Chapter Nine.
Safron slumped down in the cream leather seat, staring straight ahead. She had made an impulsive decision to move onto the aircraft. Unsure if it was the sympathetic look he had shown her, which had made her chose to do as he requested, Or, the thought of being touched again, too difficult to take. A shudder went through her body, the private jet spoke of wealth, and that triggered the memories she wished she could forget. But no matter what she tried, they always resurfaced, any time day or night. She had not slept soundly for three years, often awoken by her own screams in the dead of night.
“Annie, please fasten your seatbelt,” the soldier's deep voice gently informed her. He was a tough looking man, his muscles broad, his height, not to tall, around 5 ft 11 or so. His
