impossible to do his job if he did.
Cass came across strong and confident, but he’d sensed from the beginning that inside her was a vulnerable soul. He recognized it because he hid his own vulnerability under a street-wise veneer of bravado. He never planned on taking her hostage. She’d walked in at the wrong time and he’d been forced to improvise. Once they were in her car, there never seemed to be a good time to dump her. Too many other cars on the road, too many people hanging around the gas stations and convenience stores.
It only got worse when they crossed the line into North Carolina. He didn’t dare drop her off on the side of an empty road. The sheriff’s department patrolled this whole area. With cell phone service sporadic in the mountains, deputies hit even the remote county lanes at least once every twenty-four hours, in case someone was stranded out here in the wilderness with car trouble.
She’d have been picked up and then they’d have begun searching the whole area, concentrating on cabins that sat empty most of the year. When he was finally caught less than twenty miles from here, the Atlanta bomber claimed he’d lived off the land. But rumor among law enforcement officials had it that he’d been taken in by a local, a conspiracy theorist who sympathized with his radical agenda.
They said Rudolph actually spent most of that five years hiding in the old man’s off-the-grid cabin built in the center of a forty-acre spread. It was only after the man died and his property went up for sale that Rudolph was forced to head into the wilderness. He’d lasted only a few months before hunger drove him to sneak into town at night and go dumpster diving. Admitting the truth would have ruined his self-sufficient mountain man image.
Ever since, Homeland Security had been keeping a database of remote, seldom-used cabins all over the country. Zander knew that’s where the cops would begin their search once Cass told her story. So he was stuck with her for the time being. He sighed heavily, stuffed a throw pillow under his head and crammed his bulk onto the couch.
Ruthlessly, he tried to purge his mind of the feel of her body under his. The sound of those wordless little cries she made as she came. The taste of her. The heady scent of her pussy, so wet and so hot as he rammed his cock inside her. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, only to have her appear in his dream, running through the woods stark naked, laughing as she challenged him to spank her again.
The next morning they settled into an uneasy truce. Zander woke up first and scrounged in the kitchen, coming up with a tin of coffee. He filled a battered metal pot with water, setting it on the propane stove to boil, then dumping in half a dozen heaping tablespoons and turning off the gas so it would steep. Cass came out from the bedroom, fully dressed, one hand massaging her forehead, and sniffed the air.
“Is that coffee I smell? Oh, God, do I need a cup of that!”
“Headache?” he asked.
“I’m not sure what I have qualifies as a headache. It feels like that axe I saw outside is embedded in the back of my skull.”
“You’re dehydrated. Caffeine won’t help that. We’re at an elevation of about 3,500 feet here. You need to drink a whole lot more water than you do back home. Here.”
He filled a glass from the faucet and handed it to her. Cass drained half of it before coming up for air.
“Well water? This is good,” she remarked, sounding surprised. “Lots better than any well water I’ve had before. There’s no nasty aftertaste.” She finished it and handed the glass back for a refill.
“You know those mountain springs they show on the labels of bottled water in the stores? Well, you’re drinking from one of them. A few miles from here, there’s a big tract of land that’s already passed all the tests for the owners to sell their water commercially.”
“You know an awful lot about this area,” she remarked
Cass came across strong and confident, but he’d sensed from the beginning that inside her was a vulnerable soul. He recognized it because he hid his own vulnerability under a street-wise veneer of bravado. He never planned on taking her hostage. She’d walked in at the wrong time and he’d been forced to improvise. Once they were in her car, there never seemed to be a good time to dump her. Too many other cars on the road, too many people hanging around the gas stations and convenience stores.
It only got worse when they crossed the line into North Carolina. He didn’t dare drop her off on the side of an empty road. The sheriff’s department patrolled this whole area. With cell phone service sporadic in the mountains, deputies hit even the remote county lanes at least once every twenty-four hours, in case someone was stranded out here in the wilderness with car trouble.
She’d have been picked up and then they’d have begun searching the whole area, concentrating on cabins that sat empty most of the year. When he was finally caught less than twenty miles from here, the Atlanta bomber claimed he’d lived off the land. But rumor among law enforcement officials had it that he’d been taken in by a local, a conspiracy theorist who sympathized with his radical agenda.
They said Rudolph actually spent most of that five years hiding in the old man’s off-the-grid cabin built in the center of a forty-acre spread. It was only after the man died and his property went up for sale that Rudolph was forced to head into the wilderness. He’d lasted only a few months before hunger drove him to sneak into town at night and go dumpster diving. Admitting the truth would have ruined his self-sufficient mountain man image.
Ever since, Homeland Security had been keeping a database of remote, seldom-used cabins all over the country. Zander knew that’s where the cops would begin their search once Cass told her story. So he was stuck with her for the time being. He sighed heavily, stuffed a throw pillow under his head and crammed his bulk onto the couch.
Ruthlessly, he tried to purge his mind of the feel of her body under his. The sound of those wordless little cries she made as she came. The taste of her. The heady scent of her pussy, so wet and so hot as he rammed his cock inside her. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, only to have her appear in his dream, running through the woods stark naked, laughing as she challenged him to spank her again.
The next morning they settled into an uneasy truce. Zander woke up first and scrounged in the kitchen, coming up with a tin of coffee. He filled a battered metal pot with water, setting it on the propane stove to boil, then dumping in half a dozen heaping tablespoons and turning off the gas so it would steep. Cass came out from the bedroom, fully dressed, one hand massaging her forehead, and sniffed the air.
“Is that coffee I smell? Oh, God, do I need a cup of that!”
“Headache?” he asked.
“I’m not sure what I have qualifies as a headache. It feels like that axe I saw outside is embedded in the back of my skull.”
“You’re dehydrated. Caffeine won’t help that. We’re at an elevation of about 3,500 feet here. You need to drink a whole lot more water than you do back home. Here.”
He filled a glass from the faucet and handed it to her. Cass drained half of it before coming up for air.
“Well water? This is good,” she remarked, sounding surprised. “Lots better than any well water I’ve had before. There’s no nasty aftertaste.” She finished it and handed the glass back for a refill.
“You know those mountain springs they show on the labels of bottled water in the stores? Well, you’re drinking from one of them. A few miles from here, there’s a big tract of land that’s already passed all the tests for the owners to sell their water commercially.”
“You know an awful lot about this area,” she remarked
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