by Ellen, Tracy
He turned the wheel to the left.
I clapped and cried out in happiness, “Luke, you are my favorite man on the whole, entire planet! Not only do you sex me up until I can’t walk straight, but you are the most devious bastard I have ever met!”
This praise was sung out with such sincere admiration and relishing satisfaction that a shocked Luke braked hard in response to face me. Hurrying to unbuckle, I got up on my knees to throw my arms around his neck. It was much easier to move around without those heavy boots on. His surprised face was covered in spontaneous kisses before I fell back in my seat, unable to stop smiling like a wackadoodle. Scanning the outbuildings on our left, I knew this was a damn fine start to my goal of hardheaded Luke seeing me as a trusted, equal partner.
Regaining his cool, Luke started driving while he eyed me with his usual air of amused control. “Thanks, I think. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind when you feel the love and call me names, but do I want to know what brought that outburst on?”
Watching our surroundings closely, my eyes couldn’t detect where the secret entrance to another road may be…unless it was between the double garage and a rusty, old Quonset hut.
‘It could be! They were the only two structures not built too close together at this end of the farmyard.’
I replied distractedly, “Mmm, sure. I am so pleased you’ve decided to show me your secret Batman route.”
There was dead silence for a second time in the truck and I looked innocently over at Luke.
‘I could be wrong. Maybe my favorite control freak on the planet wasn’t so coolly amused after all. Huh, imagine that.’
He was giving me that black look of meeting eyebrows and cruel lips which means either I’m on my way to being a disappointment to him, or possibly I’ve already achieved the top billing on his shit list.
“Batman!” He swore viciously under his breath. “Anabel, nobody knows,” he laughed shortly without humor, “or should know about my secret route, so how is it you know?”
“I guess I know you.” I shrugged when he threw me a sharp, appraising look. “Hey, I can’t help you’re an open book to me.” I laughed inside, as Luke swore again and glared at me with a narrow-eyed snort of disbelief. Men are such fun to tease. “I take it this means your Batman route is to be our little secret?”
Without answering, Luke drove in between the double garage and Quonset hut. I made no comment about guessing right, but inside I was cheering. Something told me Luke was feeling a little sensitive right now and probably not too receptive to hearing about my Nancy Drew School of Advanced Deductive Reasoning qualifications. We drove over no path that I could see, just flat snow-covered ground without tracks. Ahead of us was the edge of the woods. It looked like an impenetrable mass of trees and common buckthorn.
Luke stopped. Leaving the truck running, he still didn’t answer but regarded me with a long, considering look on his unsmiling face. I smiled and raised my brows in question.
He only shook his head in reply, but before getting out he asked, “Climb over behind the wheel, okay?”
“Sure!”
Crawling over the console, I got situated while watching him walk up the last few steps to the edge of the woods. Reaching in behind the straight trunk of a Jack pine tree, Luke walked backwards while pulling open a brown metal gate covered in brush along with him. When the gate swung open wide enough to accommodate the truck’s width, he waved me through. I drove forward carefully onto a single lane cut through the overgrown woods. When I passed Luke standing at the gate, his eyes met mine. He moved a gloved hand to cover it, but not before I saw his reluctant grin at the excitement written all over my face at my new role of Batgirl.
I drove forward until the entire truck passed the entrance gate into the woods and then I turned around to watch what else Luke was doing. He pulled out an implement that resembled a very wide, broom-like rake from the bed of the truck. Walking in one of the truck tracks we’d left on the ground behind us, Luke retraced back the way we’d come. At the wall of the garage, he used the flat edge of the rake tool to sweep away any tracks the truck had made in the snow. He was careful to erase any signs of his footsteps, as he stepped back my way. Sweeping lightly over the ground’s snowy surface, he pulled the gate closed behind him. His movements were fluid and practiced, this was obviously something he did regularly. I climbed back into my seat and watched until he finished covering our tracks, put the rake back, and got in behind the wheel.
“Wow.” I shook my head in wonder. “I have two questions for you.”
Luke snorted. “What, only two? Princess, you disappoint.”
Smiling, I asked, “One, do you do that whole routine every time you go somewhere, even if it’s to get a quick loaf of bread?” Over Luke’s sardonic chuckle, I went on, “Two, just WHO are you, Luke Drake?”
Luke grinned widely at that and gave Crookie’s slipping head gear a tug to pull it back off my eyes. When his warm grin disappeared, the face I was staring at in fascination was serious and all business. His green eyes held a cold, calculating expression in their depths I’ve never seen.
He responded softly, “Who am I? I am obviously someone who is beginning to trust you, Anabel. Yes, this is our secret. Nobody around here is to know about this route. Period. Okay?”
I nodded. Thinking it over, I added, “My family and friends can keep their mouths shut, you know, and would have your back. You understand nobody would give it up to an outsider, right?”
Luke regarded me in brooding silence, his fingers drumming on the wheel again. I reached over and smoothed the frown line between his fierce, dark brows. “It’s all good. You can trust I’ll keep it to myself, if that’s what you want.”
He did that arrogant nodding thing with his nose that I was beginning to love as much as the single, cocked brow. I realized with an amazed start that the longer I knew Luke the more things I liked about him. This liking barometer usually fell the other way with most the men I was around for any length of time. Okay, after one date. They were conventional and perfectly ordinary, which is not a bad thing by any means, but not very thrilling to date.
Unlike this devious satyr currently trying to read me for trustworthiness like he was a French scholar and I was the Rosetta stone in need of deciphering.
‘Heck, he probably did speak Greek.’ After the list of accomplishments I’d discovered the hard way about Luke over the last weekend, hearing my Pharaoh could read Coptic as well would barely cause a blink.
His eyes still had a measuring, hard glint to them. “Do I need to ask for that swear to God thing you all do?”
I crossed my arms to not give him the finger that question so richly deserved and met his gaze. “I don’t know, Luke, would that make you feel more secure about accepting my word?”
I was also learning Luke liked manipulating me, “knowing” me, teasing me, and being amused by me, but he wasn’t used to that shoe being on the other foot. It was a tight fit for his controlling, dominating self. He may be accepting me more as a partner, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have to pay for making him uncomfortable until he gets it.
Luke drove on through the woods without answering, so after a few minutes of riding in this silence I spoke again, “I wonder, did you need to ask Svetlana for pinky swears and swap decoder rings before you told her about this lane?”
Luke swung his head my way and grinned, “Are you jealous, Anabel Axelrod?”
“Oh yes, Luke Drake. It must be obvious I’m simply eaten up with jealousy.”
“You are jealous!” Luke’s tone oozed masculine satisfaction.
‘Was I?’ I was proud for not externally rolling my eyes for the second time in two minutes. Inside, they were rolling in their sockets like a nickel slot machine on a Saturday night. ’Sure, I didn’t like the idea Svettie may be trusted with this route, or that she was staying at his house and running around in men’s shirts and neon bras, but that didn’t mean I was jealous.’
Why d
o men always bring it down to an emotional level when a woman asked a perfectly logical question that made them squirm?
Yeah, that’s what I think, too.
“It hardly takes a rocket scientist to listen to plain English, Mr. Tricky. You said I was the only one around here that was to know about this route, so it only makes sense there are others from somewhere else that do know your secret route. Logic would dictate it’s your work mates. Man-whore has your back, and you told me Svettie works with you, too. She was seriously freaking out last night,” I put up my hands in quotes and spoke, “Oh, Luke, I am so very frightened!”
‘Damn, it was so fun saying the word “frightened” with a heavy, Russian accent.’
I continued, “It’s obvious either I trust that you weren’t with me in the barn all night when you had another girlfriend waiting in your house, THAT I HAVE NEVER BEEN IN, or something is going down in your work world. It should be further obvious to you that since I stayed all last night, I chose to trust you.” I motioned with my hand. “So, please, will you answer? Did Svetlana have to swear on a stack of Russian orthodox bibles before you would trust her?”
Luke calmly slowed the truck to a stop. He got out without a look in my direction and repeated the gate opening. On this end the camouflaged gate swung inwards. Not knowing what was on the other side and not being told to drive, I stayed put.
Staring down at my hands, my mind went over what was happening between Luke and me. Luke can trust me implicitly with any secrets. If he needs a swear to God to believe in that, it’s difficult for me to swallow but I’ll give him one. I didn’t really care what Svettie was told or not told. I was sure Luke must have his reasons for telling someone as obviously unstable as that kooky crybaby about his secrets. I brought her up so he’d look at this trust issue from my perspective.
‘I don’t have to like it one damn bit, though, either.’
Luke got behind the wheel but didn’t start driving. I glanced up from my hands and was startled to find him contemplating me with a tender, almost gentle expression. He lowered his lashes when he reached to turn down the heat. When he raised them, the softness I thought I’d glimpsed was gone. He gazed back at me steadily while his face retained that slightly hard, neutral cast that showed he was ready for anything to go wrong and always in control. Turning away to glance out my window, I was flustered to be imagining he was staring at me with those kinds of emotions that smacked of deeper feelings. It confused me even more that I was feeling wistful. I shook it off to lack of sleep.
Luke spoke quietly, “Hey, Anabel?” I turned in my seat to face him. “I was being an ass. Just like you trusted me last night, your word is all I need now.”
I nodded once. “Good, you’ve got it.”
Our gazes lingered and intertwined together. We acknowledged our growing trust in each other with small, contented smiles. In the building silence in the truck’s cab, I was incredulous to realize I wanted to throw myself into Luke’s arms again.
‘He’d only dried me off after being naked in the shower with him scarcely twenty minutes ago! What was happening to me?’ I was wailing a lot this morning, but this was beyond being tired from lack of sleep. I did not like this feeling of being needy for affection or sex, or whatever my damn body’s chemical composition seemed to be yearning for from this damn man.
Luke’s full lower lip curved, as if he read my mind, and he broke our quiet first by stating, “You’ve had all you can take for one night.”
Mr. Control drove out of the woods, closed the gate, erased the tracks, and took off down the road—all while wearing the shit-eating grin of the conquering, sexual barbarian. Glowering out my window again, my cheeks were heating up that he could read me so easily. It was one thing when I chose to tell him of my desire, but quite another when he could see it spelled out on my face. Besides, who was he to tell me what I could or couldn’t take? My girl parts may thank him profusely for exhibiting the sense I obviously lacked, but my feverish, sleep-deprived brain bristled at the challenge his pronouncement riled up in me.
Noting where I was, the truck was moving slowly over mushy ice and snow down a gravel road I didn’t recognize.
Not looking his way, I said in a voice barely above a whisper, “You’re probably right, of course, that I’ve had enough sex. I’ve just never done it in a Ford F150 before while straddling the lap of the man driving.” I sighed deeply. “Thanks for thinking of my pussy, though.” I let that visual sink in a few beats as we drove west, and then continued conversationally in the same quiet voice, “If I did do a man in a Ford F150 Truck, do you think I should take off all my clothes while he drove, except for say...this trench coat?” I smiled out at the frozen, fallow corn fields we were passing. “I was thinking to leave the coat on in case another car drove too close, but it would be open and unbuttoned.” I felt a slight hesitation in the truck’s speed and mused, “Would the man driving leave his pants entirely on, but just undo them and take his cock out?” I sighed again. “It’s true, right now my nipples are so tender and sensitive from your whiskers and from you sucking them so much. Honestly, my nipples have never been sucked as hard as they were last night, and then when I remember how big and hard you were it makes me want to…”
“Get over here. Now.”
“Are you sure? I know last night was…”
“Now, Anabel.”
“Should I take my clothes off?”
“Take the damn coat off and come sit on my lap.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
A little bewildered by that request, I shrugged out of the coat as Luke slowed the truck. We’d reached the end of the graveled road, but I didn’t see any familiar landmarks or signs. I noted a gnarly, lone tree. There was a choice to turn north or south on a blacktop road.
Mr. Bossy pulled back his seat farther and patted his thigh when he caught my glance of uncertain curiosity. I climbed over and straddled him, our faces a few inches apart and my back supported by the steering wheel. He settled his hands on my hips while checking out my outfit of black leggings and a tight, pink T shirt.
“Sorry, but no bra on today,” I said breezily, remembering the vow to test my bra theory that Luke was different than your average bear.
Raising his eyes to mine, his voice reflected disgruntled humor, “Now there’s a real cause for apology. I want to talk a minute.”
‘Aha! I knew he was different!’ Luke may be my current favorite man on the planet, but I was feeling disgruntled, too. He’s the only man I’ve ever met inspired to have a “talk” with me when seeing I’m braless.
“You know, Anabel, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” his hands lowered to squeeze my ass during this grudging admission and then he stroked me soothingly, “but you need to understand a few things before I get you home.”
My good humor immediately restored at this statement, I thought it was almost as nice as his declaration of permanent wood last night.
“My line of work is all about the intel.” Surprise had my eyes widening when I realized Luke was actually talking about his job. “My company, DDL & Associates, contracts to protect foreign clients that are visiting the United Sates for a multitude of reasons. Our reputation is built around guaranteeing we will keep them safe and alive while they are on American soil. Since we’ve proven we do this very well, it allows us to charge exorbitant fees for our expert services.” His kiss on my cheek was soft but his tone was caustic when he said, “It’s the locals that give us our best info when we scout out towns in advance of our clients travel plans. You may think somebody local would never tell a questioning outsider any personal details on a friend or neighbor. The concept is probably correct in theory, Anabel, but with human nature being what it is,” He shrugged, “the reality is far different. Most people love to gab when shown any kind of attention.” Luke held my rapt attention. I had ten questions on the tip of my tongue, but didn’t utter one to interrupt this glimpse of his private life on the job. “For example, you
tell Reggie a secret about Joe Blow across the street. He mentions it to a trusted buddy, that buddy tells his trusted wife, who tells her trusted best friend, who is married to a drunk that hangs out in a local pub four nights a week after work. Our operators are extensively trained to quickly and painlessly interrogate locals. If they do their job right, the locals are not even aware they’ve been grilled. When our boots are on the ground doing legwork, where do you think we head when we want a thumbnail sketch of a locale or the low down on any powers that be in a town?”
I let out my breath with an appreciative, “Holy Hannah, you hit the bars first! Master Manipulators R Us.” My brow wrinkled in disbelief. “Wait a minute, Svetlana’s an operator?”
Luke chuckled. “No, Svetlana’s not an operator. She works in admin at the main Chicago office. She’s a scheduler for our teams.”
My mouth dropped and then I snapped it shut. “So, she’s the Nazi-Scheduler, huh?”
‘Well, well, my fine inbred Svettie. Didn’t that little nugget of gold help explain why Luke was gone so much lately?’
I recalled on Sunday night that even he seemed irritated with his overly hectic, busy schedule. There was an upside to knowing Svettie was the scheduler and visiting at Luke’s farm. The odds were looking good that Luke would actually get to stay here throughout the entire Thanksgiving weekend.
While he talked, Luke’s hands were slowly massaging my thighs muscles and my hips. It felt divine. I think purring could be heard as I leaned into the strokes.
Deciding straight forward may work best here, I asked diplomatically, “Luke, tell me about Svetlana and last night’s…er…emotional outburst.”
“I have no idea what her problem was last night.” Luke replied promptly, forehead creasing as he thought it over. “She made no sense. I got her back to the house last night and didn’t stick around.” He raised a knowing brow and I grinned in return. The doubts about my very own satyr’s priorities were laid to rest. This was turning out to be a most productive lap-talk. “What happened before I saw you on the drive?”