were blown to hell and sent skittering against the side of the hill. [p79] Stunned, but satisfied, he reloaded the revolver and dropped it back into the holster. [p79] [p ] He prowled the grounds about the cabin with the aimlessness of a man looking for something but not sure what. Beyond the lawn furniture and the shed that contained his tools, the only other interesting thing was the creek. A fast running little stream, barely a foot deep but filled with numerous little holes that bragged of trout. He walked along the gurgling water for a ways, then he went back to the house, still unsure of what to do. He went back to the cabin and shoved the door open and stopped dead! She was just like the painting. Her raven black hair hung loose and free while, beneath the scant confines of the shorts and halter, the warm flesh rose and fell temptingly. Nick stood there, unable to say a word. It was Janet and the light in her eyes made him wonder what kind of a guy he’d been more than ever. She gave a little gasp of pure pleasure and flung herself into his arms, planting the ripe sweetness of her lips squarely on his. “Janet,” he managed, but she had a strangle hold on him. [p80]CHAPTER NINE [p80] [p ] “Russian?” Brice asked, looking at Sam Morgan. The dark complected Fed pulled the mangled cigar from his mouth and pointed it toward the twisted wreckage. On the far side, Cartwell and Dickson were looking it over. “Why not?” Morgan asked. “It seems outlandish, somehow.”
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