Chapter 10
Tuesday Morning
Five months later
"No I’m afraid I can’t comment on that at this time."
"Come on Sarah! Give us something!" one of the reporters outside of the Dirkson Federal Courthouse yelled.
Sarah MacKenzie glanced up at the gray sky and smiled. "Looks like snow."
"Oh come on sweetheart, you can do trite better than that," the reporter from the Reader snarled.
Several of his colleagues chimed in with, "Shut up, Charlie."
While they were bickering, Mac pushed her way through the crowd and walked across the plaza to the building her office was in. After showing her identification, twice, she stepped onboard the elevator that would take her to her office on the 15th floor. She was exhausted but in a good way. She had presented her case and sat through almost two days of closing arguments by the defense attorneys. She had shown remarkable restraint until the third hour of the second day when she figured that even Judge Odell’s liberal patience was wearing thin. "Objection your honor. If I had wanted to hear a filibuster, I would have run for Congress." To which the lead defense attorney started to spout off but Odell had told him, in no uncertain terms, to wrap it up. Mac hadn’t felt the need to rebut. She figured if the defense hadn’t blown their case by boring the jury into a conviction, she wasn’t going to press her luck.
She doubted that they would come to a decision tonight. Most of them had struck her as conscientious. Besides, who wanted to drive in this snow? What was one more night at the Bismark for the jury that had been sequestered for the past two weeks? It had been snowing hard for three days with only teasingly brief breaks. The forecast was for more and the traffic that had been horrid would now escalate into unbearable. It was five now. If she left after writing up her notes and studying the next case on her agenda, it would be maybe seven and she might, just might, make it to her apartment on Pine Grove by nine – if she took the bus and walked the two blocks. If she took a taxi she might never get there. She should have rented south. But, in the summer, her neighborhood was really beautiful. Only three blocks from Lake Michigan, she had run and walked along Chicago’s lakefront for hours on end. She had dealt with her share of jerks, but mostly the men and women she met during her solitary wanderings had been polite and friendly.
She was proud of her transition from military to civilian life. She never thought in military time anymore. And her salary covered not only the very nice apartment but also her burgeoning wardrobe. It would be her undoing, she knew, but damn she was having a good time picking out one perfect suit each payday. She hadn’t bought that many during her tenure at Dalton’s law firm. She figured out later she had always known it was a bad fit. But this? She was an Assistant US Attorney for Northern Illinois and she dressed well. Not couture, but Shelia, her assistant, assured her that Neiman’s always had a sale after the first of the year. What else did she spend her money on? She had sold her beloved ‘Vette before moving out here. It made no sense in this congested city and the insurance rates were worse here than in DC. She had no need of a car here. If she wanted to get away, she could always rent one with the money she saved on not having to pay for a parking space. Her boss had warned her not to even attempt to park it on the street. "Hell, Sarah, the bastards will steal it before you turn the corner."
Things were good. Well, everything but her love life. But what else was new? Shelia had relentlessly fixed her up with every eligible bachelor and even a couple of soon-to-be bachelors, Sarah later found out. None measured up to the one man she wanted and had left because it was hopeless.
"Damn it." She sighed as she stepped off the elevator. She hadn’t thought about him in days, well okay in a day, well not since this morning. Well there was that time when she thought she saw him during a recess turning down a corridor, but that was nothing unusual either. She often found herself staring at a broad shoulder and a smooth head.
"Sarah!"
"Hi John."
"Hey come down here for a minute."
She followed her boss into his office. Much nicer than hers, but then her office was much nicer than the one she had at JAG. Still she missed it sometimes. But she realized she really just missed the people. She would have to call Harriet and see how they were doing. She had been so busy she hadn’t talked to Harriet in months, though she ran into Bud for about ten minutes at O’Hare two weeks ago. That had been a fluke. She had met a witness during a layover and Bud had been hurrying through to catch a connecting flight. They hugged and she had caught up on Little AJ, Little Buddy and the twins, Molly and Maddy. She spent so much time looking at pictures and oohing and awing that they ran out of time and she barely heard how Harm and Sturgis was doing. She thought he yelled something about the Admiral, but she was standing under the overhead speaker so she missed it. Maybe she would call tonight. After all, they were only an hour ahead and what else did she have to do.
"Sit down, Sarah. Coffee?"
"No. I’m fine. Darn I’m cold though." She hugged her coat around her.
"Well far be it from me to suggest you do the politically incorrect thing and buy a fur, but Ann Marie swears by hers."
"I don’t have that kind of money, John. Besides, I can just hear those vultures ask about that."
John snorted. "You’re the bright star of my staff, Sarah. The camera loves you. The reporters – well except for that jerk at the Reader – adore you."
"I’m not used to it, John." At his cocked eyebrow, she snapped. "I hated that spread in People!" She closed her eyes. Of course it had all resurfaced once the reporters, always hungry for something new, had researched the background of the newest AUSA. But then, it all went away when her very first case, supposedly a simple, straight-forward federal drug violation had ended up netting them testimony against several major players on the international scene. That had netted her and her boss press and the reporters were no longer talking about her breasts, but her hard-hitting tactics in the courtroom.
"You handle yourself just fine and you play the game in the office with finesse."
"I don’t like that either."
"But you’re getting used to that too. Look." He licked his lips and glanced down at the file in front of him. "I’m going to take the Artcon case away from you and give it to Mark Travis."
"Oh. Why?" True, it was a huge case and Travis, the senior AUSA, a real twit, had been making noises that it was his right, but Mac had thought she had proved her capabilities.
"Because Travis is the best choice," John said with just enough steel to let her know that as much as he appreciated her talents, HE was still the US Attorney.
"Okay." Mac met his steady gaze and waited.
Then he smiled evilly. "Instead, I want you to take on this." He handed her the file and she glanced at the title.
"Holy cow, John."
"You’ll be second chair – to me. Which means you’ll do all the work and I’ll get all the glory."
She knew better. John Collins was one of the fairest men she knew. He was as honorable as AJ, in her estimation. She had never thought of glory in the Marines, oh she liked winning as much as Harmon Rabb did, but it had never been for the media. She had served proudly and accepted the fact that she was doing a service to her country. This case would be all that – and more. "Where do you want me to start?"
"Well, read that. The case files will be brought up Thursday. Hopefully, the jury will have thrown the book at those bastards by then. Hopefully, the damn snow will stop. Look, get out of here."
"Nah. I’ll wait until the traffic dies down."
"Told you not to go north. You want to come home with me?" She grinned when he realized how that had come out. The look of exasperation really was one of his more endearing qualities. "Come on. The three of us can play pinochle."
"I hardly think your wife wants to play pinochle after a twelve hour day digging around in people’s brains, John. You go ahead…"
Just then there was a knock at the door. "Enter!" John said grandly, the amusement still in his voice. "Ah. The lovely and talented Shelia! Ready to go? See, Shelia doesn’t suffer the slings and arrows over her political statements."
Shelia Fischer snorted and hugged her full-length fur around her. "A warmth statement, Mr. Collins. Hey Sarah, I’m out of here, Billy is picking me up in the truck." The truck in question, both people knew was the top of the line Lexus SUV and the Billy in question was the starting wing for the Blackhawks. The whole office was used to seeing Shelia’s picture in the paper on the society pages, usually on the arm of some sports star or political bigwig. For all that though, there was very little gossip about her morals and everyone seemed to truly like Sarah’s assistant.
"Sure, no problem, its probably the only way you’ll get home."
"Home? Who’s going home? He has a night off. He has four-wheel drive. We’re going out!"
Mac shook her head. Shelia was a force of nature and she would never let anything like fourteen inches of snow slow her down. "Well, have fun then."
"I would have him give you a lift, but there’s been someone waiting for you in your office for over an hour?"
Mac furrowed her forehead trying to remember if she had made any appointments for this late in the day.
"Who is it Shelia?" John asked.
"Oh hell, I forgot his name, it was hard to pronounce. Kinda of cute if you like ‘em older. A definite 10 on the hunk meter but…"
"Shelia!" Mac interrupted the free association that her assistant was known for. It was the one flaw in an otherwise perfect package.
"He’s one of the law professors up at Northwestern. You know, one of those bastards who are always tearing our cases apart."
Well, usually only Travis’. The school had made headlines in previous years by working with death row inmates who were, it was later discovered, falsely convicted. They usually focused on Illinois state convictions, not Federal.
She looked at John. "Has there been a complaint?"
"Not that I know of. You want me to wait around?"
"No. I’ll handle it. Maybe it’s something else." She glared at Shelia. "This isn’t a fix up is it?"
Shelia snorted. "Oh please. Though you might ask him if he’s married. You haven’t been on a date…"
"Out!" John and Mac said in unison.
"Fine. Sheesh. Take the time to come down here and this is the thanks…." Her voice trailed off as she stomped down the hall.
John stood up and reached for his wool coat hanging on the antique coat tree. "Come on Sarah, I’ll walk you down there and check his credentials."
She laughed. "In the words of Shelia, Sheesh! I’m a former Marine, John. I can handle an aging law professor," she joked and walked him down to the elevator. "I won’t be long, promise. I just hope it stops soon."
"Good night, Sarah."
Several of the assistants and AUSA’s said their goodnights as she walked back down to her office suite. It was a nice set up. Much calmer than JAG ops though there were times when she really did miss the hustle and bustle. She opened the door to find the outer office empty. The only light in either office was the desk lamp on Shelia’s completely clean desk. The door leading into Sarah’s office was open and in the illumination from the lights outside the window she could see that the snow had started again. The big fluffy flakes seemed to absorb the light from the ground and the other office buildings only to release it high above the street, casting an eerie glow everywhere. "Hello? Hmmm. Must have decided not to wait."
Shelia was such a stickler for keeping her desk clean that each nigh it looked like she had quit. Even the phone and her calendar were on the credenza against the wall. The single business card in the middle of the desk directly in the light stood out and seemed to beckon Mac. She walked over and reached out for it, only to jerk her hand back. The school’s emblem was the only decoration but the embossed letters seemed to reach out for her.
Adm. A.J. Chegwidden, USNR, JSD
School of Law
She had to touch the card, if only to assure herself that it was real and not just some continuation of her latest dream. She had played over several scenarios where he would come to her and beg her to return with him to DC. She knew he would never follow her. Hadn’t even considered the possibility.
"What have you done?" she whispered to the cold empty office. Did she want this? Did he leave it here because he thought that Shelia had identified him to her and he didn’t think she would show? Was he still in the building? Could she get the guards downstairs to stop him? She needed to think about this didn’t she? Hadn’t she settled into this life? What would he want from her, if this weren’t some strange hallucination? She would get the guard to keep him downstairs. How dare he do this to her again! Damn the man. She shed her coat, her anger now more than adequate to warm her. She rushed to her desk, not even bothering to turn on the light and picked up the receiver on her phone.
The door quietly shut. She gasped and dropped the receiver back to its resting place. He was a looming shadow against the door. As if knowing she couldn’t see him clearly, he took one step into the light.
Why had she ever thought he would grovel? His face was a mask, rigid, sharply etched in the pale fairytale light. A conquering hero returned from the wars to claim what was rightfully his. She tried to swallow, and cursed herself for not taking John up on his offer of coffee. Her throat shouldn’t be this tight. She tore her eyes from his and considered his uniform. Turtle neck sweater covered by a perfectly cut wool sport coat. Worn, comfortable jeans. He had always been the epitome of what a Naval Officer should look like; now he looked like he was ready to step to the podium and teach. She had little doubt that he would command his students’ attention as easily as he had commanded SEAL teams, ships and JAG officers. She thought that if the school needed a boost in female applicants, word would soon get out and his classes would be full.
He still hadn’t said a word. He just stood there. Did he expect her to say something? What were her parting words to him? She was too afraid to say anything. She would drive him away. Unconsciously, her lips parted and she ran her tongue over them. But that was enough. In three long strides he was before her. His hand came up to brush his fingers across her cheek. So tender. But there was something in his eyes. Anger? Passion? Desire? Before she could determine what she saw, his hand left her cheek and fisted in her hair. It hurt but still she didn’t say anything. Then she couldn’t. His lips on hers were bruising. His arm around her waist pulled her tight against his body forcing most of the air from her lungs. His tongue demanded entrance and claimed her mouth and her soul as his.
Just when she thought she would pass out, he pulled her head back, baring her neck to him. She thought for sure he was going to mark her and briefly wondered what blouse she had that would cover it. Instead, he released her just long enough for both hands to capture her neck and face. His intense gaze scared her. He wasn’t her CO any more. He could hurt her; snap her neck with just a flick of exertion. His thumb caressed her pulse points teasing her before his hands went to her shoulders and roughly pulled the suit jacket from her shoulders.
Yes. It was going to happen. Please God. Don’t let him stop. She swallowed again as he deftly released the small pearl that held the neck of her silk shell closed. He spared little time or grace pulling it over her head. The lights now seemed to heat her skin and she saw her own passion reflected in his eyes.
Now he did mark her. His lips branded her, his teeth nipped at the skin of her collar, her chest and finally her breasts. She wasn’t even aware when he pulled the bra from her. She only felt his lips on her nipples, tormenting, sucking, driving her to her first orgasm, and ripping from her the first words she had spoken to him in nearly nine months. "Oh God, AJ!"
But still he didn’t stop, didn’t embrace her or say anything. Roughly, he lowered her to the windowsill that ran across the entire wall behind her desk. The cold of the glass was quickly ignored as she gripped the edge trying not to fall forward as he pulled skirt, pantyhose and panties away; her shoes fell with thuds against the rug on the floor. He was kneeling before her and she finally, for the first time, reached out and touched him. She ran her hand over his head as if trying to calm him. But the power of his gaze kept her still.
Lifting one leg he gently bit the back of her knee before crooking it and resting it over his shoulder. He did the same for the other leg and the wool of his jacket irritated and sensitized her skin. Then, he began to lick her thighs, softly, barely touching her skin as he moved closer to the apex of her legs. He held her tight against the ledge, not letting her fall until she felt safe enough to move both hands to his head. But he shook them off, growling low in his throat, spreading her wider.
The first touch of his tongue to her sex ignited her as no one else had ever done. She had never liked this part of lovemaking. None of her lovers had ever been good at it. She really hadn’t known better with John. Dalton hadn’t liked it, though he was content to let her suck him to completion. Mic had been enthusiastic, but clumsy, lapping at her like an overgrown bassett hound.
AJ used his tongue like a finger, gently tracing, examining each crease, each hidden spot, places that she hadn’t even realized she like to have touched. A whimper of need began deep within her. She tried to thrust into the questing brand but he held her still. The path he etched from anus to clit was agonizingly slow and she found she couldn’t draw a full breath. Through hooded eyes she stared down at him. He was concentrating on her flesh the way he had used to concentrate on reports. Never even looking up until he wanted to make a point. And so she waited, waited until his tongue began to circle her clit. Finally he raised his eyes to her. And she knew the point he was making. She was his. There would be no more running away. He had given up his career, his home, everything, to up and move to be here with her. She was his and in that moment of silent demand her orgasm began to wash over her in waves. Ripples, starting in her stomach, spread out until the tidal wave of release had her arching so far back that she could see the snow as if fell. Silently thrusting her sex at him she begged for more. And he gave her more. She felt the invasion of his fingers into her core, scissoring them, bringing her to the edge once again and holding her there. She watched as the lazy grin of accomplishment spread across his face, smoothing away the anger, declaring his triumph. When the last crest finally had her pulling away from the sensations, he slid his fingers from her, paused, then sucked them clean.
She sprawled there panting, unable to catch her breath, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Firmly, he placed her hands against the windowsill, signaling her that he was pulling away his support.
Standing before her he began to undress. The sport coat was folded and tossed to the chair across from her desk. Turtleneck and undershirt were removed together and she could at last gaze upon the silver mat of fur on his chest, so thick that she could barely see his nipples. The meager light seemed to highlight each coarse hair and she longed to touch him. He took an excruciatingly long time removing his hiking boots and socks. Finally, he stood before her and she swore he was teasing her as he lowered his zipper of his jeans. Or, was he perhaps shy, afraid she wouldn’t like what she saw.
What she saw made her gasp in surprise. He wasn’t a horse, but it was beautiful. Long, and thick, slightly curved, she knew he would have to go slow. It had been a long time since anything besides fingers had stretched her. He stroked himself and she thought he wanted her to say something, anything. But except for that one exclamation, neither had uttered a word and it had become a point of honor with her that he say something. It was his turn.
When he took a step to her, she suddenly moved away from the window. As her feet touched the rug she was afraid that her knees would buckle and she would collapse clumsily at his feet. But, by grabbing his forearms and lowering her lips to his chest, she was able to maintain some dignity and still begin to let him know that while she might accept his ownership of her heart, she would maintain some piece of her pride.
She nibbled her way down his torso until she was sure she could kneel before him. Faced with his manhood she rested on her heels and thought, Mine! And then she set about claiming him. Soft, exploratory licks seemed to unsettle him as he moaned softly. Good. She wanted him unsettled. She had given up as much as he. She would prove to him that she - that THEY - were worth the sacrifice - first here and now with this act, then everyday, doing simple, glorious things together.
His balls were tight and heavy and she was careful to be gentle with them. Her mouth caressed them, licked them to the point that he growled in warning. Well, she had learned one thing from Dalton anyway. Pulling back, meeting his eyes with an intense gaze of her own, she deftly squeezed the base of his cock relieving some of the pressure, insuring that she could continue his torture. Blowing across the head of his cock, dragging her tongue up and then down the length of his shaft, she worked him with every trick she had ever learned. Her hands weren’t idle as they stroked the hair on his thighs, barely touching him, as he had tormented her.
Finally. Had it been minutes? Hours? A lifetime since he closed and locked her office door? "Sarah!" She vowed to spend a lifetime working to bring that strangled desire to his voice again. Pulling back, she slowly shimmied up his body keeping his cock pressed between them. The trail of his pre-cum marked a path to where they both wanted it to be. This time the kiss was almost chaste. As their tongues twined together, they gently embraced each other. This time, he tried to sit on the sill, but she shook her head and gently maneuvered them until he sat down in her over-sized office chair. He pulled her down onto his lap. Straddling him, she took his face in her hands and she slowly sank down on his shaft. He let her control the descent, merely guiding and balancing her, holding her until she could take more of him. Once he was deep inside her, she rested her forehead to his, catching her breath.
Rough hands caressed her sides, kneading the muscles along her back. Pushing back, she placed her hands on his shoulders and began to pull off of him until only his cock head remained inside her. Her own lazy smile of triumph kissed her lips and she held herself poised. She would see him lose control.
He gripped her hips and plunged up even as he forced her body down. Over and over he thrust into her, never taking his eyes off her until he could only groan, "Oh Damn!" and buried himself deep within her. Holding her tight, he rocked into her, as each successful pulse fed more of his semen into her womb. As she collapsed into his embrace one part of her knew that that they had very likely made a child tonight and that fact was both very scary and immensely fitting.
When the chill of the office became uncomfortable she raised her head from his shoulder. "How long have you been here?"
"A week?"
"Have you found a place to stay?"
"A very nice place actually, huge, two blocks from the campus. Three bedrooms, first floor, nice area out back for Damnit."
"How did he take the move?"
"Fine. Probably better than me."
"You sell the place in McLean?"
"Of course. There’s nothing for me there, Sarah." She closed her eyes and the tears began to fall then. But he reached up and brushed them away. "Don’t. It was my decision and I count myself lucky that I didn’t wait too long. I didn’t wait too long, did I Sarah?"
"No," she sighed and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Probably just long enough." She rose from the chair allowing him to fall from her. Walking over to the corner, she opened her gym bag and found a towel. Tossing it to him she said, "It’s even clean. I just repacked it two nights ago and I haven’t had time to go to the gym since."
"What about you?"
She held up a tee shirt. "I’ll use this."
"No personal bath huh?"
"No!" She laughed softly.
Once they were dressed again, complete with heavy coats, he in long leather, she in wool, they walked out of the office together. The cleaning woman looked at them oddly and Mac spared an embarrassed moment trying to remember if they had cleaned up the evidence of their reconciliation. He leaned in and whispered, "Don’t worry! Think of the gossip."
"Wonderful."
As they crossed the plaza, the stark modern buildings rising above them, she arched her head and looked up into the snow. "You know, I’m really going to like this town."