Sunday, August 21, 2011
Six Sentence Sunday - Walking The Edge: Snippet #11
It's a bright, sunny Sunday morning here in Mauritius. Temps still a bit chilly, around 60 degrees - perfect to snuggle down with an afghan, a cup of coffee, and some great reading via Six Sentence Sunday snippets.
I'm still with Amelia and Gerard in that dark, seedy alleyway next to the Bistro du Stade in Marseille, on the outskirts of Boulevard Michelet and the Stade Velodrome.
Last week, Amelia still had a gun pointed at her, but her senses were focused on something else... the fact that Gerard seemed turned on by the danger of the moment.What happens next? Will Gerard take matters into his hands, or will Amelia win this battle?
Gerard goes on to tell her, in a menacing tone, that he won't ask her the question again. But Amelia has no clue what he's talking about, and she tells him that she doesn't know, to which he laughs.
"..."Of course you don't, sweetheart."
With that, he leaned forward, bending his knees and crouching farther down before her, one arm across her shoulders, his forearm crushing her throat. His breath was warm on her face as he lowered his head to be at eye level with her - he was tall, a good foot taller than her. With her thighs still immobilized, and with his arm cutting off her air supply, breathing suddenly became a feat. Her lips parted and she tried her best to inhale, but all she managed to do was catch a whiff of the spicy scent of his skin - her senses swam, and then she froze when she felt the cold tip of the gun against her temple.
"Whoever he is," the commissaire said in a husky whisper against her ear, "tell him a honey trap won't work." ...'
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From Mauritius with love,