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“If we don’t stop now…” he began.
“No.” Her head shook. The cascade of recent events was too much. Michelle’s emotions were raw. The need to be physically with Fletch overwhelmed her rational thinking. “Don’t stop. I want to remember you.”
Fletch’s jaw tightened before his eyes closed. Moving back, he lifted her knees and lined himself up with her entrance. “I can’t believe I really have you like this.”
“Please, Fletch. I want you.”
Her neck straightened and her back arched as they came together as one.
Moving hard and fast, Fletch seemed as if he was afraid she’d disappear before they could both find bliss. As the day turned to evening and the skies darkened, their lovemaking slowed. They explored one another’s bodies, touching, kissing, and licking. Their activities took them from the bed to the rug in front of the fireplace and finally back to bed.
A few times they paused for food and drink.
Darkness prevailed outside the windows as they continued their one night of existence. If this was all they would have, neither one of them wanted to stop for something as insignificant as sleep.
Nevertheless, at some point, sleep prevailed.
When Michelle woke, she was alone in the bed.
Sadness and loneliness fell over her like a thick, soaking rain.
Fletch left her alone.
He didn’t take her home or make sure she was safe.
As tears that had been held at bay for the loss of her father and all that she and Fletch had endured began to escape, she heard the front door open. Wiping her cheeks and wrapping a sheet around her breasts, Michelle stepped tentatively into the living room.
Fletch’s smile wasn’t as bright as it had been last night, yet it was there, along with the shimmer in his black eyes.
“I thought you left me.”
“Not yet,” he replied honestly. “My contact has a truck for us a few miles from here. We can be there in less than fifteen minutes on the snowmobile. I just dug it out of the snow. The storm is over.”
“A truck? And then where?”
“Indianapolis. My contact has been working on alibis.” He nodded. “I can get you back to your house, and you can deny this whole thing ever happened. You were held up in your house writing. All your communication was turned off. You had no idea of what was going on.”
Swallowing her emotions, she knew this was their fate. It wasn’t as if Fletch had made her promises he couldn’t keep. Michelle nodded. “I need to get dressed.”
The thought of a shower occurred to her, but she decided she wasn’t ready to wash Fletch away, not yet.
Outside she was welcomed by a bright and beautiful world covered by a thick blanket of snow. When they reached the truck, it sat at the side of a road, appearing abandoned. Yet Fletch somehow knew where a spare key was hidden.
Although Michelle had millions of questions, neither she nor Fletch spoke of any pertinent matters as they traveled the eleven hours to Indianapolis. Instead, they spoke of the scenery, literature, movies, and television—polite first-date conversations.
However, as they grew closer to her house, it was as if the proverbial fire beneath her feet was turned up, and Michelle could no longer restrain her questions. “What if Sheriff Perkins shows up? Why have you been watching me? What were my parents doing that got them both killed?”
Fletch did well avoiding answers until less than twenty miles from Michelle’s home, he received and read a text message. “Fuck,” he growled.
“What?”
“One of Perkins’s goons is watching your house.”
Panic sparked to life, quickly growing to a wildfire. “What am I going to do?”
Fletch pulled the truck over to the side of the road. Closing his eyes, he exhaled and pounded the steering wheel with the butt of his hand. When he turned, Michelle saw the stress in his expression: his clenched jaw, tight muscles in his neck, and the small lines near his eyes.
“I’m not taking you to Perkins. No. Fucking. Way.”
