, Andrea had hit the nail right on the head. But that was alright too. At least she knew where she stood with her pet.

Chuckling, she put the cat down again and gathered her few belongings. Once she had them stowed in her, by now, overloaded car, she took Monster's pet carrier down, opened the door and sat it unobtrusively in the seat. Monster eyed it with misgivings.

"Now! Don't start! I know you hate that thing..but it’s that or nothing...And if you run from me, I'll leave you..So help me I will!..Because I'm going! Now! And I won't be wasting time chasing you through the woods."

Monster eyed her balefully a moment and hopped into the car, sniffing at the bag of cat food in the floor of the car. Scooping up a handful, Andrea tossed it into the back of the cage. Monster made a dive for it and Andrea slammed the door and latched it.

She sang 'Georgia On My Mind' most of the way home. It was dinner time when she arrived. She smelled it the moment she got out of the car. She closed her eyes, breathing in the heavenly aroma. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it..the smells of her mother's cooking..the house..her home town. It had felt indescribably good to drive through town and recognize places..and faces that were bone deep familiar.

She released Monster from her cage and trotted up the walkway, up the steps, across the porch, feeling the weariness from her exhausting night..and the drive afterwards, slip from her as anticipation surged through her veins. Rapping lightly, she turned the knob and stuck her head in the door. "Mama?"

Her mother appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel, looking first astonished, and then smiling with welcome. "Andy! Why didn't you let me know you were coming!..I'd have fixed your favorites!"

It needed only that. Andrea rushed into her mother's arms and burst into tears. "Oh, mama! I'm so glad to be home! Everything's..everything's.. just awful!"

Chapter Thirty-One

Ian lowered the bottle of Wild Turkey he'd been sucking on for well over an hour and capped it as yet another group of men and women spilled out of the crowded County Line Bar and Grill and into the weakly lit, packed dirt and gravel parking lot. His eyes narrowed as one of the group caught his eye.

He was almost half a head taller than either of the other two men in the group; blond, and with a face like one of Botticelli's angels. He was also young..damned young. He had to be in the neighborhood of twenty-four or twenty-five years old, but his boyish face made him seem scarcely twenty....Ian hated him on sight.

He set his bottle aside with the exaggerated care of one who's had just a tad too much and got out of his van. Sauntering across the narrow drive that divided the cramped lot in half, he paused in front of the man he'd singled out, his hands resting lightly on his hips. "Your name Dalton? Roger Dalton?"

The blond turned, looked him over suspiciously and grinned idiotically. "Yeah. Who wants to know?"

The two men who'd come out with him had sauntered to their pickup and propped against it, elbows resting negligently on top of the walls of the bed. Ian turned to them. "You mind? This is kind of private." Not that he would've minded including them in the party..particularly if they were school days buddies, but he thought Andrea might not like it if he made a big deal of it.

They looked over at Roger, lifting their brows. "What cha say, Rog? Want it private?"

Roger looked Ian over and his grin widened. "Sure..I'll be with you guys in a minute..Soon as I finish talking to this fella, in private."

Oh, he was a cocky son-of-a-bitch! Ian thought, feeling the last of his reservations drop by the wayside. He'd felt just a little uncomfortable with the idea of beating the hell out of a kid..But this was definitely no kid. Not only did the 'kid' have ten years, at least, on him, but Ian figured Andrea's muscle bound ex-hunk must outweigh him by at least twenty pounds as well..And he was obviously no stranger to a bar room brawl.

Ian grinned then. He was really going to enjoy this. "I got a message for you from Andy."

Roger blinked. His expression went blank for a moment before Ian saw the name click..and the game. "Andy who?....Not Andy tight..."

"Wrong response, ass hole!" Ian ground out and belted him, right in the mouth.

Roger staggered back a step, blinked, spat and turned to look at Ian, grinning again. "This girl..she a prick....tease?" he grunted out, and charged Ian, catching him in the mid-section and carrying him backward almost two yards before they hit the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

After a brief tussle, Ian gained top position, straddled his opponent, raised himself to a sitting position, and belted him in the jaw; left, right then left again. Roger blocked the next punch, bucking him off, and they grasped each other by the throat and went into a roll. "Say!..You're not half bad..for a wimpy son-of-a-bitch that likes to hit girls.!" Ian managed through gritted teeth. "I do believe I'm not going to be embarrassed at all...when I get through beating you to a pulp."

"Yeah? You and who's granny?" Roger shot back at him in a strained grunt. Turning his head, he spat again; a combination of spittle, blood and tobacco juice. He wasn't smiling when he looked up at Ian again. With a grunt, he heaved himself upwards, tossing Ian off. Rolling, Ian came up on his knees in time to bury his fist in Dalton's stomach twice as he clambered to his feet.

Dalton hit the ground again, holding his stomach while he gagged. Ian waited, on his feet now, fists ready. Dalton lifted his head. "You son-of-a-bitch! You made me swallow my tobacco! Now I'm pissed!"

With a roar, he charged Ian, taking him to the ground and pounding him in the face with his fists. He managed three lightening jabs before Ian tossed him off.

They scrambled to their feet again, faced off, surrounded now by a jeering crowd of well-wishers. Ian fingered his lip and came up with blood. "Now I'm really pissed!"

He charged Dalton again, pounding away with a complete disregard for what part of his anatomy his fists came into contact with. He didn't stop until the state patrolmen dragged him off. He was certain, however, of two things when he was through. Roger was very sorry he'd ever looked at Andrea...and the only thing about pretty boy's face that was going to make girls swoon for a while had nothing to do with male pulchritude. He pondered over it fondly while he spent the night in jail for drunk and disorderly.

He wasn't feeling quite as pleased with himself when he was released the following morning. He had a hell of a hang-over, for one thing. For another, in the bald light of day, it occurred to him that his methods hadn't exactly been discreet and Andrea was liable to be really annoyed if she got wind of his doings...For another, his superior hadn't been at all pleased when he'd been notified that one of his top agents had involved himself in a drunken brawl outside a juke joint. Not that he particularly gave a damn about the suspension..He needed a little vacation anyway.

Collecting his van, he drove to a service station and cleaned up in the men's room. From there he took the road to Donalsonville ...and out the other side.

It was that sort of place. One of those tiny little towns that dotted the countryside where, if you just happened to blink as you drove in, you were out the other side before you opened your eyes again.

He turned the van around and drove back...carefully. Actually, he thought, as he drove along its main street, it wasn't a bad place..not bad at all. It was a nice, quiet little town... clean. The kind of place one would like to raise a family.

He couldn't imagine that the people here locked themselves in their houses at night and huddled inside in fear...Which was pretty much the way it was in any city in the good old U.S. of A. these days. Even in the mid-size cities, one couldn't get away from burglar bars. Almost every home had them. They'd begun to look like prisons. He hated the sight of them.

He stopped at a tiny fast-food joint, a little surprised to discover they had one, and went in to buy himself a coke and see what kind of information he could glean. There were a number of people inside. They turned and looked him over with friendly curiosity before politely turning back to their own business.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the Wendt family lives, would you?" he asked the girl that brought his coke.

She smiled. "It's pronounced Went..it's German or something ...Yeah..They live out by the lake.."

It was one of those old southern homes built shortly after the Civil War; white washed, real wood clapboard siding, with a wide veranda that ran the width of the house and down along one side. A porch swing hung near one end, shaded by the veranda. On either side of the wide steps and all along the veranda, huge azaleas crowded close in, already showing purple, white and pink buds.

Ian felt his gut tighten as he killed the engine and looked it over. He should have called...But then, that would have given Andrea the chance to run from him again. And he wasn't about to chase her any further. Either she gave him a chance now or...

He got out of the van and slammed the door behind him. It was all the warning she was going to get. Stalking up to the front door, he rapped on it sharply..before he lost his nerve.

His gut tightened again when he heard rapid footsteps approaching. . . Somehow it didn't sound like her though. . .

The door was snatched open and he stared down at the woman before him blankly. She was...short, and dark and pleasantly rounded...handsome in fact...and not a heck of a lot older than he was or he missed his guess...And she looked nothing at all like Andrea.

"Yes?" she said in a pleasant voice.

"Ah..I think I might have the wrong house....Do the Wendts live around here?"

All the pleasant curiosity went out of her face. Her eyes narrowed almost instantly with suspicion as she looked him over. "Why do you ask?"

He had the right place alright. He could feel it in his gut. "I wanted to speak to Andrea.."

She caught his foot in the door. "Go away. Now! Mr. Chandler, or I'll get my gun and fill you so full of holes a sieve would hold water better."

He grinned. He couldn't help it. She sounded so much like Andrea..and looked so different! But then his amusement vanished and irritation took its place. She was just like her daughter..or rather the reverse, he supposed. Unreasonable as hell. "I just want to talk..! Just tell her I'm here. If she won't talk to me..I'll go."

She opened the door, studying him with slightly less hostility. "You're the one who got in the fight with Roger Dalton last night over at the county bar, aren't you?" It wasn't a question. It was a statement and it surprised the hell out of him. These small town grapevines were faster than a fax machine, he thought in some dudgeon, refusing to incriminate himself.

"Why do you come here?" she asked in her oddly accented English. It was faintly French, faintly southern and faintly some other accent he couldn't place at the moment. "She told me what happened..You must know she doesn't want to speak to you."

Ian lost all traces of amusement. "Then she can at least do me the courtesy of telling me to my face!" he snapped angrily.

She cocked her head to one side, studying him for a long moment, but, oddly, the antagonism had vanished from her eyes. She opened the door wide, gesturing him inside and leading him into the living room. "I agree," she said finally, taking a seat and gesturing for him to do likewise. "I tried to tell her that myself...And ordinarily she isn't like this..Sometimes I think she's too reasonable and practical and not nearly romantic enough..But..," she shrugged. "She was very upset about all that happened. She'll hardly even talk about it to me..and we've always been close..Always before she'd tell me her problems so that I could help her..But this.." She shook her head. "Why don't you explain it all to me?"

Ian's eyes narrowed. "I don't mean to be rude, Mrs. Wendt, but this is between Andy and me..."

She shook her head. "Wrong! You've made my daughter..very unhappy, and that's my business!"

He stared at her angrily for a long moment, tempted to just get up and leave and the hell with it all...But then it occurred to him that he just might have found an ally. He explained it, everything..well almost everything, that had happened. It wasn't easy being perfectly honest..particularly to her mother, but he knew, instinctively, that she'd spot the slightest prevarication a mile off...and that would do him more harm than the truth.

She sat back when he'd finished, frowning. After a moment, she shook her head. "I can't say that I'm really surprised that Andy's gotten everything in such a mess..But I am surprised that you didn't do any better. You strike me as an intelligent, level headed man, Mr. Chandler...And experienced. How could you handle things so...badly?"

Ian felt his face heat. He scrubbed his hands over his face, as if, to do so, would clear his thinking. Finally, he dropped his elbows to his knees, staring down at his hands. "I don't really know myself...Except to say that it was a damned mess from the start...Do you think..If I'd waited until after everything went down she would've let me come within a mile of her?"

Dominique pursed her lips and finally shrugged. "You're right. She wouldn't have...You probably did the best thing.." Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "..Though I doubt you meant to do it.." She shook her head again, getting to her feet and leading him to the door before he even realized he was being ushered out. She faced him at the door. "I'm sorry..I don't think I could get her to speak with you if she was here..And she isn't here..just now."

Ian wasn't certain he believed her. "When will she be back?"

She shrugged again. "I couldn't really say..later. Why don't you give me the chance to try to talk to her again..and then you come back and you two talk things out?"

He stared a little blankly at the door after she'd shut it in his face. "Hell!" He stalked from the porch and got in the van again, intent on shaking the dust of Donalsonville from his heels with the least loss of time. She wasn't worth it! No woman was worth this kind of aggravation..particularly when she was being so damned pig-headed and unreasonable! The hell with her!

He was still brooding over it when Andrea's mother came out the front door, down the steps and took a path around the side of the house. He stared after her a moment and got out of the van.

Andrea stared out over the lake, blindly, twirling a dead weed stalk between her fingers, her drawing pad on the ground beside her. She looked up at her mother's approach and forced a smile. She didn't really want any company right now..But she didn't want to hurt her mother's feelings either.

"What are you doing?"

Andrea shrugged. "Nothing..really. I thought I was in the mood to do a little sketching..but I can't seem to get the hang of it anymore...I guess it's just been too long..."

"..Or maybe, you're just not in the right mood?" Dominique suggested.

Andrea shrugged, tossing the weed aside and picking up her sketch pad. "..Guess not."

"..Maybe because you're thinking about that nice young man of yours again..?"

Andrea drew her knees up and plunked her chin down on the prop, covering her head with her arms. "Aw..Mama! Let's don't start that again! He wasn't nice and he definitely wasn't mine!"

"From what you told me, I'd guess he was..."

Andrea put her hands down, grasping fistfuls of weeds, staring sightlessly at the wads she came up with. "How would you know, any way!" she said petulantly.

"Don't take that tone with me, girl!" Dominique snapped warningly.

Andrea flushed. "Sorry."

"I think you've sat around feeling sorry for yourself long enough..It's about time you faced this thing head on..like the fighter I know you are. Call the man! Tell him you made a mistake..There's no crime in that..nor shame in admitting when you're wrong."

Andrea gaped at her. "I thought you were on my side!"

Dominique smiled. "I am..always..no matter what. But that doesn't mean I can't see beyond that. You got yourself into that mess..walked into it like a blind person..Not that you could be expected to have seen what was coming, mind you..But the fact remains that you got yourself into it..And, unless I miss my guess, that's one of the reasons you've been walking around here looking so stepped on."

Andrea studied her toes, wiggling them into the loose dirt at her feet. "It is," she muttered. "I've never felt so stupid in my life! You know, they even discussed that in orientation, the need to keep on guard...watch for any suspicious characters..all that stuff...But I just never thought to suspect people I worked with. I guess I assumed they'd already been checked out..No. That's not strictly true. I was just too..unsophisticated!... to think about it. I felt worse than stupid when Mr. Faircloth dressed me down over it. I felt like a backwoods hick! I was so out of my league I felt like some kind of alien or something!...That's why I decided not to go back. I don't belong there."

Dominique studied her daughter's bowed head a moment. "You belong where ever your heart is," she said quietly.

Andrea looked up at her quickly. Sudden tears filled her eyes. They came so easily these days! She swallowed against the hard knot in her throat. It felt like it was choking her. "He didn't love me back! He only said it...They were trying to get a confession from me, on tape, so they could prosecute..It was all part of that!"

Dominique chuckled. "Why would they be interested in love confessions? And what does that have to do with spies and such?"

"You don't understand!"

"Yes. I do. I understand far better than you think I do. You still love him?"

"Of course I do!..But.."

"You think you can't forgive him?"

Andrea chewed her lip. "He spied on me! How do you think that makes me feel?"

"You're right. I don't think I could even imagine it..so I don't know how you feel, except that I know I wouldn't like it. You should hate him for it. He didn't have any business doing his job if it included that. He should have quit and let someone else do it."

Andrea stared at her. "You think that would've made me feel any better? And I don't hate him for it..But it makes me so mad, every time I think about it, that I could just bite nails in two!"

"Well..You did the right thing. It wouldn't have done to hang around..hating him for what he'd done, even though you loved him..Because that's the kind of thing that ruins a marriage. You have to be able to get over your anger when your man steps on your toes..Just like he has to be able to get over his. When he's done something you can't forgive or forget...," she paused, shrugging. "Well, its just useless to try."

"It wouldn't have been useless! I'm not even that mad about it. . .anymore. . …now that I've had some time to think it over. I mean, if it had been my job. .and I hadn't known Ian then. .even if I wasn't real happy about doing it, I would've done what I had to do....Not that I think he gives a hang whether I forgive him or not!"

"Oh..I think he does. I don't think he lied to you about any of that sort of thing...The work things, sure..But not about something personal..Why would he have done that? It wouldn't serve any purpose, you know."

Andrea digested that in silence. "You don't think, maybe, he did..everything just to get me to love him so I'd confide in him?"

"I think you've swung way the other side, Andy. I think you're too suspicious now for your own good. Try for a happy medium, child! Talk to the man! If you love him, tell him!"

"Sure..I expect he's back in Montana by now. It isn't that big a state. It shouldn't take long to find him."

"Oh," Dominique said with some amusement. "I think he's closer than that..a lot closer."

She lifted her head and looked at Ian for a long moment, where he stood several yards away, nodded, and turned in the direction of the house once more. Ian watched her go, realizing for the first time that she'd known he was there all along..realizing that she'd expected him to follow her. He studied Andrea's bent shoulders for several moments before he approached her.

Andrea didn't look up when she heard footsteps approaching once more, though she wondered idly what her mother might have forgotten. It seemed she'd covered everything.

She was so deep in thought that it was several moments after the feet stopped, toe to toe with hers, before she realized that she was staring at a pair of men's shoes. She looked up, feeling a start of the fear she hadn't really been able to shake since her experience at the Cape. She was beginning to think she'd never know real peace again.

She felt her jaw drop when she saw who it was. She scrambled to her feet, dusting at the seat of her jeans, looking around a little wildly. "Where did you come from?"

He grinned, slowly. "Montana."

Andrea stared at him, feeling all the starch go out of her knees. She moistened her lips and felt them go dry all over again as the movement of her tongue drew Ian's eyes like a magnet. But then a spark of sudden anger intruded. Her lips thinned. "Spying?...Again? I suppose you heard it all?"

His smiled vanished, his face hardening. "I did...I believe your mother meant for me to..."

"Oh." If that wasn't just like her mother! She studied her feet for a long moment and finally looked up at him again. "Ian...?"

"Andy?"

"About what you said..before.."

"When?"

"Don't tease me, Ian..Did you mean it or not?"

"Will you believe me if I say it again?"

She reached up to pluck at one of the buttons on his shirt. "I believed you the first time," she muttered, feeling her face heat.

He grasped her hair, tilting her head back so that she had to look up at him. "Good..Then I don't need to say it again," he said grinning now.

She didn't return the smile. Instead, she studied his face. "I love you, Ian...Don't..don't play games with me. I couldn't handle it."

He bent his head, touching his lips to hers, lightly, brushing them teasingly back and forth across hers, scarcely making contact at all..and yet it set her lips to tingling with life, sent warmth spiraling down through her. She sighed, leaning closer, slipping her arms up over his shoulders and draping them loosely around his neck. He shifted closer as well, sliding a hand down her back to cup her bottom and tuck her up tightly against him, even as he abandoned all pretense of play, setting his mouth firmly to hers and delving deep, loving her with his mouth and roaming hands.

They were both shaken when finally their lips parted and, immediately at a loss, sought the warmth of each other's flesh at ear and throat. "I love you, Andy," Ian whispered a little hoarsely against her throat. He chuckled huskily. "Marry me..and play games with me..for fifty years or so.."

"Mmmm. Yes."

He pulled away from her. "Just like that? No..'This is so sudden! I'll have to think about it?'.

She giggled. "No! What do you think I've been thinking about all these weeks? Yes! Now. Today! I've decided to rescind my vow of chastity and I want it to be official next time!"

After a startled moment, Ian started to laugh. "Vow of chastity?"

Andrea punched his shoulder playfully. "Well, how do you think I felt when I discovered you were wired!"

"I tried to fight you off, if you'll recall," Ian reminded her self-righteously, draping an arm over her shoulder and turning to walk back toward her house.

"Humph! Yes. I noticed how long you struggled!"

He grinned. "When you're right, you're right, baby. It was a hell of a struggle...I had to get loose long enough to ditch the damned wire, after all..And I didn't want to wait that long."

"Ian..?" Andrea said, plucking at his shirt.

"Mmm?" he asked, having found a very nice spot near her ear.

"You're not wired now, are you?"

His head came up with a jerk and he studied her a long moment before it came to him what she meant. He grinned. "Not. Definitely not."