Cold Blooded

by Bernard L. DeLeo

  “No problem.” Nick gave Kelly and Garth a little wave. “If Jean dreams up any adventures we think you two will be interested in, we’ll give you a call.”

  “I think I’m getting my psycho on,” Rachel remarked as Suzan and her kids walked away. “I wanted to toast that Glenn kid.”

  “Oh lady, when you stop being afraid, and start contemplating violence, it’s very habit forming.” Nick put his arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “Shall we go home and call the US Marshalls? I wonder what our canine interior decorator has been up to while we’ve been gone?”

  “I left Deke a soup bone so big he’ll still be working on it when he’s too old to chew.”

  * * * *

  160

  “You don’t call. You don’t write…” Grace droned on. “Have we offended you in some way, my little stud muffin?”

  “Am I on the FBI’s most wanted list next to the Al-Qaeda hierarchy?”

  “Not yet, but there are people working on that very scenario. How are Rachel and Jean?”

  “Real good so far, and we have a plan. It involves an item unknown to you before: a safety deposit box with flash drives Rachel talked her husband into making from Tanus Import/Export. The real story is Rick was caught and tortured by Tanus because Rachel had a little get rich quick scheme. The extra heat is because of those drives.”

  “Oh…my…God…” Grace uttered in a hushed voice. “A ton of money’s being dropped on this problem, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is. Have you and Tim decided on whether to move on with your lives, or step up?”

  “I should have shot you that night at the restaurant, you smartass weasel.”

  “Time is running short,” Nick said, watching the indicator on his phone, smiling to himself as he pictured Grace fuming at the other end of the line. “Any more additions I’ll have to save for my memoirs if you’re not interested.”

  “Make it good, because you’re very close to starring on America’s Most Wanted.”

  “We lucked into a corroborating witness who wants out of the Tanus operation. The wife believes her husband can decipher what’s on the flash drives. They want protection. I’m supposed to find out whether the US Marshalls can provide any.”

  “Holy Guacamole, cowboy! You stepped in it this time, didn’t you?”

  “It’s all yours, Grace, if you want it. Is the DOJ sealed yet?”

  “They caught a deputy director and one of the bureau chiefs, all thanks to the tail you picked up on the way to Monterrey. The weird ass breaks in procedure, allowing a sniper suspect to have an accident in custody, cemented the deal. Tim and I were on the hot seat for a short period of time. We’ve been put in charge now.”

  “Sweet,” Nick commented. “Here’s the plan then. Rachel and I will get the drives. We’ll get our witness to make sure of what’s on them. Then we’ll hand the drives and the witness over to the US Marshalls.”

  “Instead, we meet up with you and Rachel, retrieve the drives, and take you all into federal custody,” Grace countered.

  “No offense, Frumpy, but you heard the plan, and you ain’t in it until I say you’re in it. Time’s up. I’ll call in one hour.”

  “Was she disappointed in me?” Rachel asked anxiously as they sat together out on the patio with Deke, having already put Jean to bed.

  Nick laughed. “I think you have more pressing problems than whether Grace has a lower opinion of you or not. Hey, did you inhale that beer?”

  “I was nervous.”

  Nick watched Rachel shift in her lounge chair, crossing her legs. He reached over to run his hand along her thigh. “You don’t look nervous. You look edible.”

  * * * *

  Rachel slapped Nick’s hand with a gasp of false indignation. A shiver streaked from the balls of her feet to the nape of her neck. Thoughts of US Marshalls and flash drives were fading faster than ice cream over a campfire. She had showered, joining him on the patio in only her blouse and shorts. Nick took her right hand in his left, turning it palm up. He used only the whisper of contact with his fingertips down Rachel’s bare arm and over her palm to the very tips of her fingers. He rotated the feather soft touch around and up her arm again. She leaned her head back with a moan, gripping the opposite arm of her chair with the other hand.

  Her arm was on fire. The skin without Nick’s attention felt cold and bleak, awaiting the returning warmth of his fingertips. Nick undid her blouse, and she shrugged it off impatiently. Rachel lifted up from the lounger as Nick gripped the waistband of her shorts. He pulled them from her smoothly. Moving off his lounger, he settled onto the edge of hers, and began his fingertip message with both hands. Down from her cheeks, over shoulders, breasts, ribcage--ever so slowly--hips, thighs, ankles, feet, toes, and up again. Rachel tried to relax. She tried to absorb his soothing touch, but her breathing quickened, her blood raced, and her body tensed. Nick returned his attention finally to her palms and wrists, tracing gentle circles. She crumpled into the lounger, his fingertips on her palms calming the tingling firestorm.

  “You drive me nuts,” she whispered.

  “Why’s that? You mean the massage? I figured I’d relax you. Didn’t you like it?” He continued the circular stroking of her palms.

  “It’s incredible, but why not just –”

  “I haven’t been with a woman I liked in a long time…maybe ever.”

  She sat up into his arms, their faces inches apart.

  “You mean that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Rachel’s lips touched Nick’s as lightly as his fingertips had explored her body. Neither moved to end the exquisite caress or probe more deeply. Her breasts brushed against his bare chest, causing his fingers to encircle and tighten on her wrists. She felt him tense everywhere except at the sensuous contact with her mouth. It was at this very moment Deke decided to make his presence known in the form of a cold wet nose on Rachel’s back. She lurched against Nick with a squeal of protest, arching against him as Deke poked and sniffed.

  “Do somethinggggggggg!” Rachel writhed more deeply into Nick.

  * * * *

  Nick reached around her with his left hand, grabbing Deke’s nose, and shaking it playfully as Rachel settled down.

  “Deke, your timing could be better, pal.” Nick peered around Rachel, eyeballing the dog reproachfully as Deke sat and gave him a paw.

  “Tell me you are not shaking that beast’s paw,” Rachel said through clenched teeth, clinging to Nick with her head against his right shoulder. He realized she could feel the movement of his arm at her side.

  “You told me I can’t hurt him.”

  She huffed. “I changed my mind.”

  “Perhaps we should go up to my room and start over.”

  “No, I’m not in the mood.”

  “Okay,” Nick sighed, pushing up and away from Rachel. “I was going to do your back next.”

  She sprung up from the lounge chair and into his arms. “What‘ll we do with the hellhound?”

  “Give him a beer,” Nick whispered, trailing kisses along her neck, evoking a protesting shudder and moan. “Deke can drink it in Jean’s room.”

  “You have to call Grace back,” Rachel reminded him reluctantly, at the same time moving side to side gently.

  “Shit!” He thumped his forehead on her shoulder.

  “I’ll go get Deke settled in Jean’s room. You call Grace. I’ll meet you in your room.”

  “You better not be asleep when I get there.”

  “Yeah, right.” She laughed. “C’mon Deke, let’s get you locked up for the night.”

  Nick picked up his satellite phone and called Grace. She answered on the first ring, and he noticed the light was green.

  “Hey, no trace--you are so helpful.”

  “The shit hit the fan, Nick, just as I suppose you imagined it would. I was to contact the Attorney General only if you called. I did and he brought in the Homeland Security Chief. Apparently, our two wayward justice department members corrobor
ated the existence of Rachel’s magic flash drives. They want them so badly they may overlook your transgressions.”

  “How much about my transgressions do you know?” Nick asked warily, repressing memories of missions over the last decade as they flitted through his mind.

  “Let me put it this way, Nick.” Grace’s lilting tone immediately irritated him. “I know writing best sellers is a hell of a cover gig. It seems CIA and NSA pooled their resources after the Khobar Towers bombing in 1996 into funding this neat clandestine group. Only the word leaked. It was shut down before it actually went into operation. At least that’s what congressional oversight thought. How am I doing so far, Obi-Wan?”

  “Oh, those transgressions.”

  “Want to fill in the blanks for your friends at the US Marshall’s office, Nicky?”

  “Never going to happen,” he retorted, his mind racing. “We’ll deal with me later. Not that I’m complaining, but how did a couple of lowly US Marshalls end up on top in this mess?”

  “It seems because we were the only ones working to keep Rachel and Jean alive, the Attorney General decided that, with all the suspicious happenings and leaks, Tim and I would be the logical oversight for the people who almost got us killed.”

  “Please tell me you don’t have a task force.”

  “Nope,” Grace chuckled. “Tim and I know better than to speak about this crap to anyone. We have access way beyond our pay grades and can call in help from anywhere we need it. We answer only to the Attorney General.”

  “Here’s the deal then. There may be a dust-up where the safety deposit box is.”

  “Meaning the bad guys know where the box is. You and Rachel know where the box is. The authorities, in the form of Tim and I, know nothing.”

  “You have a talent for summarization, Grace.”

  “I can round up enough people I trust to escort you and Rachel into the bank to get the drives, Nick,” Grace replied, anger creeping into her voice.

  “But then you’ll have our hole card. Think about it logically, Grace. What happens when we hand over the drives without leverage? I can make copies. You won’t be allowed to. If you get leaned on too hard, those drives can keep you and Tim in business. I’ll be like the Oracle. When you have questions about the way our justice system is progressing on the case, I can fill in details for you about what they may be covering up.”

  “And if we don’t take the deal?”

  “I’ll find a way to get those flash drives. Then it will be a hot time in the old town tonight, baby.”

  “We’re in,” Grace agreed. “It’s getting late. You’ve worn me out. When can you get those drives?”

  “You’ll know when I have them in my hands or close to it.”

  “I’ll bet you’re writing this all into a Diego best seller, aren’t you, you prick?”

  “I may be able to dish this heroic episode of reality into a treasure chest’s worth of fiction.”

  “I’m thinking Tim and I need to go down to Pacific Grove. I’ll talk to some of your friends down there. We might need a hole card against you, big shot.”

  “Listen closely, Grace.” Nick’s voice became nearly unrecognizable in its sheer menace. “It would be very dangerous for you or Tim to approach anyone I know. Are we clear?”

  “Sure Nick, sorry.”

  “You will be, if you ever forget what I just said.” He ended the call. Only the thought of Rachel in his bedroom enabled him to set the satellite phone down without smashing it into the cement.

  “How’d it go?” Rachel asked, as the bedroom door swung open, and she propped herself up on the bedcover.

  “It’s a work in progress.” His mind went blank at the sight of her in a sheer black-silk teddy.

  She turned onto her stomach, looking up at him over her shoulder. “I bought this while Jean and I were out shopping. Still want to do my back?”

  * * * *

  “Come on, Mom,” Nick whispered, guiding a very groggy Rachel toward her own bedroom. “You know you’d blame it on me if Jean wakes up and checks your room.”

  “Damn, Nick, can I sleep in tomorrow?” She turned in his arms, hugging him to a stop midway down the hall.

  “You sleep in every morning.” Nick held her, kissing the top of her head. “What would be different about tomorrow?”

  “Brat! Everyone sleeps in compared to you. What time is it anyway?”

  “Nearly one-thirty.”

  “That was a wonderful few hours.” Rachel pressed tightly into him, moving her lips to his bare neck. He knew she could feel the desired affect her movements had on him. She twisted away toward her bedroom. “Goodnight, Nick.”

  “I am so going to wake you at five, you little tart.”

  Rachel gave him the wave off, continued into her bedroom, and closed the door. Nick walked by and quietly opened Jean’s bedroom door. Deke streaked by him toward the stairs. Nick followed quickly, finding Deke panting at the locked glass patio door. He barely had time to slide the door back far enough before Deke jammed through the opening and over to the nearest desert plant.

  “Sorry about that, Deke. I should have let you out earlier. That’ll teach you to stick your cold nose into my business.” Nick waited, but Deke ignored him and walked over to his gnawed soup bone. Ignoring Nick’s urging to bring the bone inside, Deke laid down with the bone between his front paws and went to work on it. “Okay, but you’ll be out for the night. I have to lock up buddy.”

  He closed the door, waiting a few more moments, hoping Deke would change his mind. When the dog stayed where he was, Nick locked the door and reset his security system. He returned to the bedroom and his bed. He found it difficult to sleep with Rachel’s scent everywhere, but started to drift off after fifteen minutes. No sooner did the first stage of sleep overcome him than the phone rang on the night stand next to his head. He grabbed it up before it could complete the ring, hoping the sound had not disturbed Rachel and Jean.

  “Hello.”

  “Ross? You have to come over here,” Suzan’s voice sobbed into his ear.

  “Calm down, Suzan,” he urged, moving from the bed, and pulling on his jeans with one hand. “Tell me what’s happening, one step at a time.”

  “We had a bunch of hang up calls, and then a van parked across the street at around midnight. No one is getting out of it. I…I waited for them to go away, but they’re still here. Should I –”

  “No, you were right to call. I’ll come by and check the van out. Does it look like a delivery van or one of those minivan types.”

  “It’s a big one. I mean…it’s not one of those little ones.”

  “What color?”

  “Dark Blue.”

  “Okay, stay in the house with the kids and don’t come out. I’ll jog over so it’ll take me a couple minutes. I’ll come to the door if everything is okay.”

  “Thanks Ross.”

  Nick hung up and hurriedly put on his socks and tennis shoes. He took a black t-shirt from his drawer and put it on before taking the silenced Heckler & Koch .45 caliber handgun from his vault. Nick grabbed the light jacket he had fitted to carry the H&K, and jogged down the stairs. Five minutes later he slowed, checking out the cars near the Benoit residence on the street. No van was in sight when he went up to the Benoit house and tapped on the door, his hand on the H&K grip. Suzan answered the door. She began crying the moment she saw him. What the hell?

  “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Suzan sobbed, retreating from the door. “I’m supposed to tell you everything’s okay. I…I can’t. They were going to kill us.”

  “How many?” He went through the door and grabbed Suzan. “Think. How many guys came in the house?”

  “Three…but I think there was a fourth, because someone started the van when the three men left.”

  “Is the van they drove a dark-blue full-size like you said, and when did they leave?”

  “Yes, the minute you told me you’d be over.”

  “They’re hitting my house. S
hit! Keep the throwaway cell on you. Pack up your kids. Go stay at a motel until I contact you.” Nick left the house at a run, cutting down the street in back of his house. He saw the security lights and heard Deke barking at the back of his place. He knew the neighbor at the rear of his property did not have a dog so he leaped their fence at a run and moved to the next fence bordering their properties. He pulled himself up to look into his backyard. Deke heard him. The dog left the patio door to investigate the fence. Nick went over quietly, slipping down next to Deke. Staying along the border of his fence, he rounded his backyard. He crossed to the patio inside the security light’s glare, with the dog shadowing his moves.

  Inside the living room, he saw two men waiting, their eyes on the front entrance, with silenced handguns. Knowing he had locked the sliding glass door, and the men inside would not have opened it with Deke in the backyard, Nick moved to the sturdy lounger Rachel had lain in earlier. He took off his belt, and looped one end around Deke’s neck, and the other he cinched around a table leg.

  Gripping the middle sides of the lounger, Nick used it as a battering ram and plowed through the patio door glass. Once through, he tossed the lounger left, while he dove to the right, drawing his H&K. The two men fired wildly at the lounger. One went down immediately with a .45 caliber slug through his head. Nick shot the shoulder of the second man, the .45 slug potent enough to knock the man down flat. Nick covered the distance between himself and the wounded man in seconds. The man was feebly trying to roll toward him. Before he could turn, Nick slammed the butt of his weapon against the man’s temple, stunning him. He quickly disarmed him, and dragged the man into the kitchen to the cupboard where he kept his duct tape.

  Keeping his eyes on the downed man in the living room, He duct-taped the wounded man’s wrists and feet behind him, and together. Then he made sure of his kill. He quickly frisked the dead man for ID and weapons. With those items, he returned to the kitchen and repeated the process, evoking a groan from the trussed man. Deke started barking again, so he hurriedly dragged the wounded man onto a kitchen chair, and duct-taped him to it securely. With the confiscated weapons on the kitchen counter, he carried Deke over the broken glass and into the garage.