C. Palov - Ark of Fire

“Do you guys have any idea the sentence for murder?” the scholar wheezed, his arms unsteadily wavering in midair. Like bedsheets flapping in the breeze.

“I answer only to God’s law,” Stan replied. Then, giving the scholar an opportunity to atone for his depraved existence, “‘Except ye repent, ye shall die in your sins.’”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re the guys sneaking around, breaking into churches, carrying guns. I’m just a debt-ridden grad student trying to make an honest—”

“Man up! For you are soon to meet your Maker.”

“Christ! Don’t do this! I’m begging you to—” The soliloquy was cut short by a mewling whimper.

“Whew! Somebody needs a Depends,” Boyd Braxton muttered, the scholar having lost control of his bowels.

Disgusted, Stan nodded at the former gunnery sergeant. “Kill him. He is an abomination unto the Lord.”

A single shot reverberated in the night.

Like the tolling of a church bell.

“Now that’s convenient,” the gunny remarked, gesturing with his gun barrel to the nearly headless body crumpled in the bottom of the exhumed grave. Stuffing the powerful pistol into his holster, he bent at the waist and retrieved a shovel. “All in a day’s work, huh, sir?’

“God derives no pleasure from the death of the wicked. Neither should you.”

His faith renewed, Stan knew that Eid al-Adha was four days away and counting. Time enough to find the Ark.

Like the good Marine that he was, he had a contingency plan.

“Has Sanchez checked in yet?” Sanchez was the man tasked with surveillance.

“About three hours ago, sir. Aisquith and the woman are holed up in an Oxford hotel room. Sanchez snagged the room next to theirs. Since there’s an adjoining door between the two rooms, he’s keeping an eye on the pair with a peephole video camera.”

“I want hourly status reports. If the Brit so much as sneezes into a snot rag, I want to know about it.”

CHAPTER 48

“Leave the light on.”

His request, not hers.

Believing the sex act a give-and-take exchange, Edie had wordlessly complied.

The golden glow from the bedside lamp illuminating their every move, they had undressed one another, fingers and hands slightly trembling. Both of them succumbing to an awestruck hesitancy. A bashful sort of voyeurism as more and more flesh was revealed. Torso. Breast. Pelvis. Thigh. Until they finally faced one another, completely, and disarmingly, naked. In that moment, she became acutely aware of her own body. Her breasts brushing against her inner arm. Her puckered nipples. The slight quiver in her knees. It’d been three years since her last lover. She wondered if she measured up.

“You are lovely.”

Pleased with the compliment, Edie stepped forward, coming within arm’s reach of Caedmon. Needing to make contact, she ran her hands over his chest, surprised to discover that he had the lean, tight build of a younger man.

Moving closer, she pressed her mouth against the pulse at the base of his throat, able to feel the blood course through him with each rapid beat of his heart.

He was nervous.

For some strange reason, that excited her.

Bending her head, she lathed his nipple with her tongue. Teetering slightly, Caedmon moaned her name, the cultured accent nowhere in evidence.

Taking the lead, she slowly backed him to the mussed and divided bed. When the backs of his knees hit a twin mattress, she shoved him to a seated position. She then straddled his hips.

Caedmon’s hands glided along the tops of her thighs, up the sides of her rib cage, before finally stopping at her breasts. A nipple popped between the V of his fingers. It was a lurid, but strangely beautiful sight. She was glad they’d left the light on.

Intuiting what she wanted, his hands slid to her waist. His eyes having turned an iridescent shade of blue, he helped her find the right angle.

“Ready?”

“Set, go,” she replied.

A second later, with her hands stabilized on his chest, she started to move. Gripping her thighs, Caedmon groaned, the guttural sound competing with the strident piano chords in the background.

Edie clenched her muscles. Then released. The movement merited another groan. Caedmon’s grip tightened. Go faster.

She came. Quickly. Powerfully. Caedmon held her gaze, silently pleading with her to keep moving. Reaching behind her, she touched him. Then watched as he shuddered, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

The crisis past, Edie fell forward, crash-landing against his torso. Tears in her eyes, she struggled to catch her breath. With her damp cheek nestled against his equally damp one, she softly laughed.

“I don’t know about you, but I now have a whole new appreciation for classical music.”

CHAPTER 49

Caedmon raised a hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn.

“Sorry. I’m a bit knackered. Last night was—” He laughed softly. “No need to tell you. You were there.”

Walking alongside him as they made their way down High, Edie nudged him in the ribs. “Was I ever.”

With their paltry belongings stuffed into the Virgin Airways shoulder bag, they checked out of the hotel immediately after breakfast. The plan was to take a coach to Heathrow, and from there to hire a vehicle for the drive to Godmersham; they were presently en route to Gloucester Green. The hotel clerk had informed them that the airport coaches left Gloucester Green every twenty minutes. Caedmon and Edie agreed that St. Lawrence the Martyr Church might well prove a false lead.

He glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes past seven. It explained why High Street was nearly deserted. Smiling, Edie pressed closer. Returning the smile, he silently acknowledged that desire was born in the one who desires. Like most men in the initial throes of lust, he wondered if he fancied Edie a bit too much, his thoughts frequently settling upon her.

The events of the previous evening had unraveled so quickly, he could only cull them to mind in flashes. The quiet hum of rain pounding against the window pane. The not-so-quiet hum of guttural moans and lusty sighs. Round one had ended in an exhausted tangle. Round two had been more subtle, more seductive. They’d eaten mandarin oranges in bed, Edie squirting the juice onto his lower abdomen then lapping it up with her tongue, a mass of curly hair falling to either side of his hips. Unable to control himself, he’d grabbed her head and pushed her lower.

The pleasure that ensued had been near unbearable.

“You’re smiling. Broadly, I might add. Just what the heck are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” He glanced at his companion, imagining breasts like smooth melons, legs falling open to expose an overripe fig. “I am contemplating the most erotic fruit bowl imaginable,” he replied.

Edie laughed; the woman was no prude. “I hear tell you guys have one of those thoughts every ten seconds. Amazing that you ever get anything accomplished.”

“A penciled list greatly helps.”

She laughed all the harder.

As he’d already discovered, understanding Edie Miller was one thing, sorting her out another thing altogether. Her early life had been one of abuse and betrayal. And unfathomable pain. Yet somehow she persevered.

Simply put, he was awed by her strength.

“What if we actually find the Ark of the Covenant hidden at St. Lawrence the Martyr Church?” Edie inquired out of the proverbial blue. “Have you given any thought as to what we would do with it?”