Ahhh, refreshing. I love to get a good nap in on a flight."

We passed through Customs without any issues. Harold always had perfect passports prepared so I could travel with ease and never spent a second thought on whether or not I'd seem suspicious. We found our limo and the driver put our bags into the trunk as we climbed into the back seat. "Can I get you a drink?" I asked her.

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick with water," she said, grabbing a bottle and twisting off the top. "Barbiturates make me so thirsty."

"Mmmh. Well, in this tropical heat, you should definitely stay hydrated," I said.

She pounced on me, put her hand around my throat and pressed me back against the seat. "If you ever drug me again, I will fucking kill you, Root," she hissed. Her face was only an inch away from mine, and the pressure of her fingers on my neck made me gush in my panties. My breath hitched, and I closed my eyes as though I were expecting her to kiss me. "Holy shit," she spat and released me with a shove. "Does this turn you on?"

"What if it does?" I asked, rubbing my neck.

"Then you are even more twisted than I thought," she said and snorted a little laugh.

"Like I said on the plane, you don't know the half of what makes me tick. And for the record, if I had really wanted, I would have gotten the truth out of you, but we were on a plane and the FAA doesn't let me keep my finer implements with me when I fly. Either way, we will have our little chat, and my guess is that you will enjoy it, but we should attend to business before pleasure. We are going to need guns."

"And where, pray tell, are we going to get those?"

"Hush," I said and then focused on the voice in my right ear. "Really?" I asked God. She replied in the affirmative. "Well okay then." I pressed the button to lower the screen so I could give the driver directions.

"Care to share what in the actual fuck is going on?"

"Not really, Sweetie. Best to just take the leap of faith. That's what I always do."

The driver pulled up in front of a church. A banner was painted above the festive-looking red door of the main building that read 'Sangre de Christo Rescitado.' I waited for the driver to open my door and then stepped out into the sun and heat. "Gracias," I told him. "You'll please wait for us right here. Sameen, come along, Sweetie."

"Church, Root? You're taking me to church? What the hell?"

"Oh ye of little faith," I smiled at her. "Just wait." It was the first of many little surprises I had lined up for her. We entered the church and headed down the main aisle towards the front. A bloody and very realistic crucifix was suspended in the air above the altar. "So what do you think, Sameen? Will we have a church wedding, or do you suppose a justice of the peace is more our speed? Of course there are those who would expect us to just live in sin, but I'd like to make honest women of each other someday."

"Have you lost your mind?" She looked around the church, then said, as if to Jesus on the cross, "She's actually lost her mind."

"My mind is just as found as it's ever been, maybe even more so," I said looking at her. Even in her boots she was shorter than me. I could have leaned down and dropped a kiss onto her forehead, but I just stood there, utterly at ease, and smiled at her. "You just haven't realized how perfect we are for one another yet. But it's a fact."

"Really?" Her voice echoed sardonically in the empty church. "And what do you base this 'fact' on?"

"I'd rather show you over the course of time. Think of it as my way of wooing you."

"Wooing," she repeated. "I hate to disappoint you, Root, but it's not going to happen. And that's a 'fact'."

"Oh, Sweetie. I'd love to hear all the reasons you base your 'fact' on, and gosh these air quotes are fun, but we have some business to attend to at the moment." I turned slightly to listen, realizing for a moment the full irony of my God speaking to me in a church. "Well this is a first," I said lightly. "Name? Now? Well alrighty then."

"This thing you do where you talk to yourself is seriously creepy," she hissed at me. I opened my mouth to address her, but the black clad man stepped out of the shadows of the sacristy and started towards us. I saw Sameen reach instinctively towards the back of her belt and then she said, "Shit," under her breath when she realized there was nothing there.

"Relax, Sameen," I said, quiet but firm, and then, "Padre Rodrigo, we were told we could find you here. We are in need of some particular items that we understand you possess and are willing to sell for the right price."

"Who sent you here, my children?" His face was very tan, and deeply creased with wrinkles, so his dark eyes seemed to be but black slits at the top of his face.

"Petra, sent us, Padre."

"Ah," he said and nodded. "And she had a message for me?"

"Of course," I said and tuned into the voice, then repeated, "She said to tell you the angel of the Lord appeared in a blazing fire from the midst of a bush, and yet the bush was not consumed with fire."

"Petra," he said slowly, his accent thick. "She always did resonate with Exodus, did she not? Welcome to mi iglesia." He held his hand out to me and I shook it. He then held out his hand for Sameen to shake, but she just looked back and forth between Rodrigo and me with an annoyed and bewildered expression. He put his hand down once he realized she wouldn't shake it. I smiled at both of them. "This way," he said and walked back towards the sacristy.

We passed behind the altar and through a small door that was built into the wall behind the choir stalls, then down a narrow staircase that spiraled down for several floors. When we were well underground, the priest led us through a series of hallways of formidable length. Sameen shot me a look of concern, and I gave her a placid smile and nod in return. "Don't worry," I mouthed silently to her. She tightened her lips and furrowed her brow in response. I extended my hand to her, as I had on the plane, and she pushed it away, as she had on the plane.

We stopped in front of a door for a moment while the priest took off the little, stiff, white band from his collar and put it in his pocket. He opened the door, but I was focused on watching Sameen's expression. Kind of like when you give a baby a cake for it's first birthday and you just want to witness the joy on their face as they smash into it and taste sugar for the first time. It was worth every millisecond of her previous consternation to see the expression on her face when Padre Rodrigo opened the door. Her mouth dropped and she moved in a circle that reminded me of Maria in the Sound of Music, twirling over the mountaintops, taking in the view.

Guns. All kinds of guns filled the cavernous basement room.

"I haven't seen this much hardware, since. . ." she started, but trailed off.

"Put's Harold's arsenal to shame, that's for sure," I said. "Pick out anything you want, Sweetie. This treat is on me." I chose two Glocks for my waistband, and a Colt for my ankle. I also picked up a couple of knives and boxes of bullets. While I was busy picking out some practical sniper rifles, Sameen wandered the aisles picking up pieces, sampling their weight in her hands and aiming them at imaginary targets. Rodrigo watched her carefully. He looked at me and I said, "Like a kid in a candy store, am I right?"

"Please tell me we are going to get a chance to use all of this while we are here," she said.

"You are so cute when you want to shoot stuff," I said. Then I turned to Rodrigo and said, "Throw in a couple of the Berettas and how about some of those Rugers? I find the red trigger to be quaint, but not to, uh, girly." I smiled at Sameen who was grinning from ear to ear. I unfolded a wad of cash and settled up with the priest. He, in turn, commanded one of his men to pack everything for us in a discreet duffel bag, save for the pieces Sameen and I tucked into our ankles and waistbands. "Thank you, Padre, for your assistance. Your generosity will not be forgotten."

"Bless you, my daughters," he said and made the sign of the cross over our heads.

"Amen," Sameen said with a smirk.

We made our way back through the hallways, and up into the light of the church. As we walked out to the limo, I shouldered the duffel bag, turned to her and asked, "So, are we having fun yet?"

"Fuck yeah, we are," she cheered and my heart leapt. We climbed into the limo and I gave the driver the name of our hotel. I'd arranged for us to stay in a very private and secluded resort. "So will we be picking up some ear pieces and burner cells so Finch can help us find our number, or do you have those hidden away someplace?"

"No, Sweetie," I sighed, leaning back against the car seat. "We don't need Finch to help us."

"Uh, so how are we going to go about this?"

"I've got it covered. Trust me." I said. I rolled my head against the seat until I was looking right at her. I felt a bit fatigued, but she looked energized and excited. All that gun metal I guess. "First, I thought we could check into our hotel, maybe have a little lunch and a swim. The rooms I booked for us open onto the ocean. How do you feel about tequila slammers?"

"When in Rome," she shrugged.

"Excellent." I reached over and took her hand, squeezed her fingers and then brought them to my lips. "Maybe we can find some way for you to thank me for all your new presents."

She issued a deep and throaty chuckle. "Look. I'm not going to even try to deny that you are hot. But you're also married. And I do not do married chicks."

"Married? Oh, you mean Harry? He and I are hardly married. I mean, legally sure, sort of. On paper we are Mr. and Mrs. Finch. But in reality we are anything but married. Our real last names aren't even Finch. Even paper lies."

"Well, why did you get real or fake married then?"

"Oh, Sweetie. It's complicated. It's a long story, and I'd so much rather not talk about Harold when I am here in the Caribbean with you." We pulled up in front of the hotel. "Let's get settled and have some food and drink. I'm sure you must be peckish after our long trip."

We had separate but adjoining rooms. Sliding doors opened onto patios that led down to the sea. I immediately stripped out of my travelling clothes and wrapped myself into a sarong and nothing else. When I walked out of my room onto the patio, Sameen was already there, swinging in a hammock. She was still wearing her black pants and tank top, as well as her boots. I walked over to her, my bare feet soaking up the heat of the cement and sand. "Aren't you broiling in those black clothes?" I asked her.

"I didn't pack any tropical wear," she said and squinted up at me from the hammock. "Actually, I don't own any tropical wear. I think you do the whole coral and turquoise thing much better than me," she added and gestured at my sarong.

"You could borrow some of mine," I offered. "Or we could just go al fresco. It's quite private here." I started to untie my sarong.

"What about our number?" She asked. "Don't we have work to do?"

"All work and no play makes Root and Sameen very dull girls," I said and allowed my sarong to fall into the sand beneath the hammock. She sat up and looked me up and down, her body swinging in the hammock with the weight of her motion.

"Oh, fuck," she said. I felt her eyes travel up and down over my naked flesh. I closed my eyes and moaned against her gaze. I didn't need God to tell me Sameen's pulse and respiration rates had quickened. I opened my eyes and looked down to find her looking up at me with the same lusty expression with which she took in all those guns.

I turned from her and began to walk down to the sea. I didn't look back. I could hear her tumble out of the hammock. I could hear the gentle rustle of her taking off her shirt, kicking off her boots, and wiggling out of her pants. I desperately wanted to watch her undress, to watch all that delicious skin make itself known to the sun and my eyes, but I did not look back.

The water was warm and I kept walking until I was in it up to my waist, then I turned and looked back at her. She was naked at the water's edge, looking slightly angular and awkward, but luminous none the less. I dipped my hands down into the water and splashed a wave of water back at her as she walked toward me. Beads of water caught her skin, making her sparkle as she continued in my direction. I took a few steps into the water until it was up to my breasts. When she was in up to her waist, she dove underwater and swam toward where I stood. Her body passed me underwater, and I could not tell if it was the ripples of the ocean or her own skin that touched me as she passed. When she popped up a few feet from me, I swam to join her.

"Hi there," I said.

"Hey," she said. She was treading water, but I still had my feet on the ocean floor. I pulled her floating body into mine, expecting resistance, and delighting when instead she wrapped her legs around my waist. I slipped my arms around her, held her weightless body against me in the water. Her breasts floated against mine. The current fluttered between and around our bodies, making everything feel swollen and exquisitely sensitive. She squeezed her legs around me, pressed her mound against my belly. I gasped and held her tighter, moving one hand down to cup her ass. I was so close, so deliriously close. My fingers could have walked right into her center. I knew she would be wet, just like me. I knew she would be very hot and it would feel so wonderful for both of us.

"What a tiny, pretty, perfect girl you are, Sameen Shaw," I said and pulled her into my kiss. Her lips were wet and tasted of salt. I licked at them greedily and then slipped my tongue into her silky mouth. I moaned against her lips as she rubbed herself against my tummy. Unable to resist, I moved my hand from her ass, snaked it down between us so I could touch myself. I had to come. I needed to come with her in my arms, right there in the sea.

But she pushed my hand away, as she had done on the plane and in the church. She pushed my hand away and put her own hand down between us. She bit my lower lip, hard, as she found my core and began to stroke. The tide had brought us closer to shore, and now she was standing in between one of my thighs, rubbing against me as she worked my bundle of nerves into a fiery frenzy. She lowered her face to my breast, which was still underwater, and she bit and kneaded my submerged nipple with her teeth and tongue. I fought to get my hand down to where she was grinding against me, crying out when I finally felt my fingers slip into her. She came up for air and we kissed hard.

It had been ages since I'd cried out to God during sex.

But as I felt her tighten around my fingers, pulsing, writhing and getting ready to climax, it was so divine, I could not help it.

God forgive me, as she came and I followed, once and then again, I could not help myself.