Karim al-Zib - Wild in the country book four

Mark Denning listened patiently to Sid Buchanan's endless diatribe about the symbiosis of business and politics, growing faintly concerned about the way government ran at this level, as he was coming to understand it. Of course, he had never been overly na•ve about it, and knew that considerable influence was peddled and pushed, but he had had no idea how far he would have to go to obtain the help of these people that he needed to get himself elected.

The other man sitting with them at the table in Buchanan's lounge, Khalid al-Mazkum, was a man Mark thought he could never trust no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he tried. His Rolex watch, a piece of jewelry that attracted Mark's unaccustomed eyes again and again, was heavily encrusted with diamonds and gave Mark the definite impression that he was dealing with a man of exceptional economic power and considerable vanity.

"Mark," Sid said after a long dissertation. "I'm disappointed that you didn't bring DesirЋe with you this time."

Mark saw a gleam in Sid's eye and a furtive glance in his direction from al-Mazkum.

"I didn't think it appropriate to bring her along to a meeting like this," Mark responded. "But, I mean, if you want me to bring her with me in the future, I will."

"Please do," Buchanan said. "She has every right to enjoy your successful climb in public life. My wife is usually at every party, no matter how exclusive." Though she never gets in the way of my fun and games, thought Buchanan.

"Yes," said the Arab, in an oily voice. "I've heard such wonderful things about her. That she can even sing and play piano."

"Oh, yes, she does that," Mark said, allowing his pride in her to surface through the lingering resentment and negative feeling he had been harboring and that had seriously afflicted their love life.

"That young woman is a definite asset to you and your career," Sid added.

Mark was forced to agree. He loved her still, he knew that, but still and all too often, memories of her lovely figure, mounted by that evil dog and responding to the rape of her pure body surfaced in his thoughts. He knew in his heart that she had been the victim of the act, but he found it too hard to forgive her reacting sensually to the dog's huge, driving cock. Mark shook himself, swearing he would make himself forget it. Yes, when he returned, he would rekindle their love, take her to bed and pleasure her the way no other man – or animal – could. They had always had one thing between them that no other male could share with her – Love. It was fact, pure and simple, and he knew it, felt it. They loved each other and that could never be changed by outside elements.

Yes, he had vented his male energies, again, with Nancy Pace just that morning, before leaving, but that would stop as soon as he and Dez had begun making sweet, beautiful love again. Of course, it wasn't her fault that they weren't having sex every night. It was his reaction to her giving herself to the wild dog Lobo, with the sole purpose of saving his life. Truly, she was innocent of any ill intent, yet he had shunned her solely for being the dog's victim.

But why should he? She was his wife, and the greatest asset he had, breathtakingly beautiful, musically talented, and undeniably intelligent. Sexy, stunning, and barely out of her teens.

Nancy Pace? A lovely teenage girl, quite innocent in her own newly awakened and sexy way. He liked Nancy, loved to fuck her, as she, it seemed, loved him, though the fact remained that she was engaged to marry the black sheriff Clete Anderson. What he found amazing was that he could be so turned on with a girl involved with Clete, so dark-skinned that he looked like he applied black boot polish regularly to keep from getting too pale. Though Nancy had told Mark that she loved him many, many times, he supposed that a young and lonely girl needed someone. And Clete had his qualities, among them his Olympian musculature and an overpowering aura of masculinity, but Mark wondered how young Nancy had wound up with him when there must be some pretty decent, wealthy white men available for a girl as lovely as she.

Clete had never ceased to be a source of irritation to Mark, a constant voice of opposition to every single idea or local ordinance he proposed, so it had given him a certain perverse pleasure to have had sex with the teenager, three times now, behind her fiancЋ's back, and it made him more than a little jealous to think that Nancy would return to Clete and probably have sex with him when he demanded it. It was hard to imagine it. Imagine DesirЋe having sex with someone like Clete! He must have a cock like an elephant!

Buchanan's voice broke through Mark's thoughts. "You are coming to the party tonight, aren't you, Denning? I'm sure we can find some companionship for you."

Mark returned Buchanan's smile thinly. Was the big man suggesting that he be unfaithful to DesirЋe? Occasionally indulging in his clandestine affair with Nancy Pace was one thing. Openly cheating on DesirЋe in front of political associates was quite another thing altogether.

"There was something I wanted to discuss with you concerning what my – our – stance will be concerning illegal aliens," Mark said, changing the subject.

Buchanan said, "We need them, so we've got to oppose any further clampdowns." He glanced at al-Mazkum. "We need the cheaper labor, and it gives us a competitive edge against some of these foreign businesses."

"Well, don't you think that the country's in danger of becoming overrun?"

Buchanan leaned forward and put both hands on the table. "Mark, let me tell you something…"

And while Mark, in the utmost sincerity, discussed important political matters with Sid Buchanan, his lovely young bride DesirЋe rode innocently in the back seat of a car on the path to the horrible death her two captors had planned for her. Had she had any idea of what awaited her down the road ahead, she would have been petrified and done anything to escape, for, while DesirЋe was a brave, religious young woman with a noble and selfless heart, she was just as afraid of death as any atheist would be. Yes, she was very brave and would gladly lay down her life for Mark, but that same life was devoted to him and, with things running so coldly between them at the present, she could never feel ready to leave the world without telling him one last time of her love for him.

But for now, she was only mildly apprehensive for herself. It was Mark who had had the accident out here on the road and him only that she was concerned about. Her darling Mark, whom she idolized.

"I'm sorry," DesirЋe said as the car sped over the dirt road toward her rendezvous with death. "But I don't know you two gentlemen."

Sam Quaid turned and with a thin smile, he said, "I'm Jim Smith, and this is Dan Jones. We're Mark's liaison men with the party."

DesirЋe looked from one to the other. "But can't you tell me anything about this accident? I mean, is it serious. Oh, it must be."

Mr. Smith turned his head slightly. "He'll be all right if we get you there in time. Just hold on."

"But haven't you called an ambulance? A doctor?"

"The doctor's with him now, but Mark's asking for you. Needs a blood transfusion."

DesirЋe felt her heart leap to her mouth. Transfusion? Mark was bleeding seriously, and he needed blood. Oh, God, please don't let him die! Her hands went to her face as her eyes flooded with tears and a sob wracked her bosom.

Sam saw her reaction, and in spite of his hard and evil resolve, felt compassion for the innocent young woman. Fuck! Why are we doing this to her? She's got nothing to do with Johnny's death, but we're ripping her up inside for Bill's sake. But fuck me! This was my idea so what am I getting all soft about?