Part 4
Alexandria, VA
Late Monday Afternoon
January 19
It’s been two weeks since I saw her, standing at the door of the San Diego Base Commandant’s office. A week since she called me to tell me the news. I don’t know how I feel about it. I could hear the tears in her voice. "Well, we dodged the bullet." She isn’t pregnant. She isn’t carrying my child, and I ache at the certainty of never being a father. However, right now, I ache in a more general sense. God, I’m tired. I’ve been around the world and will have to go yet again. In fact, I’m only in town for two days of meetings and groveling for help. I don’t want to think about the help I need to ask for. I’ve never minded in the past. Now, I’m dreading it.
I lean my head back against the seat of the taxi, finally allowing myself to think about her while I’m awake. I can’t control my dreams; I don’t even try. There’ve been a myriad of scenarios: many erotic, but some have been disturbingly pedestrian. Sarah and I, with two children doing family things like barbequing or watching the monkeys at the zoo. Sarah and I sitting in church listening to a sermon. But, always Sarah. Laughing eyes, smiling lips. She’s mine, but only if I’m willing to work at it. Will I have the strength?
The shrill of my cell rouses me from my dozed musings. I smile as I read the identification. I know she’s been racking her brains trying to figure out when I added my number to her cell. "Hello, Sarah."
"Hello, Beast." We share a sighed laugh at the name she’s seeing on her LCD readout. "I take it your plane landed with no problems."
"On the ground and running."
"Running where?"
"You tell me."
"Well, you best get your butt home, shower, shave and take a nap, because as soon as I figure out how to get Singer to do what I want, I’m out of here and on my way over. I…" her voice trails off for a moment. Now the voice is a bit distanced, but not really muffled. "I’ll be with you in a second, Harm." A petulant sigh, then, "Fine, sit down." Ouch. We haven’t been able to talk about much. I still don’t know if she’s told him. If she has, it might make what I need to do dicey. "Clay?"
"Yes?"
"I’ll see you tonight." Well, that question’s answered. Rabb knows. This should be interesting.
"Okay, I’ll order in?"
"Already taken care of. Bye." In-charge Marine. I can handle it. Hell, if we do more than sleep tonight it will be a testament of her power over me.
The fish still live. The maid, bless her, comes in every three days and does so little, but at least the fish are fed and everything’s continually aired out. I deposit the stack of junk mail, unread, in the trash. Opening the refrigerator, I hope to hell that Sarah really has taken care of dinner because there is precious little here. Scotch. That’s what I need. The airline food was horrid, but I’ve something in my stomach, so I pour three fingers and take the tumbler upstairs.
I didn’t even bother to bring my suitcase home from Helsinki. If everything goes according to schedule, if Rabb’s available, then I’ll be back, with Rabb in tow, at the Radisson Royal on Thursday. On Saturday we’ll meet Sergei in St. Petersburg, and the Brothers Rabb will have a little reunion. Then we’ll track down the stolen F-14, and Harm can fly me back to the base from where it was stolen. After what happened to Sarah in Russia and AJ last winter, I must be out of my mind.
Oh, yeah. As soon as Rabb figures out that Sergei’s working for me, along with the fact that I have his girl, I’ll be lucky if all he does is dump me over the Adriatic. This is definitely going to be a dangerous op.
My suit has had it. I peel it off and throw it in the dry cleaning bag. Donita, my cleaning lady comes as close to a committed relationship as I’ve ever had with a woman. I know she’ll take the bag to the cleaners on her next visit, and bring back whatever’s there. I no longer know how many suits I have, and she could probably rob me blind. But I trust her.
The water sluicing over my body feels good. It would feel better if Sarah were here with me. I wonder if it’s too early to give her a key. The fact that she’s coming here tonight, the fact that she’s here at all is almost more than I can comprehend. I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Maybe I’ll meet her at the door like this. God, I want her. The shower has done wonders for the way I feel. Brushing my teeth and shaving make me feel almost human.
I trade the towel for an oft-washed pair of jeans and a soft Henley. I’m not sure, but perhaps, for her, this might be a more shocking outfit than the towel. It’s too cold to walk around barefoot, but instead of shoes, I opt for a pair of slippers.
I build a fire and sit to wait for her. I really hope she brings something good, because I’m getting hungry. I check my watch and then the clock on the mantel. Where is she? It’s nearly six, and she knows I’m home. Why isn’t she here? I really do need to get a grip. I fight the need to pour another drink and the urge to call her. I will not feel pathetic. On the way back from the airport, the cabbie mentioned how slick the streets were. I refuse to start worrying about her driving. But she has that low-slung Corvette, and those things are bitches on ice. I should know. I drove one for years. I pick up my phone and go to the window. If I call her, and she’s driving, and answers the phone and has a wreck… Oh, this is not good. Did she worry about me when I was away? This isn’t going to work.
I’ve just dialed her number, when a cab pulls up outside of my townhouse. She struggles out; her arms full. I curse the fact that I’m wearing slippers. To hell with it. I’m out the door and down the steps as she struggles with a suit bag, a large pizza box, and a bag from the Safeway. "Here, grab this." She shoves the pizza at me. It’s been ages since I’ve eaten a good pizza, and the smell is heavenly. But, all I want to do is hold her.
That’s impossible now, as she reaches back inside the cab for her purse. I try and take the shopping bag from her, but she growls threateningly. "Drop the pizza buddy and you’re dead meat." That’s the Marine I’ve been lusting after all these years. For a moment I’m lost in relief, longing, and intense hunger. She takes advantage, leans in for a quick kiss, and whispers. "Inside?"
Inside my house, my bedroom, my heart. "Lead the way." I carefully make my way back up the steps. Finally at the top, she stares down at my slippers. "Idiot."
"Nice talk. Traffic bad?" I nudge her inside.
She sets her bundles down, and turns and takes the pizza. "Not so bad. Work was a bear. Why? You miss me?"
I know she’s trying hard to keep this light. She has to have planned this out, and I’m pretty sure that I’ll disappoint her somehow. But hungry or not, I have to show her how glad I am to see her. Taking the pizza box from her, I walk into the living room and set it down on the coffee table. By the time I’ve turned back around, her coat is on the back of the chair. Within moments, we’re entwined, our lips fused and our hands in each other’s hair. Holding on, reaffirming the promise we made to each other in San Diego. Moving back just enough to speak, I confirm her suspicions. "I missed you two hours after I left San Diego. Now? Now I can’t describe what seeing you makes me feel." My elegant sentiment is ruined by the rude noise from my stomach. "And I’m so hungry, I was considering frying up one of the larger fish."
She glances over my shoulder. "Clay, they’re fabulous. I can’t believe you have a tank like that, being gone as much as you are." I realize that she’s never been here before. She steps back and begins a careful examination of my life. She studies the pictures of my parents. I’d already shared the loss of my father and what my mother means to me. However, my participation in the Seoul Olympics hadn’t come up. I’m surprised by her response.
"Harm mentioned you competed."
"Something snide, no doubt." I’d almost forgotten that Harm and Roberts invaded my home once.
She turns, and her expression is unreadable. "Actually, he was very impressed. He mentioned a picture of a blond?"
"Ah. Suzanne. Very blond, in an icy way." I don’t want go there. Old hurts, old lovers will not intrude on this evening. "As you can see," I sweep my hand around the various frames. "No blond."
"Good." But she doesn’t bother to look. I’m not even sure she heard me. She looks so sad. "He was determined to find your killer. I think he and the Admiral would’ve moved heaven and earth to bring Palmer to justice."
I can still hear the gunshot. Still feel the relief, thinking Palmer died that night. "Harm thought he did bring Palmer to justice." Damn. It’s like Harm’s entered the room and joined us. The world’s only living ghost; destined to haunt me. I turn away to gaze at the fish. "What about you?"
"Me?" She comes to stand beside me. "I was pissed and couldn’t figure out why."
"Pissed?"
"This was before Chloe got lost; before I realized I had a gift. I accepted the fact that you were dead. After all, we were told they’d recovered your body. But when Harm and Bud brought back the name Lt. Abby Cowen…" She grows silent, and I hesitantly put my arm around her waist to pull her closer. She turns her head and our lips are so close. "Clay, those kinds of puzzles have never held any sort of fascination for me. I don’t work them in the newspaper, but it only took a moment for me to figure it out. And I wasn’t even surprised. I was so furious."
"Why? Because I was jerking Rab… everyone’s chain?"
"No. Because we weren’t there for you. Because you found a way to contact your mother, but didn’t feel like you could contact us."
I lean in and kiss her forehead. "It’s over now."
"Is it? What about the next time?" Her eyes are dangerously bright, and all I want to do is get past this hurdle, sit down, eat our pizza, and then go to bed. "I promise. The next time…"
"Don’t!" She pulls away from me. "No promises you can’t keep." I know she’s angry. "Don’t try and placate me." Her mood passes, or cools, or she’s just as good at submerging her feelings as I am. She looks back at the pizza. "Where do you want to eat?"
I know I have to give her a moment. "Here’s good. The television’s in the armoire. If there’s nothing on, I’ve got a supply of DVDs in that cabinet there." I pick up the remote. "Can you figure this out?"
"Go. Don’t bother with drinks unless you want one. I have Cokes and Sprites. They’re cold."
"Works for me."
When I return with plates and napkins, she’s composed and sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked under her.
"Terminator?" I settle next to her.
"Yeah," she grins at me. "But I have to say, you have a really strange collection of movies in there. Casablanca I can understand, even Duck Soup. But, All about Eve?"
"Hey, it’s a classic!" I assert as I take a bite of not quite piping hot pizza.
"It’s a chick flick." She narrows her eyes. "Where’s your copy of Gidget?"
"Cute."
Her choice of movie is the perfect backdrop as we sit and happily bicker, pretending for a moment that we’re a normal couple with normal jobs that don’t involve dealing with very bad people who have, within their means, the destruction of the world.
Long before "I’ll be back," we’ve completely tuned out Arnold, growing silent as our desire for food is replaced by a more desperate desire.
"Hold still," I whisper as I move in to kiss away an invisible spec on her jaw. "Mmmm. I don’t remember my pizza sauce tasting that good."
Her fingers rake through my hair, and I take the opportunity to turn just enough to nip at the pulse point on her wrist. Her eyes reflect my passion. "Are you going to ask me to spend the night, Clay?"
I lean in and capture her lips for a moment before standing and grasping her hand in mine. "Spend the night in my bed, Sarah." I pull her up but don’t try and kiss her. I want her so bad, but I’m not going to compete with exploding trucks and a metal monster that will not die. Instead, I stoop for her suitcase and practically drag her up the stairs.
Once we’re inside my bedroom, I pull her into my arms. "I’ve wanted to do this for two weeks." When we have to separate to breathe, we’re both panting softly. "You’re so beautiful." I see the doubt in her eyes. I want nothing more than to make her happy. "Come to bed."
She takes a step back. "Sit down." She has a playful smile on her face. "Would you like me to strip for you?"
"God, yes." I sit on the edge of the bed, and watch in wonder as she begins her slow, almost shy display. Such an incredible mix of women is Sarah MacKenzie: savvy lawyer, kick-ass Marine, and the playful sex kitten taking off her uniform blouse. The only light comes from the lamp on my nightstand. The silver of the necklace seems to blaze in the meager illumination. "You’re wearing it."
"Only take if off if the uniform of the day is my khakis." She shimmies out of her skirt, and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed when all that’s left is her bra and panties. They’re all silk and lacy. I shake my head in amazement. "You don’t like?" I know she’s kidding, but I want to make her understand.
"Get over here," I growl.
Oh, that laugh! But tonight, there’s an evil tinge to it. "I don’t think so." She plops down on the comfortable chair in the corner. "Your turn."
"My turn? You want me to strip?"
"Yes. Pity there’s no music." She’s smirking, and all thoughts of disquiet or the mission to come are dispelled for the moment.
"Very well." I begin by high kicking my slippers off, which brings a giggle that does wonderful things to her chest. "I’ll do this, but when I’m done, I want to touch you."
"We’ll see." Her voice is husky, and I can see she wants this as much as I do. I cross my arms to pull my shirt over my head. I nearly choke when, with my head completely covered by the shirt, she lets out a loud wolf whistle.
"Jesus, Sarah!" I grumble and toss the shirt toward the hamper. "A little louder please, I don’t think AJ heard you in McLean."
"Well, show me what you’ve got, big boy."
"You’ve seen what I have." I unsnap my pants. "Memory loss?"
"Well? It’s been so long." She pouts but her eyes aren’t on mine any longer. Her tongue snakes out to lick her lip, and suddenly I feel like some teasing Chippendale’s model. Slowly, I lower the zipper. My cock, as with most cocks, has a mind of its own.
"Oh, my. Something seems anxious to escape," she purrs.
"Something?" I retort dryly. At least I think I’m still the suave and debonair spy who has more tuxedoes than Rabb has uniforms. Christ! Can the man not leave me alone? But then, all thoughts of dress codes and flyers flee as she leans forward and crooks her finger.
"Come here."
Damn it, that’s my line. But I’m helpless before her. I let the pants pool around my feet, and I’m quite proud of the fact that I step out of them and kick them away without falling on my face. Before I can take the three steps to the chair, she’s before me on her knees. Oh, God! Her eyes lock on mine, daring me to move, to deny her this. Her tongue just grazes the tip of my cock. Heaven. A wanton angel all my own. How did I come to this point? Can I keep her? Will she want me? Cares, worries, fears, everything fades away as I drown in her eyes. She consumes my soul even as she sucks me deep into her mouth. Her hand on my balls sends shudders of pleasure through my body. So good. So damn good. My stomach clinches, and I try to close my eyes to savor the surges of raw feeling coursing through my body. But I can see that will displease her.
I’m on overdrive now. The fact that this is Sarah, every goddess rolled into one, fades, and raw animal lust takes over. My hand snakes through her hair. It’s all I can do not to thrust. But I’m denied even that, when I feel the muscles at the back of her throat relax and she draws me in even farther. Sarah MacKenzie deep-throating me. Too much. Sensory overload. Bright blinding lights exploded, and I come so hard, only my tenuous grip on her head keeps me from falling.
The trust I feel for her is evident when, as she releases me, she gently pushes me back until I collapse like a rag doll upon the bed. I’m only vaguely aware of her tugging and pulling me into place. The last thing I’m conscious of is her head resting on my shoulder. I know I should feel guilty, but I sleep.
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, we wake spooned together, her ass against my morning erection, my hand cupping one of her breasts. If asked to describe heaven, this would be it. Waking every morning with her. I’m in a quandary. What to do first? I make it easy on myself. I nuzzle my stubble against her neck and twist her nipple between my fingers. That gets the desired response as she grinds her ass against my cock. "Clay?" It’s a question and a sigh, and for a moment I’m deliriously happy that it’s my name she calls. I don’t chance luck by breaking the moment with a snide comment. Instead, I release her nipple to trace circles on her skin. "Please." She whimpers and tries to turn to face me, but I don’t allow it. I inhale her scent, and I suspect that after I fell asleep last night, she rose and showered.
She twists her head around and demands a kiss, and I’m greeted with a still minty mouth. I’m embarrassed by what must be really fowl morning breath, but if it’s noticeable, she doesn’t show it. She’s struggling to turn, but I have other plans. "Don’t. Let me touch you." She stills, and I stroke her breasts as I place light kisses on her shoulder and arm. My fingers trail down to her curls, and I’m greeted with moisture already matting the hair there. "God, you’re so hot. I could get used to this."
Over and around, my fingers draw abstract patterns on her skin. I whisper my request in her ear, and while she moans, she looks back at me. "I want to watch. Do you have a mirror?" She follows my gaze and sighs with anticipation. Without another word, she rolls over onto her stomach before arching up on her hands, and kneels. She crawls to the foot of the bed where she can see my reflection in the dresser mirror. She just waits, and I groan and follow her. Kneeling behind her, I watch her reaction as I caress her folds, probing, testing, tickling. She rocks back against my hand, and I lean down to kiss along her spine.
"Clay, damn you. I want you inside me."
"How can I deny you anything after last night?" I position myself, taking my cock in hand to continue the torture. Playfully I nudge her anus, but I’m watching her reaction in the mirror. I see lust and a little fear in her eyes. "Next time?"
"Oh, God! Yes!" I think we’re both a little shocked by her enthusiastic response. But this morning, I want to be inside her, right now, the other will take far too much preparation. Grabbing her hips, I pull her back, impaling her with my cock. "Clay!" God, I love the sound of my name on her lips.
I want to make this good for her. I owe her for last night. "Look at me, Sarah." I demand. Our eyes meet in the mirror. "You are so sexy." I pull almost all the way out and plunge back in. "So beautiful." Pull out and thrust. "I want to do this again and again and again." With each word, I’m thrusting harder. "Touch yourself for me, Sarah. I want to watch you come." My voice sounds harsh and needy to my ears, but I’m beyond caring. She’s in her own little world now, pushing back to meet me plunge for plunge, until we’re both gasping and crying out each other’s name. I don’t want to fall on her. Instead, I fall back, bringing her with me until we’re in the position we were when we woke up. As I hold her tight, kissing the back of her neck, neither one of us mentions that once again we didn’t use a condom. I refuse to break the mood by asking if she went to the doctor to get on the pill. Two weeks ago I would have never allow myself to be put in this position. I’m not an irresponsible person. Neither is Sarah. But, the thought of having a child with this woman is suddenly becoming more and more appealing. But still, we should know better. We doze until my alarm goes off.
"Oh… no… let’s play hooky," she mutters while slapping at the clock radio.
I sigh and sit up. "Can’t. We both have jobs." No need to tell her what’s coming. Not yet. "Listen, you sleep while I shower. After we’re ready, I’ll drive you to Manny’s near JAG ops, and buy you breakfast."
"I suppose." She rolls over and sprawls me off the bed.
When I wake her again, she grumbles, "Good thing I brought my uniform." As I dress, I try to figure out how to broach the subject of the coming mission. We’ll have secrets in our life together. I won’t be able to tell her much. Even on this mission, I can’t give her all the details. Particularly, since this will probably end up being another production of the Rabb and Webb Comedy of Errors show. How will she react? I’ll tell her at breakfast.
As I hold her coat, she smiles at me over her shoulder. "So? What are your plans for the day – the edited version, of course."
"Meetings all day at Langley," satisfies her. I lead her out my back door where my car’s parked.
She yawns. "You know, as we walked through the kitchen, I noticed your coffee maker has a timer. Next time, we’ll program it before dinner. I need my coffee in the morning."
"Yes, dear." She wants a next time even after my embarrassing performance. I clear my throat. "Uhm… I’m really sorry about conking out on you last night."
Her smile hits me hard, and all I want to do is turn the car around and drive back to San Diego, buy a boat and sail away. "You more than made up for it this morning." She blushes and looks out her window. "You know, I’ve never done that before."
"What?" I can’t bring myself to say ‘doggie style.’
"You know, in front of a mirror. Thank you."
Even thinking about it makes my cock stir, and we’re pulling into Manny’s. Not good. "We’ll finish this later," I say firmly.
She laughs at my obvious discomfort, and quickly opens her door to step out into the blustery morning. Fortunately, the chill counteracts the effect on my cock, and I’m able to walk inside without embarrassing myself.
Manny’s isn’t much for looks, but the food is incredible. At another table, the waitress is just setting down a baked apple pancake that covers the whole dinner plate. It’s far too big for one person. Mac studies it carefully. "You want to share one? Do we have time?"
"I do, if you do." My first meeting is at ten, screw the paperwork piled on my desk. I want to be with her.
After the waitress takes our order, we sit quietly, getting caffeine into our systems. I’m trying to figure it out, and must show it by fidgeting with my cup as I wait for a refill.
"You’re not in town very long, are you?" She nails me with a look that dares me to lie.
"Thursday."
"Damn. So much for ‘I’m not out of the country that much anymore.’"
"Something came up." How lame. How many times will I say this to her – if she puts up with it?
"I know," she sighs. "And, you can’t tell me."
"Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." I won’t get a better opening. "I’ve been trying…" The door to the restaurant opens, and I check to make sure it’s not some gun-toting terrorist – I can’t turn off my survival instincts. I almost wish it had been. "Damn."
She turns to see what’s upset me. "Harm!"
This is no chance meeting. He was looking for us before the door was fully open. He’s already making his way toward our table, which is all the way in back of the crowded restaurant. I brace myself. From the look on his face, I know there’s going to be a scene.
Mac starts to stand up, but I reach out and take her hand in mine. Damn, I could do without this. Particularly since I need him for the mission. It’s too late to find another pilot who might work.
He stops at the table and just stands there between us, looking from Sarah, then back to me. He looks like shit. The golden boy’s showing his age – unlike me. I bet I don’t look a day over 50. Lack of sleep and worry that a failure on your part will cost people lives will do that to a person. Rabb looks like he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in – two weeks.
"Harm?" The concern is evident in her voice. She pulls her hand free from mine. "What are you doing here?"
Her voice seems to rouse him. I’m still on alert, but he takes a deep breath, and I know he’s come to some kind of decision. "May I sit down?"
Sarah glances at me for just a moment before nodding. "Okay."
"Coffee, sir?" The waitress seems hesitant to approach us, and Harm doesn’t answer her. I nod and she quickly fills a cup and leaves. He doesn’t even touch it.
He looks at Mac, but says to me, "I recognized your car, Webb. I figured this close to the office, Mac had to be with you." I don’t bother to reply. "I need to understand this." His voice is weary. He doesn’t seem confrontational, but I’m taking no chances.
"Understand what?"
He flinches at the sound of my voice. "Not you. You, I understand perfectly. I mean, I don’t even blame you." He’s so intent on Sarah, and even though she’s blushing furiously, she can’t seem to look away from him. I feel nauseous. I’m suddenly colder than I will ever be in the middle of Russia. "I want to talk to you, Mac. Will you at least do that?"
Where the hell’s he been? If he’s known, why has he waited? And then, I understand. The years of non-communication have served him well, and it’s a hard thing to change. Perhaps since I haven’t been around, he’s been able to ignore it. Maybe he didn’t believe it until he saw my car. There’s no way he followed us from my house. Why doesn’t Sarah say anything? He doesn’t want to hear from me. And it’s not my place to play white knight. Not like this. We’re too new, and I know he’s not going to hurt her.
I take a chance and look to see how Sarah’s really handling this. She seems shocked and afraid. But she’s not afraid him. Never. Is that a mistake on both our parts?
"Mac? Please. Eight years of… friendship must mean something."
"Okay, Harm. We’ll talk. But not now. Later."
"Not now. Tonight?"
She glances at me and some of the chill goes away. "No. Clay’s not in town for long. And we’re going to be too busy for lunch today. Friday." Good, she’s not denying that we’re together, and that this is just a breakfast between platonic friends.
"Mac, please. We have to talk. I know…"
My cell phone interrupts us. Seeing the display, I would normally get up, but not now. Too much is at stake. "Webb." It’s the DCI himself. They want me early. Now. Ten damn minutes ago. The entire world is going to explode if I’m not there to put my finger in the hole in the dike. "Fine. I’ll be there in twenty." He’s not happy, but I hang up before he can bitch some more. I close my cell, and I know what the meetings will be about. And I know that neither of us has the time. I know she has to talk to him. She won’t truly be there with me until she does. But I’m no patsy in this. Deliberately, I take her hand in mine. "I don’t know what time I’ll be home tonight. I’ll call you when I’m leaving. But I have to go now."
Harm finally looks at me. "I’ll drive her to work."
"Harm!" I can tell she’s getting angry with him, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to deal with the guilt when she finds out that I need him.
"Sarah!" I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. "Maybe you and Harm better talk it out tonight."
"But you said you’ll be gone Thursday."
This isn’t the way I wanted to break it to her. I’m probably busting any number of rules by telling him before my boss has informed his boss. Even before I start, I think she suspects what’s coming. "Yes I will – but so will Harm."