The Erotic Expeditions - Complete Collection (20 page)

She dropped the empty canister and dashed to his camel, pushing past him. He yelled as he fell over but the surprise attack sent him sprawling. She grabbed the rifle and dashed back to her camel.

How was she going to get on?

There was only a second to decide what to do.

She frantically looked back to the other camel. Next to it, the man was getting up. She looked down at the rifle. She had no idea how to use one. It looked like something out of a western movie. There was a lever. Did she have to cock it? She tried to move it but it didn’t budge. Maybe it was loaded. Maybe if she shot it into the air, that’d be enough to keep him from following her. She pointed it to the sky, squinted, and pulled the trigger. Nothing.

Dammit
.

He was stumbling toward her, frantically wiping his face. She grabbed the rope attached to her camel’s mouth and tugged. It didn’t budge.

Oh god, he was getting close.
 

She let go of the rope and ran. With as much speed as she could muster and absolutely no idea which direction to take, she ran–frantic to put distance between them.

Her feet pounded through the scorching sand, sent it flying in every direction, and she nearly tripped. She used the rifle to help keep her upright. She drug hot air into her already burning lungs but she didn’t dare stop. Somewhere behind her she heard the camels grunt and the man shouted something.

She glanced back.

He’d taken off the turban and scarf and was sitting in the saddle as the camel clambered to its feet.

She ran even harder and crested a small dune. On the horizon, the Ahaggar Mountains were far to her left. As she flew down the backside of the small knoll, she altered direction toward them. She could hear the camels behind her now. He was shouting at them. It’d only be seconds before he was on her.

Just as she was about to glance back, the sand under her suddenly gave way.

DESERT THIRST

An Erotic Expedition Novella

PART 3

By Hazel Hunter

Quinn knew he had to be close. Lou and her kidnapper were probably only an hour ahead, if that. Quinn glanced up at the sun. Just past midday–in the Sahara–but he had to keep up the pace. Everything depended on speed. If he didn’t overtake them today, at their first water stop at Tamikrest, he’d never be able to catch up.

Hold on, Lou.

He stared down at the camel tracks. It was like following a highway–two camels and their riders. The undulating dunes stretched to the west and he pounded up and down them, hoping at each crest that he’d catch a glimpse. So far, though, nothing. His lungs burned with the effort of running and the heat that rose from the sand.
 

Lou had come to find the endangered Hunting Dog but the whole time they’d been tracking it, they’d been tracked. He’d let her completely get under his skin and into his head. Everything about her had clouded his senses and judgment–first the sirocco and now this. He’d sensed something in the looks she’d attracted at the airport and along their drive out of town.
He’d known.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known and he’d ignored it.

He wouldn’t let her down again. He wouldn’t lose her. His feet pounded through the sand.

There, up ahead, camel droppings!

His nostrils flared and he opened his mouth as he ran by them. Very fresh. Still moist. He was getting close.

“Yes,” he muttered between labored breaths.

Hold on, Lou. Hold on.

• • • • •

Lou sank to her waist and screamed.

What was happening?
One moment she’d been running and the next…she looked down. She’d landed in water! The rifle she held in her hands was half-submerged.
 

Wait, this isn’t water. Is it mud?

Oh my god. It’s…

“Quicksand!” she screamed.

She moved her feet, tried to back up, but only sank another couple of inches.

“No!” she screamed.

She let go of the rifle and it immediately sank but her hands were still tied together. She raised her wrists to her teeth and tried to tug at the thick rope.

“Where is the gun?”

She turned to the man’s voice and sank another couple of inches.

“Help me!” she screamed.

The kidnapper’s camel was kneeling several feet away and he jumped off. The other camel stood behind it. Careful not to get too close, he stared down at her.
 

“The gun!” he yelled.

“It’s in the quicksand,” she panted. She reached out toward him. “Please, I’m
sinking
.”

He muttered something in Berber that sounded like cursing and pointed.

“The gun!”

“It sank!” she screamed. “
I told you.
” She reached out her hands again. “Please, pull me out.”

“First, the gun,” he yelled.

She sank another inch. At this point, she was up to her chest.

Oh god. Is he going to let me die?

He jabbed his finger at the quicksand behind her.
 

She squeezed her eyes closed for a second and willed herself to calm down. He wasn’t going to help her until she had that rifle. As she opened her eyes, she turned away from him and felt herself sink again.
 
A small shriek escaped her throat. Her feet felt as though she were standing on a mattress, like she ought to be able to push down, but every movement only seemed to create suction that pulled her further in. Though everything in her said it was the wrong thing to do, she slowly lowered her hands into the quicksand. The rifle had gone down where she’d landed, which was right where she still was.
 

Again she sank and her arms submerged to the elbows.

Where was the gun?

She spread out her fingers and moved her hands from side to side. It was like trying to swim through setting cement. The further she sank, the more resistance there was. She breathed heavily as she pushed her hands lower.
 

There it is.

But even as she strained to lift it out, the quicksand under her fell in response. By the time the rifle was clear, she was up to her armpits. She struggled to turn around and suddenly visualized herself submerging. In the moment of panic, she nearly dropped the gun.

“Here,” barked the man. He held out his hand and motioned with the other for her to throw it.

No way.

She held the wide wooden part of the gun and reached the barrel toward him. She wasn’t about to let go.

“
Pull!
” she screamed.

The man flinched as the aim of the barrel swung past him and then he seemed torn. He wanted the gun but he was afraid of the quicksand. Finally, he checked his footing and grasped the barrel. He yanked hard, as though he’d snatch it from her. But whether it was the panic or the fear of dying, her fingers gripped it like a vice and she moved through the quicksand.

He continued to back up, dragging her with the rifle. He muttered something she didn’t understand but it didn’t matter. He kept dragging her. With a final tug, her torso was on dry sand. She let go of the rifle and flopped onto her stomach. The quicksand sucked at her lower legs but finally the left foot came clear and then the right. She crawled as best she could with her hands tied and then came to a stop, panting.

“Oh god,” she breathed.

Her heart was pounding, her head was pounding, and her chest was heaving. She was lying prone, with her hands out in front of her, but she turned her head to find the kidnapper. He was standing right there, frantically brushing wet sand and mud from the trigger. With energy that she didn’t feel, she squirmed away from him and got to her knees. Despite the disaster she’d run straight into, she still needed to get away. She pushed to her feet, wobbled, and took a step.
 

Suddenly, her wrists were yanked to the right and she thudded into the ground on her side. Rough hands on her shoulders flipped her onto her back. Immediately his face was in front of hers, contorted in anger, eyes red, mucous running from his nose, mouth drooling. He grabbed the front of her shirt and shook her, screaming. Then he backhanded her.

• • • • •

Quinn heard screaming and froze. It was a man’s voice. The camel tracks led in that direction. It had come from just behind that next rise. Quietly, he removed his backpack and set it on the ground. His heart was pounding and his breath came in dry rasps. He could smell the camels and the man but not Lou. He clenched his jaws, got low to the ground, and crawled up the face of the small dune. He heard a camel snort and poked his head above the top of the sand.
 

There she was!

His mind raced as he tried to take in the scene. Lou was on her back and the man was on top of her, straddling her, his back to Quinn. The camels stood nearby and, behind them–that was quicksand.

The kidnapper had a rifle, on the sand next to him. If he could raise it in time, he couldn’t miss.

The man screamed again and backhanded Lou, snapping her head to the side.

Without hesitation, Quinn jumped up and raced down the dune. But the man must have heard because he immediately stood and turned. As though the world had slowed, Quinn watched as the man stooped to pick up the gun. Quinn’s foot landed deeply in the sloping sand and slid as his other foot came forward. The kidnapper was staring at him and lifting the gun. Quinn’s other foot came down, sand cascading across the slope in front of him. The man, still several feet away, pointed the barrel at him. Quinn looked down into the black hole at its end, looming in his vision as though it were a canon. The kidnapper’s hand found the lever. As he cocked it, Quinn closed the last few feet. The man’s index finger jerked on the trigger.

Click.

But the gun didn’t fire.
 

Quinn flew into him and the two of them crashed into the ground, Quinn on top. Before the man had even started to get up, Quinn was on his feet hammering him with his fists. They thudded into the back of the man’s head, then the side of it. Blow after blow rained down. By the time Quinn pulled the smaller man onto his back, he was barely conscious. Quinn swung hard and connected with the man’s jaw, laying him out flat on the sand, and he stopped moving.

Quinn whirled away and dashed over to Lou.

“Lou!” he said.
 

Her eyes were half-closed but they flew open at the sound of his voice. He moved his shadow over her face.

“Quinn?” she whispered hoarsely.

Her lips were completely parched and he realized her hands were tied.

“Hold on,” he said.

Quickly, he raced up the dune and fetched his pack. The bottle of water was out and open by the time he got back. Her eyes were closed again. Gently he lifted her head.

“Small sips,” he said and brought the bottle to her mouth.

He let the water trickle over her lips and then into her mouth as her eyes slowly opened. She tried to gulp and managed to swallow but then she coughed.

“Easy,” he said. “Not all at once.”

Too much water too quickly might bring on shock. He felt her relax her head back into his hand and she parted her lips as he tipped a little more water in.
 

“Good,” he said.

When was the last time she’d had water? He glanced at the unmoving body of her kidnapper. As Lou swallowed, he let her head settle back down.

“Let’s get that rope off you,” he said quietly.

He took the multi-knife from the side-pocket on his pants and quickly slashed upward through the thick cord. It fell in a wet pile from her wrists. He looked down the length of her. She was completely covered in sand and mud. If she tried to walk like that, she’d be rubbed raw in no time. Luckily, though, neither of them had to walk. He looked over at the camels.

“Quinn?” she whispered.

Although her lower lip had swollen, she was smiling.

“I knew you’d come,” she said weakly. “I knew you’d find me.”

He gently stroked the side of her face.

“I’ve got your scent now,” he said, lowly. “I can’t lose you.”

Her smiled slowly faded as her eyes closed.

He needed to get her to shelter, get her hydrated, and get that sand off her. There was only one place to do that.

Lou jerked awake to the sensation of movement and saw the head of a camel directly in front of her.
 

Where’s the kidnapper?

“You’re okay,” Quinn said from behind. “I’ve got you.”

She felt his hard chest at her back and his arm looped around her waist, holding her firmly against him. The camel was running and the small breeze that it created felt good against her face.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “Try to relax.”

She felt like she didn’t have a choice. She rested her head back against his chest and closed her eyes, as consciousness slipped away.

• • • • •

The camel had made good time, as Quinn knew it would.

Whatever chance they’d had to discover the den of the Painted Hunting Dog was gone though. The intrusion of their scents and the smelly beast they were riding, right in the heart of their territory, would now preclude finding them.

That hardly mattered any more.

Quinn stopped trying to direct the camel and let it go directly to the water and drink.

Lou had gone completely limp again, sitting on the saddle in front of him. He knew she was exhausted and dehydrated but she had to wake up now. As the camel slurped, he took the opportunity to wake her gently.

“Lou,” he whispered in her ear.

No response.

“Lou,” he said quietly.

He smoothed her hair back and looked down at her face. Even from this angle he could see that she was completely asleep, her lips parted, and her eyes moving back and forth beneath the lids. How anyone could sleep on the back of a camel he didn’t know but he hated to wake her. But she needed to drink and she needed to get that grit washed off.
 

And the stench of that man.
 

He clenched his jaw at the thought. Quinn had taken the rifle, though it probably wouldn’t fire, and he’d left him with one camel. Without the rifle, he wouldn’t be hunting them any longer and Quinn was pretty sure he’d broken the man’s jaw. He’d dragged him into the shadow of the other camel but if he never woke, that’d be fine too.