Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) by Richard Harrington Page B

double agent by threatening his family, but that could only be done by discovering his true identity, and before he disappeared into GCHQ.
    It was a tall order, but as this game was driven by Corporate International Terrorism there was a fortune to be made, and the only prize for failure was a bullet in the head.

 
    5
     
    Ted awoke at six o’clock to a day of blue skies and sunshine, so maybe the summer was lingering on, and as the thoughts of yesterday returned, slid his hand across and wished Maggie was there, his lover and best friend, the only one he could let his heart out to.
    But he was alone now, just like Frank Lewis, except on the rare occasions when Frank was down, he usually went to Sally.
    He sat bolt upright. Of course, why didn’t he think of that before?
    Having washed and dressed, he went downstairs, and sliding back the wood panel beside the chimney breast, took out an old oil skinned parcel and unwrapped Bertha, his WW11 Luger machine pistol, and snapping in the magazine, glanced to the phone, but the rules would have to be obeyed now, and phone tracking made a call far too dangerous, so all he could do was drive over to Sally, and if he were lucky, Frank might be there.
    Walking up to the garage, he called Len and told him he’d be out for a while, and he shouldn’t say a word to anyone.
    Charlton Kings was quiet as Ted swung the vicar’s car into the avenue. Driving slowly, he checked the houses on either side but there was nothing unusual, and cruising back, parked with a good view of the area.
    After a while he hung Bertha around his neck by the strap, slipped into the blue overcoat and hoped it didn’t look out of place in the warming sun.
    Taking his time, he walked slowly up the avenue and used a wobbly limp to let him stop and rest for a while on every other wall, but the prim, immaculate gardens were all clear, the expensive cars were empty and there was no sign of glinting metal in the bushes, but most important of all, there was no sign of a blond, male or female.
     
    Frank dreamily awoke feeling warm and relaxed in the deep bed, but stretching out, frowned when he heard a soft musical voice, whispering in his ear.
    ‘Hello, sleepy bones.’
    Turning, he saw Sally’s beautiful face next to his on the pillow.
    She smiled, ‘Well you sure were tired; you’ve slept right through till morning.’
    Coming wide awake, he realised she was in bed with him.
    ‘You don’t mind me being here, do you, I didn’t want to sleep on the couch.’
    He gazed at her, ‘No, of course not, if it’s alright with you.’
    ‘Well of course it is, you silly, I’ve told you enough times.’
    Reaching over, the sheet slipped down to reveal her large naked breasts, and smiling, she began to play with him, ‘And this is fine with me as well.’
    He fell still. All he’d really wanted was her company, but she’d misunderstood.
    ‘Sally, you don’t have to, it isn’t why I’m here.’
    She placed her finger across his lips, ‘I know, but I want to, so don’t stop me.’
    He sighed, and relaxing back, gave in to what would surely happen.
     
    For Sally, making love had always happened with the other operatives, and she’d accepted it, almost as if by routine, but it had never happened with Frank Lewis, and the thought of finally having him now was setting fire to her emotions.
    Taking her time, she savoured the moment, her kisses soft, lingering and luscious on his lips, her hand exploring his muscular body and the aching hardness of him.
    Rising up, she slid her soft thigh across his hard belly, and sitting down on him, murmured as she swung her heavy breasts across his face, her nipples across his lips.
    ‘Sally …’
    ‘Hush now. Just relax and I’ll show you how good I can be.’
    He shuddered as her warm silkiness came sliding around him, and as she began to rise and fall, took his hands and cupped them to her breasts. Sinking down hard, she thrust her hips until they cried out together in