It splintered and caved inward with an outraged squeal as piled-up furniture flew backwards with the impact.
The huge man bounced over the scattered pile of chairs and bed and TV set with surprising agility and zoomed straight at the man who stood near the window, mouth wide open and gaping and gun protruding from his hand.
His single shot went hopelessly wide as the enormous figure landed on him with one massive hand ramming into his face and the other twisting the gun arm with one neat, almost casual flick that broke it. Then the big hands reached down and clamped viselike around the ankles to haul the fallen figure into the air, swing it around like a rag doll, and slam it hard against the wall.
The big man dusted off his hands and peered down at his handiwork.
“Do you think he’ll live through that?” asked Charley Hammond from the doorway, and there was a look of awe on his face that he usually reserved for Carter’s exploits.
“Oh, yes, he breathes. Wrap him up, friend Charley. But we will not have him delivered, no? We will take him with us and eat him on the way. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!”
And Valentina Sichikova slapped her enormous, trousered thigh and laughed delightedly.
There was a forward compartment on the U.S. Air Force jet that was usually reserved for the brass hats. For this one trip it had been hastily converted into a sick bay. It was cool, quiet, and very, very private, and the nurse was in bed with the patient.
Nick was swathed in bandages and not much else. And Julia’s tawny, silky form was covered only by Nick.
“You do make quick recoveries, don’t you?” she murmured. “You don’t think you might strain yourself?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Nick said softly, and nibbled her ear. “It’s therapy. I need it. I need you. Do you know that I love you?”
“Yes,” she said simply, and drew his head down to hers. Their mouths joined in a melting kiss.
He did love her, in his fashion, as she loved him in hers. It wasn’t a boy-meets-girl-and-marries kind of love; it had nothing to do with moonlight, music and roses. And yet, in its own way it was deep and strong. It was yearning, sensual, sometimes desperate because of the intrusive thought that there might be no tomorrow; it was a broken series of abrupt meetings, a sudden joining and parting of flesh, an occasional interlude of deceptive peace. A need; an understanding.
“It’s such a short flight to New York,” Julia sighed, stroking the battered body that lay over her like a blanket… a highly charged electric blanket.
“Yes, that’s why I told the pilot to take us to San Juan,” Nick murmured.
And then her tawny tigress’ body rippled sensuously beneath him, and there was no more of the banter that so often served to cover up the things they really wanted to say.
They had no more than half an hour left to let their bodies do the talking; and their bodies talked with eloquence.
The silent speech began with gentle touches, little explorations that made flesh tingle and the muscles tense expectantly. Julia’s fingers traced the contours of his lithely muscled body, remembering where they had been before and what their touch could do; and his hands, in turn caressed her swelling breasts and thighs until her body taunted deliciously, demandingly. She trembled slightly as he sought out the secret places — no secret, any more, to him, but still with their own mystery — and little arrows of passion darted through her carrying separate little shafts of warmth that gradually merged until they engulfed her in a mellow glow. Nick sighed voluptuously and stroked the glow into a building flame.
Her legs entwined his and they rolled together. Lips met and burned; thighs undulated.
The pleasant singing of their senses blended into the quiet droning of the powerful engines, and the slight pulsation of the plane was lost in the more urgent pulsation of their bodies.
He marveled at her as he made love with all his heart and all his subtlety, glorying in the feel of her firm flesh against his and the provocative movements that soon would galvanize his body. She was always the same, yet never the same; that was the contradiction of her. Sophisticated Julia, with the teasing, expert touch…. Catlike Julia, languorous, wanting to be stroked… Tigerish Julia, hot with desire, falling on him and attacking like a wild thing… then languorous again, lying back provocatively, waiting for him to do things to her that only he could do to bring her to the highest peak of passion.
They came together as if that was all the two of them had ever wanted, let the stimulating movement build until it seemed that it could build no more, then parted, gasping, to savor the ecstasy and postpone the inevitable end until the last possible second.
“Julia baby, Julia baby,” Nick whispered, his face buried in her hair and all the pain forgotten. “Sweet baby…
“Mine,” she whispered back. “Love me, love me, love me!”
She accepted him again and he plunged deep into warmth and softness. She melted gently, slowly, and then burst into a new flame that rippled through her body and jerked her sinuous limbs into an erotic, thrilling rhythm. A little moan escaped her lips and her arms tightened about him in a clasp that was fierceness and tenderness together, as if she held the whole world in her arms and would be altogether lost if she let go.
He could feel the yearning in her, not just the animal urge, but the honest depth of feeling and the need to be a part of someone else who knew her world. For, in a way, they were both outcasts from the normal scheme of things, and they both knew it. And so, two people who lived for the moment and could only hope that there would be other moments made the kind of love that they both needed.
Her fingers tightened on his back and her supple, sinuous body writhed urgently.
Now she was all woman — not cat, not tiger — Woman. Earthy woman, damp hair curling about her ears, mouth crushing his, breasts peaked and thrusting, thighs clasping hungrily, body ripe and ready.
He rolled her over, still entwined with him, in a fluid, twisting motion that brought a sharp little cry of added pleasure from her, and drew her so close, so very close, that she could feel everything he had to give. She cried out again, almost piteously, and her muscles tightened against the hard thrust of him so that he could not have let go even if he had wanted to.
And, of course, he did not want to.
The weight of her on top of him, light and lithe as she was, tipped the delicate balance between control and absolute delirium, and with a surge of the purest happiness he gave in to the final urge.
They thrust together, rocked, thrust, dissolved into one person in a state of ultimate ecstasy. Wild exhilaration swept through them like a rushing storm wind and carried them along in their intimacy for long moments of exquisite passion… and gradually the storm wind sighed down into a gentle breeze. They drifted on it, lazily and lovingly, until it glided to a stop.
Their words were soft and broken and the fluttering kisses were small gifts of thanks.
The sound of the great engines, outside of their tiny world, altered subtly. The plane banked slowly.
“You lied to me,” Julia murmured, eyes half-closed and heart still beating with excitement. “It’s not San Juan, but New York after all.”
“Oh, I am a treacherous fellow.” Nick smiled down at her and Hilled her once more on the Hps. “But I have my miserable living to earn. And the big birdman awaits.”
He dressed quickly, watching Julia admiringly from the corner of his eye as she slipped into her own clothes. For a woman she was the quickest dresser he had ever seen in action.
“But what the hell!” he said suddenly. “Why should I be dragged back to New York? What’s the action there?”
“None, so far as I know.” Julia stared at him speculatively. “It’s just that Papa Hawk wants to see you and —”