Chapter 1

Soft whimpers emanated from the restless figure in the centre of the large, rumpled bed. The thrashing and moaning had become increasingly frantic over the last hour. It had been this restlessness, coupled with the soft, but insistent sounds, which had awoken the dazed figure that now lay crumpled on the floor. The dark of the night reigned over the room as the figure on the floor slowly came back to her senses.

Francesca ran a shaky hand over her face, reaching up to tentatively inspect her scalp. Feeling no blood and only a small bump she began to ease herself back to her feet. Straightening the hem of her silk negligee she stared bemusedly at the bed. Waiting for the last of the dizziness to pass, and her eyes to adjust to the gloom, she listened to the pleading, desolate sounds that filled the room. Each gasped noise made her heart clench in her chest. Cautiously, she moved back to the bed.

"I just don't learn, do I?" The wistful sound of her voice filled the room as she sat on the edge of the mattress. Close to the restless sleeper, but not touching. "It's just that I hear you crying? Hell, it's like I can feel the same pain you feel in your dreams. I just forget and reach out for you." The sleeper seemed to relax as she spoke, the thrashing becoming less wild, the whimpers softer. "Then I end up on the floor. Guess it's true what they say about never catching a tiger by the tail? eh?" The sleeping blonde was still and silent now, chest rising and falling in even breaths, soothed by the silken voice of the seated woman, face set in quiet repose.

With Hunter now in a deep, healing sleep, Francesca placed a kiss on the still furrowed brow and quietly left the room. Being careful to pull the door closed behind her, the heiress made her way across the landing towards her son's bedroom. It was still the early hours of the morning, the house quiet around her. Pushing Terry's door open a crack, she saw her son was sound asleep, clutching his favourite football. Satisfied that he had not been affected by the commotion in the master bedroom she continued on to the room shared by her twin daughters.

Nearing the twin's open door Francesca's face split into an affectionate smile as she saw the weak light of their, almost, identical nightlights edging feebly into the hall. Pink and green light mixed on the carpet, making a strange sickly shade. As she entered the room, she came to Rochelle's bed first, tugging the sheets back into place around the lightly snoring child. The small, squeaking grunts coming from the little girl were incongruous when one looked at her. Bathed in the pink hue of her fairy-shaped light- blankets and pyjamas the same shade- she looked like an angel in need of decongestant. In a vice-like grip she held the latest Barbie. The doll's hair was tousled by each noisy exhalation.

Turning to her youngest daughter's bed, the tall brunette was startled to see wide brown eyes gazing back at her. Illuminated by the green glow of her own fairy, Becca's eyes seemed to take on its appearance, flashing between brown and green as she fidgeted nervously. As her mother approached, the small girl scooted up to the head of the bed and sat, cross-legged, still not making a sound.

"Becca, honey, why are you still awake?" Francesca spoke in low tones so as not to wake the other child who slept on, oblivious.

"I heard a crash, Mama," the child's lip jutted out sorrowfully, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Sweetheart, it's OK." Long arms reached for the girl and drew her into a soft embrace. "Hunter was having a bad dream and I forgot the cardinal rule, again." Even the child could pick up the tone of self-deprecation. "Do you remember the rule, Becca?"

"Never surprise Hunter!" The child's tears were forgotten as she beamed with pride. Hunter was her favourite person; of course she knew the rule.

"Good girl. Hey, how about you come downstairs with me and we'll have some warm milk and you can tell me what's really bothering you. Then maybe you can go back to sleep." A well-manicured finger tapped a button nose as very alert, brown eyes crossed comically to study it.

The smaller brunette jumped out of bed and charged out of the room. Francesca shook her head at her daughter's antics. Before she could chastise her, she was gone. The heiress followed at a more sedate pace, checking once more on her other daughter before she left. She ducked into her son's room on her way to the stairs. Kissing his cheek, she could hear Becca trotting down the stairs. Glimpsing the alarm clock beside her son's bed, she was shocked to see that it was 3.15! She definitely needed to get Becca back to bed, not to mention herself.

Following her daughter's path she found the pyjama clad seven year old waiting patiently at the kitchen table. The part-time singer, full time mother, began the now familiar task of preparing warm milk with honey. A sure fire way to knock all of her children, and one small gladiator, out like a light.






Sticky! Why was everything so sticky? Eyes strained to open, to no avail, seemingly welded closed. Body quavering, a tentative hand reached for her cheek, finding it tacky to the touch. Disorientation coursed through her body; she could still feel the soft familiarity of the mattress beneath her yet the room was unnaturally still, the smell? off somehow.

Breath rasped loudly in and out of her lungs, fracturing the silence into tiny shards of disquiet. The more panicked she became, the shallower each breath. Soon lungs burned, fit to burst. Her body was becoming starved of oxygen, mind growing cloudy as suffocation set in. Desperately trying to move, to escape the suddenly cloying confines of the mattress, the warrior found herself held in place by invisible forces. Only her arms seemed free of constraint.
Flailing arms lashed out, trying to break the hold that pinned her down, only to encounter nothing but air. A scream of frustration bubbled from her lips as her arms collapsed bonelessly to the yielding surface. Her arms stilled as her mind seemed to kick into overdrive.

Arms, which suddenly didn't seem so useless, slid across the surface of the bed. Cautious in their journey, they followed a well-worn path to the side. Mind whirring with apprehension she sought for the person who should be lying beside her. The person whose breathing was noticeable by its absence. Trembling fingers soon encountered warmth.

The bed felt strangely damp beneath her fingers. The warm liquid coating her fingers was rapidly cooling. Her heart spasmed in her chest, seeming to stop as her fingers journeyed onwards. She knew what her touch would encounter, but could not help the feint glimmer of hope that kept her moving forwards.

Sticky fingers, bound with blood, reached their gory destination. Without eyes to see, hands roamed over a face and torso raw from a beating. The skin, muscle and bone, once smooth, now bore the texture of ground meat. As her finger sunk into the soft tissue that once may have been an eye, her body began to quake uncontrollably.

Mind spinning, she reached a shocking conclusion. The coating of blood on her hands, made obvious to her by its stench, was her lover's. She was responsible for the mutilated corpse beside her! Heedless of pain, the gladiator tore at her face with her hands, nails digging like claws into vulnerable eyelids. With a final tear her eyes flew open...

Hunter bolted up in bed, a scream dying on her lips as she was savagely ripped from the nightmare's cloying embrace. Her body was drenched with sweat, hair plastered to her forehead and neck. Her breathing and heart rate slowly decelerated as she sucked in huge lungfuls of air. Resolutely, she tried to push the hideousness of the dream from her mind.

Green eyes scanned the room, landing on the familiar objects, skipping from one to the other. She was touching base, seeking terra firma after the shifting sands that she had clawed to break free from. Unknowingly she mirrored the gesture performed by Francesca not long before, running her hand down her face and through her hair. She had to be certain that it had all been an illusion. Even though no bludgeoned body lay beside her she still needed reassurance.

Tossing the bed covers roughly aside, she almost flew from the bed. She rushed across the densely carpeted floor, barely feeling her feet touch the soft material. Her goal was clear, only one thought in her mind. The smooth white door seemed to glow in the dim moonlight, suffusing the room.

Reaching the bathroom she fell through the door. In one, swift, movement she pulled the door tightly shut and pulled the chord for light. The room was filled by the sudden burst of light. It bounced off white tiles and skittered across the ivory bath. Blinded, yet feeling oddly detached rather than afraid, the small woman simply waited for her eyes to adjust. The light itself comforted the woman, wrapping around her and through her, offering sanctuary.

Moving with the surety of one trained to use their body; she proceeded to the vanity, even as her eyes cleared. She rested her hands on the smooth marble of the counter top and focused her still blurry eyes on the illuminated mirror ahead of her. Almost achingly slowly, her image seemed to solidify in the glass. As her features resolved themselves she studied them, one by one.

Blonde hair, so pale it was almost white, crowned a round, cherubic face. She might have been called angelic, but time and pain had ground that away. Scarring was visible on cheek and brow- some small and feint, others a badge of her training. Even without these, her oft-furrowed brow and hollow eyes revealed her troubled soul.

Hunter fingered the blonde strands with a sense of wonder. She had never thought to see this colour adorning her head again. For so many years her hair and eyes had been a uniform shade of electric blue; unnatural and intimidating. Her new, green eyes were as false as the others had been and yet, even knowing this, the olive green held a spark of life that the others never had. Maybe it was just the presence of pupils that contracted and expanded, giving life where once she had appeared to be an automaton, but it did change her whole countenance.

Blinking owlishly at her reflection, her hands, seemingly of their own accord, turned on the cold water faucet. Not waiting for the basin to fill, she thrust her head into the icy-cold stream. It was like a stiletto slicing through her brain. Cutting through the folly of introspection. Hacking away at the clouds that covered her thoughts. Flinging her head back, she shook like a dog, sending a fine spray of water from out from the short strands. Turning off the water she dashed the water from her face and slicked back her damp hair.

Bags under her eyes attested to countless nights reliving the same dream. She couldn't go on like this. For years she had existed on only an hour's sleep, the wonders of genetic enhancement. Even then, with the constant dull ache of pain that suffused every cell of her body, she felt more rested than this. It was almost as though the more she slept the more exhausted she became.

Restless thoughts suddenly ground to a stop, so fast that sparks almost showered. Everything stopped. Nothing mattered. One thought filled her mind?

Where was Francesca?

Unwilling to let panic overtake her, she turned to the door. Sucking in a hissing breath she went in search of her lover.






The small child lay cosily ensconced in her mother's lap at the kitchen table. Two cups of steaming milk stood on the table; one half drained the other barely touched. Becca nestled her head into the junction where her mother's neck met her shoulder. She could smell the comforting scent of her shampoo. The pair had been sitting in companionable silence; both comforted by the other's presence, until now.

"Mama?" Francesca felt the soft whisper against her neck.

"Yes baby-girl?" A soft kiss was planted on the child's crown.

"When I heard the crash in your room? It was like when daddy got really mad at you." Her voice had grown softer and softer, almost tapering off completely.

"Oh, Becca." Francesca pulled the little girl from her shoulder so that she could look her in the eye. "Becca, your father and I? it was difficult. He'd get upset and throw things. It was never anything to worry about." She tried to sound sincere, she had been so careful to hide the marks Doug often left on her body and mind, just not careful enough if the sceptical look in her daughter's eyes was any clue. She understood more than a child should.

"Does Hunter throw things?" It seemed to almost physically hurt the child to force the words out.

"Becca, Hunter has nothing in common with your father." She paused, contemplating that for a moment, "Well maybe the fact that she loves you three but that's all. She never gets frustrated, or throws things, she's too well trained." Neither mother nor child saw the arrival of the dark silhouette in the doorway. "Hunter was having a bad dream. I tried to wake her up and forgot about?"

"The cardiboard rule!"

""Cardinal, darling."

"Yeah, that! You told me that upstairs Mama!" The small face was scrunched in to a scowl, she was clearly perplexed.

"I didn't think that you believed me," a stray strand of hair was tucked behind her ear. "I tried to shake her awake and she pushed me away. I fell into the dresser, my head hurts a little, but Hunter was still asleep. We all just need to be careful for now." The figure in the doorway flinched at the words.

Hunter felt her palms start to sweat. She hated to hear Francesca talk about her in this way. The words she said were true and caring, but to know that, at least on some level, the other woman feared her almost broke her heart. She had to do something. She couldn't stay hidden in the shadows, cowering from an encounter with the heiress.

On silent feet she moved away from the door, towards the stairs. She went up swiftly, only to come back down with the same heavy footfall as the rest of the house. She struggled to maintain the noise, trained as she was to be a silent and ghostly shadow. As she drew closer to the door she could hear the voices once again spilling out into the hall.

"Can you hear that? I wonder who it is." The former slave could hear the childish giggles and knew that the singer was pulling faces. "Sounds like an elephant or maybe a heard of buffalo!" Becca's laughs echoed through the kitchen. Through the doorway the blonde could see mother and child engaged in a tickle war. Loath to interrupt them, she cleared her throat.

Two dark heads snapped towards the sound and she suddenly felt trapped in their twin gazes. Knowing that both mother and child were feeling anxious about her, she tried to seem carefree.

"Hey, if it isn't my two favourite girls! I wondered who was making all that racket." Her tone was light but her pose was that of a contrite child. Francesca had an inkling that her earlier conversation had been overheard by one sneaky bodyguard.

"Your two favourite girls?" Becca could not be afraid in the presence of her second favourite person. As she spoke the warrior had taken a seat and she now climbed onto her lap.

"Ok, so I have five favourite girls, you two are just at the tippy-top so you better shhhh. Don't tell anyone!" With a finger pressed to pursed lips and eyes crossed, the blonde looked like some sort of demented guppy. The little girl was laughing hysterically.

"I think it's time that somebody went to bed." A dark eyebrow raised as a blue eye fixed on the child.

"But Mama! I'm not tired!" Even as she said the words her eyes began to droop closed. Her voice had taken on a whiney edge that only sleepy children can manage.

Knowing that the excitement of giggling had worn off during the brief lull in conversation, Hunter began to growl low in her throat. It was almost a purr and all of the children found it quite soothing. The incongruity of a sound, first made to intimidate, which now put infants to sleep made the warrior wrap her arms more tightly around Becca and smiled bemusedly over her head. Francesca saw the smile and returned it full force.

Feeling Becca losing the battle with sleep, Hunter rose, carefully balancing the precious cargo in her arms. Meeting the brunette's eye she mouthed, 'I'll take her up'.

"Meet me in the den!" It was whispered seductively into her ear, followed by a kiss on the cheek that made the blonde blush as she walked away.






Candlelight flickered throughout the room, caressing everything it touched with amber fingers. It licked against the statuesque brunette's face, casting high cheekbones into stark relief. She sat, legs pulled beneath her, on the overstuffed sofa, enveloped in its comforting embrace. She would have been a vision of serenity, if her eyes had not continuously flickered towards the open door.

Idle hands began to toy restlessly with the ends of her hair. She was nervous, waiting there like a teenager before a first date. Sometimes she felt like she knew Rhani inside out but Hunter hardly at all. Her lover was a combination of two very different people and Rhani was only just reappearing. It was hard not to feel apprehension; she had known this conversation was coming but not sure how she would deal with it.

In the hallway, Hunter was feeling just as unsettled. She had lingered putting the child to bed. She had tucked her in and checked on the other two as she attempted to steel herself for what was to come. She knew what she had to say, knew that it was a necessity, but could not stop the worry that she would hurt Francesca with her words.

With a deep sigh, she steeled herself. Walking through the door, her mouth went dry as she saw Francesca, gilt in bronze by the firelight. The other woman looked like a goddess being worshiped by the flames. Her resolve was almost shattered, but she managed to pull the pieces back together as she walked around the couch to take a seat beside the vision. She was careful not to touch her.

Francesca had heard the changes in her lover's breathing as she entered the room, had sensed every pause and every twitch. Her mind was whirling as she tried to comprehend why the other woman was acting so strangely. She followed her with her eyes as the compact, muscular body moved around the seat. This was unusual in itself, Hunter always jumped over the back of the sofa, never walked around.

Her eyes began to narrow as she watched the smaller woman sit. There was an air of defeat around her as she slumped forward. She sat with her legs apart, back bowed. Her elbows rested on her knees with her hands hanging limply between them, her eyes were fixed on the floor. Her head was bowed so far that her short hair managed to obscure her eyes from the enquiring gaze of her partner. Francesca felt another piece of her heart claimed by the other woman as she reached out a manicured hand and ran it down the broad back.

There was silence in the room for many long minutes. The crackling of the fire even seemed muted by the tension filling the room. Gradually the older woman turned her head, blonde hair still falling into her eyes. She locked gaze with the brunette and finally decided to bite the bullet.

"Chess?"

"Hunter, Rhani, let me. I know that things aren't working out as we had hoped. This is all so new to both of us. We have to expect some teething trouble." Her voice was strong and reassuring, even though she was shaking on the inside.

"Chess I know what I did to you tonight." She carried on swiftly before she could be interrupted. "I know that I was asleep, I heard what you said to Becca. Accidents happen, I know that, but I could really hurt you. Hell, I could even kill you without waking up." Callused hands rubbed at her face. "I know I have these nightmares every night and it can't go on!"

Francesca felt her heart stop dead in her chest. What was Rhani saying? Panic was starting to set in, was she planning to leave? Voice quivering she forced out, "What do you mean?"

"I love you, I love sleeping with you, but I can't do it anymore!" Seeing the taller woman's eyes widen in shock and realising what she must be thinking Hunter grabbed her hands. "Chess, I'm not going to leave you or go to another room. Let me explain."

Francesca let herself relax for the first time since the other woman came into the room. With their hands still entwined she pulled Hunter closer and manoeuvred her own body until they were facing each other, knees and hands touching. Impulsively Francesca darted forwards and planted a quick but tender kiss on startled lips. Hunters look held a question, which the heiress answered with a smile that seemed to say thank you.

"When I came back, after Jordan, we needed to reconnect. We wanted to be with each other as much as we could. It helped me get better- I don't doubt that. Truthfully, I feel great during the day. It's at night that I am having problems, as you know." She rubbed her eyes self-consciously. "I think I know why and you're not going to like the solution."

"Rhani, I only want you to feel better."

"I know. When I came here, and for several years now, I've only required one hour of sleep each night. You knew that when you took me on as your guard, it was why I was picked. I never really thought about the enhancement before. I assumed that as it was intended for the corporate market, I could sleep longer if I wanted to. I thought that the defect that kept it off the market was the pain. Guess I was wrong, huh?" She looked at her partner and saw comprehension dawning. "When I was following orders I never had nightmares and rarely dreamt. When I came back you wanted me to sleep with you, all night. I've felt more tired in the last three weeks than I ever have. I don't think this is working."

Francesca almost jumped for joy at this revelation. She had worried that, perhaps, it was being together that was reminding Rhani of her ordeal. To know that it was a simple matter of biology and genetics gave her renewed hope. They could work through this as they had worked through everything else. Maybe they could reverse the technology as they had with her vocal inhibitor and her eyes.

Hunter could see the wheels turning in her head and moved quickly to bring them to a halt. "Chess, I know what you're thinking and I don't want to change this part of myself. I don't even think it could be changed. I like being able to guard you this well. I don't want to go through anymore scientific and frankly experimental procedures."

The brunette threw her arms around the gladiator and pulled her close. "Whatever you want is what we'll do." It was supposed to be a whisper, which quickly turned into a yawn.

"I may have had my quota of sleep, but you still need some more!" The stronger woman moved on the couch until her back rested against an arm. She pulled the other woman towards her and wrapped her in her arms. Francesca burrowed into the other woman's chest and felt safe and protected. Her eyes forced themselves shut as a strong hand stroked through her hair.

"Go to sleep Chess. I'll watch over you."


Chapter 2

"Now we go to Kim Sykes in the capital. Kim, what led to today's rioting?" The manikin perfect anchorman passed over to his colleague.

The camera cuts to a woman, dressed in a well tailored suit and coiffed to within an inch of her life. She stands in front of a scene of decimation. The street behind her is strewn with garbage and broken glass. Store windows are smashed, once carefully planted trees uprooted and benches thrown aside.

"Well Ken, as you can see we have another example of a peaceful demonstration being hijacked by extremists. Today, across the country, SOS members were participating in marches to show their report for Proposition 644."

Back in the studio, "For those viewers who may not be familiar with this, could you just give us some details on Prop. 644?"

Back to Kim, "644 contains legislation which would tighten slavery laws. It would make it illegal for private owners to set slaves free without first going to court for authorisation.

This has become a necessity due to the proliferation of slave markets selling off old warriors. These slaves are then taken on by private owners. This will not be affected; however often these owners begin to think of their slaves as well behaved pets. They then decide to set their slaves free. Clearly, this is a dangerous situation. These slaves are violent and unpredictable and must be carefully controlled.

Therefore Proposition 644 means that all slaves will have to be monitored for a period before they are even eligible for release by the courts. Some would say that this is overkill, especially for domestic slaves. The Slavery Organisation Supporters, or SOS, feel that this is a first step in the journey towards to the repeal of emancipation laws. They feel that all slaves are a danger as they will, quite naturally feel animosity towards those who once held them in servitude."

The camera moves quickly back to Ken who is in the process of scratching himself in a less than TV friendly place. Only the rapid gesturing of his producers alerted him to the camera, firmly directed at him. Red faced and trying to pull the shreds of his dignity together a few grunted vowel sounds escaped before he could pull his wits together.

"Ugh, thank you Kim. Now we know that the SOS were marching to show their support and as always they take part purely as an act of support. How did this peaceful act once again degenerate into running battles?" Relief was clearly written over his face as the camera moved back to the roving reporter.

"Once again the freedom campaigners were behind the violence. These groups, fixated on the principle that all humans should be equal, never pass up an opportunity to cause trouble at times like these. Proposition 644 has simply become a rallying cry for their beliefs.

It should be made clear that the peaceful branch of this fight, the EFA, do not publicly condone these actions. It is believed, however, that they do know the identities of the militant leaders. Only time will tell who will prevail in this campaign for slave rights."

Thwack! A large hand slammed down onto the surface of the conference table, drowning the final words of the news report. With all eyes focused on their leader, nobody noticed the monitor blink off into darkness. Sitting at the head of the table, he sized up his minions as he contemplated his next words. His fist had got their attention, now he needed to make his words plain.

"That, ladies and gentlemen, is what we are looking for! That is the type of publicity that 644 needs; that my campaign needs! We need to do everything that we can in order to ride the wave of this sort of publicity."

"Mr Dettore, are you completely sure about this stance? This could do your campaign more harm than good." Mousy and middle-aged, the woman wished she could take the words back as soon as they left her mouth.

"Ms?" Fingers were snapped in the direction of a reedy, slightly hunched young man.

"Schreiber, sir."

"Thank you Cliff. Ms Schreiber, this is what my campaign is based on. I believe, whole heartedly, that slaves should remain that way until they die. They are no better than animals and if I get my way they will continue to live like them!"

"But, sir, you can't go public with this; it'll destroy you in the face of the voters."

"Do I look like a complete moron, Mr Mortimer? Have I never taken part in politics before? I am well aware of the boundaries. That is why I am supporting the SOS. I show my support but don't have to go public. If any of you are going to have an issue with our stance, I would suggest that you leave my employ now and keep the security agreement you signed very much to heart!" A cool green eye scanned over the faces in the room, noticing mousy-Ms Schreiber flinch and cast her gaze down to her lap. Detorre gestured towards his right hand man.

"Right, people, we have a lot of other issues that we need to look at in order to get Mr Detorre into the public eye. What have we come up with so far?" A tall man in a small suit shuffled towards the monitor which had previously shown the news report.

Cliff moved to dim the lights as the presentation began. The young man sent a furtive and beady eyed glance towards his boss, receiving a nod in return. As the presentation began, he eased out of the conference room, unnoticed by all but Bradley Detorre.






Broad shoulders were squared as yet another question on the economy was fielded with aplomb. Confidence oozed from him, infusing the listeners and further expanding the ranks of his supporters. His suave good looks, confident manner and winning smile made him a hit with his target demographic, even before he opened his mouth. Luckily, he was as adept at political debate as any other politician and played the crowd well. Today he was on a nationwide talk show in order to drum up support.

As yet another inane question was directed his way by a member of the audience, Bradley internally rolled his eyes. People were so wrapped up in the mundane, the petty, that they barely gave a thought to the most important issues of national security, public safety and the degradation of society. Money, health and pleasure were all that these people seemed to have on their mind. Question after question had made this abundantly clear and further firmed his resolve to become a senator and start some changes. Changes that would make people more aware of the dangers that they faced externally and, more importantly, internally. Hell, he was headed to the Whitehouse, and then they would have to care.

He turned his full attention and 1000watt smile towards his current questioner. "That is a really excellent point and one which I am sure you've heard a hundred other politicians answer. Let me tell you that you will not hear any platitudes or old clichés here. I am totally committed?"




Cliff Walsh ran a thin, bony hand through his straw-like hair as he watched his leader from behind a monitor. He could almost mouth the words along with Dettore, as he answered each question; it was a well practiced script which had been written by both men. It wasn't that Cliff was the brain and Bradley the brawn, their relationship was much more complicated than that. They were both ambitious, intelligent men whose individual minds complimented each others well. Bradley was the elder, more charismatic and hungrier of the two; Cliff was more than willing to let him ride the wave to power. He would ride in the other mans wake and retain his position as his right hand.

Straightening his tie, the thin man turned towards the stage in time to see the politician tying up the interview. With a final flourish Dettore raised his arms wide in his signature farewell. It was supposed to make the audience feel that they are being embraced by the bog man and further strengthen his bond with them. The effect it had on a crowd was amazing and almost seemed to mesmerise the audience. One thing was for sure, Cliff could never hold an audience in his palm like this.

He continued to watch his friend approach until a large hand landed heavily on his shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. It was performed as much for the benefit of the still watching studio audience as it was for his assistant. Having this close relationship made him seem like much more a man of the people and he cultivated that as much as possible. It helped that he honestly liked the man who was slowly guiding them out of the studio.

Neither man spoke as they quickly approached the waiting limo. They walked in perfect sync yet not quite shoulder-to-shoulder. For appearances sake the smaller man walked slightly behind and to the right of his friend. It should have irked him, would have made other men rankle that they did as much work and were treated like this but to Cliff; this was a small price to pay. Everything changed once the limo door slammed closed.

"Excellent stuff Brad, they were really lapping it up!" A hearty punch in the shoulder punctuated his statement.

"They should have Cliff, it was your ideas. I just wish people were a little more interested in my favourite issues. I mean, you'd have thought that after all the marches and rioting people would be taking an interest!" The frustration was evident his face.

"Look, don't worry about it now, you're ahead in all of the research! If we win, you can beat this with a big stick until the cows come home. Concentrate on the goal, not how we get there!" The bigger man slumped into the buttery leather of the seats.

"This is really getting to you, isn't it?" Even as the question was asked a long finger pushed the button for the privacy screen. Soon they were separated from the driver and able to talk freely. "There is one way we can make this the electorates priority."

Bradley sat up straight, his attention totally focused, eyes boring into his companion. "Tell me!"

"You might not like this but we could?"






"Raindrops keep fallings on my head... Hmmmm? Hmmm."

The lithe blond hummed to herself as she performed her regular morning exercises. She seemed to flow into each movement and pose, every movement seeming to be more part of a ballet than a fight. Encased in tight black shorts and sports-bra, her slight body gleamed with sweat turning her into a glazed porcelain figure given life. Even when she stilled for brief moments, she seemed to be in motion. It was not a nervous energy that suffused her, more a sense of danger and anticipation.

Flowing through her drills she was more than aware that green eyes were firmly planted on her. She almost felt his gaze travel over her, something between a caress and a slap. She was never sure how her master felt about her presence or even why he had purchased her. She thought it may have something to do with the nervous, twitchy little man that seemed to constantly shadow him. Some sort of power play that she could not, as yet, understand. She would find out, her cunning mind would not be stopped before it sorted the pieces of the puzzle. Continuing to sing her melody she whirled into an even more acrobatic routine, knowing that she would keep his focus for at least a little longer.

Bradley was at once transfixed and repulsed by the woman prancing, flipping and kicking before him. He was reluctant even to step closer into the room, preferring to stand in the no-mans land of the door less archway. He could not help but be impressed by her athletic prowess. The fact that a woman who looked so fragile, almost dainty, could deliver a killing blow to men larger than himself had fascinated him for more than a year now.

When Cliff had suggested that he buy a slave he was appalled. As much as he believed that slaves should remain in servitude until their deaths he did not want to own one. The very idea of being close to one of these animals made his skin crawl, he almost felt physically sick. Despite this he had let himself be persuaded by his most trusted advisor. It would make his stance on slavery more compelling if he himself kept a slave as a slave and not a pet. The warrior training before was testament to the fact that he had done just that.

To an outsider, simply catching a glimpse of events in the penthouse, it would seem that he was reneging on his own views. The room that the slave trained in was spacious and well appointed, every type of workout equipment adorned the walls and floor. What that same observer would not have seen was the fact that she slept in a small, secured cell in the adjoining room. Not one possession was her own and she was more than subject to his personal whims. She was supposed to be his guard but he seldom took her out into public. That was about to change.

The ball of energy suddenly drew up short, feet from her owner, as she sensed another approach. She stood so close to Detorre that he could smell her, could see every bead of sweat trickle down her face and between the valley of her breasts. Most men would have found the sight unbearably sexy, it just made him feel sick. He could see that she wanted to move closer, to take up a protective stance beside him, but reigned it in knowing that her actions would not be welcomed. It fascinated him that even after some very neglectful and honestly hurtful incidents within the walls of his home, this creature was still willing to perform her duties. She was like a well trained dog and it simply confirmed his views.

Cliff reached the doorway in time to see his friend looking at his property with total contempt and a little bemusement. They were about to take the first step towards a place that he knew Bradley would loath but the ends justified the means. Ever since they had bought Lana Point, the acclaimed Thorn, from the Huhn auction he had been planning this for Dettore's campaign. He had purchased this particular slave for the other man because of her unpredictable and extreme nature. So far she had been quite restrained, only going berserk twice in the time that she had been theirs.

Looking at her now, standing poised for action, his mind recalled the violence that she could unleash. The first time that she had beaten a man in Cliff's presence, the youth had not walked away and he never would. She had shattered his spine just for looking at her the wrong way. The damage had been done with such speed and lack of emotion that it had taken minutes for them to register what was happening. She had been severely disciplined but after years of similar behaviour they were not expecting much. The second time she did it they thought that they were ready. They could never have been ready to see her literally shred a German Shepherd that had tried to attack her. The volume of blood and the relish on her face had lingered with both men until this day.

Shaking himself out of his revelry he cleared his throat. "Thorn, your master and I need to give you your new instructions. You have, so far, performed every task that we set you with skill and obedience. Now we need you to take a more active role. Change and come to the office!"

As the woman spun, catlike, and padded towards her small living area the two men exchanged a glance. The smaller man oozed palpable confidence which he hoped would suffuse his larger companion. He placed a guiding hand on a broad shoulder and nudged him towards the office to await the coming of his property.

"I hope that you're right about this Cliff." Uncertainty laced through his voice.

"It'll be fine Bradley, remember what we are going to achieve! Nothing can get in the way of our goals!"




Chapter 3

Batting away the hands fiddling with her shirt for the third time in as many minutes, Hunter tried to catch the other woman's eye. She was clearly agitated, quickly pulling her hands free to pull invisible lint off of the shorter woman's shoulder. The gladiator turned a despairing eye towards the 3 children standing at the foot of the stairs. She could see each of them trying to suppress giggles as they saw her suffering the same ritual that they had just gone through.

Terrance caught her eye and raised a thumb to his lips. Thumb liberally smeared in spit, he preceded to rub it against his cheek while giving the adult an evil wink. Hunter's eyes widened in horror as the realization of what he meant sank in. Oh, my God! This is ridiculous!

Just then Francesca pulled a handkerchief from her purse, time to stop this dead in its tracks. Hunter cleared her throat loudly and snatched the hanky out of her lovers hand with lightening speed. Startled blue eyes met green for the first time, widening as they registered the smirk on the shorter woman's face.

"Chess?"

"Yes?" Francesca felt as though she had fallen out of the loop completely. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the children, all wearing very expectant expressions, clearly they knew what was coming.

"You do know you're not my mommy, right?" Green eyes sparkled with mischief.

Francesca flushed crimson as she realized what she had been about to do. She had been getting the children ready for their party and naturally started to tidy her lover as well. Her blush deepened as she looked at the white lace gripped in strong hands, she had never thought she would do that to her children, let alone a grown adult! She started to shake her head, inky tresses falling into her face as they began to chuckle.

Hunter was glad to see the other woman seeing the funny side. Deciding to lighten the mood further, pleased to see the sombre mood sported by her lover all morning dissipated, she continued the joke. "You know, for a moment there I was afraid we were becoming the Von Traps. I tell you now, I've heard the kids sing and it ain't pretty! Plus, I refuse to be a nun!"

The brunette, still laughing, leaned forward and kissed a blond eye brow in something of an apology. Taking the white lace back and putting it back, she reached forward to take her partners hand.

"I'll try to restrain myself in future!" Her eyes were dancing with mirth.

"That's all I ask!" Turning to the terrible threesome she gave them a baleful stare. "Now you treacherous little monsters, what shall I do to you?"

Before anybody knew what was happening the three children were running from the charging and snarling warrior. Screams of glee filled the foyer as one after the other Hunter grabbed the children, tickling and throwing them into the air. Francesca laughed along with them but couldn't join in, it would ruin her carefully selected outfit. Looking at the rumpled and red-faced appearance of her children she realized that her attempts to make them look presentable had all been in vain. But, for all that, she thought that they looked a lot better now. Sharing a jaw-splitting grin with her family, she quickly ushered them all towards the waiting chauffer and car.




Snuggled together in the back of the car both women waved goodbye to the children as they were ushered into the birthday party. Turning from the window, the heiress placed her hand on the warrior's neck pulling their heads together. They fell into the kiss with passion which they had to carefully control to avoid giving the driver a show. Long minutes passed before they pulled apart, just a little, and began to talk softly.

"Hope the kids enjoy themselves." Green eyes kept flicking back to the window even though they were now out of sight of the house.

Francesca loved to hear her lover talk about the children with such honest affection, it warmed her heart. "I'm sure they will. They were already buzzing from the fun they had at home! I swear, the Berringers are going to think that we feed them nothing but raw sugar." They shared an affectionate smile at the thought before Francesca's expression clouded slightly. "Something's been on my mind since the other night."

"What would that be?" Hunter didn't need to ask which night she was talking about.

"You said you do best on one hours sleep each night but when we bought you it said four hours. You used to sleep for four in my closet." The blond could see the confusion in her companion's eyes and something else, a small measure of fear.

"That was a typo in the catalogue. It should have said that the minimum I needed to function was four hours sleep a week. I wasn't going to tell you that when I was still nothing more than a slave to you. Those stolen hours were all that I had to myself; they let me keep self control. Then later when I was hurt you wanted us to sleep together. I never told you because sleeping together made you so happy! Guess we know that was a stupid idea now, don't we?" She was visibly chagrined.

"Oh." She looked satisfied for now but knowing the singer this would no doubt come up again. They began to talk about more mundane things as they approached their first stop of the day, her agent.

The singer had been recording a new album during the fiasco with Jordan. Unable to record after the stalking became more intense and unwilling to when the gladiator was missing, she had used the experiences to write some of her best lyrics to date. After Hunter was retrieved and recovering from her horrific injuries at home, Francesca had made the time to finish recording. Today she would be meeting with her agent, Jake Read, and her publicist, Rashid Dariwal.

As they got closer to Read's building, the bodyguard began to squirm a little in her seat. The woman resting against her noticed but said nothing, knowing instinctively what was going on in her partners head. Since being tortured and almost killed by her former lover she had not left the Prince mansion. The furthest she had been was the grounds surrounding the imposing building, she had not been out in public. It made her feel self-conscious and if she was honest with herself, doubt her abilities as a protector. It had been while she was protecting Francesca that they had both been abducted and she had resolved never to let her guard down again.

Compounding her new found insecurities about her professionalism, came her relationship worries. She had no doubt that they loved each other; she saw that everyday within eyes so blue that you could drown in them. The problem was the outside forces, nobody would accept them being together. If the public ever found out that such a prominent celebrity was consorting with slaves her career and reputation would be destroyed. Even if it was made public that all of the Prince slaves were free it would be just as bad. Culturally, choosing a slave or former slave as a mate was considered lower than mating with your family pet. More than anything she wanted to protect her lover physically, emotionally and professionally from the outside world. That would mean putting their relationship out of her mind when they were out together. For today, she had to be nothing more than a bodyguard.

With this thought held firmly in her mind she began to pull away from the heiress. Distancing herself in body and mind, she squared her shoulders and gently pushed the other woman away. Francesca at first looked stunned until she saw the grim smile on the guards face and understood what she was trying to do. She gave Hunter a last, reassuring kiss on the cheek as they pulled to a stop.




"Still got that thing looking after you I see!" His tone was accusatory as he jerked a finger in the short woman's direction. She stood beside the door in a pose of complete calm, unaffected by his words.

Francesca wasn't as composed, "What do you mean by that Jake?"

"Face it Francesca, she hasn't exactly proved herself to be an asset so far. Since she's been your bodyguard your house has been bombed, your husbands dead and you've been kidnapped. Then you waist a shit-load of cash getting her back from the kidnapper! Why you didn't leave her with the whacko I will never know! Trade her in, get a better model; she's doing you no favours!" His red-rimmed eyes shone with a fire that was rarely seen outside of conference rooms and negotiation.

"Jake, if not for Hunter that 'whacko' would either still be stalking me or I'd be dead by now!" She was trying hard not to let her anger boil over into an argument. As much as she didn't agree with his beliefs and shaky morals, he was a great agent. "Let's drop it, we'll never agree on this." She could see that he wanted to push further but the icy cold stare she shot him silenced any further outburst.

"Fine, down to business then! You've been in the news a hell of a lot lately and that will work well for the album release. Now we need to focus the attention of the public onto your work and away from the more high-octane elements of your private life. That's part of the reason that you're going to see Rashid this afternoon. We also need to make it seem as though you're back on the market, get you out on the town with a few pretty boys." So animated was he by his ideas that he barely noticed the woman opposite him choke on her mouthful of water.

"You want me to what?"

Read clearly did not hear the incredulity in her voice. "If we get you out dating your fans will think that they have a chance. It also makes you seem younger and more carefree. Trust me, it's a sure fire way to get you back on top."

"Jake, I am not going to prostitute myself for the media!" There was a pause as she processed all of what he had said. "What do you mean back on top, I'm still at the top!"

Hunter, in the background and clearly all but forgotten by the two people seated at the table, shook her head minutely. This was obviously going to be a meeting that went around in circles as much as it discussed issues she had little interest in. As the agent managed to steer them away from another argument by opening a file on his computer and angling it to the singers view, Hunter began to tune their words out.

The bodyguard was still alert to any movement inside or outside of the room and would instantly tune into any talk that involved her. She was simply able to think of other things while they were discussing issues that did not hold her interest. As cute as she found her lovers bickering, she could only listen to so much before it began to grate on her nerves. To fill her time she began to study the man seated in front of her and the space that he inhabited.

Jake Read looked about as far from being a showbiz agent as it was humanly possible to get. He wore an ill fitting suit which looked as though it had been slept in? For 5 years! His hair was greasy and mussed and his skin had a sickly pallor, made worse by the harsh fluorescent light filling the room. Hunter doubted that the man did any sort of physical activity if he could help it as, although not fat, he had a wasted look.

The office in which he was based was opulent and hinted at the man's success. He seemed to have every gadget known to man just in this one room. The office itself was huge, with windows taking up two walls. It was even elegantly decorated. Looking again at the owner it was clear that he had help in choosing the décor. At least somebody associated with him had taste. Trouble was, it just made him seem sleazier, as though he had the office in order to lure sweet young things in. Hunter couldn't help a little shudder as she put Francesca into that position in her mind, she could just see Douglas pushing her towards this man and his services. She would have to ask about that later.

She continued to think in tangents as Read and his best client discussed public appearances and assorted fees. This was going to be a long, boring day!




"How did you ever hook up with a low-rent looser like him?" The second they settled back into the car the blond couldn't hold back her curiosity.

Francesca softly rubbed her temples, feeling a headache bloom after several hours with her agent and the day wasn't over yet. They were on their way to meet with her publicist and spend more hours going over details. It had been some time since she had played this game and she was quickly remembering all the down sides to her fame. Not wanting to let her partner know she was not feeling well, she focused on her question.

"Jake isn't like that. You shouldn't judge him on his appearance!" She smiled to soften her words.

"Chess, he isn't exactly the greatest people person either, you argued more with him this afternoon than you do with me. How does he ever get you any work?" Genuine curiosity laced her voice.

"Jake can be a real charmer when he puts his mind to it. He just knows that he doesn't have to put on heirs for me. We grew up together. His father is Dad's best friend. You might remember him; Big, tall man, fat, lots of red hair and a beard?" Hunter's face remained blank. "Well Jake became Roddie's best friend?"

"You're kidding?" Comprehension was clearly dawning. "That's JJ? Chubby, red haired JJ? JJ, 'I can't get my chinos dirty', JJ? JJ the boy who was so preppy it was painful to look at him?"

"Yes, yes, yes and yes." Her headache was quickly being replaced by wonder as she watched the expressions change and dance across the former slaves face.

"Well, woman, don't keep me in suspense! How did he go from clean cut JJ to sleazy Jake?"




Traffic gridlock meant that it took over an hour to reach their next appointment. More than enough time to tell the sometimes sordid, tale of her agent. Hunter had been rapt by the story of the boy trying to break out of his father's shadow and going to extremes.

Jake had been everything that Hunter remembered. One of those children that never looks dirty or even a little rumpled. Sharing his father's build and hair colour, he had been a smaller version of the vivacious man. Unfortunately he shared neither his father's exuberance nor his vision. Friendly in his own way, he had chaffed at his fathers ideas for him. Rodrigo had been his idle, the sort of free spirit that he knew he could never be, and as his teenage years progressed he decided to become his own man.

In college he was able to totally break free. No longer dressing as his father dictated, he began to skip meals and become obsessed with his studies. He was soon dangerously thin, his hair dyed so often that it was pale and straw-like. He had never looked worse yet never felt better about himself. He had taken his ideas for a business to his father and much to everybody's amazement they had agreed. He took to being an agent like a duck to water, especially when teenaged Francesca decided that fame was in her future.

When the heiress was finished, all her partner said was 'weird' with no elaboration. She could see that the other woman was not convinced that looking that bad could be a choice. Maybe she would come to understand the eccentric man in the future as they interacted for her business. Jake certainly needed to change his perceptions as well. If only he knew!

"Ma'am, it looks like we'll be another half hour, maybe you should call Mr. Dariwal?" Looking over his shoulder the driver looked apologetic.

"I think that sounds like a very good idea Steven, thank you." Dazzling white teeth highlighted the brilliant smile she sent his way.

Turning to take the phone from its holder a rough hand intercepted her movement, holding the cell out to her. Taking it she saw that the speed dial was already connecting her. With a mouthed 'thanks' she held the handset to her ear.

"Rashid Dariwal." The cultured voice rang through the speaker.

"Hi Raz, it's me. We're running late, traffic's murder."

"No problem, where are you right now? If you're too far away maybe we can reschedule for tomorrow."

"That's good of you Raz but we shouldn't be more than half an hour. We're at the corner of Fifth."

"Are you close to Tolby's restaurant?"

"Yeah, in fact we've been sitting next to it for 20 minutes." Francesca wasn't sure where that came from.

"Go in, I'll jump on my bike and be there in 5. Have you had lunch?"

"Not yet."

"Order, we'll have business lunch, kill two birds with one stone. See you soon!" The phone went dead in her hand and the brunette shook her head at his antics before leaning forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder and asking him to pull over.

"What's going on?"

"Rashid's going to meet us in that restaurant." She pointed as the car stopped at the curb.

Hunter opened the door and got out, holding it for her lover. "How's he going to get here? The traffic's just as bad the other way?"

Knowing that this would be their last opportunity to touch for the rest of the day, the taller woman ran her hand down her bodyguards arm from wrist to shoulder as she eased out of the car. As they pulled apart and the warrior drew on her mantle as protector Francesca answered her query. "He's got a motorcycle." She got a grunt in reply.




Rashid paused outside the doors to the eatery. He took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his collar. Here we go, Raz. He pushed open the door and spotted his client sitting in a far corner. A stocky figure stood menacingly behind her keeping any would-be autograph hunters at bay. Plastering a broad grin on his face, trying to appear nonchalant, he motioned the maître d' away and headed towards the beauty sitting in his line of sight.

Hunter had been focused on her surroundings since they entered, aware of each person that came and went, assessing their possible threat. When she spotted the handsome young Asian man coming towards them she further refined her stance. Although she thought that this man must be Dariwal she was not taking any chances. She allowed her eyes to flicker to her charge, just briefly, and saw her react to seeing the man by sending him a beaming smile. As he drew closer she stood to greet him, going around the table and embracing him warmly.

"Hello handsome!"

"Hi beautiful!" The two continued to hold one another for longer than the observing bodyguard was comfortable with.

The pair sat opposite each other, Rashid placing his briefcase on the floor for now. Quickly a waiter approached with menus which were taken gratefully. The pair quickly selected their dishes and placed their orders. This was clearly a ritual which they had observed many times before as they seem to have silently agreed that business could wait until after the meal. Drinks were soon brought to the table while they waited for their meal.

Hunter couldn't help noticing that the man seated with her lover had yet to take his eyes off of the brunette. She had to admit to herself that they did make a striking couple as they sat together, and felt unsettled by the thought. She pulled her eyes away from the table and focused outwards to survey the rest of the room while her mind remained focused on the publicist. Had she continued to watch she would have seen him reach out to take Francesca's hand in a more than friendly gesture.



Chapter 4

Knocking interrupted the festivities inside the redbrick townhouse. Excusing himself from the small gathering, a tall, greying man made his way towards the door. He held a glass of beer in one hand, taking casual sips as he moved towards the door. Wary by nature, he called out to the person on the other side as he approached.

"Who is it?"

The reply came, calm and measured. "Is this the Swanson half-way house? You take in newly freed slaves, right?"

"Yes, that's right young lady." His eye was now firmly pressed to the peep-hole. "Are we expecting you, dear? You look very familiar." He said the last while taking the safety chain from its cradle on the door and easing it open. Soon the woman, dressed in black, was backlit in the door way. The sun streaming in from the outside turned her into a living silhouette. A long shadow fell across the man. He felt a chill run through his body as recognition set in.

That's when the bullet tore through his head. It entered silently through his forehead and left a steaming crater in the back of his skull. The only sound in the hallway a soft metallic pop and a sigh, before the corpse succumbed to gravity and hit the floor.

Edging through the opening she quickly pulled the door closed behind her. Once inside she reached behind her neck with her right hand, gun still held firmly in her left, pulling a black hood over her head and face. All that remained visible were her eyes which reflected joy at a job well done.

Stepping lightly over the body, carefully avoiding the pool of blood, she silently moved down the hall. The sounds of merriment spilled down the hall from the main room, luring her towards her prey. She moved with a stealth that left no trace of her passing, deep scarlet creeping after her like a shadow. Brighter light spilled from the lounge illuminating one end of the corridor, acting as a beacon for her intent.

Standing beside the door frame, she observed the six people seated inside the room. Each had a wide smile spread across their face, chatting merrily and oblivious to her presence. It was easy to pick out the other home owner. Like her husband whose body lay rapidly cooling on the doormat, she was of middle age and greying. Plump and rosy cheeked she looked like a picture perfect matron. The way that they other people in the room hung on her words showed that she was popular with her clientele. The other five looked different. It was hard for the observer to articulate, but something in their very demeanour told her that they had been slaves; the way they held their bodies and deferred to the older woman. Even their attire seemed cheap and dated. They were a mix of men and women, of varying ages from teens to elderly.

Pulling a second handgun from the holster at the small of her back she moved fully into the doorway. All eyes turned to her as she levelled her guns at the people in the room. A single glass fell from nerveless fingers, crashing into a thousand pieces on the shiny wooden floor. That moment of stillness was quickly shattered by the sound of bodies crashing to the floor. Once again the silencer did its work, preventing any loud noises. She worked so rapidly that they barely had time to whimper, let alone scream.

Soon the room was littered with bodies. Tables and chairs lay smashed under the weight of falling forms. The walls seemed to weep blood and it gave into greater forces and trickled down. Beer and wine mixed with gore, creating interesting patterns over the floor. The guns were lowered, barrels still smoking, and replaced in their holsters.

Backing out of the room she quickly moved to the back door, unlatching it she flung it open; instantly ten black clad figures marched into the house, each carrying a large canister. With a brief nod she left the house, leaving them to finish the job.




Rashid watched the two women disappear around a corner as they went to the bathroom. He noticed, as they walked, that the slave seemed to walk a little too closely to the singer; it made him feel strangely fidgety. Once again he ran a nervous hand through his hair. The thought never crossed his mind that he was turning his well groomed appearance into that of an ill kempt scarecrow.

OK Raz, if you're going to do this you should do it now. Bite the bullet! The pep talk in his head was going well until seeds of doubt started to grow. What is she says no? I'll look like an idiot and then she'll be uncomfortable and I'll be uncomfortable. She'll take her business elsewhere; I'll lose a client and a friend. Is it worth it? His eyes were drawn to one of the singer's publicity shots that was still lying on the table. Dazzling blue eyes stared up at his from the glossy page. Yeah it is!

The young Asian man had felt drawn to the statuesque brunette from their first meeting. She was not only beautiful but warm and friendly too. If he hadn't already known he would never have believed that she was an heiress. Unfortunately her humility was not shared by her husband. The young publicist had always found Douglas to be pushy and overbearing. He could never understand how such a man could get a wife like Francesca and be able to keep her. He didn't like think ill of the dead but his client was certainly happier and more relaxed since his loss.

He shuffled the papers that still littered the desk while he continued to wait for the return of his lunch companion. How can women take so long in the bathroom? What are they doing in there?




"How can you not know that he has a crush on you?" Hunter's tone was incredulous.

"He does not!" Francesca batted at her partner's shoulder. The bodyguard had secured the main door to the bathroom to ensure that they would not be disturbed. Her curiosity was killing her.

"Chess, I saw the look in his eyes. He's like a little puppy dog, all moony eyed every time you look at him!" Hunter's tone was light, but there was something beneath it.

"Rhani, are you just a smidgeon jealous?" She held her index finger and thumb close to each other.

"Uhmm..." The blond was turning a rather attractive shade of pink as she rubbed the nape of her neck. Her eyes were darting around the room refusing to land on the other woman. "A little I guess. I mean he seems like a really nice guy and he is good looking and?"

"Shhhh!" A soft finger was placed firmly over her lips. "I admit that he may have the tiniest infatuation with me and yes he is all of those things that you mentioned but do you know what?" The finger that had remained on the other woman's lips through this, moved to caress her cheek. "He isn't you, so he has nothing going for him." Hunter's face bloomed with pride, making the other woman smile in response.

"Poor schlub!"

"You are just such a people person!" The heiress pretended to be choked up as she said the words. Her companion poked her tongue out. "We should get back out there, Raz probably thinks I've run away with the bus boy!"

Laughing the bodyguard unlatched the door and pulled it open, grateful that a line of women had not formed. As her partner walked past her she whispered in her ear, "When we get home I want to know all about you and Raz." Francesca pursed her lips and mock scowled, pout firmly in place.

The restaurant had stated to fill up as the day moved into late afternoon, many young men and women crowded the place. Their journey back to the table was filled with "hellos" and autographs. The groups of people, albeit small, that crowded around her lover made Hunter edgy. She stood to the side, a silent, brooding presence letting out a low growl when anybody got too close.

The publicist saw the two women coming back to the table and a beaming smile spread across his face, aimed at the beauty coming towards him. Hunter saw this and couldn't help the sneer that flittered across her face. She didn't want to feel any animosity towards the man, she genuinely liked how he treated the singer but she couldn't repress the frisson of jealousy. As they got closer to the table a disturbance on the street outside caught the attention of every diner in the restaurant.




Flames licked at the sides of the townhouse that was now reduced to little more than a single floor of rubble. Fire crews had raced to the scene, desperate to quench the flames. Their ceaseless attempts had been to no avail as they continued to pummel the flames with jet after jet of high pressure water.

The residents of the neighbourhood were out in force, mostly worried about their own homes. Some tried to aid the fire-fighters, but most just stood around watching. On the fringe of the group of watchers stood a young man, he held a cell phone firmly to his ear, listening attentively. Occasionally he would nod at something that was said on the other end. He was inconspicuously dressed in baggy jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled firmly over his head obscuring most of his face. As he watched several other observers, dressed much like him, began to drift through the crowds.

"I saw those slaves running away when the house went up!" One whispered into the ear of an elderly shopkeeper.

"I knew that this would happen, letting those sort of people into our street!" Another cried.

"I saw a new one arrive this afternoon, looked dangerous. Seems like more than a coincidence to me!"

Murmuring grew in small pockets as the seeds of doubt were planted. People who had previously had no gripe with the half-way house suddenly found a million reasons why it had blighted their lives. The free men and women, housed there over years as they began new lives were vilified in a second. Cries for justice grew until the whole crowd was ready to take action themselves.

"Everything is going to plan, so far." The voice crackled a response at the end of the line.

The fire now under control, several of the fire fighters made their way into the rubble in search of bodies. Minutes passed with each watcher holding their breath, hoping beyond hope that somebody would be found alive. It was not long before two of the officers staggered out with a body carried between them. Although covered in blood and soot the familiarly rotund body of Hamish Swanson was recognizable to all. The whisperers now turned to shouts of rage as the second team struggled out with Julia Swanson. The kindly couple had clearly met their demise in a brutal fashion as crimson blood was clearly visible coating the bodies. As the uproar continued, even as two paramedics went over to state the obvious, the man with the phone spoke to his employer.

"Stage one complete. Are we ready for stage two?" The affirmative was all he needed to hear. Punching telephone off, he dialled in a new set of numbers. The click of connection was all he needed to hear. "Initiate stage two!" He snapped the phone shut and melted into the shadows, fully confident that his words had been put into action.




It started with screaming. Over a hundred men and women were running through the streets hollering at the tops of their lungs. They thundered through the gridlocked traffic, hitting cars as they raced passed. Some even began to jump on hoods, leaping from one to another. The drivers were too scared to make any signs of protest. As individuals passed by rapidly closing windows the drivers could clearly make out their rallying cry? Freedom!

On the sidewalk the horde charged towards pedestrians, knocking them down indiscriminately. Those lucky souls who avoided impact took note of the clothes worn by the throng; each one was emblazoned with the logo of an emancipation group. Some even held EFA placards which they wielded like weapons at the heads of passers by.

The street began to rapidly clear of civilians as they dashed towards the relative safety of shops, offices and restaurants. The rampaging group did not seem to notice as they continued their onward surge. Some began to slow down in order to create just a little more mayhem. A group of young men began to rock a large black car, much to the horror of its occupant. They rocked it so severely that eventually it was turned onto its side where they proceeded to smash the underside, sending gasoline all over the road and other cars.

The leaders of the group had satchels slung over their shoulders which as one they began to rout through as they continued to move forwards. Each one drew out a small black square, innocuous enough in appearance, which triggered terror in the people still trapped within their cars. As arms wound back and prepared to heave the small but deadly devices towards the surrounding buildings, the drivers braced for the worst.




As the couple neared their table Hunter heard shouting filtering through the restaurant. As first she thought that it was simply more of the eager autograph hunters getting excited however a quick look at the faces of the other diners disabused her of that notion. Looking towards her ward she motioned for the other woman to move close to Rashid behind the table. This positioned placed them both as far away from the windows of the restaurant as was possible.

"If I give you the signal, get under the table!" It was an order which Francesca obeyed readily, well aware of her bodyguards prowess. Rashid on the other hand resisted the instructions given to him by a 'slave'.

"Raz, do as she says! I trust her implicitly so don't do anything stupid." His face showed that he was still against following the instructions but he nodded in accent.

Seeing that her instructions would be followed the stocky blond made her way speedily to the huge pane of glass which served as the restaurants front wall. Looking out she could see people beginning to appear in the distance, running as if for their lives. Unable to glean enough information while still inside she ventured through h the door way. Now outside she could hear the screams more clearly and her enhanced hearing allowed her to make out their war cry clearly.

Green eyes narrowed as the throng drew closer and closer. Still too far away for a normal person to make out any details, her enhanced eyes still allowed her greater vision than normal, although not as sharp as they had once been. She was able to see the shiny boxes being drawn from more than eight bags; able to make out arms drawing back to hurl the objects into buildings. Even before the first hit its intended target she was rushing back into the restaurant, shouting at the top of her lungs for the people inside to get down.

"Why should we slave?"

"Shut up animal!"

"Why don't you go back to your mistress?"

"Hysterical nonsense!"

"Yeah it's nothing!"

These were the responses she had expected and it saddened her that they were so narrowed minded that they would not even move to protect their own lives. She quickly ran towards the table where she had left the singer, relief washing over her as she saw that both her lover and the publicist were crouched under it.

Before she could reach them a series of explosions tore through the street, rocking the buildings to there very foundations. Glass exploded inwards as the aftershock of the explosions spread through the surrounding buildings. The restaurant sparkled with broken glass, the patrons cut and bleeding. Part of the ceiling had fallen down from the force of the blast outside and tables had been turned upside down. The diners who only moments ago were disdainful of Hunter's warnings now sat terrified at their tables, whimpering softly.

Hunter herself had been thrown to the floor as she moved away from the window. Somewhat dazed but otherwise unharmed she stumbled to her feet, shaking the clinging particles of glass from her hair she moved rapidly towards her lover. Skidding down onto her knees she ended up beside the two cowering figures beneath the table.

"How? When? I?" Rashid was clearly shocked and trying desperately to process what had happened.

"I think they broke him." Francesca smiled and jerked a thumb towards the shaking man. She found herself oddly calm in the face of the blast.

Levelling her eyes at her partner the bodyguard sighed, "You know I am thinking of putting you into a bullet proof box and not letting you out of the houses grounds! This is getting habit forming!"

"Me? If it's anybody it's you missy! It's like trouble follows you around and then beats the tar out of you."

"You know, I could just leave you here?" Her grin was child like and full of joy that both of them had survived once again. Beside them Rashid continued to shake and jump as more explosions went off in the distance. The only think helping his fraying nerves was the fact that they were rapidly receding.

The blond reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone, quickly punching in familiar digits. "Hello Roger? I take it you heard the explosions?" She waited for a response. "Where are you? You didn't stay at the front did you?" Worry was clear in her voice before she let out a relieved breath. "Well done for going around the back. Look, we'll be coming out the back, fast. Have the engine ready and be ready to go down the back ways."

Francesca had followed the phone conversation and collected her bag from the floor. The two women stood without exchanging a word, ready to leave the scene of chaos that they now stood amongst. People were now running around crying and screaming. Some diners had made there way onto the street and were running for their lives. On the street outside there was fire and death in almost equal measure. Sirens could be heard in the distance but they were too little too late. The two women began to move towards the kitchens and the back exit.

They had reached the swinging doors to the kitchen before they realised that the young Asian man was not with them. Turning, they both fixed their eyes on his cowering form under the table. Shaking her head and motioning for the singer to stay put, the bodyguard marched over to him and dragged him from under the table. She pulled him along behind her until they reached the doors. In the short journey he had managed to find his feet and stumble after her. Silently the three darted through the kitchen which had been spared the damage of the blast. Hitting the backdoor they emerged into a dingy but secure alleyway where the car waited for them.

Climbing into the car Francesca noted that her friend was simply standing in the alley, tears streaming down his face. Hunter turned from her position in the front of the car where she could watch the road, to see what her lover was looking at, she had chosen. It would also allow her lover to comfort her friend. Neither woman could understand why he had yet to climb into the car, he should have been eager to leave.

"Raz, what's the matter? We need to get out of here." Francesca's voice was soft and coaxing, the same tone she used on the children when they woke from bad dreams.

"I can't get in your car." His voice cracked on every word. He couldn't continue and simply gestured towards his pants. For the first time both women noticed the rapidly spreading dark patch over his crotch.

"Oh, Raz, we were all scared. It'll be all right. Let me take you back to my place and we can talk about all this." She reached out a hand which he took and allowed himself to be pulled into the car.

Hunter gestured for the chauffer to start moving and pulled a gun from the holster at the small of her back. Leaning back in her chair she could hear her lover making shushing noises to the man that she now held in her arms, giving comfort. The warrior allowed her senses to move outside of the car as they moved down another small street. Nobody would be hurting her lover today not if she could help it. Her hand flexed tighter on the butt of the gun.


Chapter 5

Darla rushed to the side of the car as it drew to a halt in front of the mansion. The older woman was clearly relieved as she saw her daughter jump from the back seat. Throwing her arms around her youngest child, Darla checked her for bumps and bruises, clucking over her much as her daughter had done with her own children that morning. Like mother, like daughter, thought Hunter as she looked on indulgently.

Rashid too watched the two women embrace. Brown eyes stayed transfixed by the pair as he remained, unmoving, in the car. His embarrassment was making him reluctant to move from the safety of his seat, he knew that he had ruined the upholstery. Another thing that kept him rooted to his spot was the idea of further humiliating himself in front of the beautiful woman who had held him so tenderly in her arms on the way here.

As he remained transfixed by the reunion of mother and child he noticed movement around the front of the car. As he watched, the bodyguard joined the pair in front of the main doors. Although she still maintained a rigid stance, the way that she leaned into the conversation just seemed? off somehow. When the older woman reached out and cupped the slave's cheek, his curiosity was thoroughly peeked. Pulling together all the myriad threads of his scattered dignity, he opened the door and eased himself to the ground. On cautious feet, feeling uncomfortably damp, he moved beside the hood of the car. It shielded his groin and kept him far enough away that he could continue to observe the interaction without interrupting it. The main difference was that now he could hear their words.

"You've cut your cheek! Are you sure that you're all right?" The motherly tone of the other woman and the gentle touch on her face warmed the warrior's heart.

"I really am fine." She saw Darla reach up a thumb to her mouth. "Really, if you try to clean off my face with that I think I'll die of embarrassment!"

She recalled the morning's fun and couldn't help the smile that crept across her face. The two other women let their own relieved smiles answer hers. She hadn't been entirely truthful when she had said that she was fine, she could feel a definite tension across her chest and needed to check it out. No need to worry the other two just yet. She caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eyes and wheeled towards the car, poorly masking a wince of discomfort as she did so.

Francesca followed her partner's line of sight- but not before noticing her twitch. She would have to ask her about that later. Looking towards the car, she could see Raz hiding behind the hood with a sheepish grin plastered on his face. He was very obviously mortified but trying valiantly to hide it. She waved her mother over and took the towelling robe that she had dropped to the floor when she embraced her daughter. With a casual air she threw it across the car and motioned that the young man should put it on.

"Hay Raz, I need to shower and change, I feel a little uneasy. I also have to make sure that my guard here is fully functioning." This was delivered with a wink only seen by the blonde standing beside her. It caused the smaller woman to colour. "Why don't you go with Mom, she'll show you to a guest room and let you get changed. That's right isn't it, Mom?"

Catching on that he needed some support, Darla readily agreed with her daughter. "That's right. We have plenty of hot water, and the boys all have clothes here so we should be able to get you something. When you're done I'll get you some tea. Follow me."

Feeling much more confident wrapped in the robe, Rashid followed his client's mother into the house. As he passed the two women who had been with him in the restaurant he tried to catch Francesca's eye, but all of her attention was now firmly fixed on her slave. It was strange and unsettling to see. He continued with his revelry as he moved into the house.

******


Cobalt eyes narrowed as the tall woman reached out a manicured hand and grasped her smaller companion's chin. Turning the other woman's face to the side, she intently studied her. The blonde began to squirm under the scrutiny, knowing exactly what her lover was looking at.

"It's just a scratch." It was said in a tiny voice as she tried to shake the hand off.

"It's a cut Rhani, you're bleeding." The hand moved from her chin and a single finger began to caress the flesh around the wound. "I just want to make sure you're fit and well. You protect me, I just want to take care of you." Hunter nodded, feeling a little chastised and realising that this was how her partner dealt with fear.

The couple turned as one and made their way into the house. Just as they passed through the door, Francesca turned to her lover, "Don't think I didn't notice you wincing earlier! I am going to examine you thoroughly when we get to our room!" She noticed the bodyguard grinning wolfishly. "Not like that you little pervert!" A pout was thrown her way, which tuned into a grin as the couple made their way up the stairs.

Now that Hunter allowed herself to feel it, every step sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Hoping that she had not cracked a rib, she followed her partner up the ornate staircase which, today, looked entirely too foreboding. To take her mind off of the discomfort, she continued talking.

"Heard you ask your mom about the kids when you were on the cell. They're all right?" She knew that they were, Francesca would never be this calm otherwise but she did feel the need to check.

"Yeah, the children are fine. Mom said that the Berringers didn't even know that there had been a disturbance. Mom called them the second she saw it on the news. The party is still going on but Dad's gone to get the kids." Hunter tensed and looked like she was about to bolt for the door. "Oh no you don't! Dad took Shep with him, and yes, Shep volunteered. They'll all be home soon and playing in the garden. Right now I'm going to check you over even if I have to knock you out and carry you up here!"

The blonde looked thoroughly chastised and cast her eyes to the steps beneath her feet. She had heard the lingering traces of worry in her partner's voice and knew she was helping. She stayed silent as she watched the stairs turn into hallway. Stopping Francesca outside the door to their shared room, Hunter knew she had to say something.

"Sorry I'm being such a pain in the ass, Chess. Old habits and, well, you know the rest."

"I know that you're not used to being pampered when you're hurt but you have a different life now. You better get used to it, buddy!" A long finger was jokingly tapped onto the blonde's chest with each word. The finger moved up to tickle the underside of her chin. "You just have to learn that you're not a caged tiger anymore, you're a house cat." Although only teasing, Francesca could see that Hunter was a little affronted by that. "Ok, so you're more like one of those tigers that Seigfried and Roy lived with? Oh God, that's worse isn't it?"

"I'd stop digging while you're only half-way to China, Chess. I get what you mean."

Finally entering the bedroom, the warrior made her way straight towards the bathroom. Stopping briefly to take off her jacket, the brunette followed. When she entered she was surprised to see her lover standing in the bathtub, fully clothed. The tub was empty and the blonde seemed to be ruffling through her hair to give it body. Francesca was more than a little confused and had to ask about it.

"Rhani, what exactly are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm trying to make sure I don't get any bits of glass on the floor. I think I've got chips in my hair and clothes from being knocked down. Just wanted to make sure none went on the floor, don't want anybody to get chips in their feet."

"Let me give you a hand." The heiress put a towel over the floor. "Give me your clothes and I'll put them over here. I can wrap them up and take them down to the laundry room."

Quickly stripping off her suit jacket, both women heard the soft tinkling of glass hitting the bottom. Passing one item to her lover, she pulled her shirt off over her head, leaving her clad in only her sports bra. Balling them up, she threw them deftly onto the towel before moving to undo her pants. As she looked up from her zipper, she caught Francesca staring at her chest. Almost comically the warrior's eyes travelled to the spot her partner was staring at.

"Wow!" Across the top of her chest, just above the swell of her breasts, was a long purple welt. The bruise was more than a foot long and an inch wide. It stood out starkly against her pale flesh, looking like a brand. The skin around the wound was reddened and looked livid. "No wonder it hurts like a bitch!" Hunter tested it with her finger and let out a hissing breath at the pain it caused.

"Rhani, that looks really bad. How the hell did that happen?" An edge of panic tinged the melodious voice, not surprising considering the horrific injuries that she had already seen this body suffer.

"I must have hit the floor harder than I thought when I got knocked down by the blast. I probably landed across a chair leg. I never even noticed."

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" The younger woman's voice was starting to crack, an edge of panic creeping in as she remained focused on the bruising.

"Let me take a few really deep breaths before I answer that, maybe do a little stretching. If nothing hurts too much then I'm fine. I think it's just superficial!" Seeing that the other woman still looked shaken, Hunter made a decision. "Chess, I really could use an icepack. Here," she jumped out of the tub and pulled her pants off simultaneously. It was an impressive feat, made possible by the fact that she had left her shoes inside the door. "Take my clothes too."

Francesca looked reluctant but took the bundle of clothes in her arms. "I'll bring that little vacuum thingy up as well. You sit on the toilet and don't move!" The upraised fingered forestalled any protest. "Sit!" Instantly and with a resigned sigh she sat heavily on the toilet seat. "Stay!" With that she rushed from the room like a woman possessed.

Sitting stock still,Hunter waited for the other woman to leave the main room before wadding up a towel and groaning into it. The pain radiating through her was making her feel nauseous. Nothing was broken, that had not been a lie, but no way was she going to let her lover see how much pain she was in. For years she had been in an environment that taught you not to show weaknesses. Pain was the biggest weakness of all and she honestly did not like Chess to see it. It made her feel like less of a protector. Masking her pain made it easier on the younger woman as it alleviated much of her worry. Hunter figured that she'd already caused her share of that.

Breathing through the pain, she felt it lessen across her chest as she continued to stretch and expand her muscles. She'd be fine in the morning if she could give the muscles the right treatment now. All that would be left was some residual stiffness a whole lot of ugly swelling. Damn it, her head fell back against the toilet tank, should have asked for a heat pack too! Stupid! Her head thumped against the porcelain again.

So involved was she in berating herself that she failed to hear her lover re-enter the room. Francesca walked through the door in time to see the tousled head bounce off the edge for the third time. Clearing her throat she stood in the doorway, arms balancing two cool packs and a vacuum. As the smaller woman turned startled and sheepish eyes towards her she raised an eyebrow.

"Chess? Hi? Umm? I was just?"

"I honestly don't think I want to know." Walking forward she perched on the corner of the bath, pressing two small pills into her lover's waiting hand. Placing the cleaning equipment into the tub she watched the painkillers being swallowed dry, before offering two packs to the injured woman. "I bought you a heat pack too!" Once her hands were free she reached out and ruffled the blonde bangs.

"You can read my mind!" Pressing the cool pack to the swelling, she reached up to take the hand threaded through her hair. Pulling the hand to her lips she pressed a kiss to her wrist and gave her partner a beatific grin.

Grasping the hand that now held hers, the brunette pulled her lover to her feet and dragged her towards the bedroom. A wolfish smile spread across the cherubic face, which fell as soon as she saw the look of concentration on her taller companion's face. She was led to the bed and pushed down onto the yielding surface. Lying there, looking up into the gentle blue eyes, she fell in love with the brunette all over again. Unable to resist the other woman's wishes, she gave into her tender ministrations. Francesca saw her lover relax and picked up the cold compress.

The long, thin, bag, which Hunter often used to cool down, was placed along the bruise's length. The chill entered her chest and brought instant relief. The warmer bag was placed on the reddened skin above the wound, while agile fingers massaged the swelling below. Long minutes passed before the heat pack was placed where cool fingers had been. Those same digits moved across the heated flesh at the top of her chest, making small circles that were doing wonders for the prone woman. The bag switching routine went on for a half hour before the taller woman discarded the pack and rested her hand on the taut abdomen of her warrior.

Dazed green eyes fluttered open, a delayed action as she realised that the soothing circles had moved from her chest to her navel. Rolling her shoulders to test just how tender she still felt she found that the pain had been reduced to a dull ache. It was little more than the usual stress that her body was under and she was pleased with the results produced by the drugs and care given to her by the other woman. With her lover's hand still on her stomach, Hunter used those powerful muscles to bring herself into a sitting position. She looked on with delight as she saw the heiress look down at the flesh under her hand. The muscles stood out starkly and turned her stomach into a hard board. Manicured nails started to, almost involuntarily, scratch over the ridges as the women drew face to face.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The words were said simultaneously with a hint of shyness. Both women giggled nervously at having spoken at the same time before they fell into a tender kiss. Hunter moved her hands to tangle in the thick onyx hair, drawing them closer together. Francesca's hand remained on her abdomen but her stroking became more insistent, burning trails of fire in their wake. Passions soon became heated as tongues asked for and were bade welcome into the warm embrace of mouths.

Suddenly the brunette pulled away, gasping for breath and quickly retrieving her hand. Stunned, the blonde almost toppled face first into the mattress. Saving herself at the last moment, the bodyguard sat staring in disbelief at her lover. Francesca refused to meet her eyes and instead seemed intent to watch her hands as they idly picked at the comforter's surface. Grasping the other woman's face in her hands she forced blue eyes to meet with her own.

"Ok Chess, what did I miss?"

"You're hurt and?" A finger was placed over her lips to stop the spill of words.

"Did that seem like it was hurting me?" Francesca shook her head, no. "It's true, my chest does hurt but the pain pills have kicked in and after that massage I feel great. You'll just have to be gentle with me!" Wiggled eyebrows accompanied this and a lascivious grin, which sent the heiress into fits of laughter.

Hunter saw the tension drain from the other woman and took the opportunity to pounce on her. Rolling the tall, lithe woman onto her back she began to tug at her clothes sending buttons flying. Letting out a squeal of protest, Francesca was about to bemoan the loss of her blouse when soft lips suddenly latched onto her nipple through her newly revealed bra. Quickly forgetting everything but the feel of soft, warm lips she threaded her fingers through short hair and pulled her closer.

Sliding one calloused hand down, over the flat plane of her stomach, Hunter moved to one beautifully sculpted leg. The feel of silk beneath the rough pads of her fingertips sent a pull to her very core. Her hands moved teasingly up one stocking clad leg, feeling the breath of the woman below her hitch. Her other hand pushed the reclining woman's bra up, releasing her straining breasts and continuing to feast on them. As her fingertips met the moist fabric of Francesca's panties any lingering thought of pain flew out of her mind. Pleasure was all consuming as hands moved from blonde head to broad shoulders, nails clawing into her flesh.

"Rhani!" the name was panted, breathlessly sexy.

"Mmmm." The blonde didn't even raise her head.

"Clothes? Off? Now!" It would have sounded like an order had it not been punctuated by breathy moans.

Devilish grin firmly in place, Hunter flew off the bed, dragging Francesca's skirt and panties with her in an effortless show of strength and agility. Her lover was now splayed on the bed, legs encased in sheer silk, bra pushed aside and blouse looking like a halo around her torso. She looked like a sacrifice and Hunter was the beast who would devour her. With almost blinding speed she roughly ripped off her own bra and pants, feeling only a slight twinge in her chest as she moved. Satisfied that she was not going to aggravate her injury, she turned her sole focus onto her lover.

In the brief moment it had taken Hunter to remove her remaining clothes, Francesca had taken the opportunity to remove her own bra and blouse. As the warrior stood over her, muscles twitching with tension, tattoo standing out vividly against the skin of shoulders and arms, the brunette moved to take off her stockings. With lightening speed, Hunters hands grasped her own, pulling them away from her legs. She found herself pinned to the bed by the weight of her lover, hands held above her head by one of the other woman's. Lips close to her ear sent breath across the sensitive flesh, making her shiver.

"Leave them on!" It was a seductive whisper and the last coherent sentence that either woman would utter for some time.

******

Raz looked towards the backdoor of the impressive home for what felt like the thousandth time in an hour. What could possibly be taking the two women so long? In the time since he had arrived at the house he had not seen either his client or her bodyguard. Now, sitting in a lounge chair on the patio, watching the three children play in the pool with their grandfather, he let himself contemplate the inhabitants of the house.

Rashid had only visited the mansion once before, in the days when Francesca's career was new and so was her marriage. When the stunning young woman had first married, the couple had lived in the Prince family home. Rashid was never really sure why and it was a very short-lived arrangement, only lasting two months. When he had come to begin his business relationship with the young singer, the family who staunchly guarded their privacy, had held him very much at arm's length. He had seen very little of their home and nothing of their personality. As the years had passed, he had become close friends with the singer but never had any further contact with her parents, until today.

The media portrayed Salvatore Prince as a gruff, no nonsense businessman. He was lethal in the boardroom and did not suffer fools. He was seldom looked on with any affecting in the press. His wife, Darla was simply an enigma. Very few people outside of their circle knew anything about her past or, in fact, her present. Those that did have tales to tell held them close to their chests, realising that the woman's friendship was more precious than the money that would be offered by tabloid rags.

Today was proving to be a revelation to the young Asian man. As he sat in the expansive grounds he was watching one of the countries most powerful men frolicking in the pool like a child. He was chasing and in turn being chased by his grandchildren. Most of the time the surface of the pool was obscured by splashes making it look like a giant Jacuzzi. He had yet to see the older man stop laughing. He was the epitome of a doting grandfather. He had been cordial to Rashid when he had returned to the house with the children. He even seemed to have a real affection for the large male slave who was sitting on the edge of the pool, occasionally hoisting and dumping one or the other of the children into the water.

Rashid had been pleased that the older man had not been around when he arrived at the mansion. He had been mortified by his body's betrayal, and having a man whom he admired see him in that state would have made it truly unbearable. It wasn't that having Francesca, her bodyguard and her mother see him wasn't embarrassing, it was simply that it would be different in front of a man.

Darla Prince had been nothing but kind and gracious since he arrived. Once given over to her care by her daughter, he had been treated like a member of the family and not once made to feel self-conscious. The older woman had taken him to one of the many guest bedrooms, shown him to the en suite and found a change of clothes for him. He had sped through a shower and thrown the clothes on, keen to be clean. While he showered, his clothes had been removed and, he later found out, taken to the laundry.

Darla had taken him to the kitchen, given him a medicinal cup of tea and he was now feeling much better. Granted that the tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt were a little big, but he felt remarkably good. All he needed now was Francesca to arrive in the garden so that he could make amends for embarrassing himself in front of her. She had been inside the house for more than an hour. The only thing keeping him from going in search of his client in order to check on her well being was the calm that pervaded her parents. If they were not worried then there was nothing to worry about. Besides, Darla was extremely good company and she had some amazing stories to tell.

******

"Sal, do you think one of us should go and check on the girls?" Shep had just thrown Terry through the air and back into the water. The boy surfaced quickly and pumped his fist in glee, he had flown further than either of his sisters.

"Not unless you want to see something that'll make you go blind my boy!" Sal smiled up at the younger man. Since the slaves had come into the house, and especially since his daughter had set them free, he had felt a real fatherly affection towards the three who had stayed. "I do think it's time I got out of here, I'm pruning!"


Salvatore heaved himself out of the pool and grabbed one of the towels that rested on the edge. Quickly drying off his skin he rubbed at his head until his greying hair was only damp before wrapping the towel around his waist and making his way over to his wife. He smiled gently at the young man beside his wife as he approached the pair, noticing the slight flush that darkened his already dusky skin. Poor kid! Reaching his wife he leant over and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before collapsing into a third lounger. Darla noticed her husband's semi-collapse onto the chair and leaned to whisper in his ear.

"You feeling your age, my love?" There was nothing but affection in her soft voice.

"I swear, these kids are going to be the death of me. Ours were never this lively!"

"Oh yes they were Sal, only you were thirty years younger!" She playfully smacked one of his bare arms as she giggled at the grimace on his face. Watching all this, Raz couldn't help but smile at the older couple's antics. He hoped that one day he would have something like that.

The three fell into easy conversation as they continued to watch the children play in the pool. Shep, staunch and reliable as he was, stayed close to the edge of the water to act as lifeguard in case anything should happen to one of the children. The children were totally engrossed in their games, oblivious to what the adults were doing until they heard the sound of the back door opening and closing. With a speed that would have made a prairie dog jealous, three heads turned in the direction of the sound just before the trio dashed to get out of the water and run towards it. Shep thought about telling them not to run, but was pretty sure that his words would fall on deaf ears as he spotted what they were running towards. Standing in the doorway were Francesca and Hunter.

Rashid turned as he saw where the children were headed and his breath caught in his throat. Standing in front of him was one of the most breath taking sights that he had ever seen. Francesca was clad in a simple blue bikini top and a matching sarong. The colour of the garments brought out her vivid blue eyes and her lightly tanned skin seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun. Her feet were bare and he noticed and fine gold chain around her ankle. As the children barrelled into their mother, who crouched down to embrace each one, his eyes moved to the muscular figure standing beside the heiress.

If possible the bodyguard looked even more intimidating in her swimsuit than she had in her suit. Perhaps it was because every muscle was outlined by the fading sun, or maybe it was because of the slight pang of recognition that started somewhere in the back of his mind. She was clothed in a tankini top and swim shorts all in sheer black. It blended into the intricate tattoo that traced over her upper torso. He knew that he should stop staring but something was itching at the back of his mind about her, just as he was about to look away he noticed the long vivid bruise across the top of her chest.

"Tiny, what happened to you?" Sal's voice cut through Rashid's revelry and made him drag his eyes away.

"I'm good Sal, just fell over." The short woman jogged down the short set of stairs onto the patio, Becca firmly held in her arms. The little girl, after hugging her mother had latched onto her human comforter and wouldn't let go. Rather than have a little limpet stuck to her leg the warrior had hoisted her into her arms.

Running towards the lawn she was soon joined by the other two children and Shep who was waving a soccer ball in the air. Soon an energetic game of soccer was taking place although to the watching adults it did seem that none of the players really knew what they were doing. Most of the time the group were in some sort of scrum or wrestling on the ground.

Raz sat stunned at what he had seen since the couple had exited the house. The total familiarity with which the slave had spoken to her master and handled the children was bewildering. Now that he allowed himself to think about it, the other slave had not acted as he expected either. There seemed to be no barrier and discipline between the free and the bound. Not really wanting to air his observation, but too bothered by what was happening around him not too, he turned to the three people who were seated beside him. Francesca had curled up on the floor at her mother's feet and the older woman was absent-mindedly sifting her fingers through the inky tresses.

Clearing his throat he attempted to get the group's attention but before all eyes could turn to him, a red-topped blur flew around the house and came to a skidding halt beside Salvatore. The red head, looking flustered and agitated was dressed in sweats and clutching several pieces of paper and books in her arms. Her pretty face was scrunched into a frown as she dumped her possessions onto the patriarch's lap. Raz was unsure who this woman was- he was sure that Francesca didn't have any sisters.

"Sal, please help me! This stuff doesn't make any sense! I've been staring at the numbers for an hour and it was either come and find you or just throw it all in the pool. Right now the pool seems like a really good option!" Frustration was clear in her voice as she blew mussed hair off of her forehead. Sal reached out and pulled the young woman down to sit beside him, laying out the papers so that they could both see. Quietly they began to converse.

Darla could see that her husband was now totally engrossed in helping Megan with her business coursework and suggested to her daughter and their young visitor that they move closer to the game on the lawn. She had been watching him watching everything happening around the house, even as her daughter was focused solely on her family. Gesturing that the young man should go ahead, she stopped her daughter's forward momentum.

"Princess, I think that you need to talk to our guest." At her child's blank look she directed her attention to the young Asian man. "I think that he's probably noticed that our three 'slaves' aren't being treated in a subservient way. I think you should explain your situation to him, he is your publicist perhaps he can give it some spin."

"I never gave it a thought!" Wide blue eyes looked a little lost as she gazed at her mother.

"Well, once dinner is ready I think that you should talk to him. He seems like a very nice boy and he obviously likes you. Take a chance, Sweetie. You'll have to eventually."

"Mama, you're the best." A kiss was placed on the older woman's cheek. "You think that Dad and Meg will even notice that we've all abandoned them?" Both women cast a quick glance over their shoulders at where the one time gladiator turned full time business student sat rapt by whatever the entrepreneur was saying.

"I sincerely doubt it." Mother and daughter were both giggling at their observation as they sat on the grass beside Raz. Serious discussion could wait until the clash of the titans finished.


Chapter 6

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Francesca leaned over the edge of the bed and watched her lover perform push-ups. It was not something that she ever thought she would be captivated by but the sight of the broad back flexing was making her feel more than a little over heated. The young heiress was sprawled across the bed on her stomach, head over the edge so that she could just gaze down at the other woman in comfort.

Hunter could feel the other woman's eyes on her as she continued with her nightly ritual. When she had first been well enough to start doing her exercises regularly, she had stayed downstairs and done them alone. Once she discovered how much Chess enjoyed watching her do the simple repetitions she had moved this part of her routine to the bedroom. Today found her parallel to her side of the bed with the other woman's face right above the centre of her spine. On each upward movement she could feel the faint brush of long dark hair on her skin and it gave her tremendous comfort, though it was a little distracting. Knowing that it would soon become very distracting and lead to her routine going unfinished she started to talk to her lover.

"Hey, Chess, you never said how your talk with your publicist went? Actually you've been kinda' quiet since. Tell me all about it, pretty lady." So smooth was her voice that anybody listening from the outside would have been hard pressed to guess what she was doing.

Trailing an extremely distracting finger along the bottom edge of the blonde's sports bra she contemplated the tattoo that bordered it. From this angle the tattoo peeked out from every side. Blue eyes narrowed as she focused on the images that made up the dark mass. From a distance it just looked like a swirling black mass; up close it was an intricately woven series of patterns. Still not receiving an answer the warrior let out a light cough.

"Sorry," sighing ruefully she tucked her hands under her chin and settled more comfortably. "Well, it probably could have gone better?

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The children had long since tired of soccer and were now involved in their individual pursuit. Terry stood beside Shep, doing his best to imitate the Tai chi posses taken by the larger male and not doing a bad job, his mother hoped that it might be something the nine year old kept up into adulthood. It would certainly help to hone his mind and body; he was also getting quite good at it. Rochelle, meanwhile, was playing with her dolls in the grass close to her brother, perfectly content to be on her own. Becca was cradled in Hunter's lap where the muscular woman sat on the ground, taking a well deserved nap. Smiling at the vision of family that surrounded her, Francesca realised that she was at a lose end. Letting her eyes settle on the attractive Asian man who sat beside her, she made a decision.

"Raz, would you like to have our meeting now, I think we're rather surplus to requirements." Seeing the young man nod eagerly and rise from his seat, she accepted his out stretched hand and moved with him towards the house. Catching her partner's eye she shook her head, indicating that the other woman should stay put.

Francesca led the way to her father's office and gestured for her companion to sit on the large, comfortable leather sofa. She seated herself bedside him with her back against the arm rest and legs pulled under her, she arrange her sarong artfully around her legs so as not to give the publicist a show. Watching as Rashid moved to mimic her pose she couldn't help but laugh at the incongruity of having a business meeting in your bathing suits.

"Raz, I think I need to explain a little something about what you've seen here today."

"That's not necessary Francesca, you're my client and you set the pace." That was what came out of his mouth, what he was thinking was 'tell me, tell me, tell me!'

"You know I think of you as more than just a friend, Raz." Looking at him as she spoke she realised what an attractive man he was and that she felt absolutely nothing. When she thought back to her youth and previous relations, well Doug, she had never really be physically attracted to anybody make or female, except for Rhani.

"That's really nice of you to say Francesca, I will admit to being just a little curious."

"The first thing I need is a reassurance that what you learn in this room will go no further. I like you Raz but if this gets into the press I will sue you and your firm."

"Francesca, I assure you that I keep all of my client's confidences." He was visibly affronted.

"I didn't mean to offend you Raz, it's just that this could ruin my career if it gets out unchecked. You've obviously noticed the way that my family and I interact with our? salves," Raz noticed the difficulty she had with the word. "They're not slaves; I set them free after we got Hunter back. The three that live here chose to stay; the others are roaming around with new lives."

"You're right about that being controversial, especially with 644 on the table. You can rest assured that I will keep this under wraps." Francesca's face indicated that there was more to come.

"That isn't the part that I thought would shock you, I know you're a liberal kinda' guy. Hunter is very special to my children?"

"I noticed that, it's good of you to let her play with them so casually. Rebecca really seems to have a bond with her."

"That she does, they're practically inseparable, but that isn't what I was trying to tell you. Hunter and I, we're? lovers." Silence stretched between them like a chasm.

Rashid knew that he was staring at the singer, he could feel his eyes blinking owlishly yet he couldn't feel his body. It was as though he had become detached from his body, fragmented, and was now looking down at the tableau from above. Here was a woman, who could literally buy and sell him and his entire family twice over, telling him that she chose to debase herself with an animal. Maybe he had the wrong end of the stick.

"You mean you set the other s free but keep the bodyguard as a love slave?" Please let that be it!

"No, Raz, I mean that I love her and she loves me."

"Oh."

They stayed like that for an eternity of moments, Francesca trying not to feel too disconcerted by his vacant stare. Inside, Rashid's mind was churning like a storm tossed sea. It was impossible for him to process what he had just heard. It wasn't that he was apposed to slaves being set free, it was just that? they weren't really people. As liberal and open minded as he may be, it was tantamount to marrying your dog.

Fingers began to twitch beside a bare leg, then drum on the dark skin. Mind whirling he needed an external outlet for his internal torment. Blue eyes tracked his sudden movement, intently waiting for the right moment to say more when suddenly he leapt from his chair?

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Suddenly the push-ups halted mid motion, causing the other woman to stop dead in her story telling. The blonde head turned so that she could meet her partner's eyes. Instinctively the brunette ran a soothing hand over the tense back, already knowing what would be coming next.

"He didn't threaten you or?"

"No my darling he didn't threaten or hurt me. He was just shocked and a little upset."

"Well, that's understandable, you probably broke his heart! Carry on, I've got a few more of these and some stretches to do." Grinning she turned her eyes back to the floor.

Leaning down Francesca pressed a kiss to a strong shoulder before settling herself once more into her story.

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"Raz, I know this is a shock?"

"A shock?" His tone was incredulous. "I'd call this more than shocking, it's disgusting! How could you have a relationship with one of them?" Clearly horrified he moved to seat himself on the desk chair, as far away from his client as possible.

"It's not as you might imagine; let me explain?" Getting no reply she ploughed on regardless.

--------

"I told him our story, well parts of it. I hope you don't mind?"

"Chess, before our lives are over I bet you'll have to tell it a million times, don't worry."

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With her explanation finished she waited for his reply. This time it wasn't so long in coming. Running a hand through his hair, Rashid chewed his lip as he pondered how to say what was on his mind.

"I don't think I can talk about this right now, Francesca. I'm a little too shocked to process it."

"That's understandable."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready to discuss this as friends, maybe not even as your publicist. I have morals and, not wanting to offend you, I have to say that this goes against them." Not to mention that fact that you're breaking my heart! That was something that he couldn't say, especially now.

"If that becomes an issue Raz, them we'll cross that bridge." Truly saddened by her friend's reaction she knew that they had pressing business to deal with. "My album launch?"

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"It was really strained after that but he managed to b professional and we had a really productive meeting." A sad little whimper escaped as she said this and Hunter knew that she would have to comfort the other woman later. For now she continued to do her stretches in front of the bed.

During the end of her account Francesca had moved to prop herself at the head of the bed so that she could continue to watch her lover move. The bodyguard had finished her push ups and moved into her stretches which she performed at the foot of the bed. As the shorter woman moved her statuesque companion watched the muscles dance under her skin. She was mesmerized and still the warrior had her back to her.

"What did you two plan for your promoting?"

"I already have several promos lined up and the dates will be here tomorrow so that you can organise security. I will be having a coupe of photo shoots for the album cover and artwork in the next two weeks and he and Jake thought that I should start shooting the videos for the first two singles as soon as possible." Tone much brighter, Hunter new that she had steered the conversation into much calmer waters.

"How soon is soon?"

"Three days."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Will that choreographer guy be coming over?" Exercises all but complete she began to wind up.

"I thought we could go to his studio, he has better facilities." She was really trying to keep her mind on the conversation but the sight in front of her had brought her thoughts to a grinding halt.

In front of the bed the muscular woman had stopped her routine and was now reaching for the hem of her sports bra. As she drew it over her head and threw it casually into the laundry basket, she still didn't turn around. Francesca was certain that she was being toyed with and she was more than happy to go along with the game of seduction. Seeing that the other woman was now only clad in her sweats which hung low, revealing her hips and the tops of her buttocks the brunette found herself compelled to move forward.

Hunter could hear the other woman crawling across the surface of the bed, as he stood still, flexing the occasional muscle. It was easy to tell that the other woman was crawling as she could hear the alluring slide of fabric and skin. Feet softly hit the carpeted floor behind her and she could suddenly feel hot breath on her neck.

Using more self control than she knew she possessed the heiress did not pounce on her partner as she had planned, instead she chose to continue her perusal of the other woman. Blue eyes were once again drawn to the tattoo that covered a large portion of her torso. Tracing the intricate patterns of hunting animals, scribed into her skin to ape her name, first with her eyes and then with her fingers, she could feel the raw power trembling beneath the surface. A thrill ran through her at wielding this sort of power over her lover. It was a power that one can only wield with utter love and utter trust.

More than well aware that neither woman could continue this much longer, the taller woman lowered her head and began to trace the black patterns with her tongue. The taste of the other woman's warm skin was intoxicating. She had never liked it when Doug would sweat from exercise and would always make him shower before coming near her, but something about Hunters natural taste and smell acted like an aphrodisiac. Swiping another path across taut muscle she was startled as the other woman spun around and grabbed her by the waist, pressing their bodies tightly together.

Drawn into an intense kiss, lips and tongues fighting for dominance, the singer barely noticed herself being guided to the bathroom. Only the sound of the shower starting to run gave her any idea where they were. As the kiss ended both women were panting for breath, Francesca grinning inanely.

"Join me?" It wasn't a question that the ex-slave had to ask twice.

Even as she pushed down her sweats and pants in one smooth move and stepped under the spray, hair instantly plastering to her head, the brunette was stripping out of her pyjamas. Holding out a calloused hand the blonde pulled her lover to her under the water where another passionate kiss was born.

Long fingered hands curled around rock hard biceps as Francesca pulled away from the kiss. She studied that body part and the way the water ran over the images, blurring them and making them indistinct. The animals almost seemed to be moving under the torrent, wanting to see more clearly she began to lick the rivulets of water off of them. Hunter began to feel weak from all the attention and she knew that she needed more.

"Chess!" It came out as a plea and a command rolled into one.

Not needing any further prompting Francesca began slide down the compact body, fingers and tongue tracing her path. As she came to the apex of strong thighs she looked up and locked eyes with her lover.

"Please Chess, I need you now!" That was all it took for the brunette to reach out her tongue and taste her partner, hearing the excited hiss that accompanied her motions. Tattoos are sooo sexy! It was her last coherent thought that night.

Continued...