by Susanne Beck
He leafed through them, grunting, then made some hand gesture which caused Ice to open the door and step out. After the door was closed, he stuck his head back in and barked something at me that I hadn’t a prayer of understanding.
Which, I suppose, was just as well since I probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway.
I almost fell out of the van in a most undignified manner when, scarce moments later, the door I was leaning against opened without warning and I was lowered gently from my seat out onto the ground. The hands which steadied me were familiar, and so I relaxed as I was led around the van to the rear, where the others were standing, apparently waiting for something. Or someone.
How they’d managed to cuff themselves back together in so short a time, I’ll never know, but I was grateful for the foresight. I hoped Ice was grateful for it, too. I imagine she was, though, being Ice, she’s never said a thing about it one way or another.
To me, at least.
Pony and the rest—even Nia, to my immense surprise—stared back at me with hard, flat eyes, seeming every inch the hardened criminals they had once been. The smirk Rio tossed at me could only have been taught by my lover.
The officer shouted something to Pony, who in turn, looked at me. "He wants you to point out the person who did that to you."
Alright, Angel. Showtime. Don’t screw this up or we’re all in a whole heap of trouble.
"Tell him that it happened during the fight at the bar."
Pony translated, and the officer looked over at me, eyes narrow with suspicion. I gave him my best ‘innocent’ expression and prayed that it would be enough.
Apparently, it wasn’t good enough.
"He wants to know why you’d lie to protect animals like us."
"I have no reason to lie to you, sir."
Hearing the translation, he scowled, crossed in front of the group, and reached out to grab me. And was promptly stopped by Ice, who smoothly intercepted him while nudging me partially behind her broad back. Whatever she said to him made his scowl deepen, but it halted his grab for me, and for that, I was grateful.
He spit out his comments in a scathing tone, and the smirk on Ice’s face when she turned to translate was quite pronounced. "He wants to know how someone who would stand up to a bunch of men in a bar could suddenly become too frightened to fend off a group of women."
Laughing a bit inside, I allowed my own smirk to form. "Tell him that you weren’t protecting me from them. You were protecting them from me."
One corner of his moustache twitching as he heard the translation, the officer did a slow head turn until the other women in our group were in his sights.
They all nodded, quickly, Pony even taking the further step of wincing and rubbing her belly where, I gathered, I’d managed to land a good one during my "fight" in the van.
He looked over at me, and I glared back at him, my fists clenched. Then he looked over at Ice, who nodded. His moustache bristled again, and this time, his smile was plain as the flashing of his teeth in the sun. A laugh sounding almost like a rifle shot erupted from his belly, followed by another, and than another, until he was laughing uproariously and wiping tears of mirth from streaming eyes.
After several long moments, he finally regained control and clapped me on the shoulder, saying something to Ice. Then, transfer papers in hand, he walked back to his patrol car and slipped inside, no doubt to confirm our story with the powers that be.
"What did he say to you?" I murmured out of the side of my mouth, while at the same time keeping a close eye on one of the other officers, who leered at me while holding his high-powered rifle casually in one hand.
"Told me to watch out for myself, that I had a wildcat on my hands," she replied in like fashion, her glare wiping the leer from the young man’s face in record time as he found something else more interesting—not to mention much safer—to occupy his attentions.
I could feel the grin pull at my lips as my back unconsciously straightened. "Hm. Wildcat, huh? Not too shabby for spur of the moment."
"Watch it, or I’ll have you declawed."
I gave her a soft hiss, then settled myself down to wait. It was the most dangerous part of this whole charade, and I knew it. If the guard Ice had ‘persuaded’ to give up his truck somehow woke up and found his way to civilization more quickly than she thought he would, we were going to find ourselves in a whole mess of trouble, and that right quick.
Ice’s body next to my own, however, was completely relaxed, so, as always, I took my cue from her and tried my best not to betray my nervousness and, in so doing, shoot our plan in the foot, as it were.
Still, I could feel my heart speed up in my chest when the officer finally exited his patrol car and walked back toward us, papers in hand and face unreadable.
After several excruciatingly long moments, during which I saw my life flash before my eyes, each time with an ending more gruesome than the last, he finally handed the papers back to Ice, and waved us through the roadblock. Before he left, he looked down at me one more time and chuckled, shaking his head.
I tried not to let my sigh of relief show as he walked away and Ice opened up the back of the van, gesturing the others inside. Nia was grinning like a mad-woman at the thought that we’d pulled it off.
The others just looked plain sick.
* * *
"So, where are we headed now?" I asked with feigned casualness as my kidneys did their level best to make an abrupt exit through my ears. My breasts were complaining loudly as well, since the only protection they’d heretofore had, that being my top, was no longer very much help at all.
To call what we were driving on a "road" would do a great disservice to roads everywhere. And if the van we were riding in ever had any shocks, they had run screaming quite some time ago. Like when Roosevelt was President.
Teddy Roosevelt.
She glanced at me briefly before returning her attention to the rutted road-wannabe. "The mountains. The boarder’s too dangerous to be crossed safely now. I’ll keep you all with me until I can think up something better to do."
Though I wanted to shout for joy, I knew such an outburst wouldn’t be appreciated by her in the least. So I settled for a smile, well knowing she could see it, even if it looked like she was staring straight ahead. "I can’t say that I’m disappointed to hear that," I said softly, needing her to hear the truth, though I’m sure she knew it already.
"I can," she replied, just as softly.
Though I knew they were coming, I didn’t anticipate the sting those quietly uttered words would bring with them.
"Ice... ."
Her name slipped from my lips quite without my permission, but once it was said, I didn’t regret it.
"No, Angel." She held up a hand, requesting silence, before returning it to the wheel. She sighed, her shoulders slumping a little before straightening proudly. "This mission I’m on...it’s more dangerous than anything I’ve ever done before. Not just to me, but to all of us. I work alone. I always have. Even now. Especially now."
"But those police officers... ?"
She laughed; a mirthless sound if ever there was one. "Dead."
I gasped in horror. "Both of them?"
"Both."
"How?"
Her jaw tensed in anger, muscles pulsing just beneath the skin. "They listened to someone I warned them against. They left without me knowing, and by the time I got there... ." She sighed again. "There wasn’t anything I could do."
"But they were police officers!"
She turned her face toward mine. "Police officers die just as easily as the rest of us, Angel."
"I know that. What I mean is...the government will have to do something now, won’t they?"
That mirthless, terrible laugh sounded again. "Not hardly. They were as expendable as I am. Little tin soldiers in their war against Organized Crime and government corruption. A dime a dozen."
I didn’t begrudge her her bitterness. How could I? Every word she spoke was
the truth.
Still... .
"You’re not expendable, Ice."
She snorted. "Me? Sure I am."
I felt my own jaw tense as my hands curled into fists tight enough to send my short nails scraping against the flesh of my palms. "Not to me you aren’t."
As she opened her mouth to speak, I cut her off at the pass. "And not to those women in the back of this van. We may not be as important in the general scheme of things as the government, but damnit, we should count for something."
Her expression didn’t change, but I fancied I saw her throat move as she swallowed.
"Angel," she said finally, her voice suspiciously hoarse, "you count for everything."
If I’d thought to add strength to my argument, her words disarmed me just as easily as if I’d been up against her with a gun in my hand.
The words dried to dust in my throat; dust that the salt of my tears helped wash away.
* * *
The van finally pulled to a shuddering stop in front of what appeared to be a small, cinderblock house. Flat-topped and with narrow loopholes for windows, it looked more bomb shelter than palace, but since panhandlers can’t be discriminators, I simply called it ‘home’ and left it at that.
With a feeling of profound relief, I opened the door and slid to the ground, squatting to loosen the cramps in my stiffened muscles. Twin pistol shots signaled my knees’ gratitude for the maneuver. I regained my feet as the other women walked past looking hot, sweaty and generally miserable. Attaching myself to the end of the line, I waited patiently with the others as Ice produced the keys to the little house and opened the door.
We filed in like obedient schoolchildren trying to stay on the good side of a headmaster who had no good side.
The interior was cool, dim, spare, and stamped with Ice’s particular brand of almost regimental neatness.
"Sit."
Four bodies broke all land speed records and packed in like overripe sardines on the single couch in the small living room. Only Ice and I were left standing in this game of ‘musical chairs’, sans music, of course.
Pony opened her mouth to speak, but closed it quickly when Ice held up a hand.
"Quiet."
Walking over to the small table beside the couch (and causing a bit of a group flinch as she did so), Ice picked up the cellular phone resting there, opened it up, and punched a single key. Bringing the phone up to her ear, she closed her eyes and listened for a long moment.
"They’re safe.... Yeah.... Alright."
She snapped the phone shut, replaced it on the table, and walked across to the other side of the room, eyes still closed. Her anger burned in the tightness of her jaw and the set of her shoulders, but I could see the invisible struggle going on. The struggle not to lash out, not to do something she’d later regret, no matter how much her body was begging her to do just that.
When she finally opened her eyes, they were glowing with a preternatural calm which was at distinct odds with the messages her body was sending. And which only served to make the rest of us that much more nervous, myself included.
"You’ll be staying with me until I can find a safe way to get you all back across the border. I’ll leave Montana to deal with you then. Until that time," and here she smiled; one of those grins that makes your guts tie themselves into a tiny little ball and your blood freeze in your veins, "you belong to me. That means that you do what I tell you, when I tell you, and how I tell you to do it. Am I making myself clear?"
Everyone, save Nia, nodded.
Ice’s eyes narrowed. "Is there a problem?"
"Yeah," Nia shot right back. I didn’t know whether to applaud her bravery, or mourn her foolhardiness. "Why are you acting like some kind of psycho drill instructor anyway? I mean, yeah, we made a mistake. So what? It’s not like you haven’t made any yourself."
That smile flashed again; dark and dangerous. "Yeah. I make plenty of ‘em."
"Like rescuing shit for brains there from the big house," Pony muttered half under her breath. She received an elbow in the ribs for her effort, and set to scowling at Critter.
"So what’s the big deal, then?"
Picturing my lover exploding into a million pieces with the effort of containing her anger, I took a chance, and stepped in. "The big deal, Nia, is that this ‘mistake’ could have cost us all our lives, or at the very least, our freedom. Ice risked a great deal to get us out of there. Even more than you know. And now, because we couldn’t make it safely back over the border, we’ve managed to throw a very large monkey wrench into some very important things she has to do, putting us all into even more danger. Is that a big enough deal for you?"
Sitting back, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I was just asking."
I sighed. "I know, Nia. And I’m sorry for yelling like that. It’s just...you need to understand that this isn’t a game we’re playing here. The person Ice needs to deal with is very, very dangerous. He’s killed a lot of people, and he’s almost killed her. Twice."
Nia’s eyes widened as she lost her sullen expression, and I could tell I was getting through to her. Biting my lip, I decided to take one more chance, something that would either convince her totally, or land me into even more hot water than I was already treading in. Or both.
Turning, I walked back to my lover and smiled slightly at her, begging her with my eyes to trust me just this once. When her body relaxed some of its coiled tension, I reached out and gently untucked the uniform shirt from her pants, baring her abdomen and the scars which had taken up permanent residence there.
"This isn’t a game, Nia. This is real. As real as it gets."
Nia’s face went white with shock as she stared unblinking at the tapestry of wounds stitched over taut skin and muscle. A tapestry which told its own tale of the woman who bore it.
"Do you understand now?"
She nodded swiftly. "Yes."
"And will you do as Ice asks, without any questions or attitude?"
She nodded again.
"Good."
Smiling at my lover, I gently tucked her shirt back in, taking care to straighten the seams exactly as they had been before I’d disturbed them. "Thanks," I mouthed, catching a glint of amused pride in her eyes before turning back to the group, all of whom were staring back at me, open-mouthed.
They were looking at me as if I’d totally lost my mind; as if I’d baited a caged bear with a stick, and had gotten away with it.
Perhaps, in a way, I had.
After a long moment of silence, it was Critter who finally broke the ice—no pun intended—by clearing her throat. "So...what now?"
A quiet jingle sounded as Ice tossed Critter the keys. "My car’s out back. You and Rio go into town for some provisions; clothes, food and the like. Rio knows the way. Get in, get what you need, and get back here. Don’t stop for anything else, understand?"
"Gotcha." Standing, she collected Rio with a nod, and together they left the house.
Ice turned her gaze to Pony. "I want you to go out there and strip that van into something unrecognizable. There are tools in the shed out back. Take Nia with you. It’s about time she learned to run something other than her mouth."
"Will do."
Nia, for her part, evidently learned her lesson and simply followed wordlessly behind Pony.
"Should...I go with them?"
"No. You’re staying with me. I’ve got something I’ve gotta do. C’mon."
I followed her into a room which could only be her bedroom, and grinned when she began to unbutton her shirt. "Alright! This kind of job I could really get into!"
A second later, I found myself with a faceful of shirt.
"Later, wildcat. We’ve got some business to take care of first."
"Business before pleasure, huh?" I mock-sighed, pulling the shirt off of my head, but taking the opportunity presented to pull in a deep breath of her scent which clung to the fabric. "Alright. I suppose I’ll have to deal with that. As long as it’s worth it
later."
I hardly had time to blink before I was wrapped up in six feet worth of half-naked woman. My lips were captured in a kiss which sent my senses, and my thoughts, reeling out of control like some monstrous roller-coaster whose breaks had been stripped away.
Pulling away finally, she looked at me, a smug twinkle in her eyes.
"What’s my name again?" I asked, only half in jest.
Chuckling softly, she released me and turned away to finish undressing as I watched her with a pleasure I can’t fully articulate.
Oh yeah. It’d be worth it.
* * *
I shifted in my seat, then shifted again, all the while trying to keep my feet away from the empty styrofoam cup which rolled back and forth along the floorboards in time with the car’s bumpy movements. There were teeth marks in the styrofoam, teeth marks made by a man who was now dead.
It was an eerie feeling, staring at something as innocuous as a simple cup with its residue of coffee indelibly marked on the outside where some of it had spilled over.
He was alive when he drank that.
My thoughts were crazy from lack of sleep and too much building tension.
But he’s not alive anymore.
My overworked, overtired mind pictured in vivid clarity the man sitting in this very car and draining the last dregs of his coffee before tossing the cup mindlessly onto the floor, never dreaming that it would be the last cup he would ever drink.
I shivered all over, my flesh going tight against the bone. How morbid.
"Are you alright?"
A hand on my thigh almost caused me to jump out of said flesh, and I spared a few seconds swallowing my heart back down into my chest. "Oh! I’m sorry. You startled me."
"I can see that. What’s wrong? That cup down there tryin’ to bite you or something?"
I tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out sounding much like one. Truth be told, I felt a bit foolish, and savagely crushed the cup under my foot, banishing with it the strange thoughts I’d been having. "I’m just a little overtired, I think. Didn’t get much sleep last night."
