Read Online Traveller's Refuge by Anny Cook - Free Book Online Page B

paying meticulous attention to the sticky area between her thighs and around her nipples.
    Slapping at his hands, she wriggled into the corner out of the direct spray. Bish simply nodded, grabbed the shampoo bottle and squirted a generous dollop on her soaked hair. He scrubbed, rubbing her scalp gently and shoved her back under the spray to rinse her hair clean. Conditioner was next. While it worked, he washed himself with brisk efficiency. He finished their shower with a thorough rinsing with the handheld showerhead before shutting off the water. Tiffany stood numbly, waiting for his next move.
    A quick pass with huge fluffy towels and they were both dry enough to go back into the bedroom. Bish wrapped Tiffany’s wet hair so that it wouldn’t ruin his feather pillows. With a quick tap on her butt, he indicated that she should get on the bed. She crawled up on the bed with a yawn. All the vigorous sexual activity caught up with her and she collapsed with another yawn.
    Bish straightened the covers and tucked them around her. “Take a nap,” he suggested quietly. “When you wake up, I’ll have something ready for you to eat.”
    A vague sense of disquiet threatened her peace but then exhaustion took over and she fell off the edge of the world. Patiently, Bish waited to make sure that she was really asleep before he rose and dressed. There was much to do while she was sleeping—arrangements to be made, information to gather—without her watching eyes and listening ears.
    He went back down to the living room, found her tote bag and with no compunction whatsoever, dumped it out on the couch. Pulling a set of latex gloves from his pocket, he slipped them on and then proceeded to examine the contents of her tote.
    Spare lacy black bra and panty set, black skinny-legged jeans, black cotton sweater, black cotton socks and black running shoes. There seemed to be a theme going on, the Black Phantom, maybe.
    Handgun. Well, well. With approval, he noted as he set it aside that it was loaded and the safety was engaged.
    Red leather wallet which contained three credit cards, a driver’s license with a decent picture, business cards for her doctors, dentist and hair stylist, medical ID cards and seventy-eight dollars cash. Forty-two cents in the zipper pocket along with two safety pins and a paper clip.
    Mini-recorder with the auto switch engaged which made sense. That way it only recorded when there was someone talking, which saved on the batteries.
    A small red plastic zipper bag contained three tampons and six condoms. Birth control pill packet with two pills remaining. That explained the tampons. Always good to be prepared, he supposed.
    Makeup bag with lipstick, blush, mascara and eye shadow. A small pill bottle with twelve tiny pills. He checked the label. Blank. Thoughtfully, he set that on the coffee table to check against his pill encyclopedia.
    Brush and comb.
    Date book. He flipped through the pages for the previous two months, mildly amused to find his name marked in as business appointments. Well, he’d known from the start that he was her assignment. He noted the number of times his father’s name was marked down for lunch and wondered if she was screwing his old man too. If so, she was certainly earning her pay. His father was a hearty seventy-five. Maybe he couldn’t even get it up. Or maybe he had stock in the little blue pills. With a shrug, he checked her appointments for the rest of the week and saw that she was supposed to meet his father in three days. Too bad. He didn’t think she was going to make that appointment.
    PDA. He turned it on and flicked through the menu until he found her notes section. Her observations made interesting reading. His father was also one of her assignments. Her life wasn’t worth the powder it would take to blow her away if he found out. Bish shook his head. Some people liked to live dangerously.
    Leather ID folder with her shield. FBI. He nodded to himself. Just as he thought.