The Heart Has Reasons (22 page)

But
what about the cashier?

The
van’s gas tank was now full and the gas nozzle had automatically shut
off.  He replaced the nozzle on the pump, screwed on the gas cap, and
squished across the parking lot to the cashier’s booth.

Behind
the thick Plexiglas, a young, round-faced Native American woman was nodding her
head in time to music.  She looked up at his approach, removed the
earbuds, and gave him a smile that appeared sincere.  “Did you get caught
in the storm last night?”

His
muscles loosened as a flood of relief flowed through him.  Giving her a
genial smile in return, he passed seven twenties under the lower edge of the
Plexiglas.  “I stopped for the night just as it started.”

She
slid his change back through the slot with a cheerful “Have a safe one.”

He
got back into the vehicle and jammed the keys into the ignition with such force
that he nearly broke off the key when he cranked it on.  As he pulled out
onto the highway, Larissa uttered, “Mmmph.  Mmmph!”

“Shut
the fuck up!  That was incredibly stupid.  Do you really want to get
innocent bystanders killed?”

She
drummed her heels on the floor of the cargo area.  “
Mmmph!
”

“If
you’re trying to say that you want the gag removed, you can forget it. 
From now on, excepting meals, you’ll wear it twenty-four-seven.  And I
meant what I said about taking my belt to your ass.  I should have done so
long before now.”

From
behind him came a sound like a sob.  “If you start crying, I’ll double the
number of strokes I’m planning on giving you.”

A
little after noon, he pulled off the highway, found a secluded spot on a side
road, and stopped in the sparse shade thrown by a small copse of trees. 
After donning the ski mask, he climbed into the back and released her.

She
scooted away from him to press her back against the rear of the driver’s
seat.  Watching him with wide, frightened eyes, she reached back to remove
the gag, then opened and closed her mouth several times, massaging her jaw.
 “You’re not going to beat me now, are you?”

“Don’t
be ridiculous.  There’s not enough room in here to swing a belt.  And
besides, if I
were
planning to whip you now, you’d still be wearing the
gag.”

She
was quiet and sullen as she ate the peanut butter sandwich, refusing even to
look at him.  Finally, forehead creased with worry, she broke the heavy
silence to ask, “You’re not
really
going to whip me, are you?”

He
was not going to do so, of course.  He already severely regretted putting
her through this ordeal, not to mention that her husband would be
understandably irate if he were to lay a hand on her.  However, it
wouldn’t hurt to let her stew for a while.  “I am.”

“Why?”

“Because
you have to be taught a lesson.”

“If
you’d been taken prisoner in Afghanistan, would you have tried to escape?”

“Of
course.  But I also would have expected some form of retribution if
unsuccessful.”

“So
I should simply resign myself to my fate and play the passive victim while you
deliver me to my death.”

“That’s
not
what I’m saying, and I am
not
delivering you to your
death.  Larissa, you know goddamn well who I’m delivering you to.”

“You’re
right, I do.  But I can’t help but wonder who
you
think you’re
delivering me to.”  After a bit, she asked, “What if I promise never to do
it again?”

“We
both know that, under the circumstances, your word is no good and you’ve proven
time and time again you can’t be trusted.”

“How
can you say that?  I’ve been a model prisoner.”  When he laughed, her
face shadowed.  “You’re not really going to whip me, are you?”

“You’ve
left me no choice.”

“Maybe
we can make some kind of deal.”

“Like
what?”

“Whatever
you want.”

He
cocked a brow at her.  “Are you offering me sex?”

“I’m
offering whatever it’ll take to keep you from whipping me.”

“Your
offer is generous, as well as tempting, but I’m afraid I must decline.”

“
Please
don’t whip me.”

He
knew it was a mistake to capitulate so quickly, but those green eyes brimming
with tears tore at his soul.  “Oh,
Jesus!
  All right.”

She
blinked several times, eyes alight with sudden hope.  “You promise?”

“I
do.  But if you
ever
pull a stunt like that again, I’ll blister
your ass so badly you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“Deal.”

He
let her out of the vehicle just long enough to relieve herself.  Once he
had her secured again inside the vehicle, her eyes widened in surprise when he
picked up the gag.  “What are you doing?”

“What
do you think?  Open your mouth.”

“But
we had a deal!”

“I
promised not to whip you.  I never said anything about not gagging
you.”  When he tried to put it in her mouth, she wrenched her head to the
side.  “Goddamn it, Larissa.  Didn’t you stop to think about the
consequences of your actions this morning?”

“I
can’t
wear it all freaking day.  I can hardly bear it for the short
time it takes you to shower.  Ple-e-e-ase don’t make me wear it.”

“I
let you talk me out of the beating.  I’m not budging on this.”

When
he tried to force it into her mouth, she sputtered, “
I’ll take the whipping
instead!
”

He
paused.  “After all that pleading you did, now you’re telling me you’d
rather have the whipping than to wear the gag?”

Her
tongue slid across her plump bottom lip in a way that made his cock take
notice.  “Yes.”

He
gave her a calculating look.  “I’d be a fool to make a deal like
that.  We both know that as soon I start to take my belt to you, you’ll be
crying and begging me not to.”

“I
promise I won’t.  My word of honor.  Well, I might cry, but I won’t
try to talk you out of it and I won’t put up a fight.  Just please don’t
make me wear the gag.”

“If
I whip you, I’m going to gag you, tie you face down on the bed, and pull your
pants down to your knees.”

She
stilled, clearly weighing her options.  “How many strokes?”

“Ten
should be sufficient.”

She
winced.  Chase watched as some inner struggle played across her face, and
then, finally, she nodded.  “Okay.  I agree.”

Incredulous,
he said, “You’d prefer ten lashes to wearing the gag?”  When she nodded,
he shrugged and set the gag aside.  “All right.  It’s your ass.”

* * * * *

Once they were back on the highway, her
voice came from behind the curtain, “Are you going to enjoy whipping me?”

“Since
you’ve been such a royal pain in the ass, I probably will.”

“You’re
an asshole.”

“Are
you hoping for twenty lashes?”

There
was no response.

After
nearly a half hour of silence, he said, “Larissa?  You’re very quiet back
there.”

“I’m
thinking.”

“About
what.”

“You.”

The
honesty of her answer threw him for a moment.  “What about me?”

“Just
trying to figure you out.  Most men wouldn’t turn down an offer of sex, or
be able to share a bed with a woman without trying something.”

“I’m
not most men.”

“Clearly. 
Did you get used to doing without sex while you were in Afghanistan?”

“What
makes you think I did without?”

“Well
… since it’s an Islamic country, I’m assuming the Afghan women would be off
limits.”

“There
are numerous American and European women there: Women soldiers, helicopter
pilots, journalists, doctors, CIA officers.”

“I
had no idea.  So, you’re saying you were never lonely?”

“No. 
I’m saying I didn’t spend long periods of time celibate.”

“Most
men wouldn’t grasp the distinction between the two.”

“I
thought we’d already agreed that I’m not most men.”

After
a moment’s silence, she said, “Tell me about Afghanistan.  I’m embarrassed
to admit it, but I’m really not even sure why we’re over there.”

Chase
hesitated before answering.  Although she knew he’d served in Afghanistan,
she’d probably assumed he’d been a simple soldier — one of tens of thousands —
so as long as he didn’t reveal that he’d been Special Forces, he couldn’t see
what harm it would do to talk about it.

“You
first have to understand that Afghanistan is a land that has rarely known
peace.  For centuries, rival governments, factions, tribes, and warlords
have fought for control of the country, and the Afghans fought
two
wars
against the British.  Then, in 1979, the Soviets invaded.  You may
have heard of a Saudi Arabian guy by the name of Usama bin Laden.”

“Of
course.”

“Bin
Laden developed an Islamic charity to support the Afghans in their war against
the Soviets.  He rallied thirty-thousand anti-communist Islamic volunteer
fighters, all fuelled by the Koranic imperative to
jihad
.  This
organization eventually became known as
al Qaeda
.

“Afghanistan
was at war with the Soviets for ten years.  Once the Soviets were finally
routed, the seven major
mujahidin
factions descended into a bitter civil
war for control of the country.”

“Ten
years of war wasn’t enough?”

“Apparently
not.  The Taliban arose in 1994 from a small group of religious students
and became a popular movement, since they denounced the brutalities of the
rival warlords and the corruption spread by the ubiquitous opium trade. 
Once they took power, their solution was to smash the country into a sort of
religious Dark Ages.  Women and educated professionals suffered
especially.

“And
all along,
al Qaeda
was still there training terrorists.  Then 9/11
happened.  Fifteen days later, the first U.S. ground forces entered Afghanistan,
tasked with advising and supporting the warlords and indigenous guerrilla
forces against both
al Qaeda
and the Taliban.”  He deliberately
neglected to mention that he’d been among those forces.

“So
our being there is a good thing.”

“On
the surface, it would seem so.  The problem is that the Taliban enters the
villages to attack the American and Afghan forces.  And when we retaliate,
innocent Afghan women and children die in the subsequent firefight.”

He’d
never forget the first time he’d seen firsthand the results of a
counterattack.  On the morning after a battle in which a village had been
bombed by U.S. forces, a score of injured Afghan women had gathered outside the
gates of a makeshift hospital, bleeding and broken under their sack-like burkas. 
However, the mullah leaders of the village wouldn’t permit the two foreign
doctors to treat them, because both doctors were men.

One
young woman had lain limp and frightened near the gate.  She’d lost her
parents the year before in a tribal feud.  Now her husband was dead. 
She’d pleaded with anyone who would listen, “Who will take care of me?”

Inside
the hospital, a nine-year-old boy with severe burns over sixty percent of his
body had looked into Chase’s eyes and demanded, “Why do you bomb us and then come
later saying you’re sorry?”

He’d
had no answer.

From
behind the curtain, Larissa jerked him back to the present by asking, “What are
you thinking about?”

Forcing
the memories away, he took a deep breath.  “Nothing.”

* * * * *

Arizona had a sere beauty to it that
rivaled parts of Afghanistan, and Chase wished Larissa were able to view it
with him.  Pinion and ponderosa pines dotted the brown landscape, while
the craggy peaks of the Hualapai Mountains thrust up into a sky turned molten
orange and yellow by the last vestiges of the setting sun.

He
left the interstate and ascended a steep road of switchbacks through a forest
of pines interspersed by huge rocky outcrops, eventually pulling into a motel
constructed in the Santa Fe style.  Beneath the flat roofs, rough wooden
beams protruded through the outer facades of a dozen terracotta-painted adobe
cabins that nestled in a small clearing at the foot of one of those soaring
crags.

He
quickly gagged Larissa, and made his way across the gravel parking lot where
bedraggled clumps of grass and dry, spiky weeds scrabbled for survival. 
As he neared the office, he could see that the long-neglected walls were
starting to crumble.

A
little calico cat appeared from beneath a battered and rusted pickup truck to
meow piteously at him.  It purred loudly as he bent down to pet it, and he
couldn’t help but wince at the feel of the sharply protruding bones.