by London James
Baker
“Walt, it’s me again. Call me back as soon as you get this. It’s important.”
I disconnect the call and drop the phone on my desk. Running a hand through my hair, I look out the windows. The storm is here. The trees are bending under the wind, lightning is flashing in the clouds, and the thunder is cracking. Snow flurries are being driven sideways, and visibility is worsening by the minute. It won’t be long before it’s a total whiteout.
And we’re stuck here. On our own. With God knows how many of Hernan’s men chomping at the bit to come after us.
Yeah, I painted a rosier, rah rah picture of how things are to Isla. I don’t want her scared. Sue me. I never lied to her; I just shaded the truth a bit. I honestly do believe I can beat Hernan, but it would take an almost miraculous stroke of luck.
At least I have time to organize and plan. This storm looks like it may be here to stay for a while, so maybe I’ll get some sort of divine inspiration. Maybe somebody out there will reach down and give me the magic bullet to destroy the cartel once and for all.
I look at my watch and realize it’s been a while since I last saw Isla. And Stabler for that matter. I leave my office and walk down to the bedroom. As I pass the guest room though, I catch sight of her sitting cross-legged on the bed. She’s staring down at a small metal box on the bed in front of her, almost in a daze.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask as I step into the room.
She looks up at me, an inscrutable expression on her face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says.
“What’s in the box?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never opened it.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed and look at her. She’s obviously bothered by something. I can see how heavy it’s weighing on her. Her shoulders are slumped, and there’s a strange light in her eyes.
“Where’d you get it?” I ask, trying to prod her into conversation.
She lets out a breath. “My brother gave it to me,” she confides. “The last time I talked to him, he asked me to keep it for him. He said that if anything happened to him, I needed to turn it over to Marshal Parr. He said that he’d get it into the right hands.”
“And you have no idea what’s in it?”
“He said everything that would make his testimony redundant,” she admits. “Reams of information that would destroy the Zavala Cartel.”
“And you didn’t turn it over after he was killed?”
She shakes her head. “I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t want to be involved with it in any way, shape, or form. I just wanted to be left alone.”
A rueful smile touches my lips. “Yeah, that didn’t work out so well.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why are you looking at it now?”
“Honestly, with everything going on, I forgot it was in my bag,” she says. “I went digging for clothes and found it. The minute I saw it, I remembered exactly what was in it and why I didn’t want it to begin with.”
I let out a breath and lean back on the bed, bracing myself on my arms. I look over at her and see that she’s torturing herself over it.
“Hey, look at me,” I say.
She raises her eyes, and it kills me to see the grief in them.
“None of this is your fault,” I tell her. “None of it. You were stuck in WITSEC before you got the box, right?”
She nods.
“Then as far as the cartel was concerned, you were already a part of it,” I say. “I understand you not wanting to make a bigger target of yourself by attaching your name to whatever’s in that box. Sooner or later, the source of the material would have leaked, and the Zavala’s would have hunted for you even more ruthlessly.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“No maybes about it,” I say and give her a grin. “I used to be a professional, remember?”
She laughs and pushes the box away from her as if the very sight of it disgusts her. She leans back against the pillows on the bed and stares at me. I see the haunted, pained look in her eyes start to melt away. I watch as it’s slowly replaced by the look of love I’ve come to really come to enjoy.
That look of love I see in her eyes when she looks at me is something I’ve come to rely on, truth be told. It’s what is helping fuel me to stay strong in this fight. The idea of knowing that if I screw up, she’s going to pay the price, makes me even stronger and makes me fight with even more abandon. Not recklessly, just more ruthlessly.
I’m the only thing she has protecting her, and I am going to kill anybody who tries to take her from me.
“Let me ask you a question –”
“Why did I keep it?” she finishes the question for me.
“Yeah, that.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s the last piece of my brother I have, I guess,” she says softly. “I guess there’s some small part of me that held out hope we’d reconcile one day. I don’t know how – I never figured out how to set my anger aside, to be honest. But there was some small piece of me that hoped. And when he died – I don’t know. I felt like I couldn’t destroy it.”
I nod. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me but matters of the heart – especially when it comes to family – are often irrational. They often make little sense to anybody, but those people involved. My heart goes out to her because even though she won’t admit it, she’s still very torn up about the situation with her brother. She still kicks herself for not reconciling before he died. More than that, she still berates herself for treating him the way she did.
Not that I blame her. I’ve told her a thousand times that she’s not to blame for the way she felt or reacted. What her brother did was a horrible thing. She lost the life she’d been building because of his selfishness and greed.
Because of that, she’s spent her life these last few years on the run. She’s felt unsafe, afraid, and has had to continually look over her shoulder. And for that, I hate the man. If he was alive, I’d beat him to a bloody pulp for it. Isla should never have to feel unsafe or afraid. And she should never have to spend her days wondering when she’s going to catch a bullet.
As I run through it all in my mind though, a thought occurs to me.
“You know,” I say. “You might actually be holding the silver bullet.”
“What do you mean?”
“If your brother was so sure that whatever is in that box made his testimony in the case redundant, the DOJ can use it to roll up the entire cartel,” I explain. “They can use it to lock up Hernan, his father, all of their associates – the whole Zavala Cartel could be burned to the ground.”
“Except that for the same reasons I never turned it over in the first place, it would put me in the crosshairs,” she says.
“The difference though is that now you have me.”
“Getting cocky are we?”
“Getting?”
She laughs softly. “What if I turn it all over and nothing changes?” she asks. “What happens then? If the cartel comes through the trial unscathed?”
I shrug. “Then you’re no worse off than you are now,” I tell her. “You remain in WITSEC living life exactly as it is now. But, if it does allow the DOJ to destroy the cartel, and they’re nothing but smoking ruins when they’re done, do you know what that means?”
“It means we would be free to live our lives in peace,” she says.
“Exactly. No more fear. No more reason to look over our shoulders. We’d be free and clear to live our lives and raise our family in peace.”
At the mention of our family, her face brightens, and she smiles at me, that dreamy look in her eyes getting more vibrant.
“Do you even know how amazing you are?” she asks.
“Sure, but feel free to tell me anyway.”
She laughs and hits me with a pillow. “I’m serious,” she replies. “This child isn’t even yours –”
“The baby is a part of you,” I cut in. “And I love you. You’re a part of me now. So, the way I se
e it, that baby is part of me too, in a way.”
Her cheeks flush, and her smile is filled with warmth and love. “I don’t even know what I did to deserve you.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s kind of like you won the lottery.”
She laughs again, this time it sounds genuine. I look at her, and there is nothing but joy and love on her face. She hits me with the pillow again, laughing even harder than before. I laugh along with her and pull her close to me. I hold her in my arms as we laugh, relishing the feel of the close bond between us strengthening.
“I love you, Isla,” I murmur, once our laughter has tapered off.
“And I love you too.”
We lay together like that, just caressing each other, and soaking in the love between us. Everything about it feels so right. Being with her drives away my own doubts and my own fears. Isla completes me in ways I’ve never felt completed before. Ways I never knew I could be completed before.
I don’t think it’s any disrespect to my memory of Jenny to say that I love Isla deeper and harder than I have anybody before in my life – deeper and harder than I ever thought I could. She’s opened doors inside of me I never knew existed and came barging straight through.
Isla has turned my world upside down and my notions of myself and love on their heads. We both took some long, strange roads to get to this point. We’ve both endured a lot of pain and heartache. But we finally found our way to each other, and I can’t possibly be more thankful for that.
Our bodies intertwined, we lay close, savoring the warmth of each other. We lay in a comfortable silence until eventually, I hear her soft, even breathing. She’s asleep. I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of her body pressed to mine. I breathe in her scent deeply, savoring it like the finest wine. With thoughts of Isla and our future together running through my head, I allow myself to drift off to sleep with her.
I’m jolted awake by something. My heart races and adrenaline is pumping through my veins. I listen closely and can’t hear anything but the sound of the blizzard raging outside. I turn my head and look out the windows, seeing nothing but a wall of white. There’s no way Hernan’s men came through that tonight. Not only that, Stabler isn’t barking his furry head off, which would seem to eliminate the possibility of Hernan’s men being in the house.
I turn my head the other way and see Isla laying on her side, staring at me. Her green eyes are sparkling and glittering in the dim lighting of the room.
“Everything okay?” I ask in a whisper for some reason.
She bites her bottom lip but doesn’t say a word. Instead, she reaches down, and grabs hold of my dick through my jeans. I moan softly as she starts to stroke and rub me, getting my cock nice and firm beneath her touch.
I open my mouth to say something, but she puts her finger to my lips to quiet me.
“No words,” she whispers.
She keeps stroking me through my pants, and I feel my arousal growing by the second. She unzips my pants and pushes them down to my thighs, never breaking eye contact with me. My rigid cock springs free and she grabs hold of it tightly, stroking me until I’m completely firm in her hand.
Then she rolls over, so her back is to me. She wriggles and squirms, pushing her pants and panties down to her thighs. She scoots back so that her ass is pressed up against my cock and starts to grind against me.
Wrapping my hand around her waist, I pull her back to me and grab hold of my cock. I slip it between the soft, wet folds of her pussy and slide into her. She gasps quietly as I sheathe myself inside of her. We stay motionless like that for a moment, enjoying the flesh to flesh contact. We haven’t used a condom since we made love in the shower, but I still love how it feels without one. It heightens the arousal in me and makes the sensations coursing through me all the more vibrant.
I move my hand up, sliding it beneath her shirt, and cup her breast. I circle her nipple with my thumb and lean forward, kissing the back of her neck. She moans softly as I slowly start to move my hips, moving my cock inside of her. She arches her back and hips, taking me even deeper into her.
I kiss her neck, the sound of her moans echoing in my ear, fueling the desire burning within me. I move slowly, but deliberately, relishing in the feeling of being inside of her – truly being inside of her. We move together, our bodies finding a natural speed and rhythm that heightens the intimacy of the moment.
Our movements are slow and deliberate; every movement of my cock plunging deep inside of her touching off a burst of sensation in the both of us. Her skin feels like silk beneath my fingers and being inside of her just gets better and better, every time.
“Yes, yes,” she murmurs sleepily. “Yes, baby.”
I move my hips a little more firmly, driving myself as deep into her as I can. Her groan is the sound of pure ecstasy, and it brings me closer to the edge. The slowness of our movements, the quiet of our lovemaking – this truly is the most intimate experience I’ve ever had in my life. It’s as if with every moan, every groan, with every thrust of my cock inside of her, we’re sharing pieces of ourselves. It’s as if we’re becoming more solidly bound together and are communicating our love without words.
The feelings in me are so intense, I bite her shoulder, drawing a soft gasp from her. I move my cock, driving it all the way inside of her, and she cries out softly. The pressure low inside of me is rapidly building to a climax, and when she squeezes me with her internal muscles, it pushes me over the edge.
I call out her name in a whisper as I unload my seed, filling her up with my hot come. Isla responds, shuddering hard, and cries out as she comes along with me. Our orgasms are intense. They’re powerful. And they fill me with a light and a love for this woman I never thought I could feel.
Slowly, my cock deflates and slips out of her. She presses her back to me, and I hold her tight. I kiss her neck softly and revel in the warm feel of her body against mine.
“I love you,” she murmurs.
“I love you too,” I whisper back.
With the sound of the blizzard outside raging and our impassioned breathing inside, it’s not long before we slip beneath the warm, dark covers of sleep once more.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Isla
The storm has been raging for the better part of a week. On the one hand, it’s given us a reprieve from the cartel men coming for us. On the other, it’s given us a week to stress about it. Baker has been in non-stop preparation mode, and while it’s fascinating to see how his mind works, it’s also a constant reminder that a fight is coming – one that could claim both of our lives.
It doesn’t seem fair to me. Not really. To have gone through everything I’ve endured and against all odds, to have found the man of my dreams, the one who checks off all of those boxes, and the one everybody told me didn’t exist – only to be faced with the very real possibility that he could be dead in a matter of days – it’s just wrong. It’s not fair, and it’s not right.
I alternate between praying to God for help. For assistance in the coming fight. And raging at Him for putting us in this position, to begin with. I know it’s not fair. What put me – and us – in this position was my brother. His decisions and his greed are what led us down this path. It’s because of Rory that we’re here, and nobody else – divine being or not.
“Did you finish loading up those magazines?” Baker asks.
“Yeah, I think so.”
I look at the pile of magazines on the table and nod, but frown. So many bullets. My most fervent wish is that he doesn’t have to use a single one. But I know how naïve and unrealistic that is. We’re facing an enemy that has no pity and no remorse. An enemy that will kill us without thinking twice about it.
And I hate that Baker is putting himself in harm’s way to keep me safe.
After he taught me how to load the magazines, I’ve spent hours each day doing just that. That’s how our days have been spent – cleaning and readying a stockpile of weapons that, frankly, is terrifying to see. I neve
r knew so many different guns existed. The rest of the time, we have been laying supplies into the bunker, making sure it’s ready for what could be a long stay.
Baker assures me that once we’re sealed in, nobody is getting in without a nuclear bomb blowing open the door, and I want to believe him. But the very idea that we’d need that kind of security is terrifying, nonetheless.
The night is our only reprieve from the madness. We spend our evenings curling up together, stealing time just to be with one another. We talk about everything from our childhood hopes and dreams to favorite things, to any frivolous topic that comes up. We retreat into ourselves, taking comfort and solace in what is a very real bond between us. We relish those times together. Revel in the love and emotion we exchange. Cherish each other.
In my dark moods, I can’t help but wonder if we’re simply trying to suck out every bit of happiness we can before the inevitable end of things comes. Part of me thinks we’re trying to cling to this one moment of time we have to truly enjoy each other and the love we share because we know once the storm breaks, everything could be over. One or the both of us could be dead. Our love shattered and forever lost.
Baker has been rummaging around in the kitchen for a while as I toil away, a mood of bleak despair washing over me. At the moment, I’m railing against the gods again, cursing them for dangling this one good thing in front of me, only to potentially rip it away. It makes Lucy pulling the football away from Charlie Brown seem humane in comparison.
I give a start when a hand comes at me from behind and sets a mug down on the table in front of me. I look up into Baker’s smiling face and then inhale the rich aroma of the hot chocolate sitting before me.
“Why thank you, sir.”
“It seemed like you could use a little treat,” he says. “The way you’ve been sitting over here glowering at the table was kind of scary.”
A wry smile touches my lips. “That obvious, huh?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
