by Alexa Davis
"What are you doing?" Echo demanded as she watched Baines go through my bag and pull out everything in it before dumping it upside down to make sure there was nothing left inside.
"I'm simply making sure that Lieutenant Powell doesn't remove anything that is the property of TriCorp from the premises," he replied as he dropped the duffle bag and looked up at me. I had no idea what he thought I could or would be stealing, but there was something about his accusation that made me think whatever it was he thought I might take was something extremely important.
"I promise that I am not taking anything out of this office besides the pictures that are sitting on the corner of the desk," I said nodding at the stack of photos of my father, my mother and myself. Julian picked up the frames and looked through them as if I could have possibly hidden something in them.
"Very well," he nodded and then headed toward the door that Echo held open. He stopped at the door and turned to say, "I want you to pack up your things and be out of this building in five minutes. I will send security up to escort you out."
I knew that saying anything else would simply get me kicked out faster, so I nodded and got up to put my things back in my duffle bag. Echo cast a look in my direction and then escorted Julian and Ruth out of the office. By the time she returned, I had stuffed everything into my bag and was looking around for something to put the pictures in. She stepped out into the front office and returned a few moments later with a box.
"Here," she said. "I think they'll fit in this."
"Thanks."
"No offense, but what does he think you're going to take from the office?" she asked looking around as if she were seeing the space with new eyes.
"I have no idea," I said shaking my head. "There's nothing here that I want, but obviously he thinks there is. It makes me a little suspicious."
"The lady doth protest too much?" Echo grinned as she watched me pack up the photos.
"Exactly," I laughed.
"Are you going to take those back to your dad's place?" she asked.
"Well, um..." I tried to think of a way to avoid having to answer this question. I didn't want her to know I was homeless, but I didn't want to lie, either.
"What? Your stepmother won't like it?" she asked.
"No, actually," I began. I looked up at her and thought about how she'd already trusted me with her grief, so I blurted out, "We got evicted from the apartment this morning, so I don't have any place to stay and my dad's money is all tied up in the will, so I don't have any of that either."
"Why? Where are you going to go?" she asked. I could see that she was a little surprised that I'd told her what was going on.
"I'm not sure," I shrugged. "Make some calls and see what I can come up with. The Navy might give me a place over at headquarters if I ask."
"You mean you have nowhere to go?" she gasped. "You're homeless?"
"Pretty much," I said pretending to reorganize the pictures in the box so that I wouldn't have to look up and see her pitying me. "I'm not exactly homeless. It's just that I don't have a place in the city because I've been traveling for most of the last twelve years. Any time I came back to the city, I stayed with my father or in the Navy barracks."
"Don't you have any money?" she asked quietly as if she was embarrassed to be talking about such a personal thing.
"Yeah, well, that's the problem," I said. "All the assets from the estate have been frozen and I've only got enough money for a few nights at a mid-range hotel before I'm tapped out."
"Then you should come stay with me," she said. "I've got a couch that you can crash on. It's not that comfortable, but it'll do."
"Do you always go around asking complete strangers to bunk with you?" I asked.
"You're not a complete stranger," she said as she waved a hand at me dismissing my concern. "You're Dr. Powell's son. That means you're like family."
"My dad was part of your family?" I grinned. I needed a place to stay, but I didn't want her to know how badly I needed it because then I'd feel embarrassed about being a full-grown man who didn't have a place to stay. "That's a little weird, don't you think?"
"Not like that, dummy!" she laughed. When she laughed her face lit up and her eyes got very blue, I couldn't stop staring at her, and I couldn't shake the feeling of having held her in my arms as she cried. "But he was a good man, and he did good things for me. Helping you out in your time of need is the least I can do to repay his kindness."
"All right, well, if you're sure it's not an inconvenience," I said wondering if this woman was real. "I'll bunk with you tonight, but tomorrow I'll figure something else out so you don't have to worry about being inconvenienced."
"It's really not a problem, Ryan," she smiled. "Why don't you wait for me down at the coffee shop on the corner? I'll be done here in about an hour and we can take a cab back to my place."
"Sounds like a plan," I said as I gathered up my duffle bag and the box of photos. I took one lasts look at my father's office wondering what it was in this room that had Julian Baines so worried. I shrugged and walked out into Echo's office just as the security guard entered.
"Are you ready to go, Mr. Powell?" he asked.
"That's Lieutenant Powell, Butch," Echo said. "Lieutenant Ryan Lucas Powell. He's a Navy SEAL, just FYI. Ryan, this is Butch Wilson, head of security at TriCorp."
"Well, well, well, your daddy must have been awfully proud of you!" Butch smiled.
"I don't know about that, sir," I said knowing that I should shake his hand but not having one free to do it. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson."
"Oh please, call me Butch," he said as he stepped back and held the door. "Just 'cause I gotta escort you out of the building doesn't mean we can't be friendly!"
"All right, then, Butch," I chuckled. "Lead the way."
"I'll see you in an hour or so!" Echo called as we walked toward the freight elevator.
"Thought you might want to go out the back rather than the front door with all that stuff," Butch said as we waited for the car to arrive. "Mostly so Mr. Baines doesn't hassle you about what's in the box."
"Oh, he's already done that," I said soberly.
"Yes, I imagine he has," Butch nodded. "He's a tough man that one. Not like your daddy. He was a nice man. Always had a kind word or a smile."
"My father?" I said stunned to hear Butch's description.
"Oh yeah," he nodded as the car arrived and he held the door for me. "He was a kind man. Always stopped by the security desk to say good morning and drop off a cup of coffee or a bagel or something."
"Are you sure you're talking about my father? Alan Powell?" I said. My father had never been a man who had casually stopped by someone's office or picked up coffee on the way into work. In fact, one of Eva's biggest complaints about him had been that he never remembered to do any of the things that kind, courteous people did for one another. She said my father was clueless and anti-social, but then she'd laugh and say that it was only to be expected from someone with a genius level IQ and a mind full of biochemical formulas.
"Yes, son, I'm talking about your father," Butch grinned. "I'm guessing he wasn't the same at home."
"Not at all," I said trying to remember any time my father had been demonstrative or anything other than perfectly organized and completely self-contained. "He was tough. He expected a lot from people."
"Oh he was tough down here, too," Butch laughed. "He was a drill sergeant every time he had a delivery that had to be taken up to the seventeenth floor. He'd be down here ordering people around and checking things off his list. A couple of times I almost brought him a whistle, but I didn't want to overstep my boundaries."
"I can definitely picture my father organizing things," I nodded as the elevator doors slid open and Butch and I stepped out into the back hallway.
"Our parents often lead separate lives that we know nothing about," Butch advised. "I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse to know that, but if it helps you find some peace, well, then, there y
ou have it."
"It does," I said as I pictured my father happily organizing his laboratory supplies and offering Butch a thank you in the form of hot coffee or baked goods for helping him take care of things. "He was a good man."
"He was a very good man, son," Butch said as he walked me to the door. "Don't ever forget that."
"Thank you, Mr. Wilson," I said as I shook his hand and then pushed the door open so that sunlight came streaming into the dark hall. I exited and headed straight for the cafe on the corner trying very hard not to think about how Echo Frost's beautiful blue eyes and her warm soft body pressed against me.
Chapter Eight
Echo
Ryan agrees to stay with Echo at least overnight. They order food from Nemo's and talk about their childhoods.
Echo reveals that she grew up in a military family and that her father was an incredibly strict disciplinarian. She tells Ryan how she got interested in computers and that she's always felt more comfortable with them than with people. She says that working for Alan Powell was the first time she'd felt like someone saw her as a capable professional, and she reveals that he had had her coding some of his research data so that he could run reports on his findings.
Ryan talks about his mother, his time in the military, and he hints at some dark things that he still carries with him. Echo pushes, but he shuts down and she backs off.
Once I was done sorting through the day's files and had tied up all the loose ends, I gathered my things and checked my self in the mirror I kept in my desk drawer. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about his strong arms wrapped around me as I cried and how safe I'd felt with my cheek pressed against his chest. I couldn't believe I'd asked him to stay with me, but after all of the nice things that Dr. Powell had done for me, it seemed like the least I could do for his son.
I waved into the security camera as I crossed the lobby knowing that Butch was somewhere in back watching it, and pulled out my sunglasses. The day was warm and bright and I smiled as the warming rays hit me easing the chill left from the office air conditioner. I looked up toward the sun and stretched my arms upward as I walked to the corner. When the light changed I crossed the street and smiled again as I caught sight of Ryan sitting near the window watching me. I waved, and he waved back before gathering his things and heading outside to meet me.
"You look happy," he grinned.
"I'm done with work for the day and I'm headed home with a handsome Navy SEAL," I said. "What's not to be happy about?"
"Oh God, please don't do that," he groaned.
"What?"
"Don't get all goofy about the SEAL thing," he said rolling his eyes. "We're tough and we're awesome, but let's leave it at that. We're not Gods...well, not usually."
I burst out laughing as I held my arms out and motioned for him to give me the box with the pictures in it. He hesitated, but since I had nothing buy my messenger bag strapped across my chest, he gave in and let me carry the box. I let him hail the cab, and once I had given the driver my address, I started peppering him with questions.
"How long were you in the Navy?" I asked.
"Twelve years, I'm still in," he replied. "Just on leave while I sort this all out and do something for a friend."
"Oh, what kind of thing?" I asked.
"Just a thing," he said indicating that the topic was now off-limits. I wanted to ask more questions, but I drew back and gave him some space. After a few seconds, he asked, "How long have you lived in New York?"
"I've been here eight years, six of which I've worked for Dr. Powell," I said. "I went to NYU."
"Where'd you move from?" he asked as he fiddled with the strap of the duffle bag.
"Peoria, Illinois," I said. "You know, farm country."
"You grew up on a farm?" he said.
"No, I grew up in a family," I said looking out the window wishing he hadn't started this line of questioning. Ryan was silent for a moment and then asked, "Did you like working for my father?"
"I did," I said as I turned back toward him as the driver took a right turn just a little too fast and I slid across the seat. Ryan threw his arm out instinctively to keep me from being thrown forward and then laughed when he realized it hadn't prevented me from almost ending up in his lap. I could feel the heat radiating off of him as I struggled to scoot back to my side of the bench.
"I don't mind, you know," he said.
"Mind what?"
"Mind you sitting close to me," he grinned. "I've been away on a mission, so it's been awhile since I felt anything that soft and warm against my skin."
I blushed furiously as I realized he had not only felt me pressing against him, he'd most likely been able to get a clear view of what was underneath my blouse. I tugged it up with my free hand and then shifted the box in my lap so that it covered my chest a little more.
"I didn't see anything," he said quietly.
"You're impossible," I laughed as we pulled up in front of my building. Ryan quickly paid the driver despite the fact that I was already holding the cab fare in my hand. Once out of the cab, I nodded at him and said, "I'll get the next one."
"Nonsense, you're putting me up for the night, it's the least I can do," he replied as he slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbed the box from me so I could find my keys and open the door.
Once upstairs, I gave him the nickel tour of the place and showed him how to ensure that the shower water was hot rather than ice cold. I handed him the one towel I kept specifically for guests, and told him I was going to run down and grab dinner from Nemo's. I figured after the day he'd had, he'd probably need a little privacy, and I wanted a chance to drop off last night's dinner money and maybe talk with Cece.
"Hey chica!" Cece hollered from atop a ladder as she dusted the mariachi hats and instruments that hung on the wall over the bar. It was a Tuesday night, and the dinner rush hadn't started yet.
"Hey Cece," I called waving the twenty dollar bill I had meant to give her the night before. "Here's the money for last night's dinner."
"I told you that your money isn't good here," she scolded as she descended the ladder. Cece's hair was in a dramatic beehive, her makeup dark and heavy on the eyeliner and she was wearing a bright pink wrap around top that showed off her considerable assets with a pair of black shorts that I wondered if Mando had seen. As usual, she looked stunning. "What's up?"
"I've got a guest," I said looking around to make sure no one else was listening.
"Oh yeah?" she grinned. "Spill it, chica!"
"He's my bosses son, Ryan," I began and her face fell. "I'm putting him up for the night because he and his stepmother were evicted from the family apartment this morning. It's crazy. His dad's been dead less than a week and he's already orphaned and homeless."
"Wait, what?" she said with a confused look on her face. "Why is he homeless? And why is he staying with you?"
"The will is tied up in probate, so he has no money," I said. "And I couldn't let him sleep on the street! He's a sailor!"
"Now you're just confusing me," she said shaking her head.
"He's a Navy SEAL home on leave to take care of his father's business," I said as I grabbed a menu and began writing down my order. I decided that we probably needed a lot of food given that neither of us had eaten lunch.
"Ooooh, military hottie!" Cece whistled as she rang the order and gave it to the kitchen. "Get yourself some of that, chica!"
"Cece, he's lost his dad," I said disapprovingly. "I'm not going to jump him."
"Why not? Men are best when they're vulnerable," she scoffed. "Get 'em when they're sad or lonely and you'll get everything you want!"
"You, my friend, are an opportunist," I laughed. "I am a woman of morals and ethics. I will not exploit a poor man who is sad and lonely."
"Then you're never getting laid again," she said dismissing me with a wave. We both burst out laughing as I paid the bill and took my bags.
"I'll keep you posted," I called as I pushed the door open.
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Back in the apartment, Ryan had showered and changed out of his street clothes and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and was now doing pushups in my tiny living room. I entered the apartment silently and stood in the kitchen watching as his muscles bulged from the effort he was making to lower himself all the way to the ground, hold the pose and then slowly raise himself back up. I marveled at his control. This was a man who knew how to maintain his focus.
"I'm back!" I called trying not to startle him.
"You've been back for about five minutes just standing there watching me workout," he said as he walked toward me smiling.
"I didn't want to disturb you," I said as I looked down into the bags to hide the fact that I was blushing yet again. I began pulling out food and handing containers to Ryan who stood watching with an amused look on his face. I shooed him out of the tiny kitchen, saying, "Take these over to the coffee table and set them down."
"Aye, aye Capitan," he said as he saluted and then grabbed the food and walked ten steps to the coffee table. I followed with plates, silverware and two ice-cold beers. There was nowhere to sit except on the sofa so I filled a plate, grabbed my beer and claimed one end while Ryan did the same on the other end. We ate in compatible silence for a long time.
"So, you didn't grow up on a farm," he said before shoving the last bit of tortilla in his mouth and chewing.
"I did not," I confirmed as I moved the food around on my plate.
"So, where did your name come from?" he asked trying to skirt the topic as best he could.
"My dad was a military historian," I said telling the same story I'd told a thousand times. "We were all named after radio call letters."
"All of you? How many were there?" he asked.
"Me, Charlie and Mike," I said anticipating his next question.
"I always wondered what it would be like to grow up with brothers," he said. "I guess that's why I joined the Navy. To find out what it's like."
"Charlie and Mike are my sisters," I grinned. Everyone made that mistake. "Charlie's given name is Charlotte and Mike's is Mikayla. My mother wouldn't let my father give them the actual call letter words because she was afraid of what might happen if they ever wanted to run for president."
