Chapter 26

My hospital stay lasted three days. Catherine and her crew stayed with me the entire time. I am certain that the hospital staff got tired of the number of armed agents watching their every move. Catherine devoted herself to helping me with everything from getting in and out of bed, to dealing with things like the shower and dressing.

By the time I had healed enough to travel, we were all deathly sick of that place. After I was examined, shot full of antibiotics, discharged, and given a lecture on how to care for my bandages, Catherine arranged transportation back to a jet provided by the Judge. My plane was flown back to a military base to be protected until this all blew over.

Our entourage was impressive and included local, state, and federal vehicles, and the jet was a very lovely G5. No one told me where we were going, and Catherine was busy the whole time on her phone and laptop.

I was also very busy...

... sleeping.

Getting shot, given my existing health challenges, was more than my body was able to withstand, and as soon as we boarded, I tried to open out the sofa to turn it into a bed. The crew could see that it was impossible for me, and immediately took over and did it for me. The last thing I remember is the plane taxiing toward the runway. I woke up when Catherine touched my shoulder and said, "Hey, sleepyhead. We're here."

"We're where?" I replied, even before I was fully awake.

Catherine smiled and offered me her hand. I took it, and we stepped out into a very warm day.

Wherever here was, was marvelous. It must have been in the high seventies, with a nice breeze. I turned to Catherine and asked, "Where are we?"

She smiled like she couldn't wait to share her secret. "We just landed at Cyril E. King Airport on Saint Thomas. The Judge feels like we should be somewhere secluded and arranged a villa for us over on Saint John. Everything has been arranged, including a seaplane to take us there."

She pointed at an odd looking plane with wings and pontoons and started towards it. It was old, loud, and roomy. We were jostled around way too much, and once I hit my head when we bounced through some turbulence. Catherine was holding me when we dropped and my head banged on the fuselage. She shouted to the pilots to take it easy, but they thought she'd told a joke and laughed.

Saint John in the American Virgin Islands is small, old fashioned, and quiet. Our seaplane deposited us on a beach, where an open Range Rover waited to take us to a hilltop villa, with a spectacular view. The staff had laid out a buffet. As hungry as I was, and as long as it had been since I'd eaten, the combination of pain, and exhaustion did me in. I fell asleep sitting at the dining table, overlooking the Atlantic.

Catherine helped me to a bedroom, and I was dimly aware of her undressing me, and getting me under a clean, fresh-smelling sheet.

I didn't remember anything else for the next twelve hours.

When I awoke, I was aware of wetness along my stomach and found one of my wounds was bleeding. I carefully slipped out of bed to avoid soiling the linen, and sat down on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror to see the damage the shooters had done to my body.

As I peeled back the dressing, Catherine came in and took over for me. "Where did you learn to treat gunshot wounds?" I asked.

"You can't have this job without some medical training. Besides, the doctor gave me explicit instructions on how to take care of your bandages before he'd let the Judge send us away."

I should have guessed. It made perfect sense.

While Catherine re-bandaged me, I asked, "Any news?"

She frowned, and clicked her tongue. "Nothing. Not a peep. We're basically back where we started. Except for knowing who, we are totally in the dark about everything else." I could hear her frustration and stroked her hand.

Catherine liked having me softly stroke her hand, and purred when I continued up her arm, just barely gently brushing her skin with the tips of my fingers. She visibly relaxed as I continued up her arm, over her shoulder, to her neck, and down the other arm.

"I'll give you the next ten days to stop. After that we'll have to negotiate," she whispered.

Without really intending to I moved us to the bed, and when she stretched out beside me, I sat between her legs and softly rubbed her scalp, face, and neck, always being gentle and slow, letting her whole body relax into the sensations my fingers were causing.

Catherine's nipples stood up plainly, beneath the cotton blouse she wore, and I could tell she was getting aroused. There was no way for me to be aggressive, or even passive, and make love with her, because it would rip out my stitches and start everything bleeding, so I concentrated on taking her to her peak without going there with her.

When she achieved climax, it was long, slow, and very deep. As it arrived, she cupped her feet, stretched her neck backwards, lifting her shoulders off the bed, and her face and neck turned bright red, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. It wasn't loud, and it didn't cause her to scream, cry, or pass out. Her climax was coming on her for what seemed like forever, and took even longer to finish, coming in little aftershocks for a long time.

When she was completed, I lay beside her and we held hands and slept.

Morning on Saint John came with an immense rush of birds singing to the sunrise. I rose and went outside to watch the day break, listening to the concert of large and small avian singers greet me with their tune. Eventually Catherine appeared, rested, happy, and looking oh-so-sexy. Her hair was carelessly piled up, and pinned with a comb, and her breasts looked amazing without a blouse.

I watched her nipples thicken and elongate as Catherine watched me watching. Her arousal was evident and precious, as she posed for my enjoyment. I imagined that I caught the scent of her interest and knelt at her feet, lifted her full skirt, and found her naked beneath, wet and ready. Rather than deny her, I tasted her on my knees, and stayed with her until she shuddered and collapsed into the lounger, conveniently nearby.

When she caught her breath, Catherine said, "You have NO IDEA how many men at the agency dream about doing what you just did..." Her smile was wickedly cute and pleasantly sexy. We laughed at her inside humor, and I tasted the aftereffects of her spend one last time, before releasing her skirt and taking my seat.

"What did you do to me up at my family farm? How did you turn me from the perfect company girl into a wicked, slut, who takes advantage of injured boys?"

Her question wasn't for me. She was really interrogating Catherine, and we both knew it, so I kept my comments to myself, and let her hold her one-sided interview.

"You realize that you have touched, seen, and tasted more of me than anyone since ... since ... well ... it's been a while. Let's leave it at that."