Chapter 1 Capture Completed
He was sick of it...just plain sick and tired of it.
He knew his young wife had expensive tastes. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford to indulge them; he was certainly "comfortable" when it came to their financial well-being.
But there was no reason he could possibly fathom for her to continue with her blatant excesses, and no matter how many times he warned her, no matter how many times he threatened to put her on a budget and restrict her access to the credit cards, it never seemed to make an impression.
Seriously, how many pairs of Manolo Blahniks can one woman wear?
He hated what he was about to do...sort of. But he had needs of his own, and they didn't consist of an endless variety of footwear. And though he'd been denying those needs since shortly after meeting his current wife, he was certainly able to afford to indulge his own needs, too.
His associations with a variety of 'shadow' organizations during his time in the military had put him in touch with many interesting groups, with an amazing assortment of specialized skills. He just had never considered contacting them until now, knowing it would forever change the nature of his relationship with his lovely, young bride. And that, at its heart, was the only thing that had kept him from "making the change" right up front, when they were newly married: he loved her, plain and simple.
He loved her as she was, with her bright, bubbly personality, her wit, her intelligence, her unquestioned loyalty and devotion to him, her incredible good looks. If the bedroom scene was a little blasé, it had been more than offset by her other attributes, and he had been more than just content with the trade-off; he had considered himself one lucky son-of-a-bitch to have wooed and won this wonderful woman.
But now, after several years of the same arguments, the same unrepentant behavior, he was just sick of it. And he was going to do something about it. Yes, his sex life was about to take a turn back to the wild side...and so was his beloved bride's, whether she wanted it or not.
* * * *
Andrea was headed home from her latest shopping expedition, overburdened with the fruits of her day's efforts, her overheated credit card still just starting to cool down in her purse, when it happened. She didn't notice the large, white van with the nondescript business name on the side parked next to her Beamer. She never saw the men(?) who grabbed her, never heard the sound of the gun or felt the dart that tranq'ed her. Her only recollection was of stumbling, and going down like a sack of...well, like the sacks of Gucci and Prada she dropped as she put her arms out to break her fall.
When she awoke, shaking her head, she was a little woozy, but in exactly the same location she'd been when she'd 'tripped'. She had no sensation of the passage of time, and she dismissed the missing two hours of her life, only thinking she'd gotten carried away by her shopping...which she often did, to her husband's dismay.
She truly loved him, and admitted to herself she probably had a near-addiction when it came to shopping...because she really wanted to stop making him unhappy with her. (?) But the shoes...and the dresses...and, okay, the jewelry. And it wasn't like she didn't bring in any money of her own; although not nearly what her hubby made, her sizable salary made a significant offset to the cost of her shopping sprees.
Well, okay, so it only offset about one-fourth what she spent, most weeks.
But he really loved the way she looked and her incredible sense of style; he'd told her so, on more than one occasion. He was proud of her good looks and her unerring talent for making herself into the best "arm candy" any successful man could hope for. And dammit, with her natural beauty and tightly-toned curves, that only took money, which he had plenty of.
Suddenly, though, she felt very guilty, and she briefly considered returning the contents of the bags in her arms, as she scooped them up from their scattered locations in the parking lot. She suddenly experienced a warm, tingly sensation in her nether regions, as she thought how that would please her husband...which puzzled her. Why would she get a tingle—specifically a sexual tingle—from that thought? She shook her head again, causing some of her lustrous, blonde locks to fall over her shoulders and down onto her breasts.
'I must have hit my head, or something,' she considered, although a careful probing of her scalp produced no discernible twinges of pain—no dried blood, no obvious damage. Then she became suddenly conscious of the way her hair was teasing her nipples through the silk blouse she was wearing. She smiled as she thought of the way her husband sometimes did that to her intentionally, in bed, and her nipples crinkled immediately to twin jutting points, visible even through her sensible bra. She also experienced another, sharper twinge of warmth in her crotch...and in her ass. (?)
'What's that about?' she puzzled. 'What's wrong with me, today? It's only been a week since our last bout of sex, and I'm suddenly getting feelings like I've been cloistered with the nuns for a year. I definitely think my darling hubby is gonna get his bones jumped, tonight!!'
'In fact, I might even break out some of that kinky lingerie he's always bugging me to wear!'
'God, I'm sopping! I gotta get home before I start soaking through my pants, and someone thinks I pissed myself!' She finished gathering her items, hopped in her Beamer and headed for home, unconsciously stroking a still-erect nipple with a lock of silky hair as she drove.
* * * *
"Mr. 'Jones'?"
"How'd everything go, 'Tasha'?"
"Flawlessly, as always. You know our reputation and our methods; we've never had a failure, and we certainly weren't going to start with your precious cargo."
