Chapter 3

Nashville looked the same. It always looked so damned much colder than I expected. For some reason, I always thought this city that boasted of its country music underpinnings should be warm and folksy. Invariably, it seemed to be drizzling and gray when I was there; the weather seemed perfect for a city that liked steel blue, imposing new buildings in its downtown.

The Shapiro's driver rushed us from the airport to the Shapiro's home. Er ... make that mansion. "Holy fuck," I breathed out as we pulled off the country road and entered the grounds. To reach the house, the drive meandered through stands of trees so thick you could barely see the huge, off-white edifice.

Terry chuckled beside me. I glanced at him; his head bent down, he was buried in background material that had been thrust upon us as we were racing from the briefing at State. We had both spent the entire flight reading but he had a much steeper learning curve than I did. At least I was pretty familiar with these militia groups. What American didn't have at least a passing knowledge after Oklahoma City?

But it had been too many years since I'd really studied them in-depth. Not since I was with DEA. DEA watched them because there were always parts of any fringe element that turned to drug trafficking for the easy profit. I used to take in every briefing I could, but when I moved to State, I didn't worry about them so much.

I'm biased when it comes to anti-government militias, I suppose. Ex-government agent and all. But, there was also a personal grudge. Something I never discussed and few people knew. It left me anxious and on edge about coming back to this state and getting involved in something like this. But, it did give me another reason, as if I needed any others, to be willing to push hard on this.

It never failed to make me feel like a stranger in my land to read about these groups. Chilling stuff, honestly. How do you get inside the head of someone whose take on normal life in the U.S. was filled with conspiracy theories, violent resentment, and a perverted sense of right and wrong? The background material I'd been given that day made me realize how far I'd removed myself from this. And it showed me how, while some things about these groups and their real aims didn't change, their methods seemed to be evolving.

I simply found it hard to believe that, after all these years, I'd have to be involved in anything dealing with these groups. And in Tennessee, to top it off. I looked off into the distant hills and felt my entire body clench in deep dread.

His hand reached out for mine and gave it a squeeze. "What's up, Lisa?" I looked over at him and his steady eyes were watching me. "It's not just Maria, is it? Something else, eh? You need to tell me. Don't let me walk into something unprepared."

God. I didn't know if I'd ever get used to how well he could read my body language when I wasn't being really careful.

"It's going to be tough, you know. We're in this no-man's land where we're sent in here by State and yet we have no official standing. The FBI's never going to just let you take over and I can't figure out how we'll slip ourselves in without them finding out about Maria's background," I told him, trying to edge him away from his suspicions by bringing up a different set of worries troubling me.

He looked toward the front of the smallish limo. The opaque partition between us and the driver was up. I watched Terry gather up his papers and place them neatly back into their file before he placed the file on the floor. He moved toward me so fast I didn't have time to react. His arms went around my waist and he pulled me onto his lap. He had my hands under his control before I even realized what he was doing. I struggled with him, knowing he was seeking a way to get me to stop hiding and answer his real question.

But at times like this, Terry showed me no mercy. And he played no games. He simply overpowered me physically. We were wrestling against each other when the driver's voice came over the speaker. "We're here, folks," he said.

"Give us a few minutes, mate? Just park up and we'll be out soon," Terry grunted in reply.

Finally, my still-injured arm combined with lack of any real maneuverability left me no choice. I stopped moving and waited on Terry. His hands left my wrists and he gripped me hard around my back, pulling me right up to his chest.

"Tell me," he whispered harshly in my ear. When he looked in my eyes, he caught my cold glare. The expression on his face shifted. "Why the fuck is it you look so damned sexy when you do this to me? It's like you turn on some switch and all I want to do is fuck you hard when what I should be doing is screaming at you for being so fucking obstinate."

I looked in his eyes, seeing it there. The way it would never take much in a situation like this for him to snap instantly between trying to force me to bend to his will and trying to dominate me sexually. There had been rare occasions when he'd actually lost enough control to take my body in this type of situation. As strange as it made us both feel later, I had enjoyed each and every time he did it.

"Terry," I whispered, my voice soft because I couldn't let him keep thinking I was holding something important back from him. "I need your support right now, not your suspicions. If you're sensing anything with me, keep in mind that I'm not really quite myself yet. I'm not sure I'm really processing all of this. It's not like I entered into this gig in a particularly good frame of mind, after all."

"I don't believe you. And, damn you. Feel what you've done to me," he said, his voice harsh, his breath hot on my neck. He grabbed my hand and shoved it down to his crotch. He was getting hard; I'd begun to wonder if I'd ever make him again. And it's because he's pissed at me? I stared right into his eyes, inches away from them, and stroked him over his slacks.

Watching his eyes, I saw the switch; the moment when he went from anger to physical need for me. I looked out the smoked window; a man and a woman were standing at the top of a white cement staircase that led to the grand entry to this mansion. "Do you want a blow job, Terry? Hmm, baby? Want some relief?" I motioned out with my chin. "They'll wait. I mean, we're only talking their children's lives, but we can keep them waiting for a while."

He shoved me off him. Great, I grumbled to myself, nice way to turn this into a fight.

"Terry, I ..." I started, swallowing, clearing my throat, finally turning to look at him. He was leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, his head turned away from me. I crawled over to him but he put an arm out to block me. "Terry ..."

"I don't want to hear it, Lisa. Just leave me alone for a while." He opened his door, picked up his case and left the limo. 

I watched him walk to the steps and begin ascending. God, but I loved to watch him move. Closed my eyes and wondered why I did things like I did lately. Together for so long and I was struggling now? Why was I pushing, challenging, testing his love? Would I ever again reach that magic point where it just was an accepted part of me?

"Ma'am?" The driver was leaning into the open doorway, his hand out to me.

I began gathering my things, nerves making me spastic. The driver took pity on me, telling me he'd bring whatever I couldn't manage up with the luggage. With as much grace as I could manage, I left the limo and walked toward the stairs. I could hear Terry's deep, low voice but not the words. Examining the faces of Maria's parents, I knew they were already feeling soothed by his professional, don't-worry-I'm-here-now demeanor.

As I made my way to the group, the parents turned to me with expectant faces. Terry turned and all I saw was that he'd withdrawn from me. "There's been no further contact," he told me, his voice devoid of so much that it was full of meaning to me.

I followed along behind them; inside the foyer, I came forward to shake the hand of the fiancé when we were introduced to him. Then, I followed the group again and watched as they took seats inside a small sitting room off the main entry hall. Terry was going through the drill. Explaining things like he'd probably done so many times he couldn't even remember all the faces of people who had sat across from him like these people were. I wasn't even paying attention to the conversation.

So, there I was - free to wander the room because their minds could only concentrate on Terry's words and their own questions. My fingers swept over a display of family photos sitting on a small table under a window. My eyes looked up and out. Searching and not sure what for. Flash in the woods. Again.

We were being watched. Someone out there was watching this house through either binoculars or a gun scope. Not at all an unexpected development in this game.

They knew someone was now here to help the family.  I wondered if it was good guys or bad guys out there in the woods. Glancing behind me, wanting to catch Terry's eye but he was never going to be looking at me, it seemed.

Left the room and wandered some distance down the main hall, following it until it emptied into a large, white room. This, then, was the main room. Carefully arranged, artful details from the floors to the furniture to the ceiling. On display. I wondered if Maria had fought this or had relished it. And I wondered if her family was the source of her steadfastness or if she was that way in spite of them.

Family. My mind was stuck on a theme. Just being in the state of Tennessee was doing it to me.

Cell phone out, looking up the number in my pocket notebook and willing him to answer.

"Agent Cid." His voice was just what I remembered.

"This is Lisa Thorne. I was hoping to meet with you today." A test, an option. A chance for him to show me if he'd trust me.

"I was wondering when you'd call me. Heard a rumor about you. Wondered if it was true," he said. He paused and I heard him shuffling paper. "When and where?"

"It's your town, Mark. You tell me where." I scribbled directions to a bar near the Capital. "Give me an hour."

A throat cleared from across the room and I looked up to find a man I didn't know. The butler, as it turned out. Wanting to let me know our bags had been brought in and the driver was ready to be dismissed.

"Change in plans," I told him. "Have him wait for me, please."

On the way out the door, I popped my head in the sitting room. "Terry? A moment, please?"

He heard it in my voice. Back to business. It's probably the only reason he left the parents and came to where I stood in the hall. I met his eyes even though I knew what I'd see there. "I'm going to take the limo in to meet with the FBI's counter-terrorism person. I'll be back in a few hours. And someone's watching. Far woods."

I pointed out in the direction where I'd seen the watcher. His hand caught my wrist and he leaned in to me. "Lisa. Promise me you'll be careful. Don't go running off pissed and do something stupid."

"I'm taking the next logical step. I know we haven't had a chance to plan our moves, but this one's pretty easy. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, love, I do. It's what's in your voice and your eyes that tells me something else is going on. And I want you back here in one piece so we can finish fighting about it." Quick, tight grin from him, his voice soft and controlled. He kissed me, a quick peck.

I was out the door fast, not wanting to think about what he'd been trying to tell me with that. But grateful that he wasn't so hurt that he wouldn't be ready to forgive me if I groveled hard enough.

Had the limo drop me off near the Capitol. I remembered this area of Nashville relatively well. It made it easier to figure out the kind of route I'd need to take to shake any tails. Terry was right; it was good to be cautious, especially until we found out who was watching the house.

Up that long, weird walkway between triangulated marble that was the main entrance to the State Legislature; down the escalator and out to another street. Cross the corner with the light and the crowd. No obvious tails yet but still early. Inside a hotel lobby and out the garage. Up the slope and weave through pedestrians going with me on the sidewalk. Inside a store and watching the street from the shelter of their window. Still nothing. Back outside, back the way I'd come for half a block, cross another street and into another hotel lobby. This time, stop at the car rental counter and arrange for a car that I could pick up in an hour. Out through the hotel restaurant's entrance after one more sweep, and skip back across another corner.

Entered the bar and he was already there. He looked good. Too good. He always had.

Thank God he didn't get up, smile that certain smile and then kiss me. Course, things were different now. We were different people. "You've come up in the world, Pipsqueak," he told me. "Married life must be treating you well, Lisa, you look good."

"Divorced life looks like it's performed some magic on you, Mark. I'm not sure you ever had such nice manners when I knew you," I replied. He laughed at me. He'd always loved our verbal sparring matches. I'd once mistaken them for passion. He'd never been that foolish.

In front of me, a glass of white wine. He'd ordered it for me; it's what I used to drink back then, back when he knew me. My tastes in alcohol, and in men, had changed. But for some reason, I was still so me in that I didn't want him to see which parts of me had changed. I didn't want to give him any new insights into me. So I sipped the wine.

"Been a long time. Too long," he said, in that cultivated voice of his that I used to mistake for a sign of sophistication. "Remind me again what you did when you left DEA? Kinda lost track of you for a while. And then, this morning, I get the message this K&R firm's coming in at the family's request to negotiate. So, I do what any good cop would do, Lisa. I do a background search and, shit if your name didn't ring some real pleasant bells. Lisa Foster Thorne. Now sporting a new last name; same as one of the owners."

"My husband."

"Yeah, that was pretty easy to find out," he said, leaning back, taking out a folder from his briefcase and putting it carefully down in front of him on the table. Then dropping his voice as his eyes latched on to mine. "So, tell me, Lisa. When he introduces you to clients as his wife, do they assume you're just window dressing? I bet that pisses the fuck out of you, doesn't it? To be so easily dismissed?"

Smiling at him. Knowing he was asking because he was trying to see where I was soft. He'd made the mistake of dismissing my abilities on a few occasions. "People generally only make such a mistake once. But then, you always were slow on the uptake when it came to me, Mark."

"So what's the husband like? How's he keep someone like you in line?"

"Let's keep this about business, shall we? Let's talk about how we'll all be playing nice together." I looked down at the file he was fingering. "That for me? If so, I would venture a guess someone higher up your food chain has told you to let us in."

He slid the file across, inch by inch, watching it move, refusing to let it go even when he'd stopped moving it and it was a hair's breath from my fingers that were drilling a rhythm on the table. "Background on the militia I've selected as likeliest culprits."

"Yeah. About that. Why did you zero in on these guys so quickly?"

"Cause I'm good at my job, Lisa." Smiling at me even though I knew it always pissed him off to have me question him. "It's a new wrinkle and they're the ones who'll have the ability to do something like this. It has all the hallmarks of one of their operations. Neat. Lightning quick. Well planned. And they'll be ruthless in carrying it out."

"Okay. I've always trusted your professional abilities. I just wasn't always convinced about your principles."

My fingers stopped the drill routine and touched the file. His fingers came over mine. We both stopped moving and I remembered to breathe.

"Still carrying a grudge after all these years, Lisa? If it makes you feel any better, I've never forgotten you either. It didn't have to end the way it did."

"Are we going to be able to work together on this, Mark? Without all the history interfering?" My eyes were glued to the folder and I slipped my hand out from under his. I was resolutely intent on not showing him any new insight into me.

"Lisa, didn't you tell me one time your father was a cop of some kind?" Saying it in a soft voice and it was all wrong.

When I looked at him, his eyes were on the file. "My father? What's he got to do with anything?"

"Didn't you used to live in Memphis? When you were in high school?" Now his eyes slid slowly up to look into mine. I raised my eyebrows at him, like I didn't have a clue as to where he was going. "Ah. You already found out, didn't you?"

"This has nothing to do with my father. We are here simply to fulfill our company's contract with Mr. Shapiro's company. Nothing more, nothing less," I told him, my voice careful, the lie wrapped up in truth just as carefully. "Our goal is to assist the family in gaining the release of their two daughters. And we would never have come if you had any realistic means of working this case in such a way that would not endanger their lives. You already know you can trust me, Mark, and you know this is a good answer, a good cover from the militia for your continuing involvement. You know I won't shut you out and we will only act in concert with your agency. All we ask in return is that you support us with background, manpower if we need it, and total secrecy so the militia does not know we're coordinating this with the FBI. And, in return, we will do everything we can to help you build a case and arrest the bad guys. Our priority is the release or rescue of the hostages. Okay?"

He considered me for a long time, sipping on his whiskey and watching my body language. But one thing about Mark was that he had lost the ability to read me at exactly the same moment I had caught on to him. And that had happened too many years ago.

"Okay. Not that I have a choice anyway. Apparently, the Shapiro's have some good friends up my chain of command. Or maybe it's your friends giving the orders?" Chin tilt, small frown. "After all, you've never told me about your lost years. You left DEA so abruptly."

Saved by the bell. My cell's ringing gave me the perfect reason to flush this conversation down a toilet. Terry's voice was in my ear. All business. "We've had a contact. They know someone's here. My guess is that's who's watching. I've taken the first phone meeting with them."

"How did it go?"

"They weren't thrilled with my accent."

He sounded so put out by that and it made me chuckle. "We're talking people who believe they're the ultimate U.S. patriots, so I guess that's no surprise. On the other hand, I still think it works to our advantage. At least their first inclination will be to believe that you're not a U.S. government agent."

"We need to set up some definitive plans. When will you be back?" His voice sounded terse and tight.

"I'm leaving now. I should be there in less than an hour." I click the phone off and took in Mark's raised eyebrows.

"Ouch. Hubby's gonna get frostbite, Pipsqueak."

"Don't call me that anymore. Okay?" I told him, my voice much colder than what he'd heard me use with Terry. In answer to his amused face, I picked up the file and left.

Back to the hotel to pick up the rental car and I was on the road in fifteen minutes. The drive was uneventful and much too quick. I sat inside the parked car and stared at the mansion, gathering my nerves to go in there and deal with my marriage.

The butler answered my ringing of the doorbell, told me Terry had "retired" and then showed me the way up the stairs to the suite they were putting us in for the duration. Walking in the door, I found an impossibly large bedroom with a healthy sitting area near the window that overlooked a wide expanse of backyard and woods. Through a broad alcove, there was an attached office area that was nearly as large as the bedroom. When I walked in the suite, I didn't see Terry although I saw evidence of him. Clothes on the bed and his opened briefcase on the desk. I was just ready to call his name when I heard the shower start.

I sat cross-legged on the bed, picked up his sports coat and rubbed it on my cheek. I could smell lingering scents of Terry; aftershave, smoke, his musk. My eyes swept up to stare at the closed bathroom door and I felt tears running down my face.

Crap. This was my fault. This was me trying, on purpose, to distance myself from him. This was me, on purpose, being unwilling to be smart. I felt like a stranger to myself. I wondered if I would have reacted this way if it hadn't been for the shit my emotional state had been in for the last three months. I wondered why, if I could see the wall we'd been building between us, that I wasn't doing something about tearing it down.

Don't do this, I lectured myself. There's a man right in there, right behind that door, who will understand if you just tell him.

I stripped quickly and padded into the bathroom. Steam rolled toward me and I watched his body's shape behind mottled glass of the shower. I slipped in so softly; he didn't notice me. He was standing motionless under the stream of hard water, his arms outstretched, braced on the shower stall's slick walls, his head bent down and the water beating on his neck and shoulders. His back was to me and I took in with a slow glance the curves and muscles that captivated me.

He sucked in a shaky breath when I slid my hands around to his front, gliding them almost instantly to his nipples. Straightening, moving away from me, his hands coming to peel mine off his skin.

It seemed to be instinct because my reaction was too swift. But I'd never done anything like it before. I shoved him face first up against one of the walls like I was about to arrest him. I felt his body give in to me even as his muscles tensed. My hands first reclaimed his nipples and when he raised his head and shifted his legs, I slid slowly down his torso, finally reaching for his hardening cock. My body melded into his contours and shoved hard against him, meeting just enough resistance to tell me he was okay with this. My mouth traveled down his spine. I felt him tremble against me.

Hands on his shoulders and I turned him roughly to face me. Shoved him back against the wall. His hands reached for me just as his mouth formed the word, "No."

"Yes," I ground out to him, taking his hands and holding them tight against the wall, away from his body. Wide eyes watching me, trying to read me. "Don't fight me, Terry."

My mouth traveled his skin, beginning on his throat, while my pelvic area rubbed against him and felt him respond. My mouth continued its route, taking a long detour around his nipples before heading ever south. By the time I was on my knees, his hands were no longer struggling, but I still gripped them. I teased his cock and balls, never fully enveloping them until I could no longer stand not to. By the time I was licking up his shaft, it was so hard and rigid that I wondered how badly it hurt and how long he'd last.

"I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you earlier," I murmured, my lips so close to his cock's glistening head. "This is what I should have been doing for you."

The feel, the taste of him was so welcome. I let his hands go and dug my hands into his hips, drawing him deep inside me. He gave this guttural groan and I felt him begin to thrust lightly. I hummed against him, liking his movements, wanting him to let go with me. He responded by putting a hand atop my head and lightly pushing me down in time with his thrusts up into my mouth. I was concentrating on what I was trying to do for him and barely noticed his gradual increase in tempo. Letting him set the pace but still maintaining control over his cock's pleasure.

I ran my hands down and then back up his thighs, then slid them up his torso, reaching for his chest. His hands clamped over mine and shoved them hard over his nipples. Together, we massaged them as he thrust harder into me below. His thrusts became hard enough that I could tell he was about to come. Moaning around his cock, hearing him grunting... and then feeling him shoot into me. And all the time I was hanging on and swallowing, my ears could hear him saying my name in a voice that sounded sad and resigned.

When he stopped moving, I let his softening cock leave the warmth of my mouth. From my knees, I looked up at him. His head was pressed back against the wall, his arms hanging at his side, not touching me. I couldn't read his expression.

Rising up, turning from him, leaving him. But his hand reached for me and I let him pull me back against him. Leaning into his body, allowing him to give me comfort when I wasn't sure I deserved it.

"There's a possible complication I should have told you about, Terry. I don't think it has anything to do with this ... well, I know it doesn't. But, in the end, it could create a problem." I turned and looked in his eyes. Giving him soft honesty in the hopes it would make me feel clean again. "I didn't realize it at first. I should have but ... Plus, I should have told you as soon as I did but ... I was afraid you'd never agree to go forward ... We're Maria's best chance. I just didn't want to give you a reason to pull out. And that was really wrong of me."

Tight nod, hand smoothing along my cheek.  He reached over and turned off the stream of water. He grabbed a towel, sliding it around me, rubbing me dry. I watched him take another towel and dry himself. He gave me a small smile, motioned with his head for us to leave, saying, "Okay. Good start. Let's go have us a chat."

When had it become so hard to open the channels of communication between us? It didn't use to be this way, I thought. And wondered what it was going to take to get back to where we'd once been together.

Chapter 4

Truth can be such a fragile thing. If you really think about it, it's not always easy to define.  Think about the last time you had to face a truth you didn't want to. Was it the real truth or someone else's version of it? When all was said and done, after you knew it, would you have defined it in a different way? Would you have found a way to shade it, to make it less, to make it more, to make it somehow "your" truth? Sometimes, truth just rests on such delicate foundations, and facing it can shake everything up.

"It's a matter of trust, Lisa. An issue of how well you respect me," he was telling me. He was controlling his voice and his visible reactions with every fiber he had. "Why is it your first inclination was not to trust that I would hear you? Why wouldn't you trust that I'm going to be standing right with you when you need me, even if I'd rather you do something differently?"

I looked in his eyes and told him the most unvarnished truth about myself I'd ever told him. "I'm still afraid you're going to realize I don't deserve you."

His mouth opened to reply but he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached a hand toward where I was still sitting, nestled up among the pillows at the headboard of the big bed. But I stopped his hand before it reached where it was headed. Instead, I twined my fingers with his and held on to the person I needed more than anything.

"How many times have I failed you, Terry? I've been on such shaky ground with you for so many months now that I don't remember what it's like not to wonder why we're still together."

"I know you don't believe that."

"Then I'd say you don't know me very well," I whispered to him. "Everything's been different between us. Can you even remember how things were before it happened? I do. I remember when we used to make love because it was how we shared ourselves. It took you weeks to touch me after I lost the ... our baby ... We just never seem to make love for anything other than a physical release of tensions or because one of us is trying to make something up to the other."

"Is that what that was about? That was you giving me a blow job as a fucking apology?" His head motioned toward the bathroom; his voice was so hard and his eyes were constricted to tiny dots.

"No," I whispered to him, drawing him closer to me by tugging his hand in and around my waist. "That was about needing you, Terry. That was about the way you make me want you and all you have to do is look at me in a certain way. That was about how badly I want to be connected to you again, and I just don't know how to do it. I can feel you slipping away from me ... and I don't want to lose you."

He crawled toward me, not satisfied he was close enough until he was crouched over me and pulling me up to kneel with him. He held me so tight to him. I could have sworn I felt his heart beating against me. I would have done anything for this to be a promise of better times between us. And then, he slowly lowered me to the bed and he came next to me, drawing my body in under his where he enveloped me.

"I'm not going anywhere, Lisa," he whispered, his face burrowing into my hair as his heat seeped into the coldness of my fear of losing him.

All I could do was close my eyes and try to stop shaking. I'd lived behind the wall we'd built between us for too long, and I wasn't sure I was brave enough to come back out where he could see me for very long. But he was so strong and his strength had always been the thing that captured me. So strong he could be vulnerable with me. And bring out the part of me that would always protect him.

I thought he was going to begin kissing me or touching me ... but instead, he put his mouth next to my ear and he started talking to me. His words ... they were the balm to my soul that I'd been needing for so long.

He told of watching me pregnant, seeing me in this different way, a new light he saw burning in me that pained him to lose more than losing the baby. Like I'd been snuffed out and he couldn't find me anymore. How he'd hidden from me because he thought I didn't need to see that he was worried about me. How making love to me after had felt too desperate, like I was in need of something he could never give me. And that, just when he thought I was coming back to him, we'd been in the midst of the operation in Saudi Arabia.

When was that, I thought. A week ago? Maybe longer? It seemed like it had happened in another lifetime. And, listening to him, I ached to return to a simpler time with him.

By the time he told me about what he'd seen happening on that hillside, his head was soft on the rise of my breasts. I had my fingers in his hair and my other hand was making small circles of comfort on his back as I held him close.

He'd heard the first gunshot and looked up to see me drop straight over the crest with my charge on my back. "For the first time, I knew I was going to lose you. That I wouldn't ever be able to get to you in time. I saw you shove that little girl under your body and knew you were giving up your life for hers. Nick reacted first; he was halfway toward you while I was just watching it happen. But when they started firing down, we were both laying down cover for you."

For a long time, his words stopped and I pulled him in tighter to me. "I knew you'd be there for me, Terry. I never had a doubt."

"I didn't think I could touch you fast enough. When I picked you up and your feet moved, I don't know if I've ever been more relieved in my life. And then ... Fuck. I didn't even know you'd been hit. You were just sitting there, looking confused and I saw something shining on the floor of the van next to you." His arms hugged me in so hard that I had to tap on his back to get him to release me a little. "I couldn't understand how I could lose you, Lisa. That it could happen like that. That it could be because I'd insisted you come work with us. That it would have been my fault in the end."

We stayed together for so long. Neither of us spoke, and we couldn't seem to move other than to breathe.

Some men may bring you flowers, some men may sing you love songs, some men will tell you anything you want. But Terry Thorne will, in the end, show me his love in ways that will leave me breathless and in emotional overload.

"You do love me, don't you, baby?" I whispered down to the top of his head. Felt him nod against my chest.

"If I ever lost you ..." he murmured, and I felt his chest give this big heave.

"You won't, baby. You won't. I'm just glad you're not tossing me on the garbage heap," I replied, tussling his hair.

We fell asleep like that. Both so tired of fighting all the crap we'd been trying to hold at bay for too long, I suppose. I woke, long hours into a dark night, and needed to shift. Had to talk myself into it, though, because in his arms, I felt renewed in his need for me. I slid out from underneath his body and skipped quickly into the bathroom. When I returned to the bed, I didn't even know he was awake until he held the sheet back for me to crawl in next to his warmth.

As I nestled in next to him, I almost giggled in delight to feel his instant snuggle. "Hey, you. Damn, but you feel good."

"I am good," he replied, tickling me lightly until I let the giggle out.

"Mmm. I don't know, sweetie. Parts of you are very good, but..."

"Yeah? Only parts? Well, here's a part you've never complained about before," he growled as he took my hand and pulled it to his crotch. In the darkness, some sense told me exactly what his smile looked like and it lit me up. "Someone missed you while you were gone," he said, his voice low, husky and very nasty.

"God, I've missed you, Terry," I breathed out to him, feeling the depth of this moment between us. Almost startled when his mouth brushed my lips.

Remembering how it used to be, like it had never been anything else. Hoping that after a lifetime together, these past months of difficulty would end up having been a blip on the landscape of an otherwise good life.

And then just reveling in what was about to happen between us. His tongue tackling mine. Our hands exploring each other like we knew the perfect ways to touch. Then settling in as his bigger, stronger body sought control over mine. Letting him set the course and inviting this dominance. But he never pushed, he only pulled me along with him.

It was while his mouth was caressing my breasts, exploring them, teasing my nipples and then releasing them ... tears of relief crept from my eyes and I turned my face up to the ceiling and let them come. Welcomed them, in fact, because they told me I was coming back to him. That I was feeling him again, and in doing that, I was finding my way from the dark hole I'd jumped into to hide from life for a while. His renewed desire for me was helping wash away the guilt that I'd been feeling for too long.

When his mouth left my breasts and traveled wetly down, I arched into him even as he reached my abdomen. Cooing at him and hearing him hum back at me. He took so long to get where I wanted him to be, and I knew he did it on purpose, that he wanted me so beyond caring by the time he reached that part of me that I'd be writhing in anticipation and so ready for release that I'd lose myself in it. And when his tongue took that first slow, deep swipe up my wet slit, I shuddered against him.

"I love it when you do that," he whispered against me. "You make me feel like such a man."

"Oh God. Terry, please ... baby ..." Whimpering my needs to him. Willing him to help me.

It made him get serious and, when he started in on me in earnest, it flipped me up into the spiral of the first true, unfettered orgasm in so long. When I was just a moaning lump, I could feel his fingers in me and his thumb lightly stroking my clit. I raised up on my elbows and tried to see his face in the darkness. Wanting to see how his eyes were looking at me.

"Ready for more?" he asked, his voice deep and it vibrated into me because his lips were so close to the nerves that were the center of focus for both of us.

"I'm ready for you, baby," I replied, but then found my head falling back as his mouth covered my clit and he began sucking so hard that I was bucking against him with no shame. I heard myself; this hoarse voice, demanding that he fuck me with his cock. Heard his response; this deep chuckle soaked in his power.

He crept back up to me, his mouth coming to mine as I raised my head to him. His body pushed mine back down to the bed; I wrapped my legs around his, and he entered me slowly. "Give it to me, Terry. I need to feel all of you. Now."

"Fuck me, but you feel so good, love," he said. "Let me love you, Lisa."

Grunting, sweating against me, shoving with restraint even as my heels on his ass tried to force him to screw me with abandon. His hands pulled my legs up, kissing the side of each knee as he pressed them to my shoulders. The rhythm of our movements had us panting in unison; as we moved faster, so our breathing quickened.

I could tell he was trying to hold on, trying to make this a marathon when I was satisfied with a miler. We'd already done the most important part of this act when we'd given ourselves over to it and to each other. My body tried to draw him in more, even though I could feel him in further than even seemed possible. And then I was shaking with a coming that started in my clit but shoved itself through the rest of me so hard that it left me almost speechless. Almost.

"Come for me, Terry. Look at me while you come, baby. Show me. Let me see." My eyes searched for his, our faces so close that, even in the darkness, I was sure I would be able pick out the glow in his eyes.

I heard him before I felt it start. He was struggling. Then his eyes snapped open and I watched them as he came into me, taking so long to finish shooting into me that he nearly collapsed afterwards.

By the time we rolled together to our sides so we were facing each other, I was limp with what I'd given up and what I'd received. A new connection. And I wondered how it had even been possible we'd drifted so far apart that it would take what it had to bring us clutching and grasping back together.

He slept instantly, diving for it without a care. I felt his grip on me loosen as sleep overtook him. Face pressed hard into his comforting chest, my eyes were shut but my mind was open. And I was remembering.

When we had left the bathroom after our shower, he'd led me to the bed and I crawled up toward the headboard, leaning against it, looking at him walk around the bed. He took so much time, hanging up the clothes he'd left on the bed when he undressed to shower and even folding mine and placing them carefully inside the bureau. Finally, he had moved back to the bed and he sat on the edge, one foot on the ground and one crooked up under him. His hands busy with lighting a cigarette and snagging an ashtray.

Only then did he focus on me; one eyebrow crooked up and lowering his chin at me. I watched him drag in and blow out the gray-white smoke. Took in the way his chest looked with nothing covering it and the way the towel slung around his hips only did so much to disguise the shape of him.

"My eyes are up here, love," he told me, a small grin on his face when my eyes darted up. "Should I be flattered that the sight of me can still distract you? Or should I realize you're just delaying?"

"I'm going to tell you. I am. Don't give me that face, Terry," I sighed, closed my eyes and leaned back. "But first, I just want to apologize. I know I was way out of line today. I can't believe I said that to you."

"Yeah, love, it was a pretty nasty thing. Even for you," he said, voice soft and even.

My eyes flipped open and I looked at him. We nodded at each other; I knew him well enough to know he'd never bring it up again. He was good that way. It might take him a few more days to get over the sting, but he'd be resolute in shoving it into some mental compartment where it didn't interfere with dealing with me. He knew me well enough to know I'd be beating myself up over it for a lot longer than it would take him to simply wipe it away from his active memory.

"You mentioned a 'complication,' I believe. Give over," he said.

"Complication. Yeah. About that..." Big breath. Dig inside you for the professional, I told myself. Deal with this from that aspect and not from anything remotely approaching emotional. "Just know that I honestly did not know any of this until we were already on the flight down here. And understand, Terry, that it caught me really off-guard ... And, I ... I kinda thought it would never come up anyway but then ... Well, that was wishful thinking."

"Let me guess. The FBI contact." When he said it, I startled enough to earn a long, hard look from him. "Well, that's obviously hit the mark. I assume whatever it was you thought you were gonna hide, he already knew. And, that you're only telling me because you figure you'd best tell me before he does?"

"No. Absolutely not. I'm telling you because I feel like an idiot for not telling you when I first realized ... It's just that he ... well, he's one of the complications. But more than anything, I realized when I was meeting with him that there was no good reason to have tried to hide it from you."

"Christ, Lisa. Don't make this so fucking complicated. Just tell me."

"Fine. Here goes. When I looked over the briefing material on the plane, I came across some names ... some names I recognized. From my past," I told him. "You have to believe me, Terry. There's no reason any of it should interfere with why we're here."

"Then why the fuck didn't you just tell me?" His voice was this low growl. And I knew he was about to get really pissed when I told him the names and their connection to me.

"Because I figured you'd change your mind about our involvement here. I was afraid you wouldn't be willing to take another risk with me, and that I'd have to choose between you and Maria," I told him.

His jaw got tight. He sucked in on his cigarette and wouldn't look at me. "Tell me."

Three names. Just coincidence that they were even names involved in this. Just freaky coincidence that these names from my past were colliding with my present. Colliding in a case that had not a thing to do with my past, nor with my present. Like Maria, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

One. Mark Cid. The FBI's counter-terrorism point man in Tennessee. Old lover.

Two. Billy Ray Hullett. Leader of the Tennessee Citizens Militia. Maria's kidnapper. A stranger  to me except for his blood ties.

Three. Joshua Hullett. Billy Ray's father. My parent's assassin.

Chapter 5

Dawn smoldering across the woods. Slanted sunlight picking up the reds, oranges and yellows of trees on fire with color in dying days of fall.

He came up behind me and slipped his strong arms around me as I stood at the office area window, watching this dawn. His lips soft on my neck. His mouth saying soft words in my ear. "Morning, my love. I missed you when I woke up."

I so loved this side of Terry. This ability he had to wake up with a raging hard on. Like the one he had pressed in against my ass. But that morning, there was an urgency to the way I responded to him. I'd been standing at that window and hoping to God that we were mended. My rational self knew that the night before, and the way we'd connected, was like a strong bandage on our wounded relationship. I also knew the real healing was still going to take some time and some real attentive care. Most of me knew we were not letting go of each other. But there still existed within me this scared person who was desperate for signs that everything was back to normal between us.

And there was just something about the fact that he actually had awakened that morning with his body flooded with desire to make love with me ... well, it seemed important. Like we were getting ourselves back to the 'us' we'd been months earlier.

"Well, now, we can't have that, can we?" I murmured to him, leaning back into his chest as he gripped me tight. "And now that you've found me, what do you propose to do with me, Mr. Thorne?"

I moaned as he moved my robe away from my shoulder and his teeth bit into me there. Just a nip, but the growl that went with it made me so wet. A big puddle.

"Think I'll have my way with you. That's what I propose," he said. His big hands pulled at the sash of my robe as he rubbed against me. Robe opened and he gently held a breast in each hand. "I'll start with these."

"Good Lord, Terry. Let's at least get out of the window. They're fucking watching the house through binoculars," I complained to him with what little breath he'd left in me.

An arm around my waist and he dragged me down to the floor with him. Sitting behind me, both hands back to caressing my breasts. His tongue licked along the side of my jaw until he reached my ear. "Better?"

I wiggled in his grip and turned so I was facing him. Straddled his lap, giving him the most seductive smile I could find. Grinding against his cock. "Much better."

He put his hands on my face, running his thumbs up along the outer edges of my mouth, which opened to his probing. Leaning in against me, his mouth captured mine, his tongue finding a willing companion inside me. It started out as such a hard, intense kiss and he gradually slowed it until it felt like he was caressing my soul. When he stopped kissing me and pulled away, his eyes were that soft green of my favorite reef waters. I felt like I'd drown without him.

"Terry, promise me? Promise we'll have a family some day?" I whispered to him and I swear I didn't know how that had slipped out of me.

There was a shift in his eyes and I saw wetness gather into a tear. My thumb reached out to smooth it away. He grabbed my hand and held the fingers to his lips for a long time as he looked deep within me. When he let my hand go, I stroked along his cheek and smiled into his eyes.

"I'd like that, Lisa. I want to be the one to give you that," he said. "Want to get started now?"

Nodding, intent on him, rising just enough to place his cock at my opening and then sliding slowly, slowly down. Until he was almost groaning to begin pumping into me. When he did, it was so intentionally and smoothly paced to last. I rocked in time to his thrusts and it didn't take long for him to quicken the pace. As he did, our mouths came together and we kissed so deeply.

Something passed between us in this time. It was like we gained confidence back in the purpose our future together held for each other.

By the time I felt the gathering of my coming, I was grinding vigorously against him and he was pumping hard up into me, his hands guiding me as they gripped tight to my hips. "Tell me ... tell me you love me ... baby ... please," I panted out to him. Not able to look at him, my head back and swept into the way the feeling was affecting me.

"Fuck me," he cursed softly and I knew what was happening. Big push up into me.  Then struggling to get the words out quickly. "I love ... fuck, I'm coming ... Lisa, baby, I love you."

I held on to him and felt him come in this amazing release that pushed me finally into the orgasm that left me limp in his arms. Whimpering at the end and eternally grateful he was a man who would always be there to hold me and keep me safe in times like that.

For so long, he held me. But it was never long enough. I nestled in against him and breathed him in. "This feels so good. Do you think we could just stay like this forever?"

He squeezed tight before saying, "When this is over, we'll go away together like we planned. And I'll let you hold me as long as you want. But, baby, I hate to be the one to say it ... We need to go to work now, don't we?"

Too right, as he might have said. "There's a part of me that really needed to hide for just a little while," I said. Straightening up and looking with serious eyes at him. "All right. Maria's the priority. How do you want to start?"

He slowly moved me off him, guiding me to the bathroom, his mind ahead of me and I knew he'd thought it all through. Planner. That's Terry. He'd mapped it out ahead of him.

"We need to review the material your FBI man gave us. We have to know this Hullett guy. He's the key and we have the advantage since we know he'll be calling the shots. So he's who we'll plan for," he said, his cock-sure voice filling me with confidence. I loved to hear him talk when he was in this mode. So understated, so firm. "And, Lisa? I think we'd best keep his connection to you quiet. I agree with you that it's incredibly unlikely he even knows who you are, much less that you're here."

Nodding and feeling my lover slipping away from me, being replaced with the dangerous and experienced operative I needed him to be. "If they'll be satisfied with the money, then we need to be looking ahead. To the exchange. Don't you think?"

"Not yet, Lisa. Let's map this out together before we leap too far into the future." He looked off into an unfocused distant point in front of him as he thought about this. "They'll operate differently than most of our overseas groups do. On the other hand, they're amateurs when it comes to this. We need to help them focus, to see it as a business transaction."

"I'm still uneasy about their motivations for choosing this family."

"Yeah, I got that from the comments you made at the briefing. We need to get background on the parents, the other daughter and the fiancé. See where there may be links to this militia," Terry said.

"We also need to find out about all their household help."

By the time we were finished showering and dressing, we had a working plan. We left the suite and wandered down to the kitchen to hunt up food. I found coffee brewing and had just helped myself to a mug when we heard shuffling feet coming down the hall and knew the butler was announcing his arrival. He looked slightly startled to find us there.

"I needed coffee," I told him and he raised his eyebrows at me.

"Perhaps you'll be more comfortable taking breakfast with the family in the dining nook," he said.

Terry and I traded amused glances; I picked up my coffee cup and we left. "The 'nook,'" I mouthed to Terry as he tried not to giggle.

Samuel and Eva Shapiro were ensconced in what had to be the famed nook that was apparently used only for breakfast. It was a smallish room; at least compared to other rooms we'd seen in this place. A table that seated ten and a large buffet along the sidewall.

They looked up as we entered and, though they smiled, I saw the signs of their distress on their face and in their movements. They were both in their late 60s, I remembered from the background material.

He was CEO of a paper processing conglomeration that now included a number of subsidiaries having little to do with the parent company. Bald, hard brown eyes, tall, thin, slow walk with a slight hesitation that made me wonder about what physical problems he had.

Eva was warm and efficient. She kept the home fires burning and she kept even busier with community projects. It took a few days for me to understand that she was also her husband's prized counselor. She was someone with deceptive strength that I had missed the first time I'd met her. Of course, up to that point, I hadn't really talked to either of them.

I would have loved to tell them about what their daughter meant to me. Of her talents. Of her rock-solid loyalty and tender devotion to her co-workers. Of the times she'd pulled my ass out of the fire. Of the times she'd saved lives. Of the times she'd helped me end some that needed ending. Of the million reasons I was there for her. But, of course, I couldn't.

Terry gave them the briefest outline of our intentions to continue the negotiations while we investigated some issues to be certain we were prepared to deal with any eventuality. He never gave them real concrete information, but he had this way of telling people things that made them think they had learned something important even when it was nothing.

People always trusted Terry. They believed in him. I watched him with these parents and felt like I was seeing the man I loved again. So much of my love was founded in the professional respect I had for him.

"How do you do it?" Eva asked me, her hand reaching out to pat mine. "How do you work together in this type of a job?"

"He does a pretty good job of putting up with me. Terry has a high tolerance for my more unorthodox tendencies," I told her with a smile.

Just before we were ready to leave the table and get to work, the fiancé made his appearance. Richard Wellington. Resident of Knoxville; engaged to Rachel Shapiro for three months. Home to meet her family for the first time. Busy, busy, I mused. How busy did you have to be to never travel all of a few hours to come meet the folks in all the time you were dating their daughter, falling in love and deciding to get married?

My eyes studied him from over my coffee cup. Taking in the nicks from his razor, the way his shirt collar was askew, the manner in which his fingers seemed to flit constantly if they weren't actively engaged in some task. Bloodshot eyes, nails bit to the quick. Nerves. And that's appropriate; but not revealing. Too easy to lie about why you were nervous in this type of situation.

Yeah. That's me. Suspicious of anomalies. He was the new person, the outsider, the unknown. Didn't make him guilty of anything, just made him the top of my list of people to check out.

When we left the table, we went back to our suite where we'd set out our laptops, files and background material in the office area. We'd only felt safe to do that because the door had a lock on it and, we were assured, we had the only keys. We took precautions to determine if anyone actually came in the room anyway; none had been triggered that morning. It just paid to be cautious, especially since we didn't know all the players.

Dialing in to make a connection with our FBI source, to get the background started. We needed the fiancé done along with others who had ready access to the family. Terry had obtained a list of all current and recent household staff from Eva.

"Mark. It's Lisa," I said, turning away when I caught Terry's face change. We'd not even discussed this man, not more than to tell Terry he'd once been someone I'd screwed around with. Terry had said he absolutely did not want to know any details. But I was pretty sure Terry was trying hard to dismiss the limited knowledge he had of this past relationship from his mind at that particular moment. "I'm going to e-mail you a list of names. We need backgrounds; if you haven't done these, we need them done quickly. I'd give particular attention to one Richard Wellington. He's the fiancé of the younger daughter."

"I've probably already done any names you give me. I have material on Wellington I can send you. But anything you say, Pipsqueak. " His suave, put-down voice. He surely chose the wrong morning to push my buttons; I knew he did it because it irritated him that I hadn't automatically assumed he'd done the basics as soon as he got the case. I didn't react and I was sure that proved disappointing to him. "You sound pretty mellow. Get some from the hubby last night?"

"Can't you give it a rest? Just work with me here," I told him quietly.

Got his satisfied chuckle in reply. "So when do I get to meet Mr. Lisa?"

"What's going on, Mark?" I asked him, my voice cold and remote. "I mean, you always loved getting a rise out of me, but it was never your only means of communication with me."

"My memory of us was that we engaged in two activities: knocking heads and knocking boots. We're not screwing each other blind anymore so I guess pissing you off is all I'm left with," he said.

I sighed into the phone and closed my eyes. Counted to ten. "I have other memories, Mark. There was a time when we actually worked together pretty well. Even if we argued about something, we still seemed to be able to come through when it mattered. And, what I'm telling you right now, Mark, is that this matters. A lot. I'm counting on you coming through for me every bit as much as you're counting on me coming through for you."

He didn't say anything at first and when he finally spoke, his voice was one I remembered. The strong, take-charge voice. "Right. I'll send you what I have and look over your list to see what else you need."

When I ended the call, I walked to the window and peered off into the distance. No telling how long it took for me to zone back into where I was, but, when I did, I was only aware of the sounds of Terry working. Paper shifting and crinkling, keys on the laptop tapping, pen scratching on a notepad. It seemed I could even hear his mind churning.

"Sorry, Terry. I don't seem to be pulling my load on this trip, do I?" Turning to face him, advancing on the desk where he sat working. 

He barely flicked his eyes to me. "You need to work some other contacts, love. Not sure we'll be able to depend on your old FBI friend to give us everything we need. For instance, our highest priority is some leads on where the hostages may be. Got anything in your trick bag?"

Deep breath. Long thought. Sudden inspiration. "Yeah." Coming out slow and evil.

He caught the shift and grinned at me. "That's my girl. Go mess up someone's day."

"Terry, you're about the only person who's ever really enjoyed that aspect of my personality."

"You're always sexiest when you're plotting, Lisa. I'm getting hard just watching you." He gave me that sexy smirk when I frowned at his smart-ass remark, but inside it was another sign I craved.

"Get your dirty brain into the game, Thorne," I sassed him. "I'll be back in a few hours."

He was staying behind to man the phone. The kidnappers had agreed to call that morning and tell us how they'd be delivering the proof the women were still alive and healthy. After the call, Terry was going with Sam to arrange for the money from the bank.

Me? My inspiration was born of the memory of the only time I'd spent on a long investigation in Tennessee. There had been a clear culture of animosity between the FBI and the State of Tennessee's primary criminal investigative agency - the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, or TBI.

As I was driving back to Nashville, I called the only person I'd formed much of a relationship with at the TBI. Thankfully, he was still in that office and he agreed to meet me for coffee away from their offices. Probably borderline unethical, but I did nothing to dispel his assumption that I was still with DEA.

An hour later, I was watching Jason Gaines walk in. When he settled in across from me with his coffee, I asked him to tell me if they had anyone working undercover with Hullett's group.

"Christ. Come to the point, why don't you, Lisa?" he chuckled, propping his elbows on the table and leaning his chin into them as he considered me. "Course, that's always been your style. Never beat around a bush you can jump over, eh?"

"And the answer to my question is...?" I said, smiling, happy to see he apparently hadn't changed much.

His joking aside, Jason was deadly serious. "... dependent on why you need to know. No way we're gonna let DEA start altering the reason we'd have someone on the inside. So give it over. Why do you need our help?"

"So you do have someone on the inside. Somehow, I knew you'd at least be trying. Especially since the esteemed Special Agent Cid has such high quality background info on the group. Figured he'd gotten it from you guys and neglected to mention that to us."

He looked at me hard. "You been talking with Cid? Jeez, Lisa, even us locals can add two and two. What in God's name could DEA be doing involved in this case?"

Pay dirt. Now, just how to couch the lie? "I don't want to dance with your inside person. First, I need confirmation that Hullett's group is the one behind the kidnapping."

Sharp eyes examined me. "You, of all people, don't trust Cid?"

"Oh, I trust him. I just know he didn't make this leap to Hullett's group that quickly without knowing something he's not telling me. I imagine he thought there was something I shouldn't know about it. And the only thing that could be was that there was a cop of some kind on the inside. I didn't think it would be FBI. Figured it was more likely to be TBI or local."

"I repeat. What's DEA's interest in this case?"

"None. They don't give a shit." I looked in his eyes and I saw the veil sliding shut. "I'm not with DEA anymore. But I am working this case."

And out came the cover story. Same basic one I'd given Mark. Knowing that even though they didn't get along, he'd still check with Mark to get this verified. And it was so outlandish, so unexpected, so unorthodox ... he never really doubted it.

"So, say by some real stretch of the imagination, we decide we want to talk to you about any of this. What exactly do you really want?" Jason asked me.

I smiled in his eyes. "Simple. I want to know where the hostages are. And I want you guys to help me figure out how we'll rescue them if we need to."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're crazy if you think ..."

"I'm not crazy." I gave him my hard voice and cold eyes; he responded to the shift in me. "Let me tell you what, my friend. My team? We can do things you and the FBI cannot. And we'll do it totally out of the public eye. All we want are the hostages. If you can tell me where they are and what I need to know to get in and out, we'll end this so quick if we have to."

He sighed and closed his eyes, his hand rubbing across the closed eyelids in exasperation. "I didn't need to hear that."

So he got the message. The one that said, 'we'll save the state the cost of a trial if it comes to that.' I needed to press him hard on this. I needed the location. I needed the logistical information that would make it possible for us to go in if the negotiations fell apart.

"Then hear this," I whispered, leaning across the table toward him. "This is personal for me. One of those women is a personal friend of mine. Please help me. We're going to negotiate, it's the best option. But these things can go bad fast and if that happens, I won't have time to call you for directions to the camp."

His eyes examined me as he blew across his coffee. He sipped slowly. Barely moving the cup's lip from his mouth, he said, "What's the best way to reach you?"

By the time I left Jason, I was feeling a lot better about our odds. I called Terry from the car and gave him the news. He had news of his own.

"We got the proof of life. They look pretty good, all things considered." His voice was hiding something. I knew him well enough to know that if I waited him out, he'd tell me. Once he figured out how to tell me, of course. "I'm going with Samuel to pick up the first part of the ransom money."

"Terry?"

"They're not budging on the amount. But Samuel thinks he can liquidate enough holdings to get the rest if he has to."

"Terry?"

"I ... You have an e-mail message from Cid. I opened it. Thought it was just the background material you'd asked him for."

"And?" Long pause. "Tell me, Terry."

"I know I didn't want to know about him ... about your relationship. It's the past, y'know?" he told me, an edge to his deep voice. "But that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with ... Just how close were you to him? ... No. I don't want to know. I just don't think I like being reminded that you used to fuck him."

I glanced quickly around and signaled to pull off the side of the road into a parking lot. Knowing I wasn't going to like this one little bit. "What did the message say, Terry?"

"Made mention of how much working this close to you reminded him of the old times. That he liked your new perfume." Hard sigh from him. Cleared his throat. "Oh, yeah. One last thing. He liked the fact that you'd worn the earrings for him."

My breath caught. That bastard did that on purpose, I knew. I pulled the car over and parked. Fingered the pearl earring on my free earlobe. Small white ball worn over the years to a rich luster; I wore one in each of my pierced ears. "Terry? He's just fucking with me. He thinks it's funny. I've had these earrings for years. You know I wear them all the time. I did not wear them for him."

"Did he give them to you? Is that why they're special to you?" Angry voice from him and I knew this had hurt him. "You fucking wear those on every God damned mission. Your good luck charm, that's what you told me."

"Yeah, Terry. They are. And he fucking well knows it, too. I used to wear them then, as well. He didn't give them to me. You believe me, don't you?" No answer. Just the sound of his breathing on the other end.

Then, his low voice rumbling across the airwaves: "Why does it feel like he knows more about your past than I do?"

"He's a part of my past, but he never really knew me, baby. And he for sure never had the part of me I've given to you." Closed my eyes and I croaked out, "Terry? The earrings? My father gave these to me when I was 17. It was the last thing he ever gave me. They've just always given me strength."

My father. The wellspring of so much of the person I'd turned out to be.