My Time in the Affair (22 page)

“Don't worry, the car is bullet proof.”

“
WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR CAR BULLET PROOF!?
”

Tal didn't answer anymore questions, no matter how much she screamed. The car raced along, and she was pretty sure they were air born at one point. She hugged the chair in front of her, screaming and praying for it to end.

What is going on!? How did I go from making out to getting shot at!?

They drove at breakneck speeds for about ten minutes. Then they broke away from the city. From her position on the floor, Misch could see the tops of trees out the window. But she still refused to get up. Not even when the car came to a stop. Not even when Tal told her it was safe. Not even when he got out and came around to her side, opening the door for her.

“C'mon, Mischa, you've gotta help a little,” he grumbled, curling his arms under her own and yanking.

She still didn't budge.

He finally managed to wrestle her out of the back seat, and he carried her away from the car. She could hear gravel crunching under his feet. Then she was jostled around as he used one of his hands. A minute later, and they were inside a building. She finally opened her eyes, but couldn't see anything.

“Where are we?” she asked, nervous that they were in the dark.

“My place.”

The lights came on and Misch glanced around. They were in a house. There were large, mismatched rugs everywhere, and everything was open. In front of them was a spacious, sunken living room, then steps up to a raised, exposed bedroom. Next to it was another room, but it was dark, and to their left was a kitchen that looked like it had been transported straight out of the 1980's.

This can't be anywhere but his home.

“Put me down,” she grumbled, shoving at his chest.

When she was on her own two feet, she realized she was missing a shoe. She kicked her remaining one off, then moved down into his living room. There were two sofas stretching away from each other, and an end table between them. No chairs, no coffee tables. Just rugs.

“I'm sorry it's messy,” he said from behind her.

Mischa slowly turned around to face him, holding her hands up. He stared back, his arms crossed. She was at a loss. They had been making out. They had gotten shot at. They were standing in his house.

“What
THE FUCK
is going on, Tal!?” she demanded.

“You need to relax. Go lay down, and I'll get you something to -,”

“
I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING LAY DOWN, I WANT SOME GODDAMN ANSWERS!
”

There was almost a wrestling style smack down, but Tal got her onto the bed. She stayed on top of the covers, curled against his pillows, while he went over to his kitchen. She glared at him when he came back, but she took the mug he was handing to her. When she sipped at the liquid, she coughed and almost spit it out.

“
Beer!?
” she exclaimed.

“Sorry, it was that or tea. I didn't want to boil water.”

She chugged down the rest of what was in the mug.

“Alright. I'm relaxed. I'm chill as fuck. Now tell me, please, what happened?” she panted, wiping beer off of her chin. Tal took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face.

“
That
was a terrorist attack,” he said in a simple voice, like he was explaining why the bus system was running late.

“I'm sorry. I'm kind of stupid. You'll have to be a little more specific. A
what?
” she asked.

“Dirty deals and trades have been going on, arms getting shipped through Syria, where they go mostly unnoticed because of the unrest going on over there. Guns, rocket launchers, ammo, all kinds of stuff, including information, has been flowing. But it's kinda like a phone line, you know? Turkey starts making calls to terrorists in Syria, and it was only a matter of time before they started calling back. Now al Qaeda and even ISIS groups are popping up. Sometimes, shit goes down,” Tal explained.

Mischa was aghast. Of course, she knew about the trouble in Syria, but she'd been assured that Istanbul was well away from it. That she would be safe. There had been no “
hey, you might potentially get gunned down while walking to work
” clause in the paperwork she'd signed before agreeing to travel for her job.

“My office building was shot up … by terrorists …,” she couldn't even voice her thoughts properly. Probably because she couldn't think properly, period.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Cause terrorists are dicks.”

Mischa burst out laughing, so hard she dropped her beer mug. Tal chuckled and took it away from her.

“How do you know all this?” she asked, fanning her hand in front of her face.

“I have some friends who keep me well informed,” he replied in a casual voice.

“Friends who are aware of imminent terrorist attacks, and they just call you up and randomly let you know?” she tried to clarify. He sighed and moved up so he was leaning against the pillows next to her.

“Look … I can't explain it all to you right now, okay? I know some people, who know some things. I knew that a terrorist attack, in the area of your workplace, was a possibility. And this morning, I got a call that it had gone from a possibility to a fact.”

“You knew this was a possibility, and you let me come here!?”

“Hey, I tried to talk you out of coming here. Lots of times.”

“Yeah, but never once was '
hey, you might get fucking shot
' said! I might have been easier to convince if that had been mentioned!” she snapped at him.

“I couldn't say that, babe,” he sighed.

“Why not!?”

“I can't explain it.”

Mischa felt herself getting worked into a fluster. She scrambled to get off his bed, grumbling to herself as she went.

“I'm getting really fucking sick and tired of that response,” she informed him.

“I know. And I promise, I'll -,”

“
And
that one. I've heard it too much. When is it gonna be the right time, Tal!? Jesus, are you a terrorist!?” she suddenly gasped, staring down at him. He burst out laughing.

“
No,
I'm not a terrorist. Calm down,” he snorted at her as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back onto the mattress.

“Why can't you tell me anything? I thought we were in this together,” she switched tactics, softening her voice and blinking her eyes at him. He frowned.

“We are. Look, it's been a rough day. You look exhausted. Why don't you relax, take a nap. I'll make some phone calls. When you wake up, I promise –
promise
– I will tell you anything you want to know,” he offered.

Hmmm. Mischa was so wired up, had so much adrenaline pumping through her, that she felt like she could run a marathon. Sleeping was not an option. But she also really wanted to ask
a lot
of questions, and it was clear he needed some time to wrap his brain around answering them. She sighed.

“Can I take a shower?”

“Huh?”

She wanted to give him space, and to get the shattered glass out of her hair, so he showed her into his bathroom. She took her time in the shower, letting the hot water soak into her tense muscles. When it was time to rinse off, she was only able to shampoo her hair because that was all he had; stupid boy. There went any worries about a Mrs. Canaan – a woman needs conditioner. She wrapped a large, rough feeling towel around her body before heading out into the open area.

“Where are you?” she called out, rubbing a smaller towel over her head.

“In here!”

She went to his bedroom. It was a small space, more like a large nook, and the bed took up most of the room. There were little bookshelves along the walls on either side, and Tal was standing in front of one, holding a large scrapbook.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just looking at some old pictures.”

She went and stood next to him, looked down at the book. Then she laughed. He had the page opened to a bunch of pictures of when he'd been in the army.

“You're
adorable!
” she cooed. He grunted.

“Shut up.”

Adorable probably wasn't the right thing to say, but “
sexy as fuck
” would have been appropriate. He was young in the picture, probably eighteen or nineteen. He still had his tan skin, even had dark stubble on his jaw. He had a bandana or a flag or something wrapped around his forehead, pushing his hair back, and he had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth while he gave a cocky, sly smirk to the camera.

The picture got slightly less adorable as she looked down, though. He was dressed in full military gear, camouflage pants and a matching jacket, with a flak jacket over it. He had a scary looking rifle in his arms – M16? Is that what they were called? – and other weapons strapped to his belt.

“Where were you?” Mischa asked, smoothing her fingers over the picture.

“A military base.
Biranit
, near
Galilee,
” he said, and he wrapped a thick accent around the words, something she'd never heard him do before. He spoke Italian with an American accent so obvious, even she'd been able to hear it – and she didn't even speak Italian.

“Do you know how to speak …,” she searched her brain to think of what was spoken in Israel. “Hebrew?”

“Yeah, grew up speaking it, and Arabic, and English. Learned Italian when we moved to America,” he replied.

“You don't speak Turkish?” she questioned.

“Not really
.
”

Mischa glanced back down at the picture. She kept honing in on the gun. Such a small part of the picture, such a big bang. She tried to picture Tal shooting a gun, with his easy manner and big smile. But then again, he'd looked pretty scary when he'd confronted Ruiz, in Rome. He'd probably look pretty scary holding a weapon, too. She wished he'd had one earlier, when they'd been getting shot at, but then that thought made her realize something else.

“God, what if you'd been shot today!?” she exclaimed, thinking of it for the first time. Tal rolled his eyes and sat the scrapbook down.

“I didn't get shot today,” he assured her.

“But you could have,” she pointed out, remembering the way he'd run around the car to grab her.

“Yeah, but I didn't. I have a better chance of getting shot while waiting in a subway station in New York,” he pointed out.

She grabbed his arm and hugged it to her chest.

“I would die if anything happened to you,” she whispered. He chuckled.

“I've been through a lot worse, trust me. It's gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me,” he teased her, turning so she was leaning into his chest.

Who is this man?

Misch pressed her hands flat against his waist, then slid them under his shirt. Pushed and pulled till he was forced to take it off. She smoothed her fingers across his chest, letting her eyes move over his skin. Skin that she'd only known for a month, yet she felt as if it belonged to her already. A possession she never wanted to lose, never wanted to see it hurt.

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Even she was surprised by the ferocity with which she kissed him, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't waste one more second with him. What if he went out the door tomorrow, and never came back!?

She yanked his pants open and he pulled her towel away. Adrenaline shot through her and must have passed to him, because his hands started moving as fast as her own. He shoved her roughly onto the bed, then stepped out of his pants and followed her, laying down on top of her.

“I can't believe I was in a gun fight, and my first reaction is to have sex,” she gasped as his tongue paid attention to her breasts.

“Not a gun fight. You'd have to fire back for it to be a fight,” he corrected her. “And emergency situations can sometimes cause an overwhelming emotional reaction.” Misch shoved at his shoulder, forcing him onto his back, and she straddled his waist.

“Well, I'm feeling very over-fucking-whelmed right now,” she assured him, tracing her tongue down his sternum.

She'd been so upset, so scared, and he'd stayed so calm. Had protected her. An instant reaction on his part. She wanted to show her appreciation, so she kept working her tongue lower. Lower still. Low enough to lick a circle around the base of his dick, which was rock hard and pointing straight up.

“
Fuck,
” he hissed, when she tightened her lips around his head.

Blowjobs had never really been Mischa's “
thing
”, more a duty to be done. She put in her minimum time, then she was done. But not with Tal. She always wanted to rock him a little, the same way he did to her, so she gave it her all. Flattened her tongue against the sensitive underside of his tip, then worked it all the way down his shaft, and all the way back up again.

He was too big for her to get crazy with, and she was was no deep throat queen, but she gave it her all. Trapped him sideways between her lips and moved up and down him that way. Worked him in her hand while she gave her tongue's attention to his sack. Then she went back to the tippy top. Wrapped her lips around his head and her hands around his cock, then she moved them in unison, as one, her hand making up for what her mouth couldn't reach.