by Aden Lowe
***
Ransom and Heller had Crazy Terry T in a condemned warehouse on the edge of DC. Rufus provided electronic security and backup, making it an ideal set up. X and I parked a couple of blocks away and walked the rest of the way. We slipped inside through a door that still looked boarded up, and made our way carefully through the ruined area to the pair of offices they appropriated.
Ransom met us in the dark hallway littered with trash, strips of peeled off paint, and broken glass. "Y'all ready to have your minds blown?"
I accepted his handshake. "What do you mean?"
"Seems Crazy Terry T ain't all that crazy. But he is a wealth of information." Ransom grinned. "Lots of things to catch up on." He led us into the smaller of the two offices.
A cot sat to one side, a conference table was littered with a couple of empty pizza boxes, and a metal AV cart held a TV in one corner. Looked like they had a pretty sweet set up here.
The man himself, Crazy Terry T, sat dozing in a ragged office chair with his feet propped on the end of the table.
"Where's his little bodyguards?"
Heller grinned from another chair at the table, where he worked on something that looked suspiciously like a detonation device. "They had pressing matters to attend in another dimension."
"Glad to hear it." The fewer people alive who knew we had Crazy Terry, the less chance of us being tied to what was about to happen. "The bodies?"
"Gone without a fucking trace."
Even better. No bodies meant no deaths, which meant no unfortunate questions. Terry showed no signs of waking, so I knocked his feet off the table and stepped back.
He came awake ready to fight. "Da fuck, man?"
"Need to conversate with you, Terry."
A speculative look crossed his face. "You the one got me penned up here. Wantin' information about Tabby."
"Yeah, that's me. Now, I hear dear sweet Tabby has a plan to become First Lady. I need the details." The incongruity of anyone calling that bitch by a name like Tabby struck me. Definitely a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Ain't no big deal, man. She been fucking that Senator dude a long time now. She gonna off the uptight bitch he calling his fiancée. Real simple. Then she gonna step up." He shrugged and put his feet back on the table.
"She got any help in this big plan?" X leaned against the table within easy reach.
Terry grinned. "Course she do. She fucking the dude in charge of the bodyguards. Man got connections all over. They gonna make the uptight bitch move into a different building, and there gonna be fire. It's all laid out, unstoppable. Soon as the bitch dead, Tabby gonna make her move."
McKinley? I mentally adjusted our plan to include him. "What's in it for the bodyguard guy?" I had my suspicions, but I needed it confirmed.
"Tabby gonna make sure he gets to be head of the Secret Service. What they call it? Quid pro quo, or some shit like that." Another grin, broader than the first. "What you payin' me for all this information?"
I laughed. "I'll make sure you get paid good, don't worry." A glance at Heller confirmed he was ready to deliver the payment the moment I gave the word. I hated to kill a man who really hadn't done anything wrong, but Terry could identify us. And even after Tabitha's plan failed, and Richardson's true colors were exposed, they still would have the power to make things hot for us if Terry pointed them in the right direction. So he had to die.
X and I drove back the motel in silence. The rage building in my gut at the confirmation of how that bitch intended to hurt Lauren refused to be still. And McKinley. My caution with him had been on the mark. It still rankled to know he was willing to kill a woman he'd been paid to protect. It took a special brand of motherfucker to do something that low.
Lauren was sound asleep when we got to the motel, and Flag was practically buried under a pile of newspapers. "What the hell you doing?"
He glanced up. "Looking for info. It seems the Senator is going to help raise money to prevent domestic violence. I'm looking for the details. Big deal like that, might be the perfect opportunity."
I thought about that. The original plan was to confront Richardson privately, but this idea appealed to me even more. I nodded. "Press'll be there too, right?"
"Of course. They're all over his shit right now. He's all bereaved and desperate for news of his missing fiancée."
Perfect. We put the details together quietly, then Flag and X-Man left to scrounge up a few things we needed. I stepped outside in the late afternoon heat and humidity. One of the boys from one-thirty-one sat on and overturned milk crate by their door. When he spotted me, he waved, went back inside for a moment, then came toward me.
"Got some news for you, if you're interested." He smiled and leaned against the wall beside me.
"What's going on?" I refused to commit to pay for information beforehand.
"Check it. Okay, last night, Slick was hustling over in one of the rich people alleys. You know, outside one of their fancy bars. It's a good place to pick up johns. So he's hanging out there, waiting for one of his regulars to come out. These two suits come up and start asking questions. They want to know if there's any new people around."
"New people?" I failed to see how that might interest me.
"They looking for some cats that can handle their shit, might have a woman with them."
In other words, the men were looking for us. "They say why?"
"These cats kidnapped the woman. They think they'll be looking for ransom, or some shit like that." He shook his head. "Slick told them he'd keep an eye out. They supposed to check in with him again tonight."
The implication was clear. Pay up, or Slick would tell the men exactly where we were.
I had two options. Pay the kids, or kill them. Could they be trusted to stay quiet after they were paid? Not really. They would sell the same item a dozen times if they could find buyers.
At the moment, delay seemed the way to go. I pulled two Franklins from my wallet. "This is a deposit. Tell Slick he ain't going back there tonight. Best if he takes the evening off. Get some rest."
The kid nodded. "Thanks, man. I'll tell him, and we'll lay low." He took the money and practically skipped back to one-thirty-one.
Fucking complications. Those kids needed help, not death. But I couldn't leave anything to chance. As soon as Flag and X returned, we would have to clean up.
The weight of the universe sat on my shoulders as I went back into the room. Lauren still slept. Was she okay? Flag said she'd been sick earlier. I wanted to crawl into that bed with her, hold her, keep her safe from the world.
Would it be so terrible to have her waiting for me to return from missions? Fuck, that would be heaven for me. But she would be in hell. I'd seen far too many regular soldiers' wives crack under the pressure. Their men went to war, leaving them to take care of everything alone. It didn't take long for them to seek comfort elsewhere.
I couldn't bear the thought of Lauren with another man, but the thought of her worrying, needing support and not getting it—that broke me. I just couldn't put her through that. The hell of knowing she'd moved on, had another life, was better than putting her through hell.
Chapter twenty-six
I woke stiff and sore, feeling queasy again. What a terrible time to come down with something. My stomach rebelled as I sat up slowly, but I managed to rush to the bathroom before actually vomiting. Trick was right behind me, holding my shoulders, giving me a cold washcloth, and making soothing noises. When I finally sat back and caught my breath, I felt a little better.
"What's going on, Lauren? You okay?" The concern in Trick's voice reached a vulnerability inside me, and tears started to roll, despite my efforts to blink them back.
"I'm okay. I must have picked up a stomach bug. You'd better stay away, so you don't get it." I would miss the strength and support of his touch, but we couldn't have him sick, either.
"It's more likely a combination of nerves, and junk food over the last couple of days. So I'm not worried ab
out catching anything." He helped me stand, so I could rinse my mouth and brush my teeth. "Come on, let's get you sitting down, at least."
By the time I got back to the bed, I felt much better. "I'm okay now, I think." He was probably right. My mom always said I had a nervous stomach, whatever that meant.
He stood by the window, no longer curtained by the spare blanked, and looked out through a small opening in the drapes. Watching something? "Good. Flag and X are taking care of a little issue, but they'll be back soon. I was going to suggest we get some real food this evening, but maybe we should wait? I don't want you sick again." He sounded distracted, too.
I thought about it for a second, and my stomach voiced its opinion with a loud growl. "Actually, I think you're right about the junk food and nerves. Besides, I'm starving now." I laughed a little in an attempt to lighten his serious mood. "What kind of issue?"
The glance he sent me seemed to weigh whether I could handle the truth. "Someone asking questions about new people in the area."
"You think they were asking about us?" The idea that Jared's henchmen would actually be able to track us down terrified me. My heart wanted to leap out of my chest.
"Positive."
"And Flag and X-Man are doing something to keep them from finding us?" Was it wrong to pray they would kill Jared's men?
"Yeah." He probably preferred not to talk about the possibility of people dying.
I couldn't blame him, when I didn't really want to think about it. Instead, I changed the subject. "When do we go tomorrow?"
"The benefit is at two. We'll want to get there around the time he speaks to have the most impact." Whatever he watched out the window must be fascinating, because he never took his eyes off it, after that one glance in my direction.
Disgust curled in my belly. The thought of Jared publicly proclaiming the evils of domestic violence, when that was exactly what he did to me, absolutely amazed me. Did he not realize he was an abuser? Probably not. I hadn't realized it until recently, always thinking of domestic violence as far more severe that what happened to me. And he certainly placed himself far above the common man.
Looking back, I could see it so clearly. At first he apologized profusely and promised it would never happen again. Then he started to blame me. I always provoked him into hitting me. The apologies stopped, along with the promises, and it became more frequent and more severe. Eventually, he would have escalated to the point of actually beating me.
If Trick hadn't shown up when he did, I might have remained blind, until he caused permanent harm. What would I have done then? Would I have had the strength to leave? Or would I have continued to cover it up and endure?
Finally, Trick turned away from the window and sat by the little table. "You still hungry?"
My stomach growled again at the mention of food. "I am. What were you thinking of having?"
"I wish I could take you to a real restaurant, but that's too dangerous right now. There's a ton of take-out menus in the nightstand drawer, though. Thought we could have something besides grease-burgers and fries delivered."
I turned to dig into the drawer. He was right on the number of menus. Sorting through them, I automatically eliminated the ones offering nothing but burgers. If I never saw another burger again, it would be too soon.
"That leaves us with Italian, Chinese, a mom and pop diner, and Mexican." I thumbed through the stack of remaining menus. "Want to look some over?"
"The mom and pop place might be best, if they have a variety of stuff."
That made sense. I took the menu over to the table so we could both look at the same time. Flag and X-Man came in, and we all quickly decided on what to order. By the time dinner came and we ate, it was getting late. We went over the plan for tomorrow one more time, then Flag and X-Man went back to their own room.
Trick showered, and came out wearing a pair of basketball shorts, with water droplets clinging to his hair and chest.
I went to him, intent on licking away the shimmering crystals, but he stepped away. The hurt from that rejection went right to my core. I practically ran to the bathroom and slammed the door before he could see the tears. I would not give him that satisfaction, even though he could probably hear me clearly.
The sound of the shower might drown out my sobs a little. Except they only grew stronger under the warm spray. I stayed until the water ran cold, however long that took, then slowly dried my hair and dressed. Hopefully, he would be sleeping already when I came out. I couldn't face him after that.
There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I didn't have the courage. He might think he was protecting me by refusing to consider a future with me, but nothing could be further from the truth. I would rather have what I could have with him, even if that meant long absences and not knowing, than not have him at all.
The bed creaked under his weight shifting as he sat up when I came out. "Lauren…"
"You don't have to say anything. I get it. Got the notch in your belt, moving on. Fine with me." Except it wasn't. I swallowed back my tears and slid into the bed, careful to stay close to the edge, as far from him as I could get.
"Lauren—"
"Goodnight, Trick." I didn't want to hear anything he might have to say. Not at this point.
I lay there for a long time, listening to his even breathing, wondering if he was asleep, but he didn't attempt to talk anymore, so I had to assume he was. Eventually, fatigue won out and I fell asleep.
The room still lay in pitch darkness when I roused up, surprisingly comfortable. It took a moment to assess everything. Instead of stiff and clinging to the edge, I had somehow moved to the middle of the bed. A warm, hard body lay against my back, as if sheltering me, and a heavy arm lay over my waist. I shifted a little, ready to pull away.
That arm tightened around me, pulling me even closer. "No, Lauren, you're not going anywhere."
I sighed, weary of everything. "Just make up your mind, please, Trick. I'm getting whiplash."
He stiffened. "Okay. I deserved that. I know things can't work between us. There's no future, no matter how much I might want it. And fuck me, but I still want you, even if it makes me a bastard." His hand slid up, over my breast, palming it.
My traitorous body responded, nipples hardening immediately. He groaned as my butt pushed back against his growing erection. Clothing offered no protection against his heat. He turned me in his arms, working my shirt up at the same time. A surprised gasp escaped when his teeth raked over my nipple, just on the edge of pain.
My shorts came off easily, and before I knew it, my thighs clasped around his hips. One thick finger parted me and slipped inside, testing.
"Fuck, baby. So wet." He lined up and slid into me with one hard thrust, taking my breath away. And then he withdrew, and pushed back in, hard.
This bore no resemblance to the gentle, reverent lovemaking from before. He seemed angry, almost punishing. And it worked me into a fever pitch of desire. I wanted everything he gave, and more. He pounded into me, and I cried out, asking for more, my nails raking his shoulders, clinging, needy.
He rose onto his knees, pulling me with him to rest my butt on his thighs, my back arched, hands tangled in the sheets. The new angle allowed him to hit something inside me that made my insides cling to him, trying to hold him exactly there. One more stroke, and fireworks went off in my body, leaving me shuddering and breathless while Trick roared and spent himself in me.
Without a word, he lay back down and pulled me against him, resting my head on his arm and entwining his legs with mine. I lay there for a long time, wondering what was really happening between Trick and me. Did he really want me? Or was I just a convenient body? I had no problem figuring out what he meant to me. I had fallen in love with him somewhere along the way. And he didn't want a future with me. Eventually, I fell asleep again.
When I woke, he was gone. The red numbers on the bedside clock said it was already almost nine a.m. Why had he let me sleep so long? I slid from
the bed, gathering my shorts and panties as I went, and hurried awkwardly to the bathroom. Bladder emptied, teeth brushed, and everything safely covered, I ventured back out to the room in search of clues.
Trick's suit was gone from the little closet alcove, and all his other things were neatly packed. Taking that as my cue, I showered quickly, re-wrapped my foot, and dressed in the one skirt and blouse Trick had grabbed for me from my hotel room.
Shoes posed a whole new problem. The only ones he brought for me were the ballet flats I normally only wore long enough to go down and collect my mail. I shrugged, figuring it could be worse. At least he brought shoes.
With my hair dried and put up in a simple bun, I started to apply makeup. No. Wait. The marks from Jared's latest assault still showed clearly on my face, even if they had faded. This was not the day to cover them up. The clear imprint of the signet ring he was so proud of marked my skin, just above the jawline. Clear proof of whose fist left the bruises. Leaving it, I followed Trick's lead and packed my belongings.
As ready as I would ever be for what lay ahead, I sat down to wait. Bored and anxious, I turned on the TV to a local station, hoping for news, or at least something I could tolerate. Instead, a talk show where women argued over who slept with which man, and which man was the baby daddy, filled the screen. Just no. I finally found an I Love Lucy! Rerun, and left it on that.
Lucy turned into Samantha before Trick returned. "You're ready?"
"Yes. I want to get it over with."
He nodded. "Flag and X-Man are waiting in the van. Let's go." He shouldered both our bags and led the way without saying anything else.
Okay, I could deal with the silent treatment. After today it wouldn't matter anyway. With Jared exposed, and Tabitha dealt with, I could go back to my real life. I would no longer need a handsome mercenary to protect me. And Trick could go back to his exciting life of danger and intrigue.
Tears pricked at my eyes with the thought of never seeing him again, but I forced them back. He'd made his decision. A few tears, or even a screaming tantrum, from me wouldn't change his mind. It took real effort this time to pull on the public façade I always wore when I went in public with Jared. The mask no longer fit.
