"Nice knife." He noticed it in the leather sheath. "What brand is it?" "It's hand made. A friend of my brother made it out of car spring. Handle is st...g." "Well, you won't need to use it on me. I'm harmless enough." He kept smiling, looking between the road and me. He pulled off the highway and into a large motel parking lot. "This is home for now anyway." "You live here?" "For now I do. I do engineering work so I live out of suitcases." I followed him up a flight of stairs to a nice, spacious. He opened the door to find Adrianna sitting on the steps waiting, this time her lustrous hair pulled back into a loose and substantially weighty and vulnerable looking bun, and her eyes covered in a pair of black-rimmed spectacles, giving her a wanton librarian kind of appeal that caused an intense yearning in Cyrus’ loins. The ride to the lodge was quick, but Adrianna noticed how fidgety Cyrus was. ‘Are you ok?’ ‘Huh? Oh… ya.. ya.’ His mind was doing somersaults, caused by a mixture of anxiety. More

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