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tenseness about him that wasn't there a
     minute ago. “I cannot allow that, querida . Forgive me
     but no, there must be another way.”
    “You cannot allow?
     You? I don't think I asked for your permission and I know I
     don't need it. I know what I'm doing.” She wasn't so sure of
     that, but she wasn't going to admit it to him. Before he could
     react, she turned and walked away, wincing at first as pain shot
     up her leg from her abused ankle. She never should have hopped
     down from the mule, not sure how much more damage she'd caused
     with that show-off behavior. And why was she showing
     off? For him? He was arrogant, bossy, mean -- and an enemy
     pilot, for glory's sake.
    Fueled by her temper,
     her strides lengthened and she was able to disguise the limp.
     She shrugged her shoulders which were tensed as if expecting him
     to stop her. “You'd better not, mister Mee-gell-alon-so-whatever
     man,” she mumbled to herself, “or you'll be sorry.”
    “How sorry?” His
     voice seared her ear, his lips breathing against the soft shell.
     Unlike her, he wasn't limping and he'd been combat trained. If
     she thought she could escape him with a toss of her bouncy curls
     or a swish of that killer backside, she was in for a treat.
    A hand came 'round to
     cover the woman's mouth and an arm, the same as had encircled
     her already twice now, had her in a hug around the waist and was
     lifting her off of the ground. His mouth pressed against her
     hair.
    “Do not struggle and
     do not make a sound. Your fat friend is coming this way.” Then
     Lyrianne was drawn back and tight against him as he moved her
     further into the dark trees. “Stay silent,” he warned her, his
     voice a liquid sugar whisper.
    She felt like she was
     melting against the heat of his body. At first she was too
     distracted to struggle, caught up in sensations she was not used
     to feeling. She was shocked at her reaction then annoyed by it,
     blaming him. Still, she didn't attempt to fight. As close as he
     held her, it was impossible for her not to be aware of how much
     stronger he was. She'd never be able to win out in a struggle;
     not without her handy-dandy flashlight, anyway. That was stashed
     in a compartment on the mule.
    Instead, she used her
     mind, planning. Any worry she felt was not directed toward the
     crashing sounds of the three-hundred pound man trying his best
     for a stealthy approach. When Fat Farley wasn't drunk, he was
     like putty in her hands, practically falling all over himself to
     please her. The man behind her, however, was not putty. Meekly
     she nodded her head, apparently agreeing with what he demanded
     of her.
    Letting his grip
     relax just enough so that she could breathe again, he lowered
     his hand just to her shoulder, keeping her pressed to him. His
     back was against a tree and he was looking over the top of the
     woman's head. It sounded like a bull crashing through the
     growth. Miguel's arm drew across Lyrianne's waist and dropped
     away. His fingers found the pistol grip at his back.
    Lyrianne was thinking
     fast as she realized how close Farley was. She could hear him
     moving past them and toward the mule. It was too late for what
     she'd first planned to do. He would know she was here once he
     saw the bike and he'd come looking. Farley would find both of
     them instead of her being able to deal with him alone since she
     was sure she couldn't depend on this spaceman to stay hidden.
    She turned to face
     the Fed pilot and placed a finger over his mouth to keep him
     silent. She arched an eyebrow then winked at him.  “Oh, you
     shouldn't do that.” She spoke much louder than she needed for
     the man she was looking at, but just right for someone searching
     for her location.
    “Lyri-a-anne!” Sure
     enough, Farley had heard her and had changed direction, now
     plodding straight for them. “Lyri-a-anne? Come out, come out,
     wherever you are.” His deep voice had an absurdly childish