A WALK BETWEEN TWO HEARTS-14

By LORRAINE 0.

PART 14

Michael released the cock on his gun and holstered it with shaking hands not quite able to believe the sight before him.

Another peel of thunder rolled over them making Tristan look up to the sky between the tree branches. Pulling his jacket tighter about himself, he turned and ran towards the big house leaving Michael to stare after him.

Pulling himself together, Michael ran up after him, displeased with himself for pausing like a rookie operative. Mistakes like that cost lives.

Tristan held the door open for Michael and then stepped back, pulling off his coat. Hanging it on a hook on the porch wall, he looked up at Michael standing there staring down at him. He sat down on the floor and peeled off his little socks, revealing his small feet.

Michael saw the boy had Simone’s olive complexion, dark hair and almond shaped eyes, but the colour and the rest of his features were clearly his own.

You should take your coat off. It might spoil the floors in the house. Tristan commented casually wringing out the socks over a sink by the door and then hung them over a rope strung between two posts.

Who are you? Are you alone here? Michael finally found his voice still not moving, unable to pull his eyes off the boy in front of him.

You know who I am. He replied taking a towel and rubbing his wet hair vigorously.

Michael pulled his jacket off and hung it over the back of a chair, his hands going to his own soaking wet hair.

Did Section send you here? He asked throwing the towel over the rope beside his socks.

Section? Michael decided to play the scene out with this mysterious child until he could figure this out in his head.

The boy gave him a look of disgust before turning to step up the single step leading from the pantry to the kitchen. Yes, Section. Section One. Where you and the rest of them work. Do you want a cookie?

Tristan peered over his shoulder to look at Michael as he opened the fridge door.

Michael shook his head, watching the little boy move about the kitchen with ease and confidence.

They are really good. Double fudge nut creams. Made them myself. He held out a plate of cookies he had pulled from the fridge.

Michael relented when he saw the hopeful look in his eyes and took one of the dark brown blobs from the plate.

I keep them in the fridge cause the fudge inside leaks. He smiled waiting for Michael to take a bite.

Bringing the cookie up to his mouth, Michael took a small bite, surprised by how good it was.

Tristan turned and went to the big table, setting the plate down and clambering onto a chair. He peered outside, watching the rain come down in torrents, seemingly unafraid of the brilliant flashes and noises. So, why are you here? Are you going to try and fill that fatherless void in my life now?

He turned his gaze once more back to Michaels, his eyes dead serious, his little face solemn.

Michael sat down on a chair opposite him, setting the cookie down. Not quite sure of what to make of this child’s seemingly grown up behaviour, he tried to think of an appropriate answer.

You’re not at all like Madeline described. You are a level 5 aren’t you? He asked scratching his nose bringing his eyes back from the scene outside to look directly at him.

Yes. I am. He answered him simply taking another small bite from the cookie hoping it would help bridge the obvious growing gap between them.

Tristan took no notice of his efforts and instead, glanced up at the clock on the wall behind him.

You delayed out there when you saw me. That could have been a fatal mistake. Should have known better. He commented, his eyes once more looking out into the stormy yard.

Michael set the cookie down and got to his feet, his eyes and senses on full alert once again. This was a most unusual child.

Tristan saw him looking about, his hand going for his gun again and laughed suddenly.

You don’t need that. We are safe here. Paul and Madeline have made sure of that.

He wiped his hands on his damp pants and slid off his chair, strolling by Michael and into the hallway, heading for the huge stairs.

I am going to watch TV after I change. Scooby Doo is coming on soon. I like him. He said running up the stairs as fast as his small legs would take him. Sticking his head out between the banisters, he looked down at Michael in the foyer. Want to see your room?

Simone picked up her jacket from the floor trying to not disturb him from his slumber. A hand on her arm stopped her cold when she tried to get up from the bed.

You know, Madeline wouldn’t like you being here very much. She is a jealous one in her own warped way.

His voice was amused as he let his fingers trial over her bare arm, enjoying her obvious discomfort.

Simone bit her lip, looking away from him, hating herself for allowing him to bed her.

Operations pulled her roughly onto her back, his body half covered hers and kissed her mouth gently.

Simone turned her head to the side; revulsion washing over her as she felt his tongue slid along her jugular vein much like an evil vampire preparing for the kill.

Ahh, you don’t quite get the picture yet do you? He asked pulling her face back to meet his.

Simone swallowed nervously, hating the fact she was once more in his clutches like so many years before.

I get it. She whispered wanting him to release her from his grip.

He smiled, letting his hand trail down and slid into the leather vest to grasp her nipple in his fingers. He made a growling noise in the back of his throat feeling it harden under his touch.

No, I don’t think you do. If you want my help, you’ll have to show me. I am not yet convinced you are being sincere.

Simone closed her eyes hating her body’s betrayal as waves of unwanted desire rolled across her lower abdomen as he continued to tug at her nipple.

Leaning down, he kissed her chin and then her mouth, forcing it open to receive his probing tongue.

Reluctantly, she gave in, dropping her coat onto the floor, and tried to imagine it was her Michael ravishing her body. She felt his leg push up between hers, rubbing her core insistently making her moan not in desire but in shame.

To Operations, it didn’t matter what she felt. Only the feel of the mother of his son Tristan under his body mattered, and he would take her any way he could.

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