Chapter 2

"At least you didn't use the F-bomb this time," Niko returned with a scornful sneer. He pulled himself off her, kneeling on the floor until she could sit up before joining her on the seat. "When did you start using that kind of language?"

"I learned to use it after you 'died', asshole," she spat, pushing herself as far from him as possible.

"I thought maybe it was one of your boyfriends who taught you," sneered Niko, glaring at her, still tasting her on his tongue and wanting more. Knowing that she had been with others, though, repulsed him, making him all the angrier for wanting her.

"No, Niko. I learned from the best. In fact, I married his ass and then he just - poof - disappeared. And now, you're back. Lucky me." She turned her head, looking into the night before turning to face him again. "How could you do this to me, to us? Remember you asked if I lied when I told you that I loved you? I never lied, but you did. Take me back home. I can't stand to look at you."

"Well, sweet-pants," he said with exaggerated slowness, as if speaking to a small child. "I would, but right now your house is just crawling with bad guys, and they're all carrying great big guns. They're real guns, too, that go bang when the bad guys pull the trigger."

His sarcasm was not lost on her. Even in the gloom of the car interior, he could see the angry scowl on her face. He waited for the inevitable furious retort he knew she was formulating, only to be surprised by her next words.

"You're lying," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "Why would anyone want to hurt me?"

Niko brought his hand up to scoop the thick, black hair from his eyes. Dropping both hands to his knees he slouched forward, his head dipping as he muttered his response, "They want to get to me. They want to use you to force me into the open. These people will stop at nothing, Camille."

"You're not making sense. Why are they after you?"

"It's because of the line of work I'm in. They've been trying to get to me for some time. Somehow they found out about you." He couldn't face her, couldn't look at the anger and the fear he knew would be there.

"Let me get this straight," she breathed, "You ran out on me, got into something dangerous and illegal, then came back because what you do is about to get me murdered." She stopped to take a breath. "Then you beat me up and kidnapped me so that you could tell me all this bullshit and I'm supposed to thank my big, strong, dead, husband for saving little, bitty, helpless me. Do I have that about right? Did I miss anything?"

"Camille..." he tried to say before she cut him off.

"You bastard," she hissed. "Don't speak to me. I was finally getting my life back on track and you come waltzing back here, bringing your mess with you, expecting me to be happy that you're ruining my life again."

"Yeah. I see how you were getting your life back," he growled. "You had it stuck to your face on the front porch. Who is he?"

"None of your business."

"Who is he, Camille? All I have to do is make a phone call to find out. I make another phone call and the IRS confiscates his possessions and federal agents take his freedom. Who is he?" Niko's voice was low and soft, with an underlying current of malice.

"He's my fiancé, Niko. He's the man I'm going to marry, now that you're dead," she replied, just as softly.

Laying a hand on her thigh, his long fingers spanning the width, he squeezed gently, pulling on it, trying to open her legs. "Was he good? Did he make you feel the way I do? Does he know where all those sweet spots are that make you sing?"

"You think that matters to me? What matters is that he's here. He's not going to fake his death and abandon me with broken dreams and creditors at my door."

Her words stung his pride more than he cared to admit. "It's seems you managed, though, didn't you? You still have a roof over your head and a man at your beck and call. Yeah, you managed just fine. You must have spread your legs for a couple of rich guys to help you pay off the debt. Is that what happened? Did you whore yourself out to the highest bidder?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he had reason to regret them. She's crazed, he thought as he found himself fending off another attack, this time from her fists and feet as they flailed out, striking blows that caused real pain. It seemed to him that he was fighting off Guanyin, the Buddha who dispenses mercy. Unlike that deity of Buddhist teachings whose many arms were held out in compassion, Camille's surplus arms were assailing him from all directions. The only thing his arms were good for were to protect his head as he was propelled off the seat to land with a thud on the hard floorboard of the car.

"Jesus Christ!" he bellowed, his voice muffled by his sleeves.

She landed on top of him, further wedging his large body between the seats, still pounding out her rage on his head. He managed to latch on to one of her wrists while wrapping his powerful legs around her kicking limbs, leaving only one of her hands free to inflict more damage. She struck out with her claws, aiming for his eyes, shrieking curses that would make a sailor blush.

Her claws sank into his arm when he brought it up to protect his eyes. "What the fu... " The back of her hand colliding with his mouth silenced the curse on his lips. A feral growl rumbled up from his chest, emerging as an enraged howl. He bucked upward, throwing them both onto the seat with him on top. With a vicious yank he got control of both her arms, slamming them to the upholstery, pinning her feet with his legs.

He held her down, panting with exertion, resting his forehead against hers. Warm, sticky blood oozed from his wounded arm, as well as his mouth and the fingers she had bitten earlier. It was with some regret that he realized, belatedly, what a hellcat his wife had become.

As his breathing slowed, he could feel her struggling to get enough oxygen into her own lungs beneath his weight. "I'm going to let you up, Camille. I suggest you try to control yourself."

"Go to hell," she rasped out, each word on its own breath of air.

"Dammit, woman. Are you trying to get us both killed? We have to get out of here before someone sees us."

"Like I care," she ground out hoarsely.

"You will care, when they pull you out of here and beat you to death."

Camille began to struggle again, wriggling helplessly under his large frame, grunting painfully as he pressed down harder against her.

"Stop, God damn it," he hissed into her face. "Just stop. Fighting me isn't getting you anywhere and it's wearing us both out."

Puffing against his weight, she collapsed against the seat, letting her muscles fall lax. If looks could kill, hers would certainly be drawing blood. Niko took a deep breath, saying a silent prayer to Rita of Cascia, the patron saint of victims of spousal abuse and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm going to let you up," he wheezed. "Don't go off again."

He slowly eased himself up, relaxing his hold, but keeping his hand on her just in case. Sitting up slowly, he wedged himself between her legs, dragging her up with him. His fingers gripped her shoulders as he watched her face for any sign of renewed attack.

Uncertain of her next move, Niko carefully brought one hand to his wounded mouth, fingering the split lip. "Jesus," he hissed. "Are you crazy?"

"If I am then it's your fault. Get your hand off me. Get away from me. I can't stand to have you touch me."

"Coulda fooled me," he grimaced. "Seemed to me like you wanted me to handle you, the way you threw yourself at me."

Camille rolled her eyes, snorting disdainfully. "As if..." she muttered patronizingly. "I was trying to kill you, genius."

"Really? You don't say." Niko continued to inspect his wounds, wondering where all that enraged violence had come from in her. She had always been a pacifist.

"What gives you the right to come back here and judge me?" she demanded. "You left, Niko. What I do and who I do it with are none of your business."

"I didn't leave, Camille."

"Oh, and next I suppose you're going to tell me that you really did die and have been miraculously resurrected, coming to claim what you think is rightfully yours." She folded her arms across her breasts, leaning away from him and turning to stare at the front of the car.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"In a manner of speak..." she started, curling her lips back, sneering contemptuously. "Would you mind explaining that?"

"Sure, I'd love to," he snorted. "But right now we're kinda in a hurry."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Camille stated as she reached for the door handle.

She already had the door open before Niko reached for her, pulling her back inside with the door slamming shut. Before she could start fighting again, he grabbed both her wrists, pulled them behind her to hold fast in one of his big hands as he straddled her legs, pressing her against the back of the seat with his body. Their faces were inches apart, fiery currents of electricity bridging the gap between their eyes.

"Do you have a death wish?" he demanded. "The people looking for me aren't your neighborhood garden variety street thugs, dummy. They're hired mercenaries, trained killers who will do whatever they need to do to get what they want. They'll torture you and they'll kill you."

"You think that scares me?" she screamed into his face. "You have no idea the hell I went through after you disappeared. Damn you, Niko. Damn you for what you did to me." Taking a deep breath, her head falling back on the top of the seat she whispered, "Don't you get it? I already died. You killed me when you left."

The quivering of her body shook him to his core. Her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears in the light of the half moon that illuminated the back window of the car. She looked utterly defeated, offering no more resistance, staring at the top of the car. Breathing in quick gasps, her lips trembled, bringing back memories of times past when he had held her this close. She had been soft and willing in those days, giving him more pleasure and joy than he'd ever thought possible.

Without realizing what he was doing, Niko lowered his head, brushing her mouth tenderly with his own. He kissed her a second time bringing his right hand up from where he'd been clutching her shoulder, caressing her cheek with the tips of his fingers. She sighed, melting against him, returning his kiss until he released her wrists. His left hand came up to tangle in the mass of tousled blond hair that crowned her head.

He raised his head, looked at the contours of her face in the silvery moonlight. This was the face of the woman he remembered, soft and alluring, her long lashes nestled against her cheeks, her lips yielding and ready for his kiss. When her lashes fluttered open to return his gaze, her eyes were darkened with passion, a color close to midnight with the radiance of moonbeams reflected in their depths.

"I've missed holding you, Camille," he breathed as he lowered his head again.

"You're a shit, Niko."

The rage returned, her eyes flashing blue fire as she pulled her arms free from behind her, digging her claws into his chest. The tenderness was gone from this kiss, filling them both with heated desire. He snatched the hem of her blouse up, roughly burrowing his fingers under her bra until he was squeezing and pulling at the flesh underneath.

Camille pulled her mouth free, baring her teeth in a vicious grimace. "You should be horse whipped for what you did to me."

Her nails carved furrows in his scalp as she seized his hair, dragging his head down for another kiss. She ground her mouth against his, sinking her teeth into his injured lower lip. Niko howled in response, throwing her down against the seat and covering her with his body.

The taste of her skin was driving him wild. Her scent, her warmth, even her anger were driving him onward as he trailed his tongue over her throat. His senses were filled with the woman who writhed beneath him.

Her hands found their way under his shirt to clutch at the lean muscles of his back. She hesitated only a moment when her fingers brushed against the cold steel of his handgun. Her curiosity was soon lost under his touch. Dragging her blouse up, he slid his palms over the satiny skin along her ribs to her lace-covered breasts. Her nipples were hard, poking through the lace to graze his fingertips.

The sound that came from her throat was more a growl of anger than of pleasure, but it spurred him on all the same. Clasping her hips, he ground against her, the hardness behind his zipper connecting with her pelvic bone. She pulled open the top of his shirt so that her teeth could nip and her tongue could taste the flesh of his chest.

He worked furiously at her waistband to open her slacks, get his hand inside between her legs. She pushed against his hand when he found her wet and ready, murmuring her hatred of him. Groaning hoarsely as he explored the drenched silkiness of her sex, his free hand went to his belt. It was too difficult to open his fly with their bodies pressed together. He raised up, pulling his hand free of her, fumbling at the zipper, cursing loudly.

Camille took the opportunity to thrash out with her feet, to throw him backward against the far door. A cruel smile curled her lips at the sound of his painful grunt and the look of surprise on his face. She pulled herself up, kicking off her slacks to bare the lower half of her body.

His heart raced at the sight of her naked sex with its golden curls and pale flesh. It had been too long since he had felt her luscious body against his. He reached for his trousers again, tearing at the zipper, freeing the hard shaft behind it.

Camille crawled along the seat, her eyes boring into his as she settled over him, straddling his thighs. The musk of her arousal filled the car and his senses. No other woman had ever had this effect on him; no other woman was as beautiful to his eyes.

He grasped her hips, lifted her body over the hardness that throbbed for her. She growled again as the head of his shaft breached her opening, seeming to find entrance into her sheath all but impossible. Her fingers stole under his shirt, hiking it up as her nails tore at his flesh. She screamed, pushing her weight down, forcing him into her body in one desperate motion.

He was buried deep within her at last, the soft flesh around his unyielding phallus throbbed tightly with a life of its own. She rode him, taking out her anger on his body, growling at him. His staff rammed unmercifully into her flesh until her head banged against the roof of the car, causing her to grunt loudly.

Before she could protest, Niko had her turned, on her hands and knees, so that he could bend over her back, taking her from behind. He heard her cry out when he entered her roughly, felt her buck back against him. There was no way that he would be able to hold out long. His fingers reached under her, between her legs, finding that hard little knot of pleasure and massaging it.