by Cat Connor
It still grated on me that the powers that be shit-canned the series after only two seasons. It was awesome. Pure action and great entertainment.
Kurt looked over, bemused. Lee nodded and grinned. “I never knew you were a fan.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know. Even after all these years.”
“It’s you, Chicky. You’re the legal equivalent to Christopher Chance, and we’re right here beside you.”
For a moment I was stumped. Lee and Kurt were about as far from Guerrero or Winston as it was possible to get. Physically speaking. Although I saw some definite shared personality traits with each character. It seemed smart to keep that to myself.
“I’m the bait. I can’t be the bait and Christopher Chance.” There was this hidden romantic side to me that hoped for a Christopher Chance rescue though, and I intended it to stay hidden. “Let’s do this thing. Parade me around in public and draw out our terrorist.”
“I’m not liking it,” Lee muttered.
“Me neither.” I hoped like hell the rendition team was paying attention. My death wish ended when I became a parent. I noted Lee hadn’t moved. Nor had I. We were in no rush to engage a killer. I looked at him and saw his cheeky smile. “What?”
“Guess I never figured you’d go for a blond.”
“Pardon?”
“Rowan and now Mark Valley.”
I rolled my eyes skyward. “Thought we’d moved on …”
“Nope.” He settled back. “Here’s the rub, Chicky: You didn’t want to be with someone like us.” He paused, pointing from me to himself. “Understandable that you wouldn’t want to date anyone in our line of work again. But here you are dropping Christopher Chance into the conversation and going all doe-eyed over Mark Valley.”
“I was not,” I huffed. Ridiculous. “And anyway Valley is an actor. He can hardly be called one of us!”
“Really? An actor? That’s all? You know I served in the Gulf War, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t like where this was going all of a sudden.
“Let’s just say he wasn’t always an actor. Unless all actors go through West Point but that seems a little extreme.”
And my bubble burst into shiny droplets of water.
“No way!”
No way was I prepared to accept he was a soldier who served in the Gulf.
“Sorry, Chicky. The man knows his way around a weapon or two.”
“And your point is?”
“You protest too much. You’re not anti-LEO. You’re scared.”
Scared. I don’t fuc’n think so. I addressed his LEO comment and left the rest alone.
“Christopher Chance is not a LEO. I believe he described himself as a death-retardant specialist. He’s a mercenary.”
Kurt laughed.
Lee explained, “And Mark Valley was a soldier and that makes him one of the good guys who can handle a weapon and himself in any given situation.”
“But he ain’t a LEO.”
He smiled. “You got me.”
I suspected he had a point he wanted to make with all this and it wasn’t just to stall the inevitable. “And your well-hidden agenda here is?”
“Rowan’s a helluva guy, no doubt about it. But he doesn’t make you feel safe.”
News flash: No one makes me feel safe anymore.
“Did you forget I am quite capable of defending myself and my family?”
“No, Chicky, I did not.” His eyes met mine. He and Kurt were there the day I put a bullet in Abbasi’s head after he abducted Carla. “I’m just saying you want more and Rowan can’t give it. He doesn’t know what we know. He doesn’t see what we see. His world is that of a gilded lily.”
Poetic.
“If he’s so shit at real life, why did I leave my daughter with him? And why did I deem him to be the safest person for her to be with?” Even as the words left my mouth I could hear my brain reminding me about Rowan’s bodyguards. Lee’s smile faded a little.
Kurt gave a light cough. I glared at him. Just because he was there watching me talk to the bodyguard doesn’t mean he can get involved now.
Lee’s smile reestablished itself on his face. “You let her go with Jed. I doubt you’d have done it if Rowan’s bodyguards were anything less than ex-SEAL. Face it, Chicky. As good as he is, he’s not the physical security-providing type and that irks you. Deep down, you miss it.”
He’d checked up on Jed. Why that surprised me I did not know. I wanted to refute his comments and shoot him down in flames but he was right. Damn Lee and his knowing me better than I know myself. I needed an out. A smile crept over my face.
“So, you gonna hook me up with your buddy Mark, then?”
Lee tipped his head back and roared with laughter. “Chicky, if I thought for one second you were serious, I’d do it.”
Who says I’m not? I should’ve known by the comfortable way he held a weapon on Human Target that it wasn’t all acting. I could do worse than date someone like him.
Enough already. I glanced at my watch.
“Lee, vests?”
He lifted a black bag and set it on the table. Lee handed out three vests. I took mine into the bedroom. It was necessary for me to wear the vest under my shirt. Walking around in a bullet-proof vest that bore a big yellow ‘F.B.I’ on the back wasn’t very conducive to covert anything.
My phone buzzed. A text from Cosgrove. They were outside the room.
“Come on – let’s do this thing. We have a specialist team at our door.” I stood up while reaching for the gun on the side table. I slid the Glock into my holster and pulled on my jacket. “You got spare mags?”
Lee nodded.
I rotated my stiff shoulder and took two full magazines from the side table. They slotted into pouches on my belt. Time to go be a target. Not just any old target, but the very one Arbab wanted. All thoughts of family were locked in a safe box within my mind. My focus shifted to the task at hand. I added wireless microphones and receivers. Lee and I pushed the receivers into our ears and checked they were working.
I fought the urge to growl, “Come get some.” I left the semi-sanctuary of the hotel room. In truth, I was feeling mighty vulnerable and not at all sure that this was the best course of action. Christopher Chance hadn’t shown up. But Tim Cosgrove and five other men had. For some reason I expected to see uniforms but they were all in jeans and shirts. No obvious signs of weapons or who they really were.
“Demelza.” Tim’s voice was quiet and serious. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes,” I said. “It has.”
I did a quick introduction. Everyone shook hands.
“I need you to draw Arbab out, to get his attention, and for you to draw him away from any public areas. If possible,” Tim said.
Sure, no problem.
“He wants me, so, that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“We don’t want to remove him in front of civilians. It could get messy. Attention is not our friend.”
“Fair enough.”
“Vest?” Tim said.
I smiled. “Yes, we’re all wearing vests.”
Lee told them which communication frequency we were using. It would be easier if they could hear us, but only use our channel in an emergency. Too many voices in one’s head caused confusion. The team was to follow without raising suspicion.
Lee and I slid our right palms together, catching fingertips. “Alert and safe,” I said to him.
He nodded. “Alert and safe.”
Together we walked down the hallway to the elevator and the end of all sanctuary. The sliding door from the hotel opened onto the parking lot. Bright sun made me squint, despite my dark glasses.
From within my ear I heard Kurt pick up our frequency, his voice was soft and low. “Okay kids, alert and safe.”
A wave of panic hit me. I breathed through it and kept walking to Lee’s car. I knew that Kurt would follow within a few minutes, never letting us get out of range. Somewhere around me were snipers
and specialists sent by Tierney and lead by Tim. I couldn’t see them but I felt them.
I slid into the passenger seat, thankful I wasn’t driving. The car dipped to the left as Lee sank into the driver’s seat.
Kurt’s voice flowed as he typed, “I’m getting hits back from the BOLO I put out on his car.”
That is why my team is so awesome. He put out a Be On the Lookout on a car, not a person. NCIS don’t know about the car. They’re looking for a person.
“The car was last seen entering the Interscape Café parking lot. A police officer watched the driver leave his vehicle and enter the café.”
“Great,” I said. “Can’t someone just pop a cap in his ass and get this over with?”
“Interscape Café ... his car is still in the parking lot.” He typed some more. “We have eyes on the driver using a computer.”
“Eyes?”
“Police cruiser spotted the car and one of the officers went in for a coffee. He observed the driver of the car sitting at one of the computers. He reported he appears to be waiting for his coffee. Commented that he looked of Arab descent.”
Excellent.
“On our way.”
“Cruiser is leaving the area.”
Ten minutes later we pulled into the tree-lined parking lot. I surveyed cars as I’d done once upon a time before. Lee parked away from other patrons. It was all so familiar I wanted to scream. My past was rising up and trying to choke me. Memories of Mac filled the scene.
It took only one cleansing breath to convince myself that I had this covered. Not only was I wearing a vest under my button-down shirt but I had my big girl panties on, kickass cowboy boots, and my Glock 17. I got this. Once more with conviction. I freaking got this.
“Going in,” I whispered.
I didn’t mean to whisper; my voice failed me. Maybe I didn’t have it. Lee and I stepped out of the car. I stood by the trunk: it took everything I had to keep out the past and the memories that seeped from the brick building in front of me.
Lee grinned and nudged me with his elbow. “We’ve been here before, Chicky. Remember the rainbow people?”
With that the horror subsided and a memory of a wasted Mac appeared. “Damn, he was hilarious,” I replied and sauntered into the coffee shop like there was nothing wrong. We joked around at the counter while ordering, which afforded me a chance to scan the room for Arbab. I spotted him on a computer in a corner, facing the screen. With a slight incline of my head I pointed him out to Lee.
He smiled at the barista, “We’ll be over there?” Lee’s hand waved toward a booth near the computer and Arbab.
I spoke to Kurt, “Ten people not including staff or Arbab.”
He replied, “Make sure he sees you.”
“There are only ten people in here,” I said.
“Ten people is ten people too many. Make sure he sees you. We need him to see you and follow when you leave.”
From nowhere a questioning female voice called out, “Rylee?” I turned to see Grant’s wife coming toward us.
I glued a smile to my face and replied, “Hi, Kim.”
Kurt spoke in my ear, “Not good, get rid of her.”
Pretty sure I didn’t eat a bowl of stupid for breakfast.
“Rylee, wanna sit with me?” She came to a stop in front of me. Her eyes moved to Lee. “Unless of course you have company.”
Lee’s eyebrows rose. “We’re old friends,” he said. His voiced dripped with honey. “Now is not a good time, gorgeous. I’m having a crisis.”
Did I detect a slight lisp? I found myself fighting not to laugh.
Kurt whispered inside my head, “Now I’ve heard everything.”
Kim’s face lit up. Guess she liked being called gorgeous by a big ol’ gay Lee. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She touched Lee’s arm.
“I’ll see you later with Kurt, no doubt,” I said. My intention was to hurry her along.
“Of course, ’bye now.” She turned to Lee. “Hope you resolve your crisis.”
“I’m with my bestie and Rylee is an expert in crisis control,” he oozed.
There was definitely a lisp. I bit my lip hard. “Crisis?” I hissed as we made our way to the booth. “And it appeared to be some kind of homosexual crisis at that.”
Arbab had not looked up. You’d think people talking would attract his attention. We sat. He never moved his eyes from the screen in front of him. To get his attention I’d probably have to tap him on the shoulder and ask about his father.
“Is this not a crisis?” There was no trace of his earlier lisp.
I smiled. “Think it could be.”
Kurt was chuckling in my ear. Lee was trying hard not to smile.
“Give me a minute, but watch me,” I said. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
To reach the ladies’ room I had to walk past Arbab. I was hoping he’d look up as I moved by him.
Bring it on.
I trotted past his table and went to the ladies’ room. A few minutes and the beginning of a potentially disastrous headache later I was leaning on the door frame to the bathroom, hoping I could suck it up and make it back to our table.
The whole sixteen paces I had to walk to get to the table were excruciating.
Every step sent shards of pain through my left temple. I was way beyond ‘mild headache’ and free-falling into ‘serious pain’ territory. This is where a normal person would mention something to their co-worker the doctor, especially when it would just take a whisper.
Normal was a sticking point. I have never said I was normal and just couldn’t make myself fit in the little boxes other people seemed to like so much. It’s a personality flaw. I’m working on it. The pain suddenly increased. I saw Lee move his feet so I could get past. I misjudged, stood on one, fell over his legs, and landed with an unceremonious thump on the table. Lee’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm, stopping me before I fell off the table and onto the floor.
“Okay?”
“Sure.”
A dark gray hole swam where Lee’s face should’ve been. I was screwed. Bile rose. As I tried to stand the floor fell away.
I heard Lee’s voice followed by Kurt’s.
Falling.
Damn, that didn’t go as well as it could have.
Free falling. Gray became fuzzy black. Sharp spikey pain drove through my skull. Like someone was battering railroad spikes into me with a sledge hammer. The last clear thought that formed was of Arbab: surely he couldn’t ignore the spectacle I’d made of myself.
Everything swirled into nothing. The last thing I saw was Kurt’s face coming from beside me. It was all lost. Nothing left but blinding pain.
Twenty-One
Thorn In My Side
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know where I was. The noise. The light filtering through my closed eyelids. The familiar smell of disinfectant.
The smell. I rolled sideways and vomited. Holy crap. Half my head tried to explode. My right eye refused to open. My left was reluctant. I lay back, the pain jolted off to the right and lodged behind my eye. I was in hospital: the least they could do was give me some decent drugs.
The hand that touched my shoulder felt familiar. His cologne was warm. Without warning I vomited again.
“I’ll get you something to stop that,” Kurt said. “I wanted to run some tests before I gave you anything.”
My throat felt dry.
He held a cup of cool water for me to sip.
“Tests?”
“Don’t want you stroking on me.”
For a split second I imagined my face half-frozen and words that wouldn’t come. Me neither.
“Migraine?”
“Yes. Lay back, try to relax. I’ll get you Demerol and Phenergan.”
“Nice mix.”
“Stop the vomiting, stop the pain, keep you manageable,” he replied with a smile. “I forgot how combative you can be.” He moved away, but the room wasn’t empty. I figured Lee was there.
Whispered voices
. Whispered voices? Voices?
“Lee?”
“Chicky.” A chair scrapped against the ground and a shadow fell. “Here. What do you need?”
“A new head.” Pain shot outward from behind my eyeball. “Who else?”
I gave up trying to open either eye.
“Tim Cosgrove, ma’am.” Another chair moved, grating on my every nerve.
Ma’am.
“I hate ma’am.”
“Pardon, ma’am? I didn’t catch that.”
“Call me …” My name was gone. I tried again. “Call me …” There was nothing there. Who the fuck was I?
Lee spoke, “Rylee Henderson.”
No, that doesn’t sound right.
Kurt came back and cleared the room. He jabbed a needle into my hip and gave me another drink of water.
“Kurt, who am I?”
“What?”
“Who am I?”
“You know who I am, but not your own name?”
I could hear concern but not see it. My eyes refused all instructions from me; one opened but couldn’t process information. There was something very wrong.
“You are a doctor.” There was more. In my mind, a manila folder opened. I read the contents of the first page. Kurt was an FBI Supervisory Special Agent with Delta A. “FBI.”
“Good. Who was in the room before?”
“Lee …” I waited, hoping another folder would materialize and show me who Lee was. I knew he was a friend. He called me Chicky. That felt okay. No folder appeared. “I don’t know ...”
“You will.” Kurt’s voice changed, he must’ve looked away. “Lee, did she hit her head?”
“No, I stopped her head before it hit the table.”
“One hundred percent sure?”
“Yes.”
“The migraine is messing with your memory, Rylee. SA Lee Davenport was in the room,” Kurt said.
SA, Special Agent, FBI. Even with a befuddled mind I could see a correlation. Two FBI agents. Who was the third?
“Who is the other man Tim? Who the fuck am I?”
“Cosgrove. He’s a specialist with the CIA.” He brushed hair off my face. “You are my wife.”
Somewhere something clanged into place. I had another drink. It all made sense. I could feel the wedding ring on my finger. Then without warning it felt wrong, very wrong. Deep in the murk the wedding ring on my finger caused everything to spiral out of control. Nothing being as it seemed overwhelmed me. The drugs?
