“I didn’t realize you were wearing briefs.”
“Who’s going to de-thong me?”
“We can do that right here.” His arms circled her waist and he kissed her neck while his hands slid down over her butt and began gathering the fabric of her t-shirt dress until she first felt cool air and then his warm hands on her skin. His thumbs hooked under the elastic waistband, and she felt her panties peel downward, felt her body respond, and knew exactly where the blood rushing from her head was going.
The flimsy fabric barely made it to her thighs before his hands began a slow trek up her back, the dress gathering on his forearms. He pulled her in tight, came back to her lips for another kiss, then turned her body just enough to let one hand glide around to her front and slowly up the center of her chest until it arrived just below her neck. Then his elbow continued up, pulling his forearm over her breast, and she felt the nipple harden against his skin as if reaching for more contact. He kept the pressure light, though, as he brought his elbow down and out, pulling his forearm lengthwise over the aching bud and continuing past wrist and palm until a single finger teased over the top of the sensitive nub. Finally, he added some delicious pressure, and Linda moaned into his kiss.
She broke the kiss and laid her forehead against his face. “Does debriefing always take this long?”
His thumb worked over her nipple. “Haven’t you heard? Slow is smooth; smooth is fast. SEALs don’t go charging in all willy-nilly. That’s just running to your death.”
“Yeah, but if you go any slower, I might kill you.”
He kissed her again and pushed the dress up and over her head. It interrupted their kiss, slipped past her fingers, and landed in a small heap on the upholstered chair beside them. Then warm hands pressed in on her shoulders, the small of her back, and her buttocks, while warmer lips and tongue trailed from her lips to her neck and down her collarbone. His fingers found the slight waistband again and it descended toward the floor as hot kisses sunk between her breasts and down to her navel. She clung to his head for balance and to keep his lips and tongue on her skin. She lifted each foot in turn so the lacy obstacle could be removed, and he took the opportunity to slip her ballet flats off as well. Then he came back up, at a slightly faster pace, the scarce fabric dangling from a finger and bouncing off her skin as his hands slid up her smooth backside.
“Maybe I should hang this out on the doorknob so everyone knows not to bother us.”
She tickled her fingers over the hard protrusion at the front of his gym shorts and pulled out on the waistband. “Maybe we should just say goodnight and go to our separate beds. After all, we’ve only had one date, and I don’t want to get a reputation.”
The thong fell on top of her dress. “This is our third date, and you don’t want to get a reputation as a tease.”
“Well you know, we girls have a saying about dating progression: Slow is smooth—”
He scooped her into his arms in one smooth motion, like she weighed nothing at all, and carried her to the bedroom without a word. He placed her gently on the bed, stepped back, and stripped off his shorts and t-shirt. Every part of him looked hard and muscular, and one part was positively pulsing.
“Does this mean the slow part is over?”
“Depends on how you define slow,” he said. “I almost don’t want to start because this moment, and you, are so perfect.” He grasped her ankles, bent down, and kissed along her toes and over the tops of her feet. “Something so fine should be savored,” he said, “taken in small bites.” His lips and tongue meandered up the inside of one calf to her knee and then crossed to the other side and continued upward at a snail’s pace as his hands worked their way under her legs and out so that the backs of her knees rested on his biceps.
Linda groaned and writhed; tried to pull him to the target with her heels, but he continued to stalk it methodically until finally she could feel the heat of her sex reflecting off of his face. His hands slid over her forearms and locked her in place as he began to explore her terrain with lips and tongue, following the soft ridgelines of her labia further and further north and then circling closer and closer before engaging with his relentless tongue and adjusting pressure and location according to her reactions. Soon he had just the right spot and just the right motion and all she could say was “Don’t stop…don’t stop…don’t stop,” as she felt bands of tension gathering inward until it finally all unraveled in giant bursts that rushed outward in every direction, to every extremity, leaving her unaware of anything but her immediate experience, until she was left limp and joyful on the bed.
Now she could enjoy his leisurely pace, his happy lingering at her breasts, and each step of his lips’ journey toward hers. And as his lips found hers, she felt the bulbous head of his cock arrive at its appointed place of duty and linger for a long second before accepting the invitation to come in and stay a while. She groaned again, in unison with Kirk this time, as they became one. He allowed his weight to settle comfortably onto her and they lay still for a long while before their hips began a slow dance that unexpectedly built to another crescendo for her. As his tension built, the weight of his body transferred onto his forearms so it seemed as though he levitated over her until he exploded in several elongated exhalations and collapsed on top of her.
Finally, he recovered enough to lift his head. “I don’t want to move.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“You’re not being crushed?”
“I’ve never been more comfortable—or happy.”
“Me neither,” he said. “That was incredible; or at least it was for me.” He propped himself up and smiled down at her. “You know those feel-good sex chemicals that create the feeling of falling in love? I’ve got more of those in my system now than ever before in my life.”
“I love you, too.”
“I think I’d like to just be quiet and hold you for a while.”
“Good idea.”
*****
Kirk woke up at 0430 as usual but lingered for half an hour, amazed that he’d actually slept an entire night with someone in his arms. Equally amazing was what a furnace Linda turned into as she slept. Her back was radiating warmth into his chest, and he could feel the heat escaping around her neck as he kissed it and pulled her body tight to his one last time before sliding free for his morning run, which doubled as his thinking time, and he definitely had some things to iron out in his head before he went to work.
First, there was the matter of his dead alias and his new lover, who did not have security clearance. Then there was the matter of her friend who, for now, thought that Kirk’s name was Robert Whitman. He wouldn’t give up Linda, and she wouldn’t forsake her friend, so the friend was at least going to know that Kirk Blackwell had once worked in Cyprus as someone named Robert. The final matter was how to rid Linda of her ex-husband. To Kirk, that seemed a deteriorating situation. How had he gotten into Linda’s apartment in the first place? Kirk guessed that he had used a pneumatic pick, probably one confiscated from a burglar’s break and enter kit. A surly ex was a problem Kirk could handle any day of the week, but a surly ex with a badge could bring some unwanted attention that could affect his status on the team.
By the time he arrived back at the apartment, Kirk had his day planned. He’d keep Linda at his place until either he got back from work or he had arranged to get some Alexandria police put on her apartment. By the end of the day, wheels should be in motion to keep Joe away for good, if he had any intention of keeping his law enforcement career alive; that was assuming the guy wasn’t so mentally unhinged that he’d be willing to throw it all away to battle for control of a woman. In that case, Linda’s life would be in danger and someone would have to take drastic action.
After his shower, Kirk slipped under the covers for one last embrace, which was greeted with a happy, “Mmmmm” as he kissed her cheek. Then he pulled himself away, dressed for work, and reset the coffee pot so it would stay warm for another two hours. Be
fore going out the door, he put a sticky note on Linda’s phone asking her to not go to her apartment until he had things arranged.
By design, Kirk arrived to work each day thirty minutes after the boss and the contractors so they would have time to discuss CIA issues that he didn’t need to know. Since he was about ten minutes early, he took some time to think back through the events of the past twenty-four hours, but his mind kept forwarding to the point where he opened the door of his apartment to his new lover.
Kirk prided himself on his poker face, but Nikki read him as soon as he came through the door. “What are you so happy about Kirk? You get laid last night?”
He failed to suppress a grin, and Nikki sensed that she had guessed correctly. “Oh my God! Our little sailor boy lost his virginity! Who was the charitable lady, Kirk? Did some girl stumble drunk into your apartment?”
“If I told you who it was, you wouldn’t even believe it.”
“Oh, come on—someone we know?”
“Someone I need to talk to the boss about.”
“Holy shit! Kirk slept with Natasha, the Russian spy.”
“No,” Phil said. “It was Ivana, Ivana Fukalot. She gets those long Russian legs wrapped around a guy one time, and he’s wrapped around her finger forever.”
“That sounds great,” Jed added. “Does she have a sister?”
“What is it with you and sisters, Jed?” Mary had just walked into the room.
“Kirk slept with a Russian spy and her sister,” Nikki said, “so now he thinks he needs to talk to you.”
“That true, Kirk?”
“Well, I do need to talk to you about a woman, and you may not be very happy about it.”
“Holy Moly, it wasn’t some CIA bigwig’s wife, was it?”
“No. Worse, I think. And I’m going to need some favors.”
“Uugh, I knew someone was going to ruin my Friday.” Mary stood up. “Okay Romeo, let’s go to my office.”
Once they got settled in the boss’s office, Kirk laid out the past day’s events in chronological order and was surprised to see Mary’s expression turn lighter as the tale went on, with a minor frown as he related the part about Linda’s ex-husband. By the end, he had to ask why she looked to happy.
“Well hell, I’m a sucker for a good love story. And I love being right. I made it known from the outset that I didn’t think it was a good idea to draw an unwitting American into an overseas operation—too many unknowns.” She shook her head. “Also wasn’t my job to make sure the woman didn’t live in the same apartment complex as the officer who bumped her. Personally, I wouldn’t have approved that bump on anyone from all of Northern Virginia.”
“So what about Ms. Dorgan and her friend?”
“You can tell your girlfriend as much as you want, and the friend can know that you were traveling under an alias, but nothing beyond that. Do you think Linda can draw that line?”
“I’m sure she can, Ma’am.”
“Knock of that ‘ma’am’ crap. I’ll make some calls on this asshole cop, and you can start the weekend early with your lover. “
“Thanks, Mary.” Kirk said. “I think I’m the best option for keeping her safe.”
“Avoid confrontation, Kirk. Also, just leave here without telling the others about your girl. I’m going to have some fun with that before I break it to the team.”
*****
Linda woke to find her dress folded neatly at the foot of the bed along with a few t-shirts and some cotton athletic shorts with drawstring waists. Her phone sat atop the pile. She read Kirk’s note and decided that she didn’t at all mind staying away from her own apartment for a few hours. Instead, she walked to the bathroom for a shower and found unopened bottles of shampoo and conditioner set out for her next to a folded bath towel on a low bench.
She was lounging in shorts and a t-shirt with a fresh cup of coffee when she spotted her shoes set neatly by the door and her panties hanging from the knob. For a brief moment, she considered hanging them on the outside for Kirk to find when he returned, but then she imagined a surprise visit from Kirk’s sister, or his mom. That would not be good, though it might become a funny story told at some holiday dinner a few years down the road.
Linda was scrolling through email on her phone when she heard a small pop come from somewhere near the door. As she stood to investigate the noise, the door swung open and Joe stepped in with his Taser drawn. Her last thought before crumpling onto her broken coffee cup was that being Tased hurt way more than she would have expected.
She regained consciousness in the trunk of Joe’s police cruiser, her hands cuffed to a metal ring in the floor. Each bump along the way caused the cuffs to bite into her skin, and the bumps seemed to be coming in regular intervals, like speed bumps in a residential neighborhood. There was no discernable traffic noise outside the trunk, even as the car accelerated for a long stretch. After a sharp turn, the car continued much slower for a minute before coming to a stop. The engine turned off, and she heard him get out of the car.
When the trunk popped open, sunshine beamed in on her dilated pupils. She couldn’t see Joe at first as he stood off to the side, probably so she couldn’t kick at him when the trunk lid swung open. He may have been an asshole, but he was smart enough to learn from the mistakes of the previous evening, and he knew Linda would fight back if he gave her an opening.
He bent over her, and the metal ring popped open. Then he backed off and ordered her to step out of the car. His pump action shotgun was pointed at her as her bare feet touched the stone driveway.
“Turn around and close the trunk,” he said.
As the trunk clunked shut, she saw that they were in the driveway of a two-story brick McMansion adorned with yellow crime scene tape.
“Time to go inside, Honey. The door’s unlocked.”
She stepped onto a cool marble foyer that opened onto a plush living room with a stairwell to the second floor on the left side and windows looking out over a creek to the right. More yellow tape crisscrossed the bottom of the stairway.
He marched her to a white leather couch and ordered her to sit, and then the cop in the overstuffed uniform sat opposite her in an overstuffed chair. “I hope you like your new home,” he said. “It just became available last week.” He smiled, and she decided that his teeth were entirely too small for his puffy face. “I’d give you a tour of the master bedroom, but a meth lab blew up under the stairs. It’d be a pity to see you fall into the basement.”
“How long do you think you can keep me here, Joe? How long before someone comes looking for you?”
“I’ve got a week off. That’s plenty of time to make you see the error of your ways and to put a beat-down on your little boyfriend. Maybe I’ll bring you some of his tender parts in a jar.”
“You’ll need a really big jar—bigger than I ever imagined before I met him.” She didn’t even know why she said it. She knew it was a dig at his insecurities, but she didn’t know why she made that particular dig while he sat across from her with a shotgun in his lap.
His ruddy complexion turned even more crimson as his jaw clenched and his eyes glared. He looked almost nothing like the man she had met and married. To think that they had tried to have children—that she kept trying even as his behavior became more controlling and her friends became more concerned. Now he sat across from her in puffy skin with a badge and a puffed-up ego surrounding a sad little core. And he thought she was his property, apparently, despite the fact that he had divorced her for another woman.
The divorce had been a blow to her, but she turned it into the blow that forged the blade. She was the stronger alloy now, and she sensed that he knew it as well; sensed that he could feel the rust in his veins and the lead in his gut, and it scared him.
And fear had led better people than him to do terrible things.
*****
Kirk knew what had happened the second he saw Linda’s phone and the broken coffee mug on the floor. He retrieved his semiautom
atic pistol and a leather-handled fighting knife from a hidden lockbox in the closet and turned immediately back out of the apartment and called Mary, who asked for five minutes to contact a friend inside the Arlington County Police Department. It was seven and a half minutes before she called back.
“I’ve got a location on Officer Asshole’s patrol car, Kirk. It’s in northern Arlington County just northwest of Chain Bridge. I’ll send you the lat/long via text. Also, I talked to our friends on the FBI side, and there’s not much they can do through unofficial channels. I can try the Virginia State Police, but they may do a handoff to the Arlington County Police. ”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“My contact worries that officer Platt may be monitoring their frequencies or that one of his buddies might send him a warning. There’s also the small matter of how my contact came to know about this in the first place.”
“No worries, Mary. I’m already heading north on the GW Parkway.”
“Are you armed?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“No. I’m pretty sure you know how to take care of yourself, Kirk. I suppose you can forget what I said about avoiding confrontation. I’ll get some kind of help to you as soon as I can. “
Kirk parked in a church parking lot off of Rt.123 and set off through the woods, staying parallel to the river. He reached a small creek and turned to follow it uphill to the target, but there was too large an open area and too many windows on that side of the house, so he worked his way back down to the river’s edge and moved fifty meters upstream. Then he turned ninety degrees and crept uphill again to where the woods were closer to the house.
He could see the back of the patrol car parked outside the attached garage, so the target was confirmed. The garage also offered the easiest and most concealed access to the roof, and it was always better to take a building from the top down, even if you had no grenades. Slow and smooth, he crept up to the garage, climbed onto a fence post and then onto the roof. He made his way to a window and checked for alarms before laying a few strips of electrical tape on the window pane above the lock and tapping the point of his knife at the center of the glass. The glass cracked in several directions, and he carefully removed it all, placing the rough triangles of glass on a shingle he’d bent up, to keep them from sliding off the roof.
In Time to Love Page 17
