"I know," Sophie said. She came in, and instead of sitting down, pulled out a palm-sized device. Turning it on, she walked through my apartment, talking the whole time. "I just had some business stuff I wanted to talk about, sorry if I worried you."
I followed her, confused, as she completed the swift walk around of my apartment, staring at the little thing in her hand. When she reached my bedroom, she barely gave my stripped mattress a glance as she finished what I could only describe as a sweep, then stopped and nodded. "Okay, we're clear."
"Clear of what?" I asked, curious.
"Bugs. Mark and I were worried he may have planted a bug in your place while you were distracted or something." She took the device and put it into her backpack, and looked at me with a weight in her eyes I hadn't seen in a very long time.
I shook my head, confused. "Sophie, what the hell is going on. You're acting totally weird."
Sophie sighed, and led me back into the living room. "Tabby, we need to talk about Scott Pressman. And if you don't mind, I think I'll have that coffee, if you can ice it for me."
After I got Sophie her iced coffee, she handed me a tablet. "There's no other way to put this, so I might as well be direct. Scott Pressman is a member of the Confederation, Tabby," she said with a sigh. "He's a seduction specialist, in fact."
I couldn't believe it. I shook my head, over and over, refusing to listen to anything Sophie was saying. "No. No no nonononononononononono!"
I had to give it to Sophie, she stayed calm through my rant and sipped at her coffee, waiting me out. Finally, she took the tablet from my hands and tapped the screen a few times. I heard Scott's voice, cutting through my denial like a knife, and stopped cold. I watched the ten-minute video twice, before setting the tablet aside with trembling hands. "What an idiot I've been."
"No you haven't," Sophie said, sipping her coffee. "You were played, yes, but from what Mark tells me, Scott Pressman is one of the best in the world at what he did."
I felt the first red flushes of anger creep into my mind as I kept thinking about everything that Scott had said about me. "Tell me one thing."
"Sure."
"Tell me he paid for it, that the video cut off because Mark didn't want to show blood on screen."
Sophie shook her head. "He's still alive, but he's not going to bother you again. Mark made sure of that."
"What do you mean?"
Sophie shook her head again. "He didn't tell me everything. I just know he put together a couple of mixes of chemicals, and when he came home this morning he told me that Scott Pressman was not going to be a problem ever again. He did tell me he was alive, but that was it."
I nodded my head, then looked at her. "I want to talk to Mark about this. No offense, but you don't have the answers I want right now."
"No offense taken. He wanted you and I to talk first, he thought you'd take the news easier from me than from him. But if you want, he can meet you. You want him to come here?"
"No, not here. In fact, I think I'm going to start shopping for a new apartment. But, I do know a place that we can meet."
* * *
Tabby
Mar de Napoli didn't look all that different from when I'd been there with Scott just a few days before. Still, it wasn't the same restaurant. The atmosphere seemed contrived, the rustic Italian cheer forced. I knew what was different, and it wasn't the music. It was not having Scott.
After Sophie left the apartment, I spent the next two hours alternating between fits of rage and fits of self-recrimination. How could I have been so damn stupid? Finally, I put it temporarily aside by contacting a few real estate agents, and setting up apartment viewings for the following day. My agreement was month to month, so I wasn't going to be out too much. Besides, maybe a slightly better apartment was needed, I could afford to not live in the same place I had crashed when I was an undergrad after all.
I had been sitting, nursing an ice water for about ten minutes when Mark showed up, looking nothing at all like Marcus Smiley. It was really the first time since he had rescued me from the club that I saw the guy that Sophie fell in love with, the real guy inside there. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt and jeans, and looked like just a really handsome regular guy in his mid-twenties. "Hey, have you been waiting long?"
"Not too long," I said, gesturing. "Have a seat."
"Thanks," Mark said. "I'm sorry about what happened, Tabby."
"Can I ask you why you acted so fast, instead of talking with me about it first?" I said, pausing to allow him to order from the waiter who came by. It was still pretty early, just past five thirty, so the dinner crowd wasn't in yet. Other than a few golden agers in the corner, the restaurant was ours.
"Threat level and opportunity," Mark replied. "I drove by your place last night because I wanted to get eyes on him. Yes I was prepared to act, but I had anticipated having to tail and prepare the takedown. Sophie would have talked to you either way, but when he went back to his office instead of home, I moved. There wasn't going to be another easy chance like that for a while."
I nodded in understanding. When I was working the stock market, sometimes you had to make snap decisions like that as well. "So tell me the details that I didn't see on the video."
"What do you want to know?" Mark asked, thanking the waiter when he brought him his Coke. Mark took a sip, then set it down. "I'll tell you whatever I can."
"Tabby said you retired him. How?"
"Mix of drug therapy and psychological conditioning. The second dart I shot him with had a powerful mix of hallucinogenics and some other things that make the mind very plastic. It can't change his memories, not with the time I had, but it can change a few other things."
"Like what?"
"Like the fact he's now permanently impotent," Mark said. I felt a little side of me, the part interested in revenge, growl in triumph at what he said. Another side of me, the side that remembered the feeling of him inside me and the earth shaking orgasm he'd given me, recoiled in agony. "But even after that, he's not going to be able to go back to what he did."
"Why?" I asked, intrigued. I couldn't help it, the angry side of me was stronger than the rest of me right then.
"Any time he gets sexually excited by anyone other than his wife from now on, he's going to have some pretty severe physiological reactions, including a blinding headache, stomach cramps, and loss of bladder control. Basically, if he sees a woman who he wants to make a pass at, he'll piss himself and go blind for fifteen minutes."
"Damn," I said, impressed. "You could do all that with just an injection?"
"That and about eight hours of psychological conditioning using auditory inputs," he replied. "The player was specially made to play the track once, then melt and destroy itself, so they didn't even have a chance to recover what the exact commands were. All anyone would know is the effects."
"So it's permanent?"
Mark shrugged. "If not permanent, at least long lasting enough that he's not going to be able to do the same scam. I'm sure some really good psychiatrist could fix it in time, but he's going to have gray hair, jowls like his father and some other not so handsome traits by the time it all gets reversed. Oh, and I added a few other things to keep you safe from him as well. If he thinks getting aroused will be painful, you don't want to know what getting within eyesight of you will do to him."
I sighed. The waiter came, and we ordered a basket of cheesy garlic sticks, just a small appetizer, I wasn't ready to seriously eat yet. After we were alone again, I asked the next question on my mind. "Can I ask why you didn't do more?"
"You mean why I didn't kill him?" Mark said quietly. "He has family, and a child on the way. Perhaps it would be better for the child to not have a father like him, but I thought with a mother like that already, there was a small chance that it would actually be helpful. I hope that maybe Pressman turns to the right path, although I don't know. Also, I thought the message I could send by him staying in the condition he's in would be a better warning to
those who might target the two of us later on."
I nodded, then asked the questions that had been running through my head since I saw the video Sophie had shown me. "What did I do wrong, Mark? Why do I feel this way? What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
The waiter brought our cheese sticks, and Mark offered me one with some marinara sauce on it. The cheesy tomato flavor awoke the growling little demon in my stomach, and before I knew it I had wolfed it down. Wordlessly, he offered me another before taking one for himself.
"That's a lot of questions, Tabby, so give me a chance to try and answer them all. As for what you did wrong, you did nothing wrong. You followed your heart, and unfortunately you were taken in by someone who knew exactly how to manipulate you. Don't be ashamed, even though I know you feel that way right now. He could have done it to almost any woman, especially a single one like yourself. As for your second question, can I ask you bluntly, how do you feel?"
I huffed and wolfed down another bread stick, considering my answer. "Is it wrong that part of me feels like I love him?"
Mark shook his head, his gentle smile sending a hammer blow to the dam of emotions that I'd stored inside me for most of the day. I held on however, and listened to what Mark had to say. "Should I feel pride in my skills? I do, even as dark and as evil as they are. We cannot help who we love, Tabby. My father was a gambling, addicted wretch, whose mistakes got me into this life before he died. I still love him. So no, it's not wrong to feel that way right now. Just like it's not wrong to feel anger, hurt, rage, and a bunch of others. I wouldn't be surprised if you feel a bit of hatred towards me right this second."
"You see pretty deep," I replied. "Does that psychological insight help in your work as well?"
"A bit," Mark replied, "But I've carried it into other areas as well. You've got a deep streak of it too, you are like most people though in that it's most difficult to turn that lens on ourselves."
"So what now? Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life double guessing every man who approaches me, or living without love? No offense Mark, but considering what you and Sophie have, that's pretty damn harsh to ask."
Mark shook his head. He started to reach for my hand, and stopped, pulling back. "You're never without love, Tabby. Sophie loves you, and I love you too. Maybe not in the way that people may think, but you're vital to our lives. Sophie said you are thinking of moving, right?"
"Yeah, I just don't feel safe in there right now. I think a change of apartments might be in order, if only so I can sleep soundly at night."
Mark nodded. "You know if you want, if it helps you feel safe, you can live for as long as you like at Mount Zion. We didn't do that before because we felt you wanted your independence, and it would protect our identities better. But your safety is more important than that. Hell, I'd sleep outside your bedroom door guarding you if it helped you feel better. And I know there is a real man out there for you. They'll be kind, they'll be grumpy at times, they'll be imperfect to everyone else, but they'll be perfect for you. And when that happens, Sophie and I will be the first people to congratulate you and make sure you have the wedding of your dreams."
I looked at this kind, gentle man in front of me, and realized again how lucky Sophie was to have him in her life. I could see that he was speaking the truth, and that he would protect me and Sophie with his very life if need be. If there was a purer expression of love than that, I didn't know what it was. "Thank you," I said. "And in fact, I'll probably take you up on it while I'm apartment hunting. I'll make sure to vet any potential places through you too."
Mark nodded. "That's fine. We're here for you if you want, Tabby."
I nodded. "Thanks. Listen, I know this sounds bad, but if you don't mind, I'd like to have some private time to think about all this. You mind if I come by the house later, maybe just me and Sophie and our old boyfriends Ben and Jerry?"
"Sure. I'll be in another part of the house, you two have any room you want all to yourselves. What's your favorite, I'll make sure to pick you guys up some on the way home."
"I think tonight's a Chubby Hubby night, actually. I don't know what Sophie's current is, I guess I should keep track of that sort of thing more often." I felt a tinge of sadness that I'd lost track so much of my best friend, especially after everything she was doing to make my life better, and after all we'd been through.
"Nah, you remember the important things instead," Mark said. "So, a pint of Chubby Hubby, and a pint of Peanut Butter World, and a pint of Cherry Garcia. I love Peanut Butter World."
He got up and patted me on the shoulder, then walked off. I saw him talk quietly to the waiter, and there was a passing of a small wad of cash, so I figured he paid for the meal as well. The waiter tucked the cash into his apron, and came over after Mark had walked off. "Are you ready to order, miss?" he said, a professional smile on his face.
"Yeah," I said, trusting my gut. "One calzone."
"Great choice. Sausage or pepperoni or veggie?"
I chuckled darkly. I was already blowing my diet, why not? "Sausage please. And can I get a second Coke to go with the calzone?"
"Of course. Anything else?"
"No, I think that's enough."
I polished off the rest of the bread sticks while waiting, keeping myself somewhat under control. When the calzone was brought to the table though, I could barely thank the waiter before the tears started to trickle down my cheeks, and the world blurred.
Chapter 41
Sophie
I enjoy a good bath. In fact, I think it's one of the greatest luxuries in the entire world. My favorite bath of all time was one Mark and I took when I was in training in Eastern Europe. I know it's a bit confusing considering I spent time in South Korea where, like the Japanese, hot baths are a way of life, but it was the setting of this particular bath that left such an impression on me. It was a totally natural spring, isolated in the woods on the border area between Greece and Macedonia. While the region itself is not exactly the safest place in the world to do things, this natural bath was idyllic. The water was crystal clear, and so pure you could drink it safely with no problems. However, it was warmed from deep in the Earth, so the water was warm. Mark and I had spent four hours hiking to the bath from the nearest place we could park our car, and had bathed, soaked, and made love for hours in the private little grove.
While our bath at home was not as good, it was still wonderful. In addition to specialized water heaters that could filter and recirculate the bath water to take it from a refreshing cool to an almost painful hot, the black marble interior was perfect for a long soak after a day at work or training with Mark, and the decoration, instead of being ostentatious, was actually subdued. I felt relaxed rather than pampered, and grounded rather than elevated and luxurious.
It was needed. There were times, living as Sophie Warbird, where it was very easy to slip into the fantasy of being the executive assistant and fiancee to one of the richest investors in the city. Just in the last week I had signed documents shifting over half a million dollars around, and had also signed off on financial reports from my friend Tabby that had more zeros than I thought I would ever see in my life on a bank account.
The craziest part of it all was that Mark and I hadn't even touched either our core savings or Mark's own stock market investments that he managed himself through a couple of shell companies and online aliases. While it wasn't mine technically, just over a year prior I had been nothing more than a college student who slung beers at night to make ends meet, still Mark and I were as close as we'd ever been.
I lay there in the warm water, letting my muscles relax, when I heard the door to the bath area open and I opened my eyes to see Mark standing there.
"Hey beautiful," he said, his eyes taking in my body through the clear waters.
Considering he was wearing just a pair of athletic shorts that he had worn for our workout that day, I had quite a view too. Steely muscles swept like liquid from every one of Mark's joints, sweeping and cu
rving in all the ways that spoke of the graceful power contained within his body. I loved his legs, especially the scar where he'd been shot by a Russian commando. The scar was thicker than what could have been, forming a slight hook on the outside of his quadriceps because it had only been a flesh wound. But that, in addition to the thin scar where I had stitched up his right shoulder muscle, in some small way seemed to mark him as mine. Especially the shoulder scar where my own handiwork contributed to the final look of his skin. Thankfully, I hadn't needed to do any more stitching since then.
"Hey babe," I replied, scooting over. "The water's nice if you want to join me. After that gym session, I think you might need it as much as I do."
Mark smiled and shrugged. "Trust me, just looking at you stretched out like that washes away any soreness and gives me enough strength to take on a hundred men barehanded."
I cupped a bit of the water in my hands and let it run down over my chest, intentionally dribbling it between my breasts. "Is that so? Well, maybe I could use you in the bath with me then."
"I could never refuse a request from you, my love," Mark said, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and pushing them down. Did I say earlier I liked Mark's legs? Yeah, they looked even better with nothing on, especially that third leg that he could use to give me so much pleasure. "My eyes are up here, you know."
I laughed at the corny comeback and scooted over in the water. Mark slipped in, stretching out next to me. When we installed the bath, we made sure that the one side was sloped so that two people could recline easily next to each other. Stretching his long legs out, Mark lay back next to me, looking up at the ceiling before closing his eyes. "It was a good day today," he said, a gentle smile on his face. "I was happy."
"Considering you handstand walked across the entire floor, you should be," I replied, turning to study his face. While Mark's body was more than impressive, what always intrigues me about him is the way his face can change. When he was in public as Marcus Smiley, he wore this sort of mask, a cocky, somewhat affable look. It wasn't exactly unintelligent, but slightly open, a look that often put some of our investment targets off guard, miscalculating what they wanted to tell us. That, and the fact that I also wore tight suits with lots of cleavage to throw them off even more.
In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 44
