After approximately twenty minutes, the van stopped. We were at a considerable distance from the village where we left the Arnavut guys. We believed we were safe, at least for the time being, unless the mobsters had followed the van. Smith waited a long time before he forced the door lock, listening to the sounds coming from outside the vehicle.
It was already dark outside. We were somewhere in the countryside. The geolocation on my phone showed a small hamlet I haven't heard of before. The next big town was fifteen minutes away by walk. As the weather forecast had predicted earlier that day, the temperature fell below zero and it started to snow. Neither Smith nor I wore proper clothing to undertake the journey to the city.
The driver of the moving van lived on a former farm. His house looked decent for as much as we could see through the dark, however the surrounding buildings were in a dilapidated state. The man used those premises as storage space for broken furniture, hardware boxes, and all things the family didn't want to keep in the house. Suddenly, we saw the lights switch on in the kitchen.
"I'd love to have a hot cup of tea with you by the fire, Officer," said Smith pensively, watching the silhouettes behind the curtain, "but I'm afraid we'll have to do with less tonight."
He turned around and walked towards one of the barns. I was cold, tired, and I could barely stand on my feet, so I followed the Anglo-Saxon in silence. Besides, there were no other options left for us, except for spending the night in a shed.
The door to the barn stood ajar. It was further away from the house, which was probably the reason why the driver of the van didn't keep that many things there, except for some building materials. The barn was surprisingly dry compared to the damp constructions Gaul was so famous for. There was a ladder to the mezzanine with hay. We climbed up and sought a comfortable place to wait for the morning. But I couldn't relax. I expected for the assassins to find us anytime soon.
A few old chairs stood by the wall. I took one and sat before the window looking out on the farm premises. I gazed into the night, trying to distinguish predatory shadows crawling out from behind trees and corners, but couldn't spot anything that could cause us any harm. However, when I saw the headlights of a car driving down the road, I couldn't help letting out a loud sigh, which instantly alarmed Smith. He jumped up and joined me by the window. It turned out it was just a passing vehicle.
"Officer, I think you're a little over tensed," Smith chuckled.
"I must call someone and let them know about this," I mumbled and unlocked my phone. The blue light of its screen illuminated the space around me, creating a haunting atmosphere. The Internet connection was bad, but I had enough battery for a day.
"I can't let you do that, Officer."
Smith covered the screen of my phone with his large hand, preventing me from calling my boss. He quickly withdrew it when I looked up at him. I could only discern the outlines of his face and the gleaming of his eyes. However, due to the light from my phone, Smith could clearly see how annoyed I was with him.
"I'm not trying to stop you from contacting your colleagues but are you sure you can trust them? Are you sure they'll send help and won't kill both of us? And if they'll spare your life, do you think they'll give me an honest trial?" Smith squatted down so that I could see his eyes better.
"Why would my boss, or anyone I work with, want to kill me? If the mafia is after you, you'll receive protection," I replied.
"You're so naïve, Officer Yazarova," he smiled as the phone light softened his sharp facial features, making him almost appear to be human, "we're talking about the Arnavut mob, remember? These people have no authority above them. They are the authority. Especially in a small village like yours. Why do you think they haven't informed your entire police force as soon as the Arnavuts had entered your territory? Why has no one tried to contact you since they found out about your disappearance? They must've seen the surveillance footage by now and assume I took you hostage when you tried to stop me from escaping," Smith had a point. The same questions had bothered me since the moment we escaped from the police station. However, I suspected that Smith wasn't completely honest with me, despite his sincere tone.
"What have you stolen from them?" I enquired.
"Stolen?! Don't use this kind of words around me, Officer! I collect, I borrow, I repossess … But I never steal!" he uttered in a flirting way.
"So, you're a collector? They must've misspelt it in your file then. In that case, what have you repossessed from the Arnavuts?"
"Well, I sold them something. They paid me but afterwards they complained about the quality of the bought goods," he explained.
"What did they think you were selling them?" I squinted my eyes.
"Cocaine," he whispered.
"And what did they actually receive?"
"Flour," he snickered.
"So, you owe them a bunch of money and now they want your head," was my conclusion.
I needed time to process that information. Besides, even after all I've heard from Smith, I didn't believe he told me the whole truth. He held back some important detail that could explain the mess he got himself into and dragged me in it as well. The missing puzzle piece that would fill up the gap to make me see the whole picture. I turned my head back to the window, although I couldn't discern anything outside except for a few far off streetlights. I had closed my phone to save battery, and the darkness had enveloped us again.
"Have you always dreamed of becoming a police officer?" he asked out of nowhere.
"No, Smith. No way being a cop was ever my dream! I always believed there was nothing I couldn't do, so I thought I could be a police officer. I was wrong. This is by far the biggest mistake I've ever made," I vented, unable to hide my disappointment.
"You're too hard on yourself, Officer! I think you're doing a great job. You're very professional and brave! You're the greatest …" I interrupted him.
"It's not about being brave, Smith! My uniform doesn't grant me any power. I don't even have it inside the station house because I let you escape from your cell! When the mobsters will find us, this," I shook the gun in my hand, "will be the only thing we have against them. And I can't guarantee you we'll survive. My status requires me to protect people but instead it looks like I'm playing dress up!"
I felt a painful spasm in my neck. I had those quite often. The doctor said it was because of stress that caused tension in the neck muscles. The physical therapy sessions hadn't helped me much and frankly I couldn't remember when the last time was, I went to bed or woke up well rested and relaxed. Which wasn't surprising, because stress was always present in my life, no matter what I did.
Despite the darkness, Smith must've noticed how I rubbed the back of my neck. Before I knew, I sensed him standing behind my back, sliding his long fingers over my shoulders. I tried to shake him off, but he didn't let go.
"You're really tensed up, Officer! I can help you. Just relax, sit back. It'll be easier if we take off your jacket," he reached his hands to my chest, trying to unbutton my coat.
"Hey! Don't get carried away, Smith! I can do this myself!" I protested and undid my upper garment. I wore nothing but a white T-shirt underneath my jacket and shuddered when I felt the cold air brushing against my skin.
"And maybe undo your bra so I could rub your shoulders, too," he suggested sheepishly.
"I'm not wearing one. I forgot to put it on today," I admitted, feeling extremely embarrassed.
"Oh, really?" I ignored his trembling voice and rolled my shoulders, trying to get rid of that day's tension. I sighed from surprise when his cold hands stroked my neck.
"I'm sorry. My hands will warm up soon," he muttered into my ear. I could smell his sweat and remote notes of a strong perfume reminiscent of sandalwood.
"Just don't do anything I wouldn't do, Smith," I warned him.
That whole situation was wrong. I shouldn't have let him touch me. But after everything that had happened that day, I needed some kind of pleasure. Usually, after a long day at work, that pleasure was a hot shower, a hot cup of tea, chocolate, a good book, or something entertaining that could make me forget my dull reality. None of that was present in the barn. Except for Smith who seemed to be aroused 24/7. I hadn't felt a man's touch for a long time, so I guess I was just taking advantage of the situation, assuming he wouldn't try out anything because I was a cop.
Smith moved his hands following the curve of my neck down to my shoulders, which relaxed me. A simple action but the tension in my back took off. Next, he pushed his thumbs into the base of my skull, going up and down gently. So long as he was lightly stroking that region, I could handle the intense sensation. But then he did something he shouldn't have. He put more pressure as he was kneading the back of my neck with both of his hands. That feeling was so nice my breathing intensified and became heavier. Smith shifted his hands back to the base of my skull and massaged that spot with his thumb and index finger. The gun slipped out of my hand and fell to the floor. I had to stop him because I couldn't subdue my moans or think straight anymore. I reached with my hand behind my neck to grab his arm and felt his muscles tense up under my fingertips.
"You're good at your job, Officer. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have made it."
Hearing his soft, reassuring voice and sensing his warm breath in my ear made me shiver, a shudder he must have detected. The next moment he grabbed my arms and pressed them against my chest, holding them firmly with just one hand. With the other hand he undid the scrunchie in my hair. Normally, I wore my hair loose but for my job I thought it was more professional if I wore it in a braid. Smith brought his face closer to mine, running his fingers through my hair, taking in its smell.
"The scent of your hair drives me crazy and your sweet moans … Please, let me hear more …" he whimpered into my ear.
Things were getting out of hand. I had to put an end to it. I gritted my teeth, trying hard not to give into his pleas. But the Anglo-Saxon scoundrel found another way to get to me. First, he just brushed his lips against my neck, with those soft caresses smoothly turning into kisses. But when he bit my neck, I couldn't control myself anymore. My sighs were turning him on, and he squeezed me harder into the chair until I could feel his heaving chest against my back through the spindles.
"Smith, stop! Let me go! I'll arrest you for sexual harassment!" I shouted.
"But you like this! Besides, you're the one who's encouraging me to continue."
He let go of my arms and slid his hands under my T-shirt. I stopped him from going any further by burying my nails into his hands. I had long nails, and it must've hurt him because I heard him suck in air.
"I told you to stop, Smith! I don't want this!" I whispered angrily.
"I'll stop only if you tell me I was a good boy and admit that you liked it," he moaned, breathing heavily into my ear.
"Don't be ridiculous, Smith!" As soon as I said that he started to nibble at my neck again.
"Okay, okay! You were a good boy, Smith!" I said as gently as I could, "Now, let me go."
"Did you like it?" he mumbled.
"That's enough, Smith!"
"Please, Officer!"
"Yes, I liked it," and that wasn't a lie.
Smith reluctantly released me from his embrace and walked away into a dark corner of the mezzanine where I couldn't see him. I quickly buttoned up my jacket and grabbed my gun on the floor. I heard him adjusting the hay.
"Officer, I've prepared the bed for us …"
"Forget it, Smith! I'm not going to sleep beside you!"
"I won't do anything, I promise. We'll freeze tonight if we don't keep each other warm. You can trust me. I'm a good boy; you said it yourself …"
The way he said that last sentence, sounding so vulnerable, concerned me. There was something wrong with Smith, on a clinical level, but he was right. The excitement from before had waned and with it the feverish warmth that made me forget it was winter outside. I put the gun back in the holster and walked towards his voice.
I had no idea that hay could be so uncomfortable to lie on. I constantly felt stings in my neck. Smith put his arm around me and covered us both under the coat I gave him in the police station. Strangely enough, the Anglo-Saxon fell asleep shortly after telling me goodnight. But worries kept me out of my sleep. Many thoughts pestered me that night; the Arnavut mob, my boss, how we escaped from the assassins, the fact that no one seemed to care about a supposedly kidnapped police officer, the insane John Smith lying beside me and the stupidity I committed by letting a madman touch me.
Maybe Smith was wrong, and my boss was trying to find me and stop the Arnavuts. Maybe it was just a bad dream. Whatever the case was, I had to find another job after that adventure with Smith was behind me.