Intimate Knowledge

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Intimate Knowledge

ISBN # 978-1-78184-268-3

©Copyright Elizabeth Lapthorne 2013

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright March 2013

Edited by Sue Meadows

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Total-e-burning
and a
sexometer
of
2.

This story contains 96 pages, additionally there is also a
free excerpt
at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

The Agency

INTIMATE KNOWLEDGE

Elizabeth Lapthorne

Book five in The Agency series

While camping, Jennifer unwittingly stumbles upon a corrupt conspiracy. Only Saul—her best friend since childhood—can help her unravel the complex plot and keep her safe.

When Jennifer Mabbot goes camping in the Forest of Dean for some much needed soul-searching, she had no idea her life was about to take a very drastic turn. Witnessing a strange man burying a wooden box in the middle of the night, she thought it peculiar but nothing overly noteworthy.

Until, that is, she came home to be confronted by two men, clearly intent on hurting her for the whereabouts of the burial site. Turning to the only person she can trust—her life-long best friend, Saul Haslen—she asks for help and gets more than she could possibly bargain for.

Jennifer knows Saul does some sort of government work, but actually he is an elite member of The Agency. With danger coming from all sides and neither of them fully understanding what’s happening, they must work together to uncover the truth.

Before, Jennifer would have sworn she knew practically everything there was to know of Saul. But they are both learning more about each other, personally and sexually. Within that intimate knowledge lies the key to both their futures, and lasting happiness

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

The Singing Butler: Jack Vettriano, Aberdeen Art Gallery

Prologue

Jennifer Mabbot never did work out what the noise was that had grabbed her attention in the cool autumn evening. In hindsight it could have been a rustle the strange man had made, or the metallic clink of his shovel against a stray stone in the dirt, or perhaps just the primitive awareness of one human being in close proximity to another. In the end, it didn’t matter. The simple fact was she had heard something, and curiosity had got the best of her.

She’d come to the Forest of Dean to do some soul-searching and rough camping. Jennifer wanted to confront herself, be removed from all the modern tools of distraction and procrastination. She needed quiet time, some space alone to straighten her head out and decide her priorities. Jennifer understood she needed to think about the direction her life should take over the coming few years.

Earlier in the evening, her thoughts had begun looping around themselves endlessly. A fierce determination to resolve her personal problems had turned from something she had felt confident in doing into a near overwhelming task. Her self-assurance had begun to waver. Before doubts had been able to creep in she’d decided to crawl into her heavily insulated sleeping bag and get an early night. Her issues would be clearer in the coming dawn, she felt certain.

But then the strange sound had intruded upon the silence of her evening.

Her heart pounded, the animalistic, instant response freezing her body. Jennifer grabbed the thin penlight she’d carefully laid beneath her pillow in case she’d needed the bathroom during the night. Extracting herself from her sleeping bag she pulled her sneakers, scarf, beanie and coat on. She left the tent, standing in the crisp, cold air, straining to listen.

The section of forest she occupied was deserted—or so she had believed—but still the silence was not absolute. Leaves rustled, the wind moved blades of grass and cars could be faintly heard a few miles away on the main road.

A grunt sounded.

Jennifer almost jumped out of her skin.

She pressed her hand to her mouth to still the shriek that tried to escape her lips. Turning around in a slow circle she took stock of her vicinity, her eyes long since having acclimatised to the darkness. The landscape was grassy but flat. In the absolute darkness of the evening, though, it was still treacherous. Trees and large rocks littered the surrounding area, providing the cover Jennifer had decided would be useful if the forecast rain should hit early.

This time the scrape was clear, the noise carrying through the air. Something rang through the air and the earthy thump of digging was unmistakable.

An avid reader, all sorts of scenarios flew though her mind. Having also watched a few too many late-night scary movies, particularly gory highlights from those also entered her brain. Vivid visions of mobsters burying bodies or axe murderers with bagged, dismembered limbs vied for attention in her brain.

Drawn forward despite the caution common sense screamed at her, Jennifer carefully stepped over the uneven ground. After a few hundred yards the noise was louder. Someone was definitely digging.

A shadow loomed in the darkness. Having made her way without the light, which was still in her coat pocket—worried it might draw attention—Jennifer huddled behind a tree, wrapped her arms around the trunk both for support and to prove to herself this was not a dream. Clinging to the rough bark she peered around, fairly certain she was hidden not only by the dark of the evening, but also the shadow created from the tree.

A slender man bent over the soil, his attention fully taken in the task he performed. He lifted a shovel, pushed it into the ground with his weight behind it and pressing his foot into the movement. It sank readily into the dirt. He continued to dig.

Frowning, Jennifer leaned around the tree, straining to search the man’s surroundings. She could not see a body, or garbage bags, or indeed anything he might be trying to hide.

Relief warred with disappointment.

Bolder now, Jennifer moved quietly to stand beside the tree. She remained well hidden in the darkness and shadows cast from the forest, at least a hundred or more yards away from the small clearing.

She had an unfettered view of this stranger as he worked away, and she no longer cowered like a frightened child. The man was tall and of a slight build. He wore dark-coloured clothes, black or maybe grey. He breathed heavily, small puffs of mist escaping his mouth. He panted from exertion.

She watched as he knelt to the earth and brushed at the hole he’d created. He dropped the shovel to the ground, stood again and tossed his head back. Jennifer noticed he had longer hair than she’d first observed. It too was brown or perhaps black. It was long enough to touch his collar, but in the darkness his hair blended with the coat he wore, so she couldn’t tell exactly how long it was. He lifted a pale hand to brush the strands away from his face, tucking them behind his ear.

Jennifer couldn’t make out his features, but she could tell he was Caucasian. She also knew from his movements that he was definitely male and neither extremely young or old. After brushing his hair back and giving his head a shake he picked up a small backpack she hadn’t seen in the gloom.

Virtually empty, the bag had lain almost flat on the ground and had been easily missed by her. The man cast a glance around him. Jennifer pressed her body back against the tree, her heart hammering as fear spiked through her once again. Even though he didn’t notice her, he had to have looked right past her. Her skin crawled. She felt certain his gaze didn’t pause on her, but fear made her almost dizzy. Tiny pin pricks stabbed the nape of her neck, and for a paranoid moment Jennifer thought she was being watched.

The man dug into the bag, clearly not worried or aware of her presence. But Jennifer glanced around her. Something triggered her instincts. The forest was empty except for herself and this stranger, no movement or noise indicated anything different. But still her mind insisted she was being observed. Heat and awareness jolted in her blood, and she struggled to inject some common sense into her mind.

Jennifer shook her head.

“You’re paranoid,” she whispered to herself. “Delusional and feeling guilty for spying. Snap out of it.”

Not feeling able to leave at this late point, she returned her attention to the strange man. He had dropped the backpack to the ground again, but now held a wooden box. A little smaller than a shoe box it didn’t appear particularly heavy as the man held it with a relaxed grip.

Kneeling, he placed the box in the hole and started moving dirt back in with his bare hands.

Quite disappointed, but eased by the seeming normalcy of the entire situation, Jennifer watched for a moment longer. Just as she was ready to leave, the man stood, brushed the dirt from his knees and picked up his backpack. He turned his back and started to move away. Satisfied that was it, she turned away. Slowly picking her way back towards her tent, she mulled the situation over.

She could easily think of a dozen and more reasons why someone would want to come into the forest to bury a small box. It could be his retirement fund, a secret stash of money, or small items he’d purchased to evade some tax. It could even be legitimate earnings the man just wanted to salt away so his wife didn’t go on a shoe shopping binge. Or maybe it was private documents, proof of embezzlement or copies of legal forms he didn’t want others knowing about. It could even be a few discs or memory sticks filled with a dirty porn collection. The list was endless.

Whatever it was, he’d buried it out there and it was none of her business. Walking faster now, caught somewhere between guilt for snooping and eagerness to return to her warm sleeping bag, Jennifer was ready to get back to her bed. As she came upon her small camp her skin prickled again, but this time it was enough to raise the hairs at the base of her neck.

She froze, ancient hunter-prey instinct taking over. Jennifer glanced around her, frowning as she tried to work out if her imagination had overheated or if maybe the man had seen or heard her leave and had followed her.