“Anton Pavlenko and his guards make sure everyone stays close lipped about operations and keep all conversations to a social nature,” I said.“Yo... like playing with fire, is all I can say,” Andy replied.Anton’s car followed us in the front gate. I could smell and see smoke from the grill when I stepped out of the SUV.“I get home in time to have a cold beer before supper. I am glad you could join me; we have Budweiser and Coors Lite. Which do you prefer Anton?” I asked.“I have had Coors before, I. They don't have a clue. This is just part of them herding us into a relationship for their own ends. Sex isn't on the table here," I had to tell myself."Ooo, fried chicken! I’m in," I said with a grin."Sounds like fun. Thanks, Mom," Pam replied.Early that afternoon, basket and blanket in hand, we waved to them as we hiked up the road and over the rise to find a suitable (private and secluded) place. In about a quarter-mile, there was a gate in the fence with the faint remains of a truck path. More

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