Donny turns, looking at some of the equipment on the console, then back to me. “Like I said, no questions asked. Let’s go get you a place to chill. Inspectors will be on board in a bit. Just a formality. We’ll shoot the shit more than they will look around. They don’t want to have to do any more real work than I do.”
I smile, feeling a little bit of confidence burning off the paranoia and stress I’ve been shouldering for almost twenty-four hours. “You’re a good man, Donny.” I say as he gestures me back out of the door.
Sitting in the cabin, I’ve got the lights off. I don’t want to take any chances on being randomly discovered, so I’m playing it the safe, if not boring route. I’m basically waiting to hear the engines rev up as we pull away. Only then, I might start feeling comfortable. The lock will be the easiest way out of the country, even though I know what that’s going to take. I want to rest up for it, but there’s no way I’m going to sleep at this point. The darkness makes my imagination run wild and I have a clear picture of Des in my mind. That red hair, straight as an arrow, framing that face that can run the gamut from drop-dead gorgeous to frighteningly harsh, depending on the mood she happens to be in. I smile inwardly thinking about the hair, replaying the moment in my mind.
“Shit, Des. That’s a new look.” I had said, coming back down into the basement. It was the first time I had acquiesced to her desire for a shower. Looking back on it, even though I supervised her visit upstairs like a hawk, I didn’t take advantage of it. It just felt wrong. Looking, I mean. It had startled me enough when she came out wrapped in one of my towels, the first look I had really gotten of her out of the clothes she had been brought in.
“It’s not something I want to talk about.” She had said, but I saw the hint of a smile on her face. You don’t happen to have a straightening iron, do you?”
I ran my fingers through my short hair in answer, shaking my head slowly. “Yeah, no.”
“Well, fuck.” She said, tossing the surprisingly perfect curls of her red hair over her shoulder. “Now I’m going to look like Merida from Brave.”
I hadn’t been familiar with the movie, but I had looked it up along the way between then and now.
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I had said, smiling. She gave me a withering look.
I’m jarred from my reflection by the door opening. Unfortunately, when the lights come back on, it’s not Donny telling me we’re safely underway.
Chapter Five
Monday Afternoon – Des
Shit. I’m almost packed, the rucksack lying on the bed as I finish up in the bathroom. Hair is tolerable, makeup, well, I usually don’t wear that much anyway, but I’ve thrown on a little blush because my color is off. The sound of the car in the driveway is almost certainly Clark, and I had been hoping to be out of here long before he got home. It’s sweet of him, really. He’s probably checking up on me, but what he doesn’t know is that I’ve pretty much already checked out. Of our relationship, that is. It’s funny how I think of myself as a bad-ass FBI agent, even though recently-minted, but I can’t seem to bring myself to go through with the confrontation required for a breakup. I’m a serial bad-breakup-artist going way back. Better to fade away than to burn out, if that makes any sense.
I shove the rucksack off the far side of the bed and hustle out of the bedroom. It’s about the best I can handle in the time allowed. I’m hoping I can keep the smile on my face long enough for him to feel like he’s taken care of me before being convinced to go back to the office. I suddenly feel like I’m the one that is a fugitive.
“Hey Clark,” I say, as he comes in through the door. “You know you don’t have to check up on me.”
Clark smiles, his face showing all the signs that I’m the little girl with the lost puppy that he needs to console. He gives me a hug. “I just thought I’d stop by for lunch and see how you’re doing, Des.” He says, then notices the way I’m dressed. “You getting ready to go out?”
“Yeah.” I lie, and it’s easier than I feel comfortable with. I can’t bring myself to draw it out, though.
“Okay, do you want me to go with you? I could always call in and…”
“I’ll be fine, Clark.” I assure him. “You need to keep putting the hours in, you know that as well as I. I’m just getting back from getting some things for dinner tonight.”
Clark’s a lawyer, and he’s been bucking for partner. We actually met when I was first touring the courthouse with the agency. He had been pretty bold in asking me out, and I was flattered enough to respond quickly. It had been a while, what with my time at the academy and all, but moments like that have honestly been few and far between. Unfortunately, the boldness stopped after I moved in. The look on his face tells me that I’m not going to have much luck convincing him.
“I can make you some lunch before you head back.” I say, smiling.
“Des, cooking?” He asks, his own smile starting to show. “Now I know something’s wrong.” It’s a running joke with us as my cooking skills never really developed. More of a lack of interest than anything else.
“I picked up some things.” Actually, I hadn’t, but I knew we would have something in the fridge could throw together.
“Well, if you insist.” He says, loosening his tie. “I’m just going to go change this.” He said, pulling it off over his head. “Jelly doughnuts will be the end of me, I’m sure.”
I fake a laugh, but I know that he’s going to see the rucksack and go nuts. The only thing I can do is wait for it to come.
Like clockwork, it comes. Clark comes of the bedroom and I initially can’t tell if he’s sad or pissed off.
“Were you even going to tell me?” He says. Pissed off. I can tell it from the way his voice sounds.
“Look, Clark, the Bureau…” I start, getting ready to start in on the story I was going to tell him on the phone later.
“Fuck the Bureau.” He says, his face getting a little red. “I don’t think the Bureau requires you to have a lack of simple respect for me.”
I’m immediately defensive, even though I know he’s well within his rights.
“I respect you, they just need me to get out of town and I’m not supposed to tell anyone about it.” I say, but I can tell it’s not going to diffuse the situation.
“Shit like that can’t work long-term, Des.” He says, straightening the new tie. “I don’t know if I can handle the priority that your work takes.”
The statement hangs there for a minute, the gravity of the words sinking in to both of us. I can see he’s about to take them back or soften them, but I don’t give him the opportunity. “Fuck that, Clark.” I say, my own anger starting to overcome my guilt. “Sixty hours a week down at the firm and you’re telling me that my job is too much of a priority?” I can see him start to talk, but I cut him off again. “You can’t even fucking have this conversation without getting yourself ready to go back to work at the same damn time.”
He finishes with the tie. “I said I would stay with you today. You’re the one that pushed me out the damn door, Des.” I have him on the defensive, but I don’t feel good about it. Sometimes even winning an argument make you feel like an ass. That doesn’t even cover it. I feel like a royal bitch at the moment, but I’m not backing down.
“I’m sorry you feel ‘disrespected’,” I say, hearing the air quotes in my own amped up voice. “But this is about my safety, so fuck you if I’m playing it by the Bureau rules.” Immediate regret floods me as I head into the bedroom to grab the rucksack. It wasn’t right for me to play that card. I know Clark cares about me, definitely about my safety; probably even more than I do. Definitely more than I do.
Hell, if I knew what was good for me, I probably wouldn’t be doing this right now; I’d settle down and have kids with Clark, probably quit the Bureau at some point.
“Des, I…” Clark says as I inadvertently brush by him with the rucksack in the hallway, pushing him off-balance and into the wall. The framed photo of the two of
us from one of our first dates crashes to the floor with that sickening sound of broken glass. The thing that strikes me most is that the sound seems so final.
Ted looks up longingly at me as I walk out the door, slamming it behind me. It’s wrong that I feel worse about that than any of the rest of it, isn’t it?
I hate the little Neon. Clark’s idea, but I know I’m angry at him and not the little car I drive. No, I’m mad at myself.
“Shit, Des. You’re not really fucking good with people, are you?” I say as I’m driving through the residential neighborhood. Suddenly, a kid on a bike crosses in front of me and I press down hard on the breaks, my phone and all my stuff rocketing off the front seat and into the foot well as I stop short of a tragic accident. I want to yell at the kid, but I just end up with my forehead on the steering wheel, my eyes closed. Tears aren’t coming. I want them to, but they’re failing me. “Hell, you don’t even know where you’re going.”
The freeway is my first stop, and I’m approaching the on-ramps. It takes me until the last few seconds to choose between East or West. East it is, I think as I accelerate up the small hill, looking behind me to judge an opening in the steady stream of cars. Decisions aside, all I want to do is find a place to stay for the night; maybe pick up a bottle of wine and just be alone. Given time to think, I usually come up with a plan. Hopefully.
I may have just thrown away a good guy and a career, all for a roll of the dice on something I can’t even be sure is real. There’s a brief moment when I consider heading back to Stockholm, but that fails me right away. The FBI will be all over his place. Hotel. That’s it. I’m feeling like the driving is the best thing for me at the moment; solitude will just make me sink unless I calm my emotions down somewhat. Maybe I can make it to Madison before nightfall. Did Reed even understand what I was trying to say to him? I’m hoping so, but I realize suddenly that I forgot to pack my passport. Even if what I was saying sunk in, there’s no way I’m meeting him without it. Fuck.
The memory of Reed fills my mind as drive, mostly aimless. It’s not the scene in the interrogation room where I took probably the biggest risk of my life, for the first time in a while. This time, it’s the last thing he said to me before walking out of his own house, without putting me back in the basement with the cuffs on.
Chapter Six
Monday Night – Reed
Once again, I’m in custody, but I was far better off with the Federal guys. These guys probably won’t waste too much time with interrogation, at least the kind that the FBI practices. Needing to take a leak for hours on end will be the least of my worries. I know that the only reason I’m alive now is that someone wants to talk to me first, and since I have a good idea who that is, optimism has completely escaped me.
If they’re driving me, though, I have a little time; albeit uncomfortable time, to figure out a way to talk my way out of this. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep is getting the better of me, since it’s probably been thirty-six hours or more. I picture Des, but this time it’s the real Des, with the crazy curly red hair that she hides from the world. There’s a smile on her face, the one that always softens her strong features around the edges. I have a feeling that this may be all that’s left, her last words to me something I wasn’t even able to figure out. She’s leaning in, the fire in that hair somehow blazing in those green eyes as she tenderly kisses me, her body wrapped around mine.
There’s a big bump and it distracts me from the fantasies playing out in my head. I realize I’m in love with a woman I’ve never even kissed. My arms are aching, so I’m trying to move them as much as I can to keep the blood flowing. Tied behind me like they are, it’s uncomfortable, so I’ve been trying to keep on my side in the back of the van. I’m not blindfolded, but I can’t move around enough to see out, and the back section is separate from the cab. It doesn’t really matter, though. I know who’s driving and I know who they’re taking me to see. Your luck’s really run out this time, Reed. Des was a one and done. The thought of her and the fantasy that has faded bums me out a little bit. Hell, I don’t want to sound too over-the-top, but you only get that kind of opportunity once in a lifetime and I’ve apparently blown mine all to hell; based on choices I made years ago. The Catch-22 is that I would have never met her if the circumstances currently keeping me from her; probably permanently, hadn’t have guided it.
I’m trying to go back into the fantasy again, but it’s just not happening. Fleeting images; her laugh, that killer smile, that body.
___
When I finally wake, the van seems to have come to a stop. I can hear ambient traffic noise outside, so I figure we’re probably at a gas station or something. Yeah, I could yell, but all that’s going to do is hasten things. I can guarantee that this crew isn’t going to let me go as easily as Des did.
Marisela is probably driving. I only think that because the two that showed up at my berth on the Beltran were her and Liam, and I know what she thinks of his driving. We’ve worked together a lot in the last year or so, even had a little bit of a fling, but just like Gray, those days are apparently over. Little had been said when they pulled me off the ship, but not much talking had been needed. They were doing their duty, just like I did mine in my day, though I never had to do anything like this. Would I have done it? I regret that the answer that first comes to my head is that it wouldn’t have been a problem. Donny had been trying to avoid eye-contact with me as they led me off the ship. I can’t blame him, really.
The fiery Latina is about as hard as they came in the crew, but I knew her well enough that it was mostly just a front to keep the almost exclusively male team from fucking with her or taking advantage. Gray had told me to give her a wide berth when I first started, but as a general rule, I’m pretty stupid.
___
The gravel of the little club’s parking lot crunches audibly through the open windows as we pull into one of the last spots available. I look over at Marisela. “You sure this is where you want to go?” I ask.
She smiles that wicked smile that usually means trouble. “It’s time to celebrate, Reed. Man, you need to learn how to relax.”
The passenger door opens and I follow her out into the night air, watching the neon sign flick back and forth from one image to the other. As we get close to the door, the bouncer tips his cowboy hat to Marisela. Either he knows her or he’s smart enough not to fuck around with her. Gorgeous, sexy, all those things; but there’s something in her eyes. The music is thumping, normal gentlemen’s club stuff, and even though we were in the relative darkness of the night, it takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the low light. This isn’t really how I’m used to celebrating a job well done, I think, but I am in the mood for some fun.
Marisela powers her way right up to the bar and it seems like only a moment before I’ve got a cold beer in my hand. I can see the eyes all over her. Funny thing about a strip bar. For the most part, there’s good looking women everywhere wearing next to nothing, but when you throw in a beautiful woman like Marisela, she’s the one that attracts the most attention. I’d say I was in second place, but that was just because every guy in there was wondering what the lily-white California surfer-dude was doing with that woman. Hell, I couldn’t have answered if they had asked.
“Let’s find a place down front.” She almost shouts in my ear. I just nod and follow behind her, watching that remarkable ass shift left and right in the jean shorts she is wearing. Don’t mess with it, I remember telling myself.
The first girl that comes on the stage after we find a spot isn’t really to my taste, but the half-dozen or so that follow have a few lookers, though that may have more to do with the steady rounds of beer that are coming to the table.
Finally, I get up and excuse myself. I’m standing at the urinal, reading the bill about upcoming acts when I hear the commotion in the main room. I don’t really think much of it, finishing up before I push open the door with the tip of my boot.
Right down front, there’s a largish
guy next to Marisela. Only thing is, he’s slumped in the chair I had been sitting in, his nose streaming blood and he’s looking like he’s out. She’s on her feet, her head scanning the crowd to see if there’s anyone else that wants to have a go.
Hastily, I lead her out of the bar, giving her the standard lines about finding somewhere else, taking a break; whatever will get her out of there. She’s not drunk, I can tell that. While this is new, I’ve watched the brunette put back enough drink to put me down. She’s just riled up, either by the drink, the women, or the thrill of the successful run that we’re celebrating.
She buckles in as I start the car. “Fucking asshole.” She says, and right then I see some guys coming out of the club, so I put it in gear and pull through the parking spot headed towards the entrance. We hit the final speedbump a little fast and once again, I’m lying in the back of a van with my wrists tied behind my back. Even more tired after the short respite, the road lulls me back into the dream.
“Where are you taking me?” Marisela asks. There’s still fire in her voice and I’m just hoping that it doesn’t turn in my direction.
“Anywhere you’d like. I just figured we’d take our leave of that place.” I look over at her and see her eyes on me.
“Anywhere I’d like?” She asks, and I can hear the mischief in her voice.
“To celebrate.” I say, but it comes out weaker than I had hoped. Truth be told, I’m just a little bit afraid of the woman.
“Get off up here, then.”
It’s almost too late and I can hear the tires squeal a little on the highway as they follow her directions. She directs the car a little more until we’re pulling into a mid-range hotel. I’m thinking about the long drive home and it’s definitely a welcome sight. Might as well call it a night.
Pulling through the entrance, I stop and Marisela hops out before I can even move. “Find a spot to park and I’ll start getting us checked in.” She says. I can hear her cowboy boots clicking on the concrete, but my eyes are more concerned with the long legs sprouting from the top of them.
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