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    C James
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

In Memory of Ed Wooton

For the Love - 5. Interuptus

I kissed Steve, deeply, and led him, with us still wrapped up in each other's arms, toward my bed.

Steve and I, still entangled, sat on the edge of my bed and continued our feverish lip play. I caressed Steve's back and sides, while feeling him do the same to me. It felt like a sweet eternity, though only a half hour or more had passed. We broke our kiss, staring into each other's eyes for a moment, until I pushed Steve back, letting him pull me on top of him. It was a moment that I had wished for so many times, but had believed could never be.

We kissed again, and I felt him unbutton my shorts, then begin pulling them down. I helped, and then pulled off my underwear too. I was naked, with Steve's hands roaming all over me. He was still in just his yellow running shorts, but he was underneath me, making them hard to get off. I began licking one of his nipples, while I rubbed the other with my thumb. He moaned, trembling, as he kissed me with feverish intensity. I felt Steve's hands roaming all over me, and the feeling was electric. I desperately wanted Steve to be naked too, so I eased up a little, ran my hands down his sides, and then started tugging on his shorts. I felt Steve's hands pause on my back before he pulled me tightly to him, while deepening our kiss. It was wonderful, but I couldn't get his shorts off with him hugging me so tightly.

Steve broke our kiss to stare into my eyes, running his hand down my spine, raising Goosebumps on my skin. His expression was one of pure joy, which was matched by my own. I moved back so that I could ease his shorts off, but as I did, I felt him take one of my nipples in his teeth and pull, reducing me to jelly.

Again, I eased up to tug at his shorts, but Steve locked eyes with me, and then rolled us onto our sides so that we faced one another. He traced his fingers up my side, his arm easing mine up and away from his shorts. I felt Steve's other hand tease my shaft, making me shudder as I returned the favor on his own hard shaft, hindered only by the materiel of his shorts.

I wanted him naked, to see and feel all of him, so again I eased back, looked Steve in the eyes as I ran my fingers through his sandy blond hair, and reached down to have another try at getting those damn shorts off of him. As I moved my hand down, Steve's arm moved up my side, under my armpit, blocking me. As I tried to find a way to ease past his arm, Steve eased back as he used his other hand to trace circles on my right pec. I gasped, as I tried and again failed to get my hand to his waistband, but this time I noticed a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.

That was an expression that I had come to know very well indeed in recent months. Finally, I understood exactly what he was doing. I grinned as I shoved Steve over on his back, and then used my hands to pin his wrists to the bed. His grin was impish now, with a sparkle in his blue eyes. I grinned back as I whispered, my face inches above his, "Steve, earlier you said you weren't shy. So, why is it that we have been making out for nearly an hour, and I'm naked but Mr. Not Shy still has his shorts on?"

Steve began to crack up, gasping a little as he whispered back, "Why, Chris? Do you want me naked for some reason?"

My suspicions confirmed, I lowered my head to slowly tongue each of his nipples in turn, before running my tongue slowly up the cleft between his defined pecs. Steve writhed under me, his hands still pinned, groaning, as I faced him again, "So, teasing me, huh? And just how long were you planning on keeping that up?" I asked, as his grin returned.

I felt Steve shift under me as he ground his hardness into mine. He chuckled, "I can keep things upall night... but I figured I'd tease you for a few hours first."

He started to crack up, as did I. Then, I remembered some of our wrestling matches from the weeks before, and soon I had a plan. An evil grin spread across my face as I told Steve, "You tease! But I think you forgot something."

Steve's grin faded ever so slightly, as he looked deep into my eyes, obviously wondering what, exactly, I had in mind. I didn't give him long to figure it out, though, as I shifted his hands together over his head so that I could hold them with one hand, leaving my other one free. I grinned evilly as I wiggled my fingers in front of his face, as I reminded Steve, "Remember our wresting matches? Remember what I discovered?" I asked.

Steve started to shake his head and twist under me, cracking up as he said, "No, you wouldn't!"

I smiled as innocently as I could, and nodded my head to indicate that, yes, I would, as I placed my hand on his side, feeling for his ribs before I began to tickle him.

Steve, I'd found to my delight weeks ago, was, unlike me, very ticklish in a few places. The lower part of his rib cage was definitely one of them. Steve gasped, bucked, and tried to twist away, but I had him: Time for a little teasing of my own.

Steve twisted and thrashed, laughing hard now, his face turning red as I tickled him. Soon, he gasped, "OK, OK, you win."

I had no intention of letting him off the hook that easy. I tickled him harder, enjoying the feel of his bucking body as I said in his ear, "If I stop, will you let me take your shorts off?"

Steve thrashed some more, finally gasping "OK, anything, just stop..."

Victory in hand, which would soon, I thought, lead to something else in hand, I stopped tickling Steve. I rolled off to lay by his side, both of us laughing. I stuck a finger underneath his waistband, letting it go with a snap, as I turned my head to grin at Steve.

He smiled back, his eyes squinting a little as his impish grin returned, "OK, go ahead, but give me a few seconds. Sit up and turn around until I tell you," he said.

I had no idea what sort of mischief he was planning, but I was game to find out. I rolled over to sit on the edge of my bed, while I wondered what Steve had in mind. A few seconds later, I heard him tell me to turn around, so I did.

Spectacular is the only word that fits, and it didn't do justice to the sight that greeted me. Steve had run his fingers through his hair so that it hung seductively across his right eye. He had also pulled my pillows under his shoulders to prop himself up a little. His chest looked more defined than ever, and I was sure that he was tensing it and his abs for effect. It certainly had an effect, as Steve fixed me with the most seductive look I had ever seen, capped with a hint of a smile. He was making an effort to look as hot as possible, and he was doing it for me.

I rolled back onto my bed. I had to kiss him, so I did: long, deep, and hot. I broke the kiss and leaned back as I reached down to pull Steve's shorts off, but this time he eased his hips off the mattress to make it easier for me. One quick tug and they were at his knees, as I took in the sight of him. I'd seen him naked before, many times, but never hard. The sight made my own erection throb and pound. No, I realized, it was the door that was pounding.

Bang, bang, bang.

I rolled off Steve, confused, as I wondered who would be pounding so hard on my door. I glanced at Steve, who looked as confused as I was.

The continued loud knocking on my door shattered our mood. Steve and I looked at each other, and then I started searching desperately for my shorts.

Steve stood, pulled his shorts up, and peeked through the window.

Steve turned to look at me, starting to grin at my predicament: I couldn't find my shorts and was sitting, naked, digging frantically through the bedclothes in search of them. Steve's grin became wider as he told me "Relax, it's my Dad."

Before I could say a word, Steve had the door open, standing partially behind it to hide the bulge in his shorts, as he waved his dad into my apartment. All I had a chance to do before Mr. Williams came in was grab the sheet and pull it up to my waist, while I proceeded to turn a very deep shade of red.

I could see Steve's chest shudder as he stifled a laugh. He was obviously trying hard not to crack up over the predicament that he had just put me in. I could have killed him, but decided instead that lots of tickling lay in his immediate future.

Mr. Williams, to his credit and my eternal gratitude, began to chuckle at my predicament, stopped, and then ignored it. He quickly came to the reason for his untimely visit, "Guys, sorry to, er, interrupt your evening together, but Eric ran away."

Steve growled, "He what? He can't get far on foot."

Mr. Williams had a look of apprehension on his face, and paused for a few seconds before speaking, as if trying to find the right words. "Well, son, the reason I'm here is I don't think he's on foot. Not long after you two left, we untied him. He made a dash for his room and locked himself in. When I went to get my tools from the garage so I could get his door open, he came out, darted past your Mom, and then locked himself in your room. By the time I got your door open, he'd pried open your window screen and climbed out. Well, I had better get to the point; I heard a car start. It sounded like your Jeep, Chris. I don't see it outside, and I was worried that he'd taken it."

They were both looking at me, "I parked it around the corner." I replied.

Mr. Williams shook his head, looking even more agitated, "I looked around outside, but I didn't see it there," he said.

"I put my keys in my shirt pocket..." My hand went instinctively to my now bare chest, as I suddenly remembered; I'd left it in Steve's room, on his dresser. I paused, and then continued, "And my shirt is in Steve's room."

Steve and his father shared a glance, and as one said, "Oh, shit..."

Mr. Williams popped open his cell phone, dialed 911, and handed it to me, telling me, "Report your Jeep as stolen, right now!" I did so, and then handed the phone back to him. He spoke to the operator, "This is Sgt. Williams, and my son Eric stole the vehicle." He proceeded to give them Eric's description.

After he was done, I asked, "How can he drive? He's only fifteen."

Steve answered for both of them, "Last year he stole my car a few times, when he decided to teach himself how to drive. I found out and that's why I have the security system on it now. I guess that's why he took yours."

I saw Steve's eyes go wide, and then he yelled, "Chris, get your shorts on! I think I know where he's going, but we have to leave right now!"

I pulled the sheet around me, reached into my dresser, and grabbed the first pair of shorts I could find, my black running shorts, pulling them on under the sheet. While I did so I heard Steve say something to his father, but couldn't make out what. The second I pulled my shorts on under the sheet, Steve grabbed my arm, pulled me out of the bed, and then towards the door.

We ran down the concrete steps, both barefoot. When we reached the bottom, Steve glanced back at his father, who simply yelled for us to go. Steve grabbed me by the arm again, urging me to run, and then run even faster, until we rounded the end of the house and arrived at his car.

Steve fumbled as he hit the button on his keychain to disarm the alarm, and then jammed his key into the door lock to unlock it before jumping in. Steve leaned over and unlocked my door, and he had the keys in the ignition and the engine turning over as soon as I slid onto the bench seat. I heard the tires squeal as Steve slammed the car into reverse. I was barely able to close my door.

Steve barreled out of the driveway, skidding slightly as he whipped the car around to face in the direction of town. He slammed on the brakes and cranked his window down, as his father ran up and handed Steve the cell phone, then urgently waved us towards town.

Steve burned rubber, and soon we were flying down the residential street at sixty. Steve glanced at me, a worried look on his face, "Chris, first the blackmail, now this. Man, I'm so sorry! Can you ever forgive me?"

I glanced down into the passenger foot well, soon finding what I was looking for: one of Steve's car magazines. I rolled up the magazine as Steve watched, and then theatrically rapped him over the head with it, "Steve, get it through your thick skull: None of this is your fault! You have nothing to be sorry for, so, no, I won't forgive you because that would imply you had done something wrong!"

"But, Chris, he's my brother," Steve said, still sounding downcast.

I gave Steve another swat on the head, "And that makes this your fault how, exactly? Anyway, Eric has screwed us up enough. If you start feeling guilty every time he does something, it's just going to mean he's driving a wedge between us. Hasn't he done too much of that already?"

Steve sighed, and then smiled a little "Well, ok, thanks. I really mean that. But Chris, I never thought he'd ever take something from someone outside the family, or I'd have warned you a long time ago. Hell, I'd have bought you an alarm."

"Well, Steve, I guess this means I'm really part of the family now, huh?" I laughed.

Steve almost laughed at that, "Well, yeah, I suppose you could look at it that way. Not quite what I had in mind for making it official, though. I just hope he doesn't wreck your Jeep."

"It's insured. I'm just thinking that he's going to run for it in my Jeep, on our money! Uh, where are we going anyway?" I asked.

"That's what I thought of in your apartment: he's running, on our money. But it's the middle of the night, and he made a beeline for my room. He knew the ATM card was still there. There are three ATM's in town: one at the circle K on the highway, the other two at the two banks. My guess is that he'll try and hit the Wells Fargo ATM and pull whatever the cash ATM limit is, then lay low until the place opens and pull out the rest of the money."

We approached the Wells Fargo, and Steve pulled into a dark corner of the parking lot, turning off his headlights as he did so. I noticed that we were also within sight of the other bank across the street. Steve then phoned his father, telling him of his suspicions. After listening for a minute, he hung up, "OK, Dad still agrees with me. Eric had about a five minute head start. Dad said a patrol car is on its way here now, and it's just a block away so we should head over to the circle K."

We drove, tires squealing and engine roaring, towards the Circle K. As we approached an intersection, Steve leaned on the horn, causing the five trumpets of the air horn to blast out the first five notes to "Dixie". I rolled my eyes. I'd heard that horn many time before, and spite of everything, I had to ask, as this just wouldn't wait, "Steve, now that we are boyfriends, I have gotta know: why do you drive a 1969 Dodge Charger with a glasspack muffler, and a Dukes of Hazzard air horn? I'm surprised that you haven't painted the stars and bars on it."

I saw Steve break into a bashful grin, his face lit by the light of the dashboard, "What? The 1969 Dodge Charger R/T is the best car ever made. A three hundred and seventy five horsepower V-8, 440 cubic inches, racing Carbs, it's just the best. And what other kind of horn would sound as good? Five horns and 118 decibels, man, y'all gotta love it!"

I smiled, but before I could reply Steve swerved into the circle K parking lot, bringing us to a screeching halt just a few feet from the door. My Jeep was nowhere in sight, so Steve dashed inside to where the ATM was. He entered the brightly lit store while I sat in his Charger. I couldn't help but watch, he was a spectacular sight; His hair mussed up, his beautiful face, his gorgeous tanned and toned body clad in just a pair of yellow running shorts. Watching Steve go into the store in just his shorts reminded me that we were both in just shorts. Neither of us had shirts or shoes on.

Steve dashed back out, jumped in, and again burned rubber as we roared out onto the main road, heading away from town. "Chris, the teller just saw a kid matching Eric's description use the ATM, buy some food and drinks, and then head this way in a Jeep. That has gotta be him! He's only two or three minutes ahead of us!"

I watched the speedometer climb through one hundred and twenty, and continue to climb. Steve eased his foot off the gas a little at a hundred and fifty, much to my relief, telling me, "This road isn't flat, so this is about as fast as I can go."

We raced on into the dark night on the undulating desert highway. Steve slowed down to a hundred and thirty a few times, but for the most part held the speed at a hundred and fifty mph, and sometimes a bit faster. The roar of the V-8 engine and the wind noise made it difficult to talk.

I knew my Jeep couldn't go anywhere near that fast, so I hoped that we would soon catch Eric. Steve phoned his dad with the latest news, slowing slightly as we did so, and we sped on down the dark and lonely desert highway.

Shouting over the roar, I asked Steve, "What, exactly, are we gonna do if we catch up to him? We can't make him stop."

"I'll just phone it in. Dads already calling the police station at the next town, Piedmont, and there are no highway junctions between here and there. All they have to do is block the highway." Steve replied.

Seconds later, Steve let out a whoop, and pointed ahead: Taillights, about two miles in the distance. We soon closed some of the gap as Steve slowed us down to around Ninety, and we could see that it was a Jeep. A few seconds later, Steve hit the brakes, pulling to within a hundred yards of it as he slowed to its speed. I had a good look, and I was sure: it was mine. Steve phoned his dad with the news, when all of a sudden Eric, who had been doing around sixty, floored my Jeep. Steve grumbled, "He must have recognized my car. I've got round headlights, which are pretty rare these days. He probably thinks I will beat the crap out of him when I get my hands on him. Huh, well, he's right about that."

Steve backed off, letting Eric gain ground, while telling me "He's trapped. They are waiting for him about ten miles up the road. I'll just back off and keep his tail lights in sight."

Steve continued to drop back until Eric was about a mile ahead, and then kept pace. We could see his taillights most of the time on the straight desert highway, only loosing sight for an occasional few seconds due to the road not being perfectly level. I looked at Steve, reflected on our situation, and began to giggle hysterically. Steve gave me a worried look, and asked, "What?"

"I was just thinking that I'm really glad I'm an only child," I said.

Steve looked at me for a second, then cracked up, "Well, Chris, guess what? Now that you are officially part of the family and all, that makes Eric your brother, too."

I shot Steve a dirty look, but couldn't keep a straight face as we both cracked up again. I glanced out the window, and suddenly things weren't so funny anymore. I pointed, and Steve looked too; Eric was turning off the highway.

I asked, "I don't remember any side roads around here?"

"There aren't, not any paved ones. That's a dirt road that goes around the hills between here and the next town. Dad has taken us out here a few times to go shooting. Eric probably knows the road as well as I do," Steve said.

Steve turned onto the dirt road, and accelerated back up to thirty mph. We were soon bouncing along, feeling every rut and washout of the unmaintained road. I yelled, "Steve, slow down. Your car isn't built for this; you'll do a lot of damage."

"If I don't catch him before the road goes into the hills a few miles ahead, we never will. It gets really bad up there, this car won't make it." A nasty jolt made Steve slow down a little anyway, even though we had the taillights of my Jeep in sight.

The noise and shaking from the rutted, washed out road was intense, and I had to hang on to avoid being tossed around in my seat. Every so often Steve would have to brake to negotiate a deep cut, and Eric would gain ground. I could smell the dust from the road because we were driving in the dust cloud kicked up by my Jeep, so I clicked off the Charger's air vent. Steve, concentrating on the road, mumbled his thanks.

The road slowly got worse. Steve did his best, but the washboard road was making it hard to take the curves, which were becoming a lot more frequent. After a few miles of barely keeping pace with Eric, and after bottoming out the suspension more times than I could count, I knew it was hopeless, so I said, "Steve, we won't catch him, and even if we did we can't make him stop. Slow down and phone your dad. The cops can get Eric wherever the road comes out." I argued.

"No can do. I remember Dad telling me that there are dozens of old mining trails up there, and they go all over the place. Hey, how much gas did you have?" Steve asked.

We came to a dry wash, but instead of crossing it the road, barely more than a trail at this point, turned in the bed of the wash to follow it downstream. The creek had become the road, and it was covered in rocks the size of watermelons and larger. There was no way Steve could get his car through that, so he stopped as I answered his question, "I filled it up two days ago. It probably had three quarters of a tank. He won't run out of gas."

Steve swore, and phoned his father again. Steve turned his engine off, so I stepped out of the car to see if I could hear my Jeep. I was barely able to hear it, receding in the distance, the high whine of the engine telling me that Eric had figured out how to put it in low range 4-wheel drive. I heard a metallic clang and grimaced, knowing that Eric was just gunning it through the rocky wash bed, not caring how much damage he did.

I started to get back in the car when Steve jumped out, flashlight in hand, shining it down into the wash. It was clear that he could not get his car through it, as his car just didn't have the ground clearance to get over the rocks. I told Steve, "Forget about it. I could hear him when we stopped. He has my Jeep in low range, and I heard him frame out on a rock. If it's that rough ahead, there is no way your car could make it."

Steve looked mad enough to chew rocks, nearly yelling as he told me, "Chris, Dad said that the cops in Piedmont are keeping an eye out, but they only have two squad cars on duty so they can't cover everywhere these roads come out. Dad thinks Eric might hole up for the night up in the hills, and then try for a bank branch in that town as it opens to get the money. Dad said he would be at the branch back home when they opened, badge in hand, and either have the account frozen or withdraw the money, but Eric would have a few minutes to make a withdrawal. Dad thinks he can have everything covered, but said we can discuss it when we get home." Steve said, and then paused, squinting ahead into the night, deep in thought, before adding, "If he does hole up somewhere ahead, we might have a chance to get him. He knows I can't get through this part of the road so he might think he's safe. The reason the road uses the streambed here is that there is a little hill right in front of us. It's more like a rock outcropping, but if I remember right, it's only like forty foot high and it should have a view of the hills ahead. Come on, but watch where you step. If we can get to the top fast, we can see the lights from your Jeep and maybe see if Eric stops."

We padded across the gulch, careful of where we put our bare feet, Steve's flashlight the only thing saving us from major injury. We climbed the opposite bank without too much trouble, and soon we came to an area of exposed bedrock with a mild slope to it. We hiked up, and soon reached the top. It was just a flat area of smooth, lumpy bare rock, overlooking a drop-off. Steve turned the flashlight off, and both of us peered ahead into the night. I could hear the low whine of my Jeep's engine in the distance, and soon enough Steve grabbed my shoulder while pointing to a speck of red light moving through the brush a couple of miles ahead.

As we watched, we saw my Jeep slowly climb a long grade at the base of the hills, and then complete a few switchbacks. My Jeep stopped a few minutes later, and we lost sight of it as the lights went out. I felt Steve put his arm across my bare shoulders as he said, "He's stopped. He's probably getting out for a look to see if we are still after him. It's a good thing I turned off my headlights or he would see them. With any luck, he will stay put for the night. He's about three miles ahead of us. Maybe we can sneak up on him on foot."

I put my arm around Steve before asking, "Got any shoes in your car? That is a long way to go barefoot."

I felt Steve shake his head, "No. I was thinking we could use the flashlight and keep to the dirt road. But he'd see the light. Damn. Hey, I do have some duct tape in my emergency kit. We could wrap it around our feet, maybe cut a few strips from the trunk liner, and tape that around our feet too. Then, when it gets close to dawn, there should be enough light to see enough to walk. He can't see the wash from where he is, so we could use the flashlight to get within two miles of him, then when the pre-dawn twilight comes, we can run the rest of the road. We should be able to get him before he has enough light to see us coming, even if he's awake."

That sounded like a good plan to me. I added one thought, "He will probably be inside with the doors locked. It's a hardtop, so the windows are glass. When we get close, we should pick up some rocks and smash the side windows as soon as we reach it. Then one of us can grab him or the keys. Otherwise, he could start up and drive off. If he isn't inside, we have a problem. He's got shoes on so he could out-run us. I don't have any keys so we couldn't start the Jeep, unless you know how to hotwire a car."

Steve shook his head, "Eric probably knows how to hot-wire, but I don't. If I had tools I could get past the electrical part with no problem, but I have no idea how I'd unlock the steering column. But, I remember that we can pop the hood from inside, so all we would have to do is take the spark plug leads to make sure he couldn't go anywhere. We don't have to catch him; all we need to do is make sure he can't drive anywhere."

That sounded good to me, so I asked Steve, "Check and see if you can get a cell signal from here. Plus, I want to know what time it is. If it's a digital signal the time will show up on the phone."

Steve stepped behind me to avoid any chance of Eric seeing the tiny light, as unlikely as it was at that distance. I heard him dial, and then fill his Father in on Eric's location and our plan. I could hear Mr. Williams on the other end, but not what he said. Steve ended the call before filling me in, "OK, Dad says give it a try, but we should wait for twilight because it's rough in a few places up ahead. It's 1 AM now, so he suggested we watch for a few hours to make sure Eric is still there, then make our way through the wash, which should put us on the dirt road ready for the first hint of dawn. He thinks that should happen around 4:30am, an hour and a half before sunup."

Steve sat down, guiding me to sit down with him, putting his arm back around my shoulders as he did so. Sitting there on the rock wasn't too comfortable, but Steve's arm on my shoulders just made it feel right. I snaked my arms around his lower back, as we kept watch for any sign of Eric.

This wasn't the first time Steve had put his arm across my shoulders. He'd done it a few times before. However, always before, when we weren't out to each other, it had been just friendly and casual as well as brief. This time, we sat together, our sides touching, Steve holding me close to him, and me holding him close to me. It just felt right.

After a few minutes, I had an idea. I turned my head, and then began to nibble on Steve's neck. I felt him tremble for a moment, before he pulled me in for a kiss. Kissing him under the desert stars, barely able to see, was awesome, but I wanted even more. I broke the kiss and said, "We have some time, so why don't we pick up where we left off when we were interrupted?"

Steve answered by lying on his back, pulling me gently down on top of him as he kissed me again. We kissed deeply, hungrily, while our hands explored in the dark. This time, I was hot in minutes, so I broke the kiss, eased up, and reached to pull Steve's shorts off.

Again, just like in my apartment, Steve blocked my hands, so I reached in to tickle him, but this time he grabbed my wrist, telling me, "No, Chris, LOOK."

©Copyright 2007 C James; All Rights Reserved.
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Please let me know what you think; good, bad, or indifferent.  The feedback thread for this story is in my Forum. Please stop by and say "Hi!"

Many thanks to Conner for editing, support, encouragement, beta reading, and suggestions on this chapter.
Many thanks also to my editor EMoe for editing and for his support, encouragement, beta reading, and suggestions (and for thinking up a title!).

Thanks also to Shadowgod, for beta reading and advice, and for putting up with me.
Any remaining errors are mine alone.

Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Seems Eric is still doing a good job of thwarting them and keeping one step ahead. He's a slippery character alright.

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One plus and one minus to your editor on this chapter. Plus -- not many people know the use of 'Twilight' for a period just before sunrise. The minus -- 'loose' is the wrong word, it should be 'lose' in the sense of not winning. Okay, end of today's rant... The idea of wrapping bare feet in duct tape is truly original!

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