My Protector 4
by Londonboy
For the second time that day I was awakened by Mac’s big hand shaking me gently. It took me a few minutes to remember where I was and what had happened. I sat up in the back seat of the taxi and felt the hot afternoon sun on my face. It must have been around three or four o’clock. That meant we had been driving for about seven hours. I looked around and immediately saw we were in the middle of the country. There were a few buildings in the distance, but nothing more than that. We were parked on the side of the road. I rubbed my eyes and looked up at Mac.
“Where are we?”
“A little outside of Siena. We need to stop for the night. It’s also time to get some food.”
“I slept for a long time. I guess I’m a little worn out.”
“It’s expected. You’ve had a rough two days.” Mac’s tough exterior faltered for a second. He looked at me with a face that suddenly seemed sad or, at least, concerned. “Listen, Michael. I’m sorry for my mistake earlier today. It won’t happen again.”
“What?” I was suddenly very confused. “What are you talking about, Mac?”
“I did not anticipate the driver being a threat. That was a grave mistake. I will not be caught off guard like that again. I promise that no one will ever get that close to you in the future.” Mac’s face was intense and sincere. I could sense his need for me to accept his apology, but I also knew I had to do it carefully.
“You know, slick, the funny thing is that I never once got nervous. I knew you would somehow rescue me. I did not, however, think you’d rip the guy out of the car with one hand. That, my friend, was pretty cool. We should at least pay for the broken window, don’t you think?” My joking reaction seemed to make him less tense. I think he was pleased that I attempted to convince him I had not been scared as I was being kidnapped. I also think he was secretly happy I acknowledged the powerful way he rescued me.
“We lose the taxi now, Michael, before we get into the city. There’s a bust stop up ahead. We’re going to have to walk about a mile. Are you okay with that?”
“Do you think I am some kind of invalid? I do exercise you know.”
“Yes I know. At the City Club Gym on the upper east side.”
“Okay, you need to stop that stuff right now. It creeps me out that you know so much about me. Let’s just get going. I’m starved.”
We grabbed our bags and as I got ready to walk to the bus stop, Mac started taking care of some business. He walked to the back side of the car and reached down to where the gas cap was located. He put the tips of his thick fingers in between where the siding of the car met the covering. I watched completely stunned as the guy pressed in with his fingers and the metal covering crumpled inward. Mac then squeezed his fingers and ripped off both the covering and the cap of the gas tank. He tossed it to the ground and I saw that the entire mechanism was completely crumpled and unrecognizable. Mac had taken a t-shirt out of his suitcase and he stuffed the tightly rolled garment down into the hole. I could see that he was making sure it soaked up some of the gas that remained in the tank. He pulled the shirt out and let it hang slightly down the side of the car. Mac then picked up his bag and we both started walking down the road.
“What’s up with that back there?” I was once again puzzled by the actions of the man and had no idea what was planned for the taxi.
“You’ll see.” Mac walked beside me and glanced back a couple of times. He finally stopped and turned around - obviously feeling that we had moved far enough away from the car for something. He put out his hand and moved my body by pressing up against my chest. “Stand behind me Michael.” I moved slightly behind him as he bent down and picked up a rock, which was the size of a golf ball. With what seemed like no more force than the pitch of a baseball, Mac sent the stone flying toward the taxi in the distance. I could tell by the sound the rock made as it traveled that the force was a lot more powerful than I thought. As soon as it struck the side of the car I noticed two things. First, I knew the rock hit the car in the exact spot where Mac had aimed – above the open gas tank – and, secondly, I saw there was so much force behind the throw that the rock punctured the metal siding of the car. I have no idea if the impact of the rock caused a spark or if the power of the throw was just so incredible, but something made the taxi suddenly explode. I had even anticipated what was going to happen, but it still shocked the hell out of me. I instantly felt heat from the explosion and pieces of the car rained down around us. I could tell that Mac had asked me to stand behind him so I wouldn’t be hit by any flying bits of car. The big man watched the flames for a few minutes and then turned around. He held out his hand as if he were leading me through a doorway and we both started walking down the road. “That should give us at least a day.”
I didn’t understand what he meant but I wasn’t going to ask. I simply walked beside him toward the bus stop. I was amazed at how the Italians on the bus merely glanced at the burning car and then went back to whatever they were doing. If anyone connected the two of us to the now almost completely charred taxi they didn’t show it. I watched as we later passed two police cars that had obviously been dispatched to investigate the fire. Mac was now on what I would describe as heightened alert – especially when we were around other people. He made me sit by the window so someone would have to go over him to get to me. He also kept looking around in a way that made me feel safe. I knew the big man was not going to allow anyone to outsmart him again and get within even a few feet of me without paying the consequence.
When we got into Siena and people started to exit the bus, Mac motioned for me to wait. We were the last ones to exit. As we were walking toward the center of town a very drunk guy stumbled out of a bar and grabbed my shoulder to avoid falling face down in the street. Before I even had time to get scared Mac had grabbed the guy by the shoulders and pushed him up against the wall. The guy hit the bricks so hard that it knocked the breath out of him. He suddenly became more sober. Mac quickly placed one of his monstrous hands around the guy’s neck and lifted him upward. I glanced down and saw the guy’s feet kicking around wildly as he tried to get air to his lungs.
“Mac, it’s okay. He’s just drunk. Put him down!” I kept the volume of my voice low, but I used enough force to grab Mac’s attention. He released the man and he dropped to his feet – and then wobbled a little. I couldn’t tell if he was swaying because he was scared shitless or because of the alcohol. Maybe it was a mixture of both. Mac reached up and straightened the guy’s lapels as he spoke. I could tell he was apologizing or something in perfect Italian. The poor drunk just stared at the big man in front of him. I’m pretty sure the fact that his entire body had just been lifted off the ground by one hand was totally confusing. We quickly walked away and when I glanced back the guy was still leaning against the wall and staring straight ahead – where Mac had been standing. I had a feeling he was going to be in a state of shock for a long time.
Mac again reached out and placed his big hand against my chest as we passed a business with pictures of places around the city that were for sale. Mac looked at them quickly and memorized the address of what looked like a two floor condominium. I was, again confused. As we started walking away I spoke in a whisper.
“We don’t have to buy or rent a place Mac. We can go to a hotel.”
“We aren’t buying a place and we can’t stay at a hotel. There are too many ways for someone to trace us if we do. There are surveillance cameras that can have your picture back to the states in minutes, there are ways to trace your name after registering in a heartbeat, and using an ATM or credit card would be like signing your death certificate. We need to save our cash for as long as we can.”
I was amazed at how thorough this man could be. It had not crossed my mind about any of the things he mentioned. I felt the immediate need to empty my wallet of anything that had my name on it. It was not until this moment that I figured out how the taxi driver had known I’d be at the airport. It had been my passport. There had been no time for Mac to get me a fake one. He had known the risk, but hoped the speed at which we left the country would help. Someone had been able to get the word to Rome in advance and the guy had been waiting for me. He even knew exactly what I looked like. These thoughts caused me to suddenly become very scared. Mac could sense everything that was going on in my head.
“There was no time to get you a new passport. It was a risk we had to take.”
“I see that now. I promise to listen to everything you say from here on. I intend to be much more careful.”
“Thank you, Michael. Everything I do is to protect you, I promise. No matter what, do not doubt that.”
His words soothed my fearful heart. Even in the midst of so much danger I actually felt incredibly safe. I followed him silently for the next fifteen minutes – even when we stopped by a market to get some cheese, fruit, bread, wine and other items. Mac was constantly aware of everything around us. I’m sure he memorized all the exits from the market as soon as we entered. After shopping we moved back out into the now very crowded lane. We finally came to a narrow street that led to a gated entrance for what looked like an empty building. There was a sign attached to the front of the building and I recognized the emblem of the company where we had stopped to look at pictures. This must be the condominium that Mac had memorized as we stood in front of the window. The guy had chosen a place that was empty – I’m pretty sure he planned on using the place for the night. I glanced down and saw that the gate had a padlock on it. I was about to ask what we were going to do but Mac simply grabbed hold of the lock and started twisting it back and forth. He used the tight bars of the gate for leverage as he manhandled the piece of metal. After about six turns of his powerful wrist the narrow looped part of the lock snapped in two. Mac had simply caused the strip of metal to break – just from the strength of one arm. The noise of the manipulated steel was a powerful turn-on. My face turned red because my cock immediately sprang to life and shot rock hard. I moved my bag in front of my crotch as Mac pulled the lock away and opened the gate. He turned to let me in and was caught off guard by the deep redness of my face.
“Are you okay, Michael? What’s wrong?”
His concern for me was touching. I shook my head quickly and looked down at the lock in his hand. My mouth opened to speak, but it was a few seconds before any sound came out. I was trying hard to always tell him the truth, but I could not – no, I would not – tell him about my hard cock. “It’s nothing, Mac. I just can’t believe you can do that.”
Mac nodded his head in a way that acknowledged my amazement. I also thought I caught a glimpse of something in his eyes that resembled a sudden pride at what he had just done. It crossed my mind that Mac was happy his display of strength impressed me. The look on his face was gone as fast as it had appeared. He placed his big hand on my back and pushed me into the entranceway, as he glanced around the street to make sure no one was near. I turned to watch him place the lock back on the gate and press the pieces of metal together so it looked the same as it did before – that is before his big hand had easily altered everything.
To be continued