The baggage claim in Sacramento had columns reaching its high ceiling, made from suitcases and chests. Made me wonder if that's the fate of lost luggage, to be made into structural supports.

Taylor made his way to a rental car kiosk. As he did that, I watched the crowd-half expecting to see my husband stalk my way, his monster face on and ready to make me pay for having the audacity to leave whilst I still could. Luckily for me, that wasn't the case. Taylor came back, keys in hand. "Let me have your driver's license."

"Okay. Why?" I handed it over.

"The boss will know you flew to Sacramento- but we're going to ditch your ID in a conspicuous place. Either it'll be mailed back to Washington or someone will use it, create a false trail. The Viking doesn't live on any paved roads, and in any case, he lives no where near Sacramento. Let's go hit the mall, I'll ditch it there."

We drove out of the airport and toward the capital city of California. Passed Arco Stadium, and several high rises. "You familiar with this city?"

"Yeah. Did some training here."

We found ourselves at the Arden Fair Mall. I stayed in the car, which he parked at the furthest point away from any entrance, and got lost in thought. Divorce or annulment? Would Christian try to bribe the judge? What would The Viking be like? How long would I have to hide? Oh shit! Jorge! I needed to call and let him know what's going on.

Fished the phone from my pocket and called him. When he answered, I greeted him with, "Hello Aunt Jilly."

"Is it safe for you to call?" Concern sat heavy in his voice.

"Yes. I'm in California. Christian didn't like it when I told him I wanted a divorce and his security guard is taking me to a safehouse. Somewhere Christian can't find me."

"Do what you have to do, and if you need anything, let me know. I'll help any way I can."

A diabolically gleeful idea hatched in my brain. "Want to have some fun fucking with Christian?"

I'm almost sure I could hear the smile forming on Jorge's face. "Depends on what you consider fun."

"Tell Ray I'm safe, then have him go 'check on me' at home. Christian will have a hell of a time trying to explain me missing. Give Ray this number- no, wait. Christian would try to get a hold of his phone records to see if I'd call him... so nix that idea. Tell him it's for his own safety because Christian is fucking crazy."

Jorge chuckled. "Oh, send the bulldog over to make him shit his pants? I'm down with that. Could be a Kodak moment."

"Let me know how it goes. The place I'm heading is evidently not on any paved roads, so I don't know how cell reception will be. But I'm safe, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am. Got it. Wish I could be there when Ray pops in for a visit. To be a fly on that wall would be a prize beyond comparison."

"I know what you mean. I'm gonna go. Take care of yourself."

"Likewise. Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't. Just gonna learn some self-defense and file for divorce."

"Hey-o! Sounds like a plan. Take care." Click.

And with that, Jorge hung up and I sat in the car, bored.

Don't know how long it was until Taylor returned, shopping bags in hand. After putting them in the trunk, he opened the driver's door and got in. "I left the ID next to a potted plant in the food court."

"And so the game begins?"

"Yep." He started the car and made his way to I5. North we drove, past the airport, past almond and olive orchards. Sprawling dairy farms, towering rice dryers; this was the makeup of Northern California.

"Where does The Viking live? I can safely assume it's not a fjord?"

"Yes. We're heading toward the tiny hamlet of Stonyford. His family's ranch is out in the hills near there."

Hillfolk. Lovely. Outhouse or a functional toilet kind of place? "Cabin?"

"No. Longhouse. Even has a ram's head over the door." We were now well over an hour into our journy and on a small, two laned road that at its heart really wanted to be a single lane.

"For reals?"

"Yeah. The man is a historian and linguist, too. So, if you find yourself bored, just ask him about his opinion about the Library of Alexandria's destruction."

"Okay..." This drive was taking forever and I began to feel the stirrings of nausea from motion sickness. I closed my eyes and tried to find a happy place as our rental car bounced along the pot-hole riddled road. After a long while, I felt the car slowing down and making a turn. I opened my eyes to see wide groves of oak trees lining a tiny dirt and sand road that cut its way through gently rolling hills. "How long until we get there?"

"Only half an hour. We're on his property now. Just gotta reach the house."

I felt elated that the destination seemed near, that this escape was nearly over. At least I hoped.

The road began to climb craggy hills thick with forest and wended around large boulders. Saw deer, lots of birds. Seemed a peaceful place.

That is, until we drove into the driveway for the longhouse- which was an actual modern home, but it did indeed have a ram's skull with curling horns atop the roof, centered over the dark wood and glass front door. A tall man opened the door, and followed by a huge dog, made his way toward us, blowing a horn. "Hail, McArgus! How is my favorite shieldmaiden?" The Viking wore tie dye and cargo pants. Work boots. No horned helmet. Felt kinda let down. Man, I wish he had a horned helmet. Dark hair, cut short and bright blue eyes. His skin, ruddy from the sun, seemed to glow with his excitement. His mustache was long and braided down into his trimmed beard. Silver beads with knotwork dangled from the braid's ends.

I did a double take. "McArgus?" I looked to Taylor for an explanation.

"There's some things about me you don't know. Jason Taylor is my first and middle names. But your husband doesn't know that."

"You shouldn't keep things like that from the lady, McArgus. Bad form."

"Fuck you, Fergie."

"Don't threaten me with a good time. You know I can kick your ass, now you want me to fuck it. Good gods man, you know how to make my day. I'll even give you a reach around because I like you."

I bust out laughing. The Viking was gay. Not flaming, but more of a Bear. Either way, Taylor's reaction to anal sex and a reach around had him the color of a stop sign.

"I have to get back. But first you're going to kick my ass. Need to look like I got jumped."

"Today is indeed a glorious day." The Viking turned to me, "Get your bags, hun. I'll show you the guest room and then I've got an ass to pound."

I smiled. "I do appreciate double entendre."

"Oh, we're gonna have fun." He dug a silver cigarette case from his back pocket. With a smile revealing incredibly white teeth, he asked, "Smoke weed? Want one?" And I knew that this adventure had only just begun.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Because this is a reincarnation of an earlier tale, I decided to make part one of said tale FREE on Kindle until OCTOBER 17. So if you missed the first (and very different) version of this tale, get a taste of it on me. (Oh, that sounded mildly pervy.)

DARKER SHADE OF PALE - HER ESCAPE

amazon dot com slash dp slash B00DFL9IYK