Candi stepped out of the bathroom wearing one of the bathrobes and flipped off the lights except for a desk lamp that glowed in the corner of the room.

"Turn the TV off," she said in a silky soft voice and dropped her bathrobe, revealing the curves of her naked body.

Rick got up, turned off the TV as ordered, and returned to the side of the bed.

"You need to relax," she said. "Here, let me loosen your jeans." Rick stood in silent surrender as Candi unzipped his kakis.

"Sit down on the bed," she said. "Let's get those pants off."

Before Rick could respond, Candi pushed him flat on the bed. By the time she'd removed his kakis, his under shorts looked like a tent stretched over his monstrous erection. Candi made quick work of removing his shorts. He was feeling a rush of emotions released by the wine that he hadn't felt since making love to Ann.

She spread his legs apart and leaned in. Before she could devour him with her mouth, Rick sat up, reached down, and pulled Candi up by her firm, rounded b.u.t.t until their lips touched. They fell back on the bed and she mounted Rick, riding him like a bucking stallion. Rick released all the years of pent up emotion and frustration and nearly bucked her off the bed. Candi shrieked with each thrust and prodded her stallion for more with her knees. Rick responded by rolling her over and pounded her thrusting hips until they both lay exhausted.

"You're a wild man," Candi said as they both lay on their backs.

Rick responded with only heavy breathing and a smile.

"Jeez, we've been wasting all this time. Don't die on me," Candi said. "I'm not done with you."

Candi snuggled next to Rick, who was facing her and shaking his head in disbelief. She ma.s.saged his limp manhood until it grew hard again. He pulled her on top of him. They kissed and explored each other's bodies. She slid him into her, and they made love again, and again.

When the sun finally peeked through the s.p.a.ce between drawn drapes, a shaft of light cut across their naked bodies stretched across the bed.

Candi nudged Rick. "You awake."

"I am now," he groaned.

Candi ma.s.saged him gently. It didn't take long until Rick responded.

"Careful, you're going to wear it out."

"Never happen. Last one in the shower buys breakfast," she teased.

Candi bolted for the bathroom with Rick right behind her. She jumped in the shower and turned it on full blast.

"Oh s.h.i.t, it's freezing!" She leaped out of the stream of water and began stroking him again.

"We can't get in until the water gets hot, but I don't want to waste that beautiful hard-on of yours."

Steam soon started rising from the shower and with a firm grip on his growing erection, Candi pulled Rick into the shower with her. The hot water stung like pin p.r.i.c.ks on his back. The pain was quickly forgotten when she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their wet bodies slapped against each other in the steam-filled shower.

Checking out, Rick didn't allow Candi to go Dutch for the room as she'd insisted the night before. He also picked up the breakfast tab since he lost the race to the shower.

They stood in the front entrance without speaking. Images of last night's marathon raced through their minds while they waited for the valet to bring Rick's car around.

Rick wasn't the same person who'd watched the valet drive away the previous night. He'd awakened an unexpected personality. Rick had finally broken down the wall he'd built around himself after the loss of Ann. Now he could feel emotions for someone else without guilt.

When the car arrived, he gave the valet a generous tip.

They wound their way through the hilly Winston-Salem landscape, looking for I-40 East.

"Do you think Dan will go for us staying over for the championship game?" Candi asked in mock seriousness.

"In your dreams after he sees this bill." Rick laughed as he turned the Corvair onto I-40 and headed for Raleigh.

Chapter 32.

"Men learned new skills and how to tame the powerful diesel locomotives that pulled twice the load of steam engines for thousands of miles without costly repairs."

Tank faces crisis on every front "Don't worry, Pop, I've got everything under control." Tank a.s.sured his father with the swagger he'd acquired dealing with his staff and members of the General a.s.sembly.

"I called the Sheriff myself and he wasn't even aware a deputy was patrolling our warehouse. You better get control of the situation and quick." Sam raised his voice for emphasis.

"I had my chief of staff contact the Sheriff after your complaint call. The Sheriff a.s.sured him it was just routine. The officer was new and a little overzealous, his first week on the job."

"That's not good enough. I want to know why he was snooping around." Sam pounded his fist into his palm in front of Tank's face.

"Calm down, I'll take care of it!" Tank slammed his chair into the desk then grabbed up a handful of letters and waved them at Sam. "Look, I'm swamped here." Tank threw the papers back on his desk, pulled the chair out again, and sat down hard. He covered his face with his hands and sighed.

Being an a.s.semblyman had grown into a much harder job than Sam had made it out to be. Tank was hardly sleeping, and the constant nagging by his const.i.tuents only made dealing with his father all the more frustrating.

Tank clamped his face with his hands. "Lobbyists are camped out here seven days a week, the General a.s.sembly is hounded about the flood of imported textiles, tobacco law suits are piling up, and kids are holding demonstrations on campus and burning their draft cards, protesting the Vietnam War." He put his hands flat on his desk and looked at Sam. "We get thousands of letters a day complaining about these issues and dozens of others. I've got my hands full, Pop, so cut me a little slack, okay?"

Sam's stone face showed no reaction to Tank's plea. "You just keep in mind how you got this job and where the money came from, and most of all, why it is important to have this job. I don't think it's too much to ask for a little help on protecting our investment." Sam paused then said, "Oh, by the way, your mother wants to know if you'll be home for Christmas dinner, we'll be in Bankstowne for the holidays"

"I'm the grand marshal of a parade in the district next week. There are several speeches . . . but, I'll be there. I really do need a break. I've never been so tired in my life. Football practice was never this exhausting. I'm taking the week between Christmas and New Year's off and plan to watch Carolina in the Orange Bowl. I'd love to go to the game, but I just don't have the time or energy."

The bright star that had shined on the Grad School a.s.semblyman earlier had lost its glow. Campaign promises for change that flowed so easily off the tongue of the young challenger with no record to defend proved much harder to keep than to make. Slowing the influx of textile imports was the federal government's jurisdiction, which he couldn't control in Washington. But try to tell that to the laid off workers.

Tobacco, the backbone of the state's economy, was coming under heavy attack by anti-smoking activist groups nationwide. Congress legislated a printed label on each pack of cigarettes warning that smoking was hazardous to the smoker's health. Lawsuits against cigarette producers in the state over cancer cases alleged to be caused by tobacco smoke had increased and won large settlements.

Tank was growing weary of the endless stream of lobbyists looking for payback for their employers' support and gra.s.sroots special interest groups bent on banning smoking in public buildings. The roar of approval he once enjoyed in his football playing days and as a young candidate was gone. Back then, he'd almost thought he was doing the right thing because of all the support, but now he felt as if nothing he did would bring him back to that place of adoration. And now his own father badgered him to rein-in law enforcement doing its job by investigating his cigarette operation.

"I have to go," Sam said. He gave Tank a pat on the back and headed for the door but stopped and turned facing his son. "I know you'll take care of the problem. You're doing a great job, son. Just stay focused on the game plan. See you at Christmas."

The door wasn't half closed before Tank went to his liquor cabinet and poured a shot of Jim Bean black label and tossed it down. In quick succession, Tank downed three more before he sat down in his chair and propped his feet on his desk.

Tank reared back and waited for the mellowing effect of the bourbon to kick in. He buzzed his secretary with instructions to hold all calls. Almost two years in office had etched permanent dark circles beneath his eyes. His belly strained against the b.u.t.tons on his shirt and hung over his belt.

He fired up a Winston filtered cigarette, a habit he picked up during the campaign that turned into a three-pack-a-day addiction. But it wasn't a gesture of support for the besieged tobacco industry. Like the bourbon, it was an effort to escape the relentless pressure he faced. The political lark Tank so naively began at his father's insistence had morphed into a reality he never antic.i.p.ated and wasn't prepared to handle.

SBI office "I'm sorry to hear that, Mark, but I understand your position. I don't want you to jeopardize your job. You're going to be a fine officer and I was glad to help you get into the academy. Really appreciate your help. Check you later."

Wil hung up the phone, disappointed at the bad news. His only contact couldn't do surveillance for him anymore. Forsyth County Sheriff Allen Swenson had received a complaint from S & T about the unusual frequency of patrols by one of his deputies.

Wil's phone rang again. "Agent Barnes, how can I help you?" he answered in his usual professional voice.

"Agent Barnes, this is Sheriff Swenson from Forsyth County. I want to know what the h.e.l.l you are doing by having one of my deputies do surveillance for you. I don't appreciate one d.a.m.n bit an SBI agent secretly contacting my deputy for cooperation in an investigation in my district. Are you trying to get that boy fired? I don't want to have to talk to your Captain about this, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll have you demoted to a parking meter reader. Do you understand, Agent Barnes?"

"Yes, Sheriff, and I'm sorry. It isn't our policy to operate that way. This was just a hunch about some suspicious activity by S & T Distribution Company in their warehouse. I've known Mark since he was a kid and all he ever wanted was to be a police officer. I helped him get into the academy and-"

"I don't give a s.h.i.t if you're sleeping with his mamma, don't ever contact one of my deputies without talking to me first. Clear?"

"Yes sir. It was a mistake that won't happen again."

"You're d.a.m.n right it won't!"

"I'll keep you advised on the case. Again, I apologize for not following procedure."

"Apology accepted. My department will cooperate and lend any a.s.sistance you may need. Just do it by the book, son. Have a good day, Agent Barnes."

Annoyed at the dressing down by the Sheriff, Wil knew he was on shaky ground. Not able to spend time on the investigation himself, he needed something to formally open a case against Sam Johnson. He needed hard evidence.

Bad news It was barely eight o'clock on Monday, and all the office phones were ringing already. Customers complained about missed paper delivery over the weekend, and Citizen's Patrol called in events on their weekend watch. Then came a call Rick wasn't happy to receive.

"Wil, good to hear from you, got anything for me?"

Wil explained the conversation with the Sheriff. "Look, I know how this deal is bugging you, but you need to take a break, man. I can't help you anymore until we get something solid to go on. Unless you have something concrete, we're dead in the water. Let me know when you have something solid, and I'll try to run it down. That's about all I can do for now."

Rick sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry about the trouble. I'll . . . I'll get something more substantial soon, I promise."

"By the way," Wil said, his tone shifting from annoyance to concern, "I talked to Momma and she seems to be doing okay at that a.s.sisted living place. I think she was ready for a break after having to nurse Daddy all last year. His pa.s.sing was a blessing. Have you been over to visit lately?"

"I've been really busy. All the protests on campus against the Vietnam War and draft card burnings has really gotten out of hand. Not as bad here as it is up north, especially the Ivy League schools, but enough to keep me hopping."

"We've been watching that pretty close, too. Carolina seems to be more involved in the protest movement than most of the other state schools. Governor Mathews was even considering calling out the National Guard, but Attorney General Grover talked him out of it and let the local and state police handle it. Gotta get back to work. Sorry about the bad news, but I'll keep my eyes open. Be sure to call Momma. She always asks about you. Have a good one."

A twinge of guilt washed over Rick. His mother was always there for him, supporting his writing and especially during his breakup with Ann. He would call after work.

Right now he was too disgruntled over the news of the lost surveillance to talk to her. Maybe his friend, Keith Devry, a reporter for the Winston-Salem Journal, could do some snooping for him. No, that wouldn't work. Rick couldn't have him in the loop. That would mean he would have to share information and byline. It was his story and he wanted to be the one to break it to the public. His selfish motivation might prolong the exposition, but he was willing to take that risk.

Pushing aside his disappointment, Rick scanned the morning paper while he drank the awful office coffee. The longer he read the news, the more his mind wandered back to the Marriott in Winston-Salem. Just thinking of that night aroused him. Candi had been like a dog in heat. Even his best times with Ann weren't close to her ravenous appet.i.te for s.e.x that night. He didn't know if their relationship would last or where it was going, but he planned to enjoy the ride.

Candi walked into his office quietly so as not to break his concentration. She hadn't quit smoking but didn't smoke around Rick anymore. The urge to irritate him had turned to something else. She was always attracted to him; the att.i.tude was just her strange way of showing affection until that night at the Marriott. Now she was able to act out her true feelings for the first time since she was raped by her therapist. No promises for the future just taking things as they come, one day at a time.

"Good morning, tiger," Candi said in a lilting voice.

"Good morning," Rick choked out the words, caught off-guard by her presence and a little embarra.s.sed about his thoughts. "Uh, about last weekend . . . I don't know exactly what to say. Everything always looks different in the light of day. I don't want our relationship outside of work to interfere with how we do our jobs."

"No problem. We're good together, in the office or in bed," Candi shot back. "I don't want you to think I jump into the sack with every guy I meet. After my therapist raped me, I had trouble trusting anyone. I've learned to trust you and where ever this relationship goes, I think we can handle it. Don't you?"

"Yeah, sure," Rick said, feeling a little bolder. "I was thinking-"

"Rick, got a minute?" Dan's voice interrupted from his office next door.

"Yeah, boss. Be right there." He got up but went to Candi before leaving the office. "Listen, why don't we finish this conversation at dinner tonight? I have some calls to make and an interview but should be able to swing by to pick you up by eight. Okay?"

"Sure." Candi smiled and nodded her approval.

It wasn't the Swan Lake he promised, but it was a good start. She headed to the dark room to develop the roll of film she shot at the Dixie Cla.s.sics tournament. The sports editor promised her a photo spread if she had any good shots.

Later that afternoon, Sports Editor Wayne Morris looked over Candi's shoulder at the results of her work strung on a drying line across the darkroom. They had an electric dryer, but she preferred to hang them up the old fashioned way. The paper didn't curl as much and it was her way of showing off her best pictures to anyone who pa.s.sed by.

"These shots are great," Morris said, stroking his graying beard. "We're printing the Dixie Cla.s.sic special pullout section on Wednesday. Put a copy of these on my desk when they're dry. I can use you when the season gets into full swing, if you're interested. You work is good, you have a sharp eye."

"Thanks. I'll think about it," Candi replied, knowing she really didn't want to be a sports photographer. She sought validation of her work to get her to Africa to do the work she wanted.

Chapter 33.

"The new engines were not only much more efficient but required different maintenance and repair, which required fewer crew members to operate and maintain them."

Christmas holiday Christmas spirit was evident all around the warehouse office. Marie and Ann had decorated the windows with boughs of pine tied with red ribbons, and a small, decorated tree stood in the corner. Fresh pine and cedar scent permeated the usually smoky pall that hung over the office. It even lifted Marie's spirits, who'd mellowed since Ann came to work for S & T.

Ann had made herself indispensable to Marie by quietly taking over many of her duties. She knew Marie's health was declining and it would only be a matter of time until she would have full responsibility of the office.

When Ann had enough indisputable evidence a crime was being committed, she would make her move. She even managed a smooth working relationship with Joey to help get at the truth of the operation. The Enforcer was the private name she and Marie gave him when they were talking among themselves. Joey was Sam's eyes and ears who kept his operation low profile. He was also a major player in the organization to which Sam sold his illegal cigarettes.

The friendship and trust Ann cultivated with Marie had failed to yield much information. What Marie knew, she kept to herself. With Marie's health failing, Ann felt a sense of urgency to pry knowledge out of her. She hinted about retiring once or twice in a joking manner. But Ann took her seriously, seeing it as her cue to press harder.

Marie's raspy voice and hacking cough had gotten steadily worse, but she refused to quit smoking. Her only exception was when Jerry occasionally brought Ricky and Libby to pick up Ann from work; she didn't light up around them. She loved those kids like they were her own grandchildren. Marie never had children and never remarried after her husband left her with only a short goodbye note and a maxed-out credit card. After that she immersed herself in her job at S & T.

"Do you have any plans for Christmas?" Ann asked on her way to Marie's file cabinet.

"My sister in Boone is getting senile and can't do much for herself anymore. I thought I'd go up and fix Christmas dinner for her. How about ya'll? Bet there're lots of presents under your tree. Kids are really what Christmas is all about. When you get old, it's just another day where you eat too much and wish you didn't have to go back to work."

"The snow is starting to come down harder now, and twelve inches is predicted for the mountains by tomorrow. That drive will be too dangerous," Ann said. "Why don't you let Jerry go up this afternoon and bring her down here in his four wheel drive pickup? We'd love to have you two spend Christmas day with us. It'll be fun for the kids. Jerry's mom and my mom will be there. They've heard so much about you. It was all good, I promise. What do you say?"

"Well, it is getting pretty nasty out there. Are you sure Jerry won't mind driving that far in this weather?"

"Are you kidding? He looks for excuses to drive his new truck where there's mud or snow. He's picking the kids up early because of the weather and bringing them here for our office party. After lunch he can pick your sister up. It'll be great to have a house full on Christmas day. We'll finally be able to fill up that giant dining room table." Ann laughed.

The weather cooperated with Ricky's wish for a white Christmas. Snow had been falling since early morning with no hint of letting up. Sam gave everyone Christmas Eve off and the following week until the day after New Year's.

On the day before Christmas Eve, the office staff and warehouse workers celebrated with a potluck luncheon. And Ronnie Gains spiked the Wa.s.sail punch. There were no boxcars scheduled until next year, so everyone could take it easy. Sam had enjoyed a profitable year and gave everyone a turkey for Christmas. Ann donated her turkey to the Salvation Army to help them feed the unfortunate families in the city.

Jerry arrived carrying Libby with Ricky by his side. "Hi, honey. Here, let me help Libby with her coat."