Putting the water bottle between my legs, I unzip my hoodie, my mind spinning wildly as the pieces come together.
“Whoa, now that’s not fair.” He looks serious.
“What?” He’s lost me now.
“That.” He points to me.
Looking down at myself I realize to what he is referring. The white ribbed tank top.
Laughing. “Why not fair?”
“Because you are testing me, Sierra.”
Gesturing with my hand at his bare chest, “And you’re not?”
“I just got comfortable to work,” he defends his attire, or lack thereof.
“And I just got comfortable to talk about today because I was so excited.”
“And is that what you want to do? Talk?” He is standing halfway across the room, arms crossed over his delectable chest.
“Yes. And…”
“And what?” he cuts me off.
“And, well this time tomorrow night we will no longer be working together.”
“But we still are.” He reminds me.
“Do you want me to leave?” I’m confused.
“Hell no.” And there’s that smile again.
“I want to share this with you, Hale. I want to be here with you celebrating the success of your vision.” I don’t want to be doing this alone anymore.
“Fair enough.” He’s just looking at me, as if he’s weighing data. “I have about another hour’s worth of work.”
Putting my water bottle on one of the nightstands, I stand up and toss my hoodie on a chair. “Okay, I won’t bug you.” And I lift the duvet cover and slip under it. Punching the pillow a few times, I get it just right to lay my head down. The minute my eyes are closed, I start drifting off.
“What are you doing in my bed, mermaid?”
I feel Hale’s long body spoon around mine. I can tell from his legs that he’s still in his sweats and I smile. Our first time in bed together and we’re both clothed. It’s really kind of cute. I’ve been imagining for months what it would feel like to be in his arms in bed.
“I was sleeping.” I snuggle back into him.
“Do you really expect me to sleep with you here?”
“Mmm-hmm, I do. And I expect you to tell me how great you sleep with me in your arms.”
“That’s a given.”
His lips on my neck cause an instant shudder and he throws a leg over mine, inserting his calf between my legs and pulling me tighter against his frame.
Reaching for his right hand, I cover it with mine and move it up my belly and under my tank top, raising it to my right breast where I leave it, still covered by my hand as if I’m giving him a personal introduction to the twins.
Giving my breast a hard squeeze, his thumb and forefinger encircle my already hard as a rock nipple and softly begin to twist it. I moan as the motion shoots an electric current directly between my legs. “Hale.”
“Mmm,” he moans into the skin of my neck, “do you know how long I’ve waited for you to call out my name like that?” He increases the pinch, twisting my nipple tighter.
“Oh God, Hale,” my voice is a whimper.
“Yeah, babe. Just like that.” And he twists tighter. With his leg, he pulls me up against him closer so that I can feel how hard he is, even through his sweat pants. “Do you feel that?” he whispers, pressing his hardness into my back. “Tomorrow night it is not coming out of you and that’s a promise.”
Just his words make me moan. The thought of him filling me all night makes me clench every muscle between my legs. “Hold me tighter.” I turn my head around, needing to find his lips in the darkness. His kiss is soft at first, then increasingly demanding. When our lips part, I tell him, “I’ve needed you to kiss me for three weeks.”
“You’ve been amazing,” he nuzzles my neck. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done and for understanding that all my attention needed to be focused on this.”
“I understand. It doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you,” I admit in the dark.
“It doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you either, mermaid.”
I needed to hear those words. I squish back into him, a smile on my face. “Hale…”
“Yes, Sierra…”
“I’m falling in love with you.” I didn’t plan for those words to tumble out of me and hang on the night air. Fear would like me to grab them back and reel them in, but they are gone, out of reach.
Tightening his arms around me, he rubs his stubble across my neck, a delicious scratch of pain, “That’s a good thing. A very good thing, mermaid, because I’ve fallen in love with you.”
And with those words, in the warm protection of his arms, I release fear, rejoicing that there will be a next phase of our journey. Letting sleep claim me, I know that by this time tomorrow, I’ll be free to openly love him.
The final day of TFV1 and we are down to the nitty-gritty of how to implement the strategies we agreed upon last night. Today is tactics; hardcore plans on getting the ball rolling to safeguard technology throughout the world from attacks and meltdown.
In a room right off the dining room are nine Ministers of Technology representing countries from every continent. They are drafting an accord that will be presented to all United Nations countries for adoption. Sitting a few feet away from the table, I let them hammer out the details, and only step in when mediation is needed, or I see a glaring hole. The pride I feel is overwhelming and very paternal as I watch this group of, in some cases, warring nations, come together for the greater good of everyone on the planet. I am astounded, my expectations so far exceeded as they have bolstered my faith in people to do the right thing.
An hour later, I make my way to another room, this time filled with tech CEOs. Again, I sit on the outskirts of the action knowing that they will take ownership of what they craft. If it is theirs, they will implement it. What strikes me about this group is its diversity, from the young Turks of the fastest growing tech start-ups to the old guard at the helm of the institutions that have brought us the technology that has become inextricably woven into the fabric of our lives, since the first personal computers and automated teller machines changed our world.
Sierra enters the room and stands by the door, observing. Today I’m not even trying to hide my smile. In another two hours this will all be over and the participants will start departing. Their limos have already begun to arrive and are lining up in the great driveway outside the main building.
Our eyes meet and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so happy, so content. Waking up wrapped around her early this morning felt like a gift. A gift I didn’t know I had been longing for. And now seeing her standing against the wall, looking very professional in a deep blue and black silk dress, I can’t help but think that she is wearing the mermaid and the high black Louboutins for me. Just me. With a hard push, I shove away the vision of her legs wrapped around my neck, still wearing the Louboutins. That is a vision I know will definitely become reality and I will be requesting those sparkly pumps she wore on the first night we met.
Turning back to the group to help mediate a sticking point on priority protocol, I find when I look back, Sierra has slipped out, just as she did this morning shortly after we woke. Not happening tomorrow morning, mermaid. You’re staying in my bed as long as I want you there. And by then, you won’t be able to walk.
There’s a camaraderie and respect amongst this group and it is the diversity of the participants that is ensuring their product is so well rounded. It appears that there is mentoring occurring in both directions and the lack of ego among these profoundly successful men is the reason they have reached the pinnacle of their fields.
With a jolt, I am catapulted out of my seat, every fiber in my being poised to defend and attack. It’s Garber’s voice in my ear repeating the words, “Code Red. Man down at the main gate. I repeat Code Red. Move all participants to the bunker immediately. I repeat. Code Red. Man down. Participants to the bunker.”
Immedia
tely I am ushering the group down a set of fire stairs on the south end of the building to the subterranean chamber.
“Before anyone enters that bunker I want them searched for handheld weapons and explosive vests. Have two people stationed at the door so that we can do that fast and get them all in there immediately and get that room sealed,” I issue the immediate order, for now everyone is a suspect, including all of this weekend’s participants. Whoever leaked this location could very well be one of the people we are protecting in the bunker.
“CEOs delivered.” I report, leaving the group with the personnel assigned to search them before providing safe harbor.
Bounding up the stairs two at a time, I am greeted at the top by one of our guards who quickly supplies me with a M4A1 carbine automatic rifle and three magazines.
“This is Lundström, give me an update on participants’ locations.” I speak into my wrist mic.
“Diplomats delivered,” a voice informs.
“Just dropped off nine from the green room.”
“Six heading to west stairwell. That will give us a complete headcount of all guests and staff.”
“Heading there now,” I inform him. My first priority is ensuring the safety of guests and non-security/non-military staff.
I reach the door to the bunker at the same time the last six occupants arrive. Sierra is amongst this final group; I can see the fear in her eyes.
Grabbing my arm, I hear the pleading in her voice, “Aren’t you coming in with us?”
“No,” I shake my head. “My job’s out here. Stay calm you’re going to be fine.”
“And you?” Tears are filling her eyes, threatening a quick run down her cheeks.
She’s worried about me. “I’ll be fine. We have a date tonight.” Then with an order to one of the men, “Seal it,” and the door to the bunker seals closed.
“Bunker sealed,” I message Garber and hear gunfire the minute I exit the stairwell. “Give me a clear route.”
“Through the kitchen to the main dining room. I’ll meet you there.” As I make my way through the facility, “Palmer, update,” I make contact with my chief of security.
“One down, one wounded. Two down of theirs. Appears to be eleven total standing and they’ve breached a second point on the perimeter. Northeast corner.”
“Have we called for help?”
“Yes, Texas National Guard is in route out of Camp Mabry. Both Lackland and Fort Hood have been alerted,” he apprises me.
Reaching Garber, I take a look at the bank of surveillance cameras being monitored by one of the men. “Assault rifles.” I comment on the well-outfitted interlopers. “If we go to the roof on the north side of the main building, we can take out these three.” I’m out the door as soon as it’s out of my mouth.
“No Hale, stay here. You’re a private citizen. I’ll handle this.” He pushes by me before I can protest.
I know he’s right. I can’t be in this fray unless defending myself face-to-face. I want to be solving this issue, not sitting on the sidelines. Leaning down with my hands on the edge of the surveillance console, I begin to bark out orders. “Two more dissidents approaching from the main drive, both are armed, 500 meters out, will be a clear shot from the west in approximately nine seconds. Four seconds.” The interval passes, “Now,” I command and two go down in a hail of gunfire.
Looking back to where Garber is, “Jeff, clear shot in approximately six seconds.”
“I’ve got it silenced,” he informs me, in what is slightly more than a whisper. He wants all three down before they have time to react.
“Now,” I yell in his ear and we watch the third guy in the group go down, followed by the second. The lead guy takes off in a run, and lobs something toward the building with the arm of a quarterback, before Jeff’s bullet neutralizes him.
The blast is deafening as the walls and floor take on a jello-like motion and secondary crashes ensue. We no longer have video coverage of the north side of the building.
Grabbing the assault rifle, I turn for the door.
“Mr. Lundström, you should stay here,” the guy monitoring video warns.
Shaking my head no, I don’t miss a step. “He’s my guy,” I call out, heading toward the north side of the facility. The smoke still smells far off, but I can hear the shushing sound of the emergency sprinklers.
I’ve got to get to Jeff. Find him and get him out of there. He’s here because of me. Because I asked him. And just as I would never have left him or any of my guys behind in Afghanistan or Syria, I’m not leaving him behind and vulnerable here.
To my left is a fire stairs that will give me roof access and I can try and make my way north from there. Wind was out of the south this morning, so that should bode well for me to make it as far as I can in a smoky situation.
“Garber,” I yell, as soon as I’m out of the staircase. “Gaaaarberrrr.”
Smoke and flames are obscuring a portion of the north roof. Calculating Jeff’s angle, I cut a sharp left and see him partially obscured by rubble.
“What took you so long? Get this shit off my leg.”
My boy is still with us and a hundred pound weight lifts from my heart.
“Give me a second, dude, and I’ll get you freed.” I start lifting the concrete from his leg. “You’re not going to be dancing anytime soon. Your tibia and fibula have seen better days.” With the third slab removed, I can see his leg. “Let’s get you out of here.” And with his arm slung around my neck, we start making our way to the stairs.
“It had to be an inside job, Hale. Someone in that bunker? Are they targeting someone else?”
“I don’t know. I thought we had this thing airtight. What didn’t I see? Lean all your weight on me,” I direct as we hit the steps.
“We are clear of all dissident threat,” the message plays in my ear.
“We’ve got them all,” I advise Garber.
“What’s that sound?” he asks.
“Emergency sprinkler system.”
“Shit,” he growls, “Hale, get to the bunker now. That was the target. This was just the diversion. They’re all going to drown in there. This place is equipped with a high-flow military grade sprinkler system.”
And in one stunningly painful moment, it’s all clear as day. The bunker was always the primary target and trapped inside to drown are all the TFV1 participants, my staff and Sierra Stone.
Leaving Jeff in the stairwell with a handgun and my shirtsleeve tied tightly around his thigh, I’m at full speed across the facility to the south end where the entrance to the bunker is located. Calling into my microphone, “I need all available men to the bunker, they’re flooding out in there.”
By the time I reach mid-building, I’m wading through knee deep water rushing down the hall. It’s impossible to move fast in the current.
“Palmer, can you hear me?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Cut all sprinkler systems immediately. This place is on its own well system, figure out a way to take that down for now.”
“I’m deploying two men immediately.”
“Do we have an alternate way to access the bunker?” We’ve got to stop the flooding and we’ve got to get them out.
“I need your fingerprint, Hale, to override. How quickly can you get here?” Palmer’s voice is stressed.
“The water is slowing me up,” I’m quickly losing breath. “Probably still three to four minutes out.”
“Hurry.”
The halls seem interminable as I fight the deepening tide of water. I’ve got to get to them before they all drown. I need to save every single person in that room. I cannot let them drown. Not one single one of them. Including my mermaid.
My lungs are burning, my muscles fatigued. The hallway where I need to turn is finally in sight. I visualize basic training and I am twenty years old and indestructible. Wading through water. Nothing, totally easy. Save a roomful of people. I’m your man. Lead everyone out of here. Hell, that’s why y
ou recruited me. This is what I do.
“Palmer, I’m within visual.” I pant.
One of the guys breaks away and wades to meet me. Grabbing my arm he helps to get me through the last of it.
“Here’s the keypad, Hale. Your right thumb followed by your code.” As I input the numbers, I say a silent prayer for what we will find behind the door.
The reinforced steel door starts to slowly move open, hampered by the pressure of the water on the outside, but after the seal lock is broken and the first few inches of movement, the pressure built up by the significant amount of water taken on in the smaller chamber forces the door open with a rush, sweeping the occupants from within the bunker as if they were toddlers riding in a wave pool.
“Station men down the hall to grab everyone and get them to their feet. And I need someone taking headcount.” I yell.
Sputtering people float out in the initial wave and then it begins to slow off.
“How many are we missing,” I yell.
“We have all but three.”
“Come on,” I say to two of the guys. And we make our way into the bunker.
Immediately I see her hair floating around her, like a mermaid, gently swaying in the tide. Mermaids are supposed to breathe underwater, is the thought going through my head. So this is all wrong, because Sierra is definitely not breathing.
Scooping her into my arms, “I need a place to perform CPR,” I yell and two men are there to help, to take her from me. But I can’t let go. I will not let go. Not until she is breathing again.
“Right here, Hale.” Palmer yells out, pointing to a table that is well above water level.
I lay her down gently and simultaneously put my cheek near her mouth and nose and grab her wrist to feel for a pulse.
Quickly, I turn her head and water streams from her mouth and nose. Moving the mermaid necklace to the side, I direct one of the men, “Start chest compressions now,” as I begin mouth-to-mouth.
Tilting back her neck to make sure her airway is clear, I cover her mouth with mine, exhaling into her. Her chest rises and I fill it again. My counterpart has his rhythm down and I send more air down into her lungs.
Slave to Love Page 15
