December 3
Yekaterinburg
0649 local
They had been running all night, dodging police and hiding in
the shadows. Webb moved quickly but silently, pausing only to avoid
discovery. Mercedes scrambled to keep up, wondering what he had
planned. But daylight was creeping forward, eliminating the darkness
that was their ally.
They hurried around a corner, then paused, Mercedes following
Webb's lead and pretending interest in the shop window in front of
them. Mercedes fought down alarm as he put an arm around her
shoulders, pulling her close.
"Relax," he whispered, "just pretend I'm your boyfriend or
whatever."
Realizing his ruse, Mercedes tried to play along, somewhat
awkwardly putting her arm around his waist. "Why are we stopping?"
she whispered.
He moved closer, whispering into her ear. "We need to find a
place to lay low for a day or two. If we stay out of sight, they'll
assume we've moved on."
She nodded slightly. "Any ideas?"
"There's some hunting lodges northeast of the city that are
rented out in the summer to tourists. They should be empty now."
"Great, but how do we get there?" she asked, trying not to let
on how much his warm breath caressing her ear was affecting her.
If Clayton Webb had been the upstanding, honorable-at-all-costs
type of person, like, say, Harmon Rabb, he never would have taken
advantage of the game they were currently playing. But he wasn't; he
was a sneaky, underhanded spook, he reminded himself, which meant he
took his chances when they appeared.
So when she asked her last question, his response was to draw
her in closer still, turning her to face him. With a gentle caress
of his hand on her cheek, her guided her lips to his own for a long
leisurely kiss.
It was moment before the broke apart, Mercedes looking at Clay
with wide eyes. Resting his forehead on hers, he grinned at her.
"Ever steal a car?"
****************************************************************
December 4
Moscow Metro
1816 local
"C'mon Mac," Harm urged, wading through the mass of people
flooding the Metro station. "This is the train we want."
Behind him, Mac was trying desperately to keep up. "Harm, slow
down," she ordered. "We'll make the train." She stumbled backwards
as one particularly rude person pushed past her. "Remind me, whose
bright idea was it to get on the subway at rush hour?"
They finally made it to the crowded platform, Harm having
insisted on holding her hand. "Just to make sure we don't get
separated," he had insisted. Not that she was complaining, mind you.
The train pulled up, and as one mass of people pushed their way
out, another forced their way in. Harm and Mac made it in just as
the doors snapped shut behind them.
"Well, isn't this cozy," Mac muttered. People were packed into
the car like the proverbial sardines. Forget sitting down; there was
barely room to stand.
"You're not claustrophobic, Mac? A big, bad jarhead like you?"
Harm teased.
"Of course not," she shot back. "I just dislike not having room
to move--at all."
"Well--" Harm began, but just then the train lurched and swayed,
and its passengers with it. As the passengers moved, Mac was pressed
even closer to Harm, torso to torso, face to face.
The forced contact caught them both unawares, leaving Mac
blushing and stealing Harm's breath. They stared at each other,
unable to look away, both their minds telling them to say
*something*.
Mac was first. "Ummm...hi."
Harm grinned back. "Hi."
"Close quarters."
"Yeah."
"It bother you?" she asked.
"Not a bit," he replied, putting an arm around her waist.
They stayed like that until they reached the train station.
TBC.....
Yekaterinburg
0649 local
They had been running all night, dodging police and hiding in
the shadows. Webb moved quickly but silently, pausing only to avoid
discovery. Mercedes scrambled to keep up, wondering what he had
planned. But daylight was creeping forward, eliminating the darkness
that was their ally.
They hurried around a corner, then paused, Mercedes following
Webb's lead and pretending interest in the shop window in front of
them. Mercedes fought down alarm as he put an arm around her
shoulders, pulling her close.
"Relax," he whispered, "just pretend I'm your boyfriend or
whatever."
Realizing his ruse, Mercedes tried to play along, somewhat
awkwardly putting her arm around his waist. "Why are we stopping?"
she whispered.
He moved closer, whispering into her ear. "We need to find a
place to lay low for a day or two. If we stay out of sight, they'll
assume we've moved on."
She nodded slightly. "Any ideas?"
"There's some hunting lodges northeast of the city that are
rented out in the summer to tourists. They should be empty now."
"Great, but how do we get there?" she asked, trying not to let
on how much his warm breath caressing her ear was affecting her.
If Clayton Webb had been the upstanding, honorable-at-all-costs
type of person, like, say, Harmon Rabb, he never would have taken
advantage of the game they were currently playing. But he wasn't; he
was a sneaky, underhanded spook, he reminded himself, which meant he
took his chances when they appeared.
So when she asked her last question, his response was to draw
her in closer still, turning her to face him. With a gentle caress
of his hand on her cheek, her guided her lips to his own for a long
leisurely kiss.
It was moment before the broke apart, Mercedes looking at Clay
with wide eyes. Resting his forehead on hers, he grinned at her.
"Ever steal a car?"
****************************************************************
December 4
Moscow Metro
1816 local
"C'mon Mac," Harm urged, wading through the mass of people
flooding the Metro station. "This is the train we want."
Behind him, Mac was trying desperately to keep up. "Harm, slow
down," she ordered. "We'll make the train." She stumbled backwards
as one particularly rude person pushed past her. "Remind me, whose
bright idea was it to get on the subway at rush hour?"
They finally made it to the crowded platform, Harm having
insisted on holding her hand. "Just to make sure we don't get
separated," he had insisted. Not that she was complaining, mind you.
The train pulled up, and as one mass of people pushed their way
out, another forced their way in. Harm and Mac made it in just as
the doors snapped shut behind them.
"Well, isn't this cozy," Mac muttered. People were packed into
the car like the proverbial sardines. Forget sitting down; there was
barely room to stand.
"You're not claustrophobic, Mac? A big, bad jarhead like you?"
Harm teased.
"Of course not," she shot back. "I just dislike not having room
to move--at all."
"Well--" Harm began, but just then the train lurched and swayed,
and its passengers with it. As the passengers moved, Mac was pressed
even closer to Harm, torso to torso, face to face.
The forced contact caught them both unawares, leaving Mac
blushing and stealing Harm's breath. They stared at each other,
unable to look away, both their minds telling them to say
*something*.
Mac was first. "Ummm...hi."
Harm grinned back. "Hi."
"Close quarters."
"Yeah."
"It bother you?" she asked.
"Not a bit," he replied, putting an arm around her waist.
They stayed like that until they reached the train station.
TBC.....