Hot, hot, hot!  She struggled to avoid the merciless rays of the sun but the deep sand was making impossible for her to run.  She could see shade, just at he horizon, but in this sand, she'd never make it.  She groaned and sagged to her knees, desperation and futility clouding her mind.  A loud crash snapped her eyes open and the spreading pool of water trickling under her body caused her to shudder.  She was tangled in the sheets and lying half on and half off of the bed.  She'd knocked her water pitcher off of the end table thrashing around, trying to escape the heat.  Evening was falling.  She'd slept all day, but her apartment air conditioner had failed to keep the room cool, and as the day progressed, the heat had built up. 
    She finally freed herself from the grasping sheets.  Muttering under her breath, she cleaned up the spilled water.  "At least it didn't break," she grumbled.  She squinted at her clock, trying to orient herself.  "Ninety two degrees," she squeaked.  "I can't freaking stand this!"  She rushed to a window and opened it.  The evening air actually was cooler than inside.  The influx of cooler air mollified her somewhat.  "Gotta get a bigger A/C.  It just gets too damn hot in here during the day.  She found a towel and wiped her body down, eliminating the thin sheen of perspiration that had covered her.  "Yuck," she muttered as she hung up the towel to dry.  "I was disgusting!" 
    A quick shower, and she did feel better.  She hummed an off-key tune, as she puttered around, trying to figure out what to wear, tonight.  She had taken a week off from work, and now, in day three, she was bored.  Staring in the mirror, she also realized that she was not feeding enough to maintain a healthy body weight.  "I do not feel like hunting," she hissed.  "I don't want to kill, I don't want to mug someone, I don't want to get involved in all these silly male/female intrigues just to get a meal. I just want a decent feed!"  She grunted.  "Life should not be this difficult."
    The heat of the humid night was not making a clothing decision easy.  Obviously, the cape was out.  She'd normally wear a sheer silk blouse, but without the cape, and especially with the humidity promoting perspiration, that could be a bit too revealing.  She did have several leather or suede lace up vests.  She nodded.  "That could work."  Getting it laced up and wrapping a mid thigh leather wrap around skirt about her, then applied a light touch of dark eyeshadow and bit of dark lip gloss.  She nodded.  "Not too bad." 
    "Definitely not a boot night," she mused.  She had a pair of low, slip ons, that had a very thin and very tough sole.  With their flat soles and simple design, they would not be considered fashion wear, but on a hot night, they seemed to be a good choice. 
    A blast of hallway heat hit her as she opened her apartment door.  It was hotter in the hallway than it was in her apartment before she'd opened the window.  She grimaced and hurried down to the first floor and out into the cooler evening air.  She leaned against the wall to catch her breath and cool off, but realized the that sun baked brick was hotter than the evening air.  She groaned and started walking to the Rusty Nail.  It wasn't as nice, musically, as the Bistro, but it was closer and it did have a good air conditioner.  Closer and cooler won out!
    Sliding into her favorite booth, she enjoyed the cool feel of the pseudo leather seat on her bare legs.  The bartender recognized her and waved.  He made a drinking motion to which she grinned and nodded affirmatively.  It was nice to be known and recognized.
    She enjoyed the cold dark and stormy that had appeared on her table.    The waitress had not been able to tell her who had ordered it for her, other than it was "some man."  She'd been unable to point him out.  He'd seemed to have vanished.  The sharp taste of the ginger beer and rum suit her mood and the music that was playing.  It was some old songs from her younger years, high school or junior high.  Because of the abuse she'd suffered at the hands of her "real" parents, sperm and egg donor, she called them, she was not very social and never really dated.  Her foster parents had tried to make her feel safe and secure, and for the most part, they had succeeded, but some things are hard to completely forget or let go of.  Like now, but even more so when she was younger, Eliza and been loner, seemingly sufficient unto herself and herself alone. 
    She leaned back, closed her eyes, sighed and enjoyed the music, wondering how she'd gotten to where she was today.  She sniffed and wiped her eyes, almost surprised to find that her cheeks were damp with tears.  She sighed and relaxed, trying to focus on the music rather than some of the depressing memories that seemed to want to crowd her mind, tonight.  The light thump of a glass being set on her table snapped her eyes open.  She focused on the second dark and stormy and followed the arm up to see a reasonably pleasant face smiling at her. 
    "A mutual friend has told me that if I buy enough of these for you, that I might be able to meet and have a conversation with you.  How am I doing?"
    He seemed earnest and gave off no signs that aroused her danger senses.  She smiled.  "So far, so good.  Now, for the tricky part.  Give me a name that I recognize and believe and you're welcome to sit and chat."  She smiled sweetly with a hint of danger in her eyes.
    He smiled as if he realized that he'd just pulled a tiger's tail.  "Sam Burns."  He waited expectantly.
    Eliza hesitated, then motioned for him to sit.  "How is Sam these days.  I haven't heard from him for quite awhile."
    "Sam's doing great, actually.  He told me that I could tell you that he'd been recruited by some unnamed federal agency and was quite happy doing what he's doing."  The man sat, facing her.  "My names is Khol, Lukas Kohl.  My friends, call me Luke, and I'm hoping to include you in that so very short list."  He smiled.
    Taking a sip of the latest dark and story, Eliza nodded.  "You have my interest, Luke.  How do you know Sam?"
    Luke grimaced.  "Let's say that Sam and I shared similar occupations and interests.  Sam, so to speak, has been kicked upstairs and I'm more in the field doing the grunt work."  He paused and stared at her.
    "And you are here, talking to me, why," she finally asked.
    He laughed out loud and quickly recovered.  "Lady, I have no idea.  Sam told me that you might be a good person to know and that I might find knowing you a real life saver.    Other than that and a few places I might try to meet you, he would tell me nothing, saying only that I'd have to find out for myself."
    Eliza visibly relaxed, feeling a lot better all of a sudden!  It really looked like she could trust Sam with her life.  "Does that mean that you are a Federal officer or a law officer of some sort?"
    "Not any more.  I was, but I retired to pursue more," he hesitated as if to find the appropriate word, "constructive endeavors."  The waitress delivered a drink to him, which he accepted and paid for.  Taking a sip, he continued.  "I felt hampered by certain restrictions and bureaucratic lethargy."
    Eliza was listening intently to what he was saying and also very aware how carefully he was choosing his words.  She wondered if she was understanding what he wasn't saying correctly.  Eliza stood and finished her drink.  "Take me to your place.  I think you want to talk to me in private." 
    He stood and smiled.  "Aw, do we gotta talk?" Eliza glared at him with a look that could make strong men fail.  He held up both hands.  "I know, I know , if I want to live, right?"
    Eliza nodded.  "Remember that!  Now lead on."

    Luke's car reminded Eliza of Sam's old brown bomb, as he called it.  Apparently, what they did paid rather poorly or the chose not to invest in reliable transportation.  He'd opened the door for her and politely closed it, like and old school gentleman, though he didn't appear to be past 40.  "Maybe some places still teach manners," Eliza mused. 
    Belying it's deprecate appearance, Luke's car started on the first turn of the engine and idled with a powerful, throaty purr.  "Nice," she whispered to herself.  Aloud, "I'm guessing this vehicle is just full of surprises."
    "Oh, yes!" Luke enthused.  "It's far more than meets the eye.  That's a modified Corvette engine under the hood, heavy duty suspension and drive train.  We can do zero to over 140 in a short enough time to scare a lot of people."  He chuckled.  Including me!
    He eased off, gently engaging the clutch and smoothly pulling out of the parking spot.  Even being handled that gently, Eliza could feel the vibration and power of the engine.  This was the auto equivalent of a chopped hog, in disguise.  She grinned.  Powerful machines were fun, but Luke drove safely and sanely to his apartment and just as gently parked. Eliza sighed with disappointment and got out.  "Lead me to your castle, sir," she stated.  "I hope it's more exciting than your driving," she muttered.
    While not tremendously exciting, his apartment was deliciously cool!  Coming in from the heat and outside humidity, she almost felt chilled.  It was a wonderful feeling.  Luke indicated a chair.  "Make yourself comfortable.  Oh, one thing Sam did mention was Palinca.  He said you love the stuff.  Care for some?"
    Eliza laughed!  "You have Palinca?  You've got to be kidding me.  Where did you find that around here?"
    "It wasn't easy, I'll tell you.  And actually, it wasn't around here.  I had to special order it."
    "Me too," Eliza responded.  The fact the he'd special ordered Palinca to help meeting her indicated to her that he really wanted to get on her good side for some reason."  She accepted the Palinca, and took a sip of the fiery liquid and shuddered from 151 proof brandy.  "Good," she gasped.  "Good stuff!"
    He sat down and faced her, a low table between them.  "Sam said I could trust you with my life as long as I was straight with you, so I'm going to just lay it out.  Of course, everything said, here, was never said, and there are only two of us and an absolute guarantee of privacy."  He pointed to a device under the table between.  "You gotta love technology," he said reaching down and pushing a button that caused it to light up like a Christmas tree.  "We are now private!"  He smiled.
    Eliza raised her eyebrows, but refrained from commenting.  Luke then continued.  "As you may know, Sam was trying to take down the Deacon, but couldn't get close enough.  He kept getting stopped at higher levels.  Sam doesn't take to corruption in high places lightly and contacted some friends.  Those friends pulled some strings and Sam found himself with an offer he didn't want to refuse, but part of his conditions were that his investigation continue. 
    "Sam contacted me and arranged that my fees, did I mention that I'm free lance, would be paid by someone else.  Sam strongly suggested that I contact you, though he told me squat about you.  I've know Sam long enough to believe him and follow his suggestions.  So.  Here I am, meeting you."
    Eliza nodded.  "That sounds like Sam."  She slowly took a sip of the Palinca, basically stalling to figure out what to say next.
    Luke shrugged.  "What do I do now?  Should I ask you what part you played in Sam's investigation or should I just down on one knee and ask you for your, as yet undefined, help.
    Eliza smiled, took another sip of Palinca and said, "You do seem to be in a difficult position, here.  I suspect Sam has enjoyed contemplating how this would go."
    Luke nodded.  "Yea, I bet!"
    Eliza  continued, "You said that you are freelance.  What were you doing before you went freelance and why did you go freelance?"
    Luke glanced down at his "privacy" machine before speaking.  "I was part of a military team charged with the responsibility of hostage negotiation and rescue, with emphasis on rescue.  I got sick of the restrictions and political hamstringing the went on, so when my enlistment was up, I took an early out and started my own 'security' company.  I'm running better than a 95% success rate in an area where 10% is good and making enough money to pay the bills and live a little."
    "Who are your clients," Eliza asked.
    Usually large corporations who can bear the expense of a rescue operation.  Occasionally, a wealthy family who's kid has managed to get themselves in big trouble.  It's not my time that's expensive.  It's the equipment and bribes, I mean expenses," he smiled, "and overhead of an operation that runs the meter up."
    "Do you work with law agencies?"  Eliza asked.
    "Not usually.  I've consulted, but my mode of operation isn't suitable for the legal profession.  They get uncomfortable working with me when my body count record is examined, which they all do."
    "High, huh?"
    "As high as I can make it!  I hate repeat offenders and I don't get many of those with my techniques."  He stared at Eliza.  "Not that I'm admitting to anything, now."
    "Understood," Eliza replied.  "You've admitted to absolutely nothing."  She took another sip of Palinca, chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds and then said, "I think we may have some common ground, but why here, why now?  Aren't there other opportunities, more lucrative, elsewhere than this jerk-water little town?"
    "Well," Luke said, "You might think so, but apparently there is quite a bit going on here.  Because your attitude is so common, can you think of a better place to make your home base?  I'm here mostly because of Sam, but once he called my attention to it, and a not small issue I might say, arranged for financing, this seems like a good place to be.  Why incur the expense of an overseas operation when this crap is going on right under my nose? I can work here and do some good."
    Another sip of the Palinca and her glass was empty.  “Refill, please,” she asked.  She smiled as he carefully filled the glass almost to the rim. 
    “Sam said you had a cast iron gut and the ability to drink a platoon under the table.  I'm beginning to believe him.”
    Eliza snickered.  “Sam did have a tendency to exaggerate and he did not have the highest tolerance for alcohol.  Now, I'll admit he could sniff the cork without getting tipsy, but watch out if he took a sip!
    Luke threw his head back and laughed!  “Now, I think it's you who exaggerate,” he said.  “I'd say he had normal capacity, but what you're doing is on a totally different level.  I would never try to match you drink for drink.  I do enjoy life.  Sam's comment was hollow leg, but as skinny as you are, I don't know where you're hiding it!”
    Eliza made a face and stuck her tongue out at him.  "I am not skinny and my legs are not hollow," she said, grinning.
    "Right!  You are not skinny.  Tell me, do weight more than a hundred pounds?"
    Eliza stood and ran her hands down her body.  "Ok, I've lost a little weight, but really, am I skinny?"  Her look of concern was almost comical, but Luke had an idea that it was very real.
    He stood too, picking up her glass and pouring Palinca into it.  He took a deep breath handed it to her.  He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her three hundred and sixty degrees.  "You are not emaciated," he said, " but really, you could use some more body weight."  When she was facing him again, he realized how chiseled her muscles were.   "You do have quite a muscular build.  You seem to be all muscle.  You remind me of a marathoner, but I can't imagine a marathoner being so short.  No offense, but your stride would be too short.  Do you run a lot?"
    Taking a sip of her drink, Eliza replied, "Only to liquor store to get more Palinca."  She smiled.  "Seriously I work part time at the library and I'm not all that physically active, lately, which is why I'm probably losing weight.  I've just not been hungry."
    He nodded.  "And this hot weather doesn't help, either.  You look a little pale.  You might want to get your iron checked, but you do look good."  He grinned and winked.  "Sexy as all get out!"
    She tossed her drink, but the glass down, stood erect and put one hand behind her head and the other on her hip and struck a sex pose.  "You ought to come up and see me sometime, big boy!"  She grinned at him, amused at the expression on his face.
    "Wow, lady, when you put it like that, maybe I should!"  he laughed and shaking his head poured both of them another glass of Palinca.  "Enjoy," he said sitting down.
    They silently sipped the strong liquor for a few minutes.  "I think we got off track, there," Luke observed.  "Now, don't misunderstand, I could look at you all night, but even more, I'd like to know why Sam told me to contact you and was so vague about the whole thing."
    Eliza grimaced and smiled.  "He told you to contact me because I've been doing some of what you've been doing in this area for some time, now.  Like Sam, I've been unable to have a major impact, though I've made life very miserable for the Deacon, drastically curtailed some of his activities and gotten several people out of his clutches.  I probably have more information about what he does and how he does it than anyone you'll ever meet."
    Luke gave a low whistle.  "And you do this and survive, how?  From what Sam told me of the Deacon, you shouldn't be alive."
    "Yes, there is that, but you see, the Deacon doesn't know that I'm the one causing a lot of his pain.  He has a rival in some areas, mainly soft drugs and arms, and I allied myself with them."
    Luke coughed.  "You allied with Duk's Raiders?"  His incredulous look spoke volumes.
    "Hey, Duk is a good guy," she shot back.  "Just don't get on his bad side."
    "Yea, right," Luke muttered.  "A good guy."
    "As I was saying," Eliza continued with some emphasis, "Good old Deacon has never connected the town librarian with his pain and grief. I'll have you know that I'm a very prim and proper citizen.  No way that I could be the evil vigilante that has destroyed so much of his property and killed so many of his men." 
    At the mention of "killed" Luke didn't say anything, but he did become much more alert.  He focused on her. "What got you involved?  How did, as you say, the town librarian become a vigilante, killing the bad guys?"
    Eliza sucked air, in between her clenched teeth, a nervous habit that she'd had her entire life.  "I'm not going to tell my life story, tonight, but I'll tell you that I had a personal run in with some of his crew and almost didn't survive it.  Someone close to me had even worse happen and it took years for her to recover.  He made it personal and he'll not live much longer to regret it." 
    In the dim light, as tense as she was, he could almost imagine that he saw fangs.  He shook his head.  "Let's not let the imagination run wild, now," he thought.  He put his hand over her clenched fist, almost totally engulfing it.  Gently opening her hand, he smiled.  "You do have passion."
    She grasped his hand in hers, and with surprising, strength, pulled him nose to nose.  "I do, and I don't want you to kill him.  He's mine, OK?"
    He stared into her eyes, feeling like he was being swallowed into infinity.  Her intensity was truly frightening.  He nodded.  "I promise."
    She released his hand, which he realized was hurting from the strength of her grip, and smiled.  "I could use a refill and do you have any easy listening music, say, something from the 60s or 70s?"
    Luke hesitated, trying to refocus.  Her mercurial moods were disconcerting.  He poured both of them a refill, those his was only a top-off.  "I'll see what I can find," he said, thinking, "I feel like I'm on a roller coaster."
    Time had passed.  The Palinca had relaxed them and the music seemed to ease tensions.  As CCR, "Who'll Stop the Rain" faded and "Bad Moon Rising" started playing, Eliza sighed.  The evening had almost turned into a social event.  "Bad Moon" almost seemed prophetic to her, but at the moment, she was relaxed and reasonably content.  They had both moved to a couch and were semi-reclining, his arm around her shoulders, she leaning against his left side.  Twisting to face him, she said, "I'm glad you approached me, tonight, Luke.  I'd been having bad dreams and I was rather depressed.  I know this isn't a date, but it's the closest thing I've had to one in a long time."
    He returned the smile.  "Me too.  It almost feels like the calm before the storm, but you take what you can get, right?"
    "I know what you mean.  I've never been in the military, but sometimes I can imagine what it must feel like."
    "Well I have, as I told you, and I think you have it fairly well nailed.  It's different for everyone, I imagine, but that are common elements.  And it's always exciting, always exhilarating."
    Eliza nodded.  "Are you lonely?"
    "What do you mean," Luke asked.
    "Do you have anyone?  Are you lonely?"
    Luke cleared his throat, nosily.  "You bear right in, don't you?  But, no, I don't have anyone.  I thought I did, but she couldn't 'condone' what I was doing, and I'm not giving that up.  A shallow relationship with someone who won't support you or saving lives.  Well, Eliza, which would you choose?"
    Eliza sat up and straddled his couch prone form, so that she was face to face with him.  "I think," she started slowly, "that your life is worth what you accomplish to make the lives of those you care for a little better, and to make this task of living a little easier and a little less painful for all concerned.  We do what we have to do to survive the best we can, but that's not what defines us."
    He nodded, saying nothing.  She was supporting her weight on her arms.  Lowering herself, so that she was lying on top of him took the pressure off.   "You can't weigh a hundred pounds," he whispered.  "I could support your weight all night."  He put his arms around her and hugged her to him.
    She realized that she was drifting into and out of sleep.  It felt nice being held and she was in not hurry for that sensation to end. 
    Her last thought of the night was, "I wonder if we'll awaken like this?"