his arms furled about the softness that she offered. The warm cones of her breasts worked on the hardness of his chest and his mouth fused against hers in a passionate kiss.

“Lors, Lors, darling. You’ve been gone so long.” Her voice was a kitten purr in his ear, warm and gentle.

“I’m back, Jela,” he smiled, his hands caressing the lithe length of her body, folding her against him tightly.

[p28]She moved away from him, rolling, tugging at him to respond, but he needed no encouragement. His body rolled with her, his arms pinning her to him tightly so that she could move nothing ... nothing but her legs, but then there was little need to move anything else...

[p28]

[p

]

The dream faded and he cursed, and tried to get back to sleep and the beautiful woman who awaited him. Sleep came, but the dream was gone.

Andy, shaking his shoulder, woke him about sundown and Nick swung his legs off the cot and stood up. Still sleepy, he fingered the heavy stubble on his face and looked at the old man.

“Y’kin use my razor t’chop off that beard, son,” he said. “C’mon, get around now. Got soup and sandwiches ready an’ some famous Hocum coffee.”

Nick straightened his wrinkled clothing, shaking the last remnants of weary fog from his brain. Andy went on talking to him and said something that woke Nick Danson up completely.

“Yer buddies was here, couple o’ hours ago, son.”

“What?” It was almost impossible to keep the surprise out of his face and voice. Andy didn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

“Th’ fellers y’got drunk with. Wanted t’know if I’d seen any strangers on th’ road. I said I hadn’t, ’cause I figgered they might want t’slap y’around again.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

Who could possibly know about the plane crash? [p29]  If the wreck had been found, it would be the police asking questions, not two strangers. Somebody, somewhere, was searching for him. Who? And what did they 

 Prev. P 14/96 next