Earth Warrior 2: 'Til Death Do Us Part by Elizabeth Evans

Author:Elizabeth Evans [Evans, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, United States, Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, African American, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00EQQVZEO
Publisher: Hope Boyd Publishing
Published: 2013-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Gamba drove us to the Canyon house just as the sun was coming up. People praise the California coast sunsets with their magical colors that etch the horizon of the Pacific and it's true, they are breathtaking, but a sunrise in the quiet above the canyon, the air fresh and crisp, runs a very close second to the California sunsets. Watching the sun come up as my Miata climbed the winding driveway to home, the tension of the last few days began to ebb but, unfortunately, not the ache in every inch of my body.

I was exhausted, so Gamba exited the car, told me to "sit still" and walked around the car to scoop me into his arms. He carried me into the house and into our bedroom, laid me on the unmade bed—my grandmother would say shame on me for leaving our bed unmade—face first and one by one took off my black stealth outfit: my black silk top, my tights, my black ballet flats, my bra and then my teeny bikini undies. I was too tired to protest or even roll over and try to crawl under the covers. I lay there listening to Gamba walk around the room. Just as I thought I might drift off I felt something warm dripping on my buttocks. Then I felt Gamba's strong hands slide over the drips and over my hips. I smelled lavender and realized that the warm drips were lavender oil, the oil heated by the energy of Gamba's hands. He moved his hands up to the small of my back and kneaded the knots out there and then up my spine to work the knotted muscles that moved away from the center of my back and finally up to my sore shoulders. He kneaded and whispered, "Relax my Lotta Joy. Relax." He took the same path down to my butt, cupped both cheeks, smacking my butt lightly and moved down my legs, smoothing my tight calf muscles, then kneaded my feet with his fists before moving back up to oil the inside of my thighs. I was trying to relax but even though I was lying face down with my breasts squashed into the bed sheets, I could feel the flesh around my nipples begin to pebble. Actually, more like hard stand up rocks. So much for relaxing, I thought.

When Gamba rolled me over and noted my condition, I bared my teeth and growled. "You better do something about this Gamba!" And, bless him, he did.

So, take that 'bitch who floats! I thought, as we both came up for air.

Sated and exhausted we slept until early afternoon. When I woke, it was with reality slamming into me. "Oh, my God, Gamba! I completely forgot to ask. What happened to Harold Ruthven?" Understanding Harold's identity issues a little better, I had developed an unexpected soft spot for him, sorta like what you'd feel for an injured though dangerous animal. "Did you grab him and get him home before.

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