“Taiwan, not Thailand.” Aunt Mavis strode closer to the padlock connecting the two chains. “When the communists took over mainland China, the US recognized the government of Taiwan as ruling all of China. So when mainland China became recognized, they wanted Taiwan back into the fold, and the US wouldn’t let them.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” That and a quarter would buy half a gumball. Sunnie waved her hand before holding back her bangs. Rain dotted the road, and the wind swelled with the smell of wet asphalt. “But what about war?”
“I already told you.” Aunt Mavis dug her fists into her hips and checked the lock before focusing on the pines again. “There won’t be an overt war. China has too much to lose.”
Sunnie’s arms drooped from her shoulders. No war. That was good. Then she remembered the hedging. Overt. Did that mean there’d be a hidden war? Terrorist attacks that struck without warning, killed indiscriminately. “Aunt Mavis?”
“Sunnie, I don’t have a magic ball. I don’t know what is going to happen for sure.” She bit her bottom lip and frowned at the lock. “Except that if we don’t get home soon, we will get shot.”
The streetlights blinked on then off.
Sunnie checked her watch. Ten minutes to curfew, when the Marines could legally shoot to kill. The very Marines who were a mere hundred yards away at the corner. She slouched in her jacket. The warm fleece brushed her tingling ears. “Don’t you have the key?”
Her aunt nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not supposed to use it without another here as witness to my continued health.”
Like those stupid rules mattered. This was a matter of life and death here. Her life and her death. “Geez, Aunt Mavis. We’re going to be shot in another eight minutes, and you’re worried about upsetting an octogenarian with a Robin Hood fetish.”
“Mr. Quartermain is very good with his bow and arrows. He hunts every year and brings home elk, javelina and doves.”
“But he’s not here now, is he?” Balancing on one foot, Sunnie tapped the lock with the tip of her sneaker. “Just open it before the men with guns show up and shoot us.”
She glanced over her shoulder. No Hummer in sight. So far, so good.
Aunt Mavis shook her keys.
“Please?” With both feet on the ground, Sunnie rocked back on her heels. “I’m cold and I want to go home.”
And find out what was happening on the net. Not that she didn’t trust Aunt Mavis, but someone might know something more.
“All right.” Aunt Mavis sifted through her keys, picked out a small, silver one and crouched in front of the lock.
Finally! Pivoting about, Sunnie began to retreat to the car when she detected movement in the corner of her eye. Turning, she looked at the bird.
No, not a bird.
An arrow.
Shooting through the air toward… “Aunt Mavis!”
Chapter Four
Trent Powers pulled his Jaguar into the three-car garage and eased it to a stop next to a cherry-red BMW. With the powerful engine purring, he idly watched the garage door close behind him, shutting out the rapidly fading twilight and the genteel decay that had reached even this suburban utopia thanks to the Redaction. Perfect. Absolutely perfect for his plans with Lucinda. Dorinda? Linda?
His heart skipped over a few beats. Why couldn’t he remember her name? Names, details, and those little nothings made people think they mattered to him, personally.
It was what he did best.
It was why he was successful at everything he did.
Almost everything.
His one failure surged from the dark corners of his mind. Red painted his ex-wife’s collagen-enhanced lips. The scarlet sneer contorted her oval face into an ugly mask.
She wouldn’t be laughing much longer.
A tap on the tinted driver’s side window pulled him away from the past.
“Hey, honey, you getting out?” Hand propped on her cocked hip, the woman’s baby doll lips pursed in a shallow pout. Wisps of blond hair teased the knife’s edge of the deep cleavage that nearly reached her chin.
His attention darted between the puckered nipples pressing against her skimpy tank top. Dark aureoles made twin dots under the pink shirt. Would they taste vanilla like her body lotion?
The over-sized take-out bag crinkled against the toned thigh outlined by her clingy mini-shirt. “Like what you see, darlin’?”
Honey. Sweetheart. Darlin’. Did she remember his name? She would be screaming it before sunrise. He’d make sure of it.
“Yes, ma’am.” His erection throbbed against the fly of his Armani suit as his gaze traveled down her flat belly to her mound. Not a panty line in sight. Just like she’d promised in her Sext. But would she be shaved? Heat exploded in his groin, the thermal shrapnel piercing his limbs. “You’re perfect.”
Perfect for everything he planned tonight.
“Then get out of the car, baby.” The hand on her hip skimmed up her tiny waist to cup one huge breast. “Or I’ll start and finish without you.”
She tossed her head and blond curls fell over her forehead to dangle in front of her China-blue eyes. With one last look, she turned on her pink stilettos. Trent ran his fingers through the keys dangling from the ignition and listened to the soft tinkle before killing the engine and leaning against the seat. Her tight ass jiggled the right amount, and his palms itched with the need to stroke it, slap it. Her stretchy mini rode up with each sway of her hips until he almost caught sight of the pink bull’s-eye.
His penis hardened to tempered steel, and he stroked himself through his slacks. The bitch liked to tease. That came through in her emails and Sexts. She also liked to be dominated and punished.
He’d give her that and so much more.
She slowed before reaching the end of the Jag and peeked at him from behind the curtain of hair.
Opening the door, he unfolded his body and rose to his full six-foot-four. He was upon her in seconds flat, sandwiching her body between him and the unfinished dry wall. Her face turned to his. He ground his erection against the firm mounds of her ass. Easing up on her a little, he snaked his arm around until he pinched one puckered nipple.
She moaned softly and rubbed against him.
Trent felt his balls draw tight. Oh no. He wouldn’t come yet. He was in control here. Tweaking her nipple, he eased away. “Do you need to be punished for being a tease?”
Closing her eyes, she ran her pink tongue over her bottom lip. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
So, she wanted the fantasy she’d told him about on their midnight talks. Inhaling, he filled his lungs with the warmth of her musk. Power filled his muscles and strengthened his bones. He felt the bead of moisture ooze from his cock. Not yet. A real man knew when to exert his will and when to contain it. He grinned, felt the dimples bite into his cheeks. He shoved his free hand under her skirt, probed the cleft of her ass.
“Ohhh.” Arching her back, she tried to spread her legs.
He bracketed her feet with his, keeping her legs together. She squirmed and writhed, bent her knees. He blocked each motion. He was the master. His fingers dipped lower, became slick with her juices, before retreating and peeling her mini-skirt halfway up her bottom.
“You want me to bend you over the Beemer and fuck you right here, right now?”
“Please,” she panted.
“No.” He slapped her ass. A red hand print branded the pale skin. He smacked it again. Nice. Very nice.
“No?” She blinked and turned her head. Her dilated eyes locked onto his. “But I—”
“You will do as you’re told.” He leaned closer and inhaled. The scent of her drenched sex nearly overrode the vanilla of her lotion. Taking her earlobe in his mouth, he skimmed it with his teeth before nipping it then releasing.