“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he asked, sounding very young.
“I want you to kiss me,” she told him.
He brushed her lips gently.
“Ouch,” he said, backing off.
“What?” She looked up, concerned.
“My nose. Where you bashed me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Kirk.” She took his face in her hands and tenderly pulled him closer to kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. This time their kiss was more insistent.
Jennifer gasped as Kirk moved to stroke her breast. With his head still between her hands, she moved his face to her breast. Sighing, she relaxed and let her young man make love to her in his own way.
He came quickly, and she was surprised that she was ready for him. She was sometimes slow to be aroused, but their battle had excited her. When he slipped inside her and came again, she had an orgasm of such power that for a moment she thought she might burst.
His body, too, was aflame as he lay by her side, his eyes wide. She turned and curled in against him like a matching spoon, and reaching back, took hold of his penis and smiled as it swelled to her gentle caress. This time, at her encouragement, he came at her from behind, kneeling on the soft mattress, and rode her until they were both panting with pain and pleasure. She pressed her palm flat against her abdomen, felt the length of his erection filling her, and then the sudden shudder of his orgasm.
Jennifer’s body ached both from their fight and their sex, yet she could not sleep. She got out of bed and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower, then dressed in jeans and a sweater.
When she reentered the dark room, he was still sleeping. She resisted the temptation to kiss him, though she did pull up the top sheet and blanket and tuck them around him. Then she carefully unlocked the door and slipped out into the hallway.
It was still early morning. She walked toward the front desk, thinking that she would pay their bill and check out.
The motel hallway was long, and when she reached the end, she stepped into a glassed-in stairwell. She took the stairs to the first floor and saw the parking lot was to one side and the empty swimming pool to the other. And then she spotted Simon.
He was standing behind the full-length glass doors in the lobby of the motel. Jennifer saw his foggy breath on the glass, saw him turn his head and speak to someone hidden by the curtains.
Simon spotted her. He waved, then pulled open the glass doors and ran across the snowy yard, circled the pool, and tried to catch her before she got away.
Jennifer took the steps two at a time, ran up to the second floor hallway and through the swinging doors. She stopped then and concentrated. Deliberately, she thought of Simon and how he was coming after her, coming to kidnap her. And as she had hoped, she felt the familiar surge of strength, felt her muscles bulge. Stepping into a supply closet, she stood there under the bright light, surrounded by rolls of paper towels and tiny pink bars of soap and an empty cleaning cart. She waited for Simon to burst through the door and see her.
Moments later the door swung wide, and Simon filled the frame, a smile spreading across his face when he saw her.
“Hi,” she said. She stood with her fingers laced together, like a girl at a high school gym waiting to be asked to dance.
“Jenny, Jenny,” he said with a sigh. “What happened to you? Why did you run away? Kathy was so worried. What are you doing in here?”
“Waiting for you,” Jennifer said calmly, holding back the surge of adrenaline that swelled her strength. She wanted to wait until she was strong enough to kill with one swift blow. She wanted to wait until he was close enough for her to grab his throat.
“How did you get here, anyway?” he asked, frowning. He stepped inside the door. “Why are you so afraid?” he asked.
She grabbed him easily, with one sudden move. Her hands were around his neck before he could react, the scream in his throat sliced off by the pressure of her grasp. She felt the words die as she tightened her grip. She watched his face, saw his ice blue eyes pop out in his head, saw a bubble of blood squeeze from his mouth and drip down his lower lip. She lifted him up and flipped him over easily, dumping him headfirst into the empty cleaning cart.
Then she grabbed a clean bathroom towel and wiped his blood off her fingers. She threw the towel into the cart, turned off the light, and went back into the hall. It would be another hour before the maids finished the rooms on that floor and came back to the supply room and found him there, stuffed upside down in the cleaning cart.
“You killed him?” Kirk asked again. They were back in his Audi, speeding east on Route 80.
“No, I don’t think so. He was alive when I left him.”
“Jesus H. Christ.”
“Kirk, I know this is more than you bargained for.” Jennifer nodded toward the next exit sign. “Pull off there. You can drop me at the nearest car rental place.” As she spoke, she rested her arm across his thigh. She could not keep herself from touching him. She needed the physical contact. If he did stop and put her out, she would truly be lost. She didn’t think she had the strength or the courage to drive a car.
“I’m not going to ditch you,” he told her.
She sighed, then leaned forward and briefly rested her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t think anyone will be looking for us,” he said next, taking charge.
Jennifer shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, he might call the police and tell them he was attacked.”
“By a woman? Come on, no way.” Kirk was shaking his head as he speeded.
In New York, Jennifer knew, she could get away with hurting, even killing, a person. It was done every day. But not in the heartland.
He reached across her and took several maps from the glove compartment. “But just in case,” he said, handing them over to her as he kept his eyes on the road, “look at these and find some secondary roads that will get us across the state. Look south.”
Jennifer stared down at the open maps, unable to focus. She couldn’t go to St. Louis with him. Besides, he had a meeting in Chicago. No, running away with Kirk Callahan wasn’t the answer. How long could she hide away there? Kathy Dart would find her; when she learned Simon had failed, she’d send others. She wanted Jennifer, and she would find her wherever she went.
“I can’t go with you,” she said, looking up from the maps. “I have to go to New York.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you have your work, that interview in Chicago.”
“I’ll do the interview, then catch a flight to New York.” He glanced over and smiled. “Come on, you can show me Broadway.”
“I would love it if you came to New York.” She took hold of his hand again.
“But what about this boyfriend of yours?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I have to speak to Tom, tell him what has happened. The only one good thing out of this trip is I know now that it’s all wrong, Tom and me.”
“But what about me?” Kirk asked. “You met me on this trip!” He kept grinning.
Jennifer stared at him and studied his face, then she asked, “You do want to come see me in New York?”
“You’re damn right!” And then, as if to prove himself,
he pressed down on the accelerator and speeded up the car. “But I think you should stay with me in Chicago. Then we’ll fly together.”
“It will be all right, Kirk. In New York, I have help.”
He glanced over at Jennifer. “You mean Tom?”
Jennifer shook her head. She was staring ahead at the long straight highway. “No. A woman. Another channeler.” Jennifer could see Phoebe Fisher now, see her in the lovely basement apartment on Eighty-second Street, see her walking slowly with her silver cane, see the way the soft, orange sun warmed the brick walls of her living room. She saw Phoebe waiting, smiling, encouraging her. It would be all right, Jennifer told herself. She had Phoebe. She had someone to turn to for help.