Chapter 10

Evening was turning to the blue-black of night. The blustery wind of the day's storms had not yet died. Somewhere out there in this night, men were sneaking around trying to find Kirk's lost men. And I was counting on the fact that this meant there was less of an emphasis on guarding this compound. Because Kirk could only spread his forces so thin. And his priority had to be on his search activities of the night.

That gave me a small window of opportunity. I didn't plan to be there when the next day dawned.

Kirk thought I'd joined his effort because I had no other choice. He was deluding himself.

Dino thought I'd never leave Terry now that we were so intimate. He was wrong.

And Terry. I wasn't going to think about what Terry thought or assumed about me. This wasn't a betrayal, I told myself. This was about saving my life. And his. And Dino's.

Terry had gone along with Kirk on the recon mission. Dino was meeting a local informant who had been a long-time contact for them. I was plotting my escape.

They'd left me locked inside a storage room in the main house. I'd acted totally pissed off but it was all a show. Because there wasn't a place like this I couldn't get out of. I figured Kirk was doing it just to see which of my old skills had remained sharp. He acted so sure I'd made the choice to stay and help; he must have ordered his men to lock me up just to goad me and to piss me off.

There was no way out through the door. But there were other ways. I chose to go up and out the ventilation system.  It was no fun and it was a lot of work. And it took some precious time away from me.

By the time I snaked into another room and was able to sneak into the main room, it was getting really dark outside. I paused there and listened hard. When I could detect nothing moving, I snuck down the main hall and started peeking into rooms. The first one I found with a telephone, I slipped into and noiselessly shut the door.

Dial tone. My heart pounded. Numbers punched in. Ringing in Washington. One ring and a voice answered. My head did a jig.

Speaking so soft. "It's me. Chaguaramas, Trinidad. American Oil Inc. and Carlos Santiago. I'm leaving now. Have someone ready to pick me up at the airport. I'll find a way to contact you with exact coordinates." Giving them my location, the company whose compound I was at along with the person who wanted me dead, and the place I was trying to make it to. They'd figure it out and I couldn't take the time to explain it all anyway.

Hanging up. Willing my breathing under control. To the window and out. Sneaking back to the guesthouse and gliding in the front door. Into my bedroom and searching through my luggage. Dark clothes on and sturdy shoes donned. Into the central room of this place and rifling through the gear. Found my weapon-of-choice - and so nice of the boys to leave one for me - Glock 9 mm, full clip - 14 rounds - and one in the chamber, and slipped it into the waistband of my slacks. Picked up a Leatherman in its leather case, and slipped it onto my belt. Into Dino and Terry's room. Searching for two things: my phone and some money. Found money. No phone. Shit.

Thanking my lucky stars there were stars out and the rain clouds were gone. Thanking Terry for letting me see a map and showing me Carlos' location even though I was really looking at where this compound was on the island. And where that danged little airport was. As I moved toward the compound's perimeter, I was praying, hoping, that one of our planes was near enough to get me out before Kirk figured out where I'd gone. Knowing this was not the smartest escape but sure it was the only way I could do it.

Sneaking past the guards was not a problem. Actually, it seldom is for a lone operative. Before long, I was on the road and running. When I felt I'd put some distance between myself and the compound, I slowed and walked steadily until I hit the main road. Calling up into my mind the map and remembering which way to go. Knowing there was no way a white, blond woman striding down a country road on this island wasn't going to look out of place. When I got to a small store, I walked inside and found someone who'd take some money to drive me to the airport.

Okay, I was thinking as we took off into the night, this was much easier than it should have been. I reached a hand out the open window and let the blast of air push it back. Taking satisfaction in breathing. Funny how you take the simple things in life for granted until you risk losing them.

We made it to the airport and, of course, it was closed. There was someone on duty in the tower but I didn't think that from where he was he'd notice me hanging around. When the driver left me off, I had to tell him at least ten times that I really wanted to be there and that I'd be okay. I finally told him to get the hell away and I must have really scared him because he took off quickly. Hell, yes, he'd be talking about the crazy white woman, but I planned to be gone before he told someone who'd tell either Kirk or Carlos.

I walked around two buildings before I found an outside pay phone. Sweet. I busted out the light that was shining down on the phone to give me some darkness to hide in. Dialed into Washington and let out a big breath when Dave came on the line. It had been two hours since I'd gone on the run.

"We can't send a plane for you, boss," he told me. "If you were anyplace but in Trinidad..."

My heart. Had it stopped beating? I punched myself in the chest and said, "What the fuck's going on, Dave? Get a plane down here and get me."

"Remember the DEA operation tracking the next Caliz shipment? It's on its way there now. We cannot interfere. You're on your own for at least two more days." Was that his teeth grinding as he was letting these words out of his mouth?

"I don't give a fuck. Get someone down here. Now." Keeping my voice low but wanting to scream at him.

"Where are you, boss?"

"I'm at the fucking airport. Like I said I would be. Dave? I can't survive here on my own for two days," I told him, trying but failing to keep the fear out of my voice.

If they'd taken me to just about any other island. If this had involved just about anybody but Santiago. If, if , if. No ifs, ands or buts. I was hanging on the line hoping to hear one shred of good news and instead, I was getting depressed... worse, I was getting scared.

Here's what it was: a DEA operative was on the inside of a major shipment of cocaine from Colombia. Their first transshipment stop was at the dock operation run by Santiago. It was due in the next day and would be on its way to its next stop the day after. During that time, there could be no U.S. planes coming into the island. Hell, there could be no overt U.S. presence or activities of any kind. Irony on top of ironies. I'd been one of the leading advocates of the operation. And it was an important operation. But we hadn't thought the shipment was going out for another two weeks.

Even Kirk was likely to find his little rescue mission compromised by this turn of events. Someone, one of his well-placed friends, was surely going to put the word out to him to lay low. I told Dave about Kirk's plans and assured him the new and desperate Kirk was never going to wait to snatch his son back if he thought he could get him. After all, we're talking about a man willing to risk the life of someone like me, someone he held affection for... or at least had, at one time in the not-too-distant past. He wouldn't think twice about compromising the life of an unknown DEA operative.

"Can you find out if any Agency has a safe house where I can go?" I asked Dave.

He sighed. "That's what I've been trying to do since you called the first time. There's just a lock-down on everything right now, boss. DEA is never gonna help and the CIA says they use the same people there. Everyone else is clamming up because they don't want either DEA or CIA to fuck up any of their future operations."

Goddamn fucking bureaucrats. They were quite literally gonna be the death of me. From somewhere, I was able to think. I couldn't panic. "Any suggestions?" I asked him softly, my voice now steady. "I'm willing to listen to anything you guys want to propose."

"Go back to the compound. At least for another day. It's probably the safest place you can be."

"I said suggestions, Dave.  At this particular moment in my life, I don't find joking appropriate," I said, with a caustic tone that he'd never heard from me before.

"Then find a local hotel and stay there until we can come get you."

"Fuck. That's the first place they'll look for me," I told him. "Who's not going to notice me checking in?"

"Boss." His voice was hard. "You have limited options. Pick the one that keeps you away from Santiago and then do it."

"Okay. I'll stay in a hotel. And put someone on a commercial flight down here. Bring me a passport, identification papers and money so I can get off this stinking island. I'll check in with you tomorrow and let you know where I've landed." Paused to think and then remembered I had few people I trusted as absolutely as I trusted Dave. "Send someone, Dave. Even if it's someone from the Department. One of you can sneak in here as a tourist and no one will be the wiser."

"Sure, boss. One of us will be on a plane in the morning. Hang tight until we can get to you."

We hung up. Had I just ordered him to place the life of one of my staff members at the same risk mine was? I needed to think this through better, I sighed to myself. My instincts might just have led me astray.

I looked quickly through the phone book attached to the booth and squinted hard to make out the phone number of a cab company. Thirty minutes later, the cab met me at the gate and I gave him the name of a hotel on the outskirts of nearby Port-of-Spain, the island nation's capital. Figured my only hope was finding a hotel that catered to tourists so one more white woman might have a chance of not attracting undue attention. When he dropped me off, I walked into the hotel's lobby and out the back door. Walked two blocks to another hotel, took a taxi from there to another area hotel. Inside that lobby and back out the other side. Walked three blocks and found another hotel. This was where I would check in.

They would still notice me. After all, I was walking in with no luggage and I was paying cash for the room for the night. My cover story to the clerk was softly told, as if I was embarrassed: I'd had a fight with my boyfriend and needed a safe place to be away from him for a while, until he calmed down.

At about the time I was leaving the airport, Dino was returning to the compound. He didn't immediately check for me and that's why I had the blessing of an extra forty minutes to put more distance between myself and them. But once he found I was a gone pecan, the search would be on with a vengeance.

Terry and Kirk left the men to finish the recon and they must have been vying to determine who exactly would strangle me when they found me. Because they were sure they'd catch me.

First place they looked was the airport. Kirk and I learned our trade in the same school. Actually, so did Dino. And Terry's school pretty much followed the same curriculum. So it's not hard to believe we'd all know that was my first choice as an escape route.

It wasn't all that hard, I would imagine, to pick up my trail from there. At least, it wasn't once Kirk called one of his friends in Washington to see if they'd heard anything about a rescue operation coming to the island only to find out Trinidad was suddenly off-limits to U.S. activity so that the DEA operative wouldn't be compromised by any inadvertent bumbling by another Agency's operatives. He knew I would have called my own Department and would have found out help wasn't coming to me just then.

But once they followed my route to the first hotel and realized I was back to using old tricks, they knew it was going to take time and luck to find me. So they called in more men and everyone split up and they started going hotel by hotel to find me.

But all that activity was never going to go unnoticed by the locals. And you know, of course, that meant Carlos was picking up on what was going on before morning's first light. Confirmed when Terry didn't have me there to talk with him by radio that next morning.

Anyway, long about the time Kirk and company were fanning out to all the hotels the night I got away, I was only one step ahead of them. But I was ahead. And I had tricks up my sleeve they must not have thought I'd use. All I did in the hotel room was shower and do my hair. Then, I left and I walked to the largest tourist hotel around and went shopping for a dress in their boutique. A little makeup, a spritz of perfume and I was ready. Next stop was the crowded-with-gringos bar. A man was easy to pick up without being noticed. And even easier to put out for the night once we were in his hotel room and he was so sure he was getting some. That's how I got a night's rest.

See, I kind of figured this trick was a good one to use. I was pretty sure the men following me wouldn't think about me finding a way to hide in someone else's hotel room. So they spent too much time and effort before they found the hotel room they thought I was in. And by then? Hell, I was deep into slumber land at a whole other hotel.

When I woke in the morning, I felt like a new woman. But what I really was, truthfully, was my old self. The part of me that was more at ease being the hunter than the hunted. I peeked in the bathroom at my companion and he was worried about what I'd do to him next. I patted him on the cheek and thanked him for his hospitality. Before I left, I closed the bathroom door and went into the bedroom to call in to Dave.

No news yet. I told him not to send any member of our Department down. I'd come to my senses after a safe night and realized that was an incredibly bad idea to risk one of them. Biggest problem I had was that I was nearly out of money. I had no identification, no credit cards. Even having Dave wire me money was tricky; without an I.D., they'd never give me the money. As we talked, my eyes spied my companion's wallet. I was smiling when we hung up.

Walked back into the bathroom and bent over where he was tied up in the tub. Grinned into his eyes and asked for his PIN numbers. He blinked at me. I pulled down his gag and he spit at me. Well, okay then. My boy had turned petulant on me. I pulled the gun from my back waistband and he became more cooperative.

I left him an IOU. I wrote down his name and address and stuffed it in my pocket. I'd repay him for his kindness once I was back in Washington. And then I took all his cash, his credit cards and his ATM card. It was a start.

Using the ATM in the hotel lobby, I ran the limit on his bankcard and then got as much of a cash advance on his credit cards as the machine would let me.

And then I was really at a loss. What to do with myself? I knew that Kirk, Terry and Dino were looking for me. Combined, they were far better than I was alone. They were going to be tough to outwit.

Sipping rotgut coffee in some dive of a restaurant in downtown Port-of-Spain. Trying to figure out my next move. Knowing I had to find a way to elude the searchers for at least another 36 hours. Trying to remember what I could about the island. About the emergency escape routes we'd set for ourselves last time I was there.

Sweating at the thought of what I was doing. And letting myself think for the first time about what Terry must have thought to learn I'd gone to such lengths to escape. Wondering if I'd ever get the chance to tell him and Dino that I did it as much for them as for myself. Because there wasn't a doubt in my mind that Kirk was going to hand me over to Carlos if I'd stayed. And I also knew Terry and Dino would try to come rescue me. And they'd surely die in the attempt because they'd be coming alone since Kirk would never help them. And Carlos had learned a lot from his run in with my team the last time I'd been here, so there was no way two men, no matter how skilled and tough, were getting in and then getting out alive, with or without me in tow.

Local people were flowing in and out of this Popsicle stand. Most dressed nattily in business attire and that made me remember how this port city hustled in a way you normally didn't find on the islands. My mind flashed to the port. Hadn't I read recently that cruise ships were now coming regularly to this city's port? Oo-la-la, I was thinking, here's a new way off this stinking hellhole that wasn't here last time. Kirk would be spinning his wheels watching our other, older escape routes. This would never dawn on him.

Outside, I hugged the walls and stuck to the secondary streets as long as there were enough people to give me cover. Stopped inside the tourism office and asked about cruise ships. Hot damn. The terminal was a ten-minute walk outside the main downtown strip. And there was a ship in port leaving that evening.

Okay. I just had to kill a few more hours until that magical time period when most of the passengers would begin streaming back to re-board the boat after their day trips on the island. It'd be easy to melt in among the crowds and steal on board.

The next six hours I spent wandering in and out of dark restaurants and bars. Trying to hide but to still keep moving so I wasn't a sitting duck. And when I looked at my watch and realized the time had come, I was past eager to be on my way.

Easy as pie. Easy Bake Oven. Over easy. Easy does it. Ease on down the road. Ease around the bend. Easy Rider. Easy going. Go easy on this. The easy life. Breathe easy, breathe free.

I was almost whistling. Tasting my freedom. Who was it that said not to count your chickens before the eggs hatch?

At least I saw him before he saw me.

But I didn't see the second one. My last thought before darkness took over was to wonder why this island always brought out my overconfidence. And as the Chief liked to say, "Overconfidence breeds only death for operatives."

Just before I got to the terminal, I'd latched myself into a group of passengers who were, as we should delicately and politely say, of a certain age. Six elderly couples whose idea of adventure was wondering around the small mall on the pier. Within minutes, I was part of their group and we old shipmates were just killing time until we'd sweep back on board. I wasn't the least worried about talking my way on board. Security on cruise ships is an absolute joke. Any white American woman can sneak on any cruise ship in the islands. Believe me.

And as I melted into my little group and went with them on their shopping trip, I was watching outside every chance I got. From the third shop window, I spied Dino and felt my heart flip. He was much too close to the ship's re-entry hatch and he was definitely in prime position to scope out every person getting back on board. I briefly considered my options. Disguise myself? Umm. I could buy one of those ubiquitous straw hats tourists loved and stick my blond hair up under it. I could buy sunglasses, a t-shirt and shorts to better blend in. I could also sprout wings and fly aboard.

I was so close to having my life back. From where I stood, my escape was a big white canvas. The ship almost glittered to me in its white brilliance. So close I could almost touch it. And one redhead was standing firmly in my way.

It sunk in quickly even though I was fighting it. This was no longer an option.

The rest is a strange blurring of time. Hadn't even made it off the portside touristy area before someone big grabbed me from behind and while we tussled, someone else was helping the big thug drag me into a van that I felt whiz up right next to us more than I saw it. Judging from the massive headache I had when I started realizing I was coming around, they did the smartest thing and just knocked the hell out of my head.

And as I was struggling up from blackness and staying calm as I regained awareness, it dawned on me that I hadn't been quite as brilliant as I'd thought. Apparently lots of people had the same thought I did about me using that escape route.

Well, alrighty then. Miss Smarty Pants. I relaxed and settled myself down to wait for the return of all of me. Controlling my breathing. Listening with my entire body for the sound of anyone else breathing nearby. Playing with words to see if the pounding in my head would interfere with my ability to think, even with the fact that my brain apparently was leaving quite a bit to be desired. And slowly becoming more in tune with my body. Taking inventory to see what parts of me were awake. Wiggled my toes and they were alive.

My skin was, too. And it almost transmitted an SOS to my heart but my brain stepped in. I was bound. But this time, I was a lot more restricted. So our boys had learned from their last run-in with me.

If there was anyone in the room with me, he was so quiet he'd have to be dead. I cracked my eyes open into teeny slits and slid them side-to-side to check out where they'd put me. And my brain joined my heart in panic this time.

Holy shit. I wasn't at the compound with Kirk. But I knew instinctively where I was. My eyes flew open and I was swiveling my head around to take the room in. And in my panic, it took mere seconds to start struggling against the bindings at my ankles, waist and wrists. Eventually, I tamped the dread down and forced myself to get calm. Dialed back into the sanity I knew was lurking somewhere just out of reach of the panic response. Forced my body to relax into the table I was on; willed my skin to ignore the bite of the bindings that only seemed to tighten when I struggled against them.

Before long, my suspicions were confirmed when the voice I most hated crept into my ears. A door opened and I twisted to see. "My love," he said softly and I watched him almost slither up to stand above me. I simply watched him. Knowing what was coming next and trying not to tense any muscles.

His fingers were light as he stroked my cheek and then traced my lips. When I didn't react, Carlos moved around so he was standing by my side. He gave me one of his big grins and I just watched him. Waiting for it.

"You do not want to play with me today, Monique?" he asked me, using the name he'd known me by. He bent toward me and I didn't even flinch when he kissed me on the lips. But I sure as hell didn't open my mouth for him. Which pissed him off and soon his strong fingers were digging into the joints of my jaws and my mouth opened while he stuck in his tongue.

I also didn't flinch when he slapped me hard as he rose away from my face. But it stung badly and I felt my eyes watering.

"I know who you are, puta," he told me, his back turned to me. Every brain cell was working overtime, trying to tell myself he couldn't really know. He might know my real name, but he didn't really know who I was.

But when he turned back to look at me, I read it in his dark, almost black eyes. I felt bile rise in my throat and thought I'd start choking. If I ever get out of this, I promised myself, I'll fucking kill Kirk after I've first ripped his balls off and shoved them down his throat.

That promise of retribution for this ultimate betrayal was all that kept me sanely and coldly thinking in that moment. And in the time that followed with Carlos, I clung to it, and it became my only reason to keep trying to survive.

"You surely did not think I had you brought to me only to play our games, did you, my love?" He gave me this little laugh he had that always sounded like a stuttering donkey. "You fetch a big price. Do I have your code name correct? Whiskey Zulu."

If it had been bad before, it was now a worst-case scenario. But giving up hope would actually be a blessing to the darkness in my mind. No hope meant I had nothing left to lose.

In the race against the clock, it would be anyone's guess who'd kill me first. State, DEA, even CIA. If they found out Carlos knew exactly who I was and what I did in Washington, they'd figure he'd be sending me on to the cartels soon, because it would earn him money and, more importantly, he would be granted almost a life-time pardon if he should screw up again. My protectors in Washington would be after my body before the cartels could take my mind and the secrets it held. Hell, they'd try to rescue me, but if Carlos sent me to Colombia? They'd take me out in a heartbeat if it was easier, rather than let the cartels work our secrets out of me.

My mind drifted with the image of just how many deep cover agents would be scrambling to get away when State eventually figured out Carlos knew far too much about me and my once safely hidden identity.

Chapter 11

There was too much darkness. Too much uncertainty. I was so lost. Couldn't even trust myself to know what was real and what was a dream. I felt cut off, adrift from my body. And my mind never seemed to settle long enough for me to figure out what was happening to me.

Words played in my mind. I was imagining the words being spoken in Washington. I knew who the voices belonged to. I knew who'd be fighting for me. I knew who'd have given up. I knew who never would.

I knew that if I were there, I'd be part of the group making the decision on my fate.

And, if I were there in Washington, and if it were up to me, I'd be as good as dead already.

How long had it been since Carlos had first come in the room? Was he still there? Why was I having trouble figuring out what was real and what was not? When had time become such a fluid concept? I was in a lather of worry but yet,... I couldn't even tell if I was sweating.

My only hope was that State didn't know yet. That Carlos had not yet taunted Kirk with the news that he had me in his possession. I prayed everyone thought I'd gotten off this island. Kirk would have gone crazy not to have me as his bargaining chip. I wondered if Carlos would set Kirk's men free now.

All-ie, All-ie, in come free. Kick the can. Tag. You're it. Blind man's bluff. Sand lots. Parking lots. Playing fields. Killing fields. Games. Chances. Short straw. Odd man out.

Where was my mind wandering? Why was it wandering in this particular manner? My eyes opened like they had ten-pound weights on them. There was my answer. It was already starting. He was using drugs on me.

"Are you frightened of me?" he asked me in this viciously soft voice.

"Yes," I told him, my voice slow and almost slurring. Somehow I knew I was nearing the end of whatever drug trip he'd sent me. If it had been the beginning of the trip, my mind would be clouding up instead of slowly clearing. "But frightened does not equal submission, Carlos."

"Ah. But then submission is what you always wanted to give in to. It was where you found your power over me." He bent near me, watching as my eyes began to focus. And then his fingers caressed one of my breasts through the dress.

I tried to laugh at him, but it came out as a cough. Swallowed hard and my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "You always were a fool. That was a job to me, Carlos. Nothing more. It always tickled me how easily I could play you."

The blow came from nowhere. I wasn't bracing for it. I wasn't prepared. Metallic tasting blood splattered in my mouth and I swallowed it. Sick, that. Actually grateful for its moisture.

"Enough, my love." I heard some buzzing noises and wondered what was coming. Then heard a voice I wasn't prepared for. I blinked back tears and hoped Carlos hadn't seen them.

He began talking to Terry, passing along information designed to taunt Kirk. When I heard Terry's voice, it actually hurt and I struggled to regain some control over my visible emotions. I forced my mind to try to think about WHAT was happening instead of just FEELING it.

Perhaps Carlos was still negotiating with Terry, but I wondered about that. Carlos had the primary thing he'd wanted in exchange for the three hostages. Knowing Carlos, he was probably intent on getting the cash he'd demanded earlier. But as inexperienced as I might have been in negotiating such deals, even I knew the monetary cost that Carlos would accept for the other hostages had just risen because I was no longer a bargaining chip for Kirk. It never even crossed my mind that Terry might have been able to negotiate for my release.

This was a wrinkle I hated. That this particular radio transmission might be how Washington would begin to learn they had an even bigger problem on their hands. That Terry would sign my death warrant. It was just so likely that by now someone in Washington was monitoring the transmissions.

"There is someone here who wishes to tell you hello," I heard Carlos say, just as I tuned back in. I was fighting the lingering drug haze for all I was worth but my mind still didn't feel totally connected to my body.

When he hit me, I moaned and then cursed him. Two seconds later, I realized it had been just what he'd wanted me to do. So they would know I was under his control and he wasn't playing.

You son of a bitch, I thought, looking sideways to find Carlos turned partially away from me and grinning into the communications gear. I chose my first words for Washington's sake. "Tell Kirk he's a dead man," I heard my pained voice say to Terry. And before Carlos could stop me, I added two words for Terry. "Call Dave."

If Washington was listening and still trying to add this up, I'd indicted Kirk. They probably could have figured it out without my help, but I wanted to be sure they knew. It was a justice I'd have to hope would come in the future. Dave would see to it, if he was one of those listening in. But I added the two words to Terry in hopes he would indeed contact my Department and get some help before he and Dino got killed trying to get me out by themselves. Because, in my heart, I knew they'd try. Especially now that Terry had heard my voice and knew what I was going through.

The price I paid for the message was a painful route to eventual blackness. The next time I struggled back to the land of the living, I was hurting so bad. And Carlos was only then ready to play his real game.

"Fuck you," I muttered under my breath to the sick bastard, not even bothering to open my eyes as I felt him groping me.

"Promises, promises," he replied and I felt cold in a new way. My arms were still snuggly bound but my ankles and my waist had been released. For all the good it did me, since my muscles seemed to take forever to respond to my brain's commands.

Taking mental inventory of my body and wishing it was someone else's. I was tired of the pain and I was so tired of being restrained, it was beginning to overwhelm me. I was hardly fighting anymore. I was within a hair of submitting.

What day was it? My brain tried snapping back. Maybe there was a chance the drugs were out of my system. I screwed my thinking cap on but it still seemed wobbly. What was the day? Why was it important? Oh, yeah. If it was the same day, then that meant the transshipment had arrived. And one more day and it would be dispersed, heading back off the island. If I could make it to that day and still be in Trinidad, Dave would be seeing to my rescue.

Then I wouldn't have to worry about the cartels.

What day was it? There was no way to tell. Time was too fluid for me. No windows and no watch I could look at. Was it dark out? Was it another morning?

"Carlos? I need to go to the restroom," I asked him, my voice hoarse.

"Open your eyes, my love. Let me see how you look at me." His answer was not unexpected.

Flash of new pain as light smacked into my bare eyeballs. And then I focused on him. Tall, dark, imposing and quirky as all Hell. It wasn't that he left a lot to be desired in the looks department. But, like all the men I had met when working undercover for the Chief, when it came right down to it, I had never really looked at him as a man.

He'd just been a target. In the beginning. And then, it had changed and he had become my worst mistake and I was in over my head for the first time in my career. I had honestly thought I could handle his perversions and that they wouldn't affect me; but his darkness had scared me in a way no one ever had.

As I looked into his face, I tried so hard not to be afraid again, but felt myself slipping fast under his gaze.

"No, I think you lie to me." He turned his big back on me, his voice getting that edgy note in it that made me squirm. "You know I will punish you until you stop lying."

I moaned and felt tears seeping from my eyes as I slid them shut after seeing the syringe heading my way. "You don't need to do that, my sweet," I tried. But I felt the needle slip in.

Flying. Magic carpet ride. Monty Python's Flying Circus. The Holy Grail. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay. And now for something completely different. Come back here and fight me like a man.

Oh, man. When I started riffing on Monty Python quotes, I knew I was going somewhere fast. It wasn't that my mind was jumbled as much as it was that my mind was soaring. And I was watching it happen. What the fuck had he given me?

I heard someone moaning and tried to open my eyes. Fuck that shit. I was instantly happier to stay on the trip. I felt someone breathing on me and hands were exploring me, stroking me. A mouth was saying words to me that made no sense. Inviting me to the party, I think. But I chose to flee back to the magic carpet ride of a drug trip. Then I felt something else. Knew it wasn't right, but what the fuck. Well, that's exactly what it was. I wasn't sure I even cared anymore.

"Tell me 'yes,'" his voice said harshly in my ear. He kept saying it. It was only because the words were so familiar that I understood them, that they made it through to where I was hiding from him. This was always so important to him. That I verbalize my submission.

My voice wouldn't work any better than my eyesight. Telling him to get off me wasn't going to do much more than make him hurt me worse. Besides, I was no longer fighting him. I'd given him control. All I wanted to do was escape into my mind and the trip his drugs offered me. I wanted to fly again but his body was trying to drag me back to earth. Felt myself giving in, almost with relief, when he came into me, shoving in and doing his grunting routine to make sure I heard as well as felt him.

It got more appalling. At some point shortly after I gave in to his control, I felt myself coming and, as the realization of it sickened me, my mind retreated and it released me back to my flying carpet of a drug trip.

His laughter came along with me on the trip until I blinked into awareness. I was no longer on the table. I was curled up on a floor that was cold tile. No one was with me. When I tried to sit up, I understood why he no longer needed to either tie me up or have someone watching me - in the shape I was in, there was no way I'd be making a fast break from there. It took every fiber of my body screaming at me in utter horror at the idea that I'd actually moved to make me stay put.

When it began to hurt even when I wasn't moving, I tried again, because I figured I was probably finally really awake and, besides, it couldn't hurt that much worse to move. I made it to my feet only by sliding up the tiled wall. Looking down at myself to discover I still basically had the dress on even though it had certainly seen better days. My fingers trembled as I tried to button buttons that were no longer there. They weren't the only things missing. No panties or sandals.

I was in a bathroom. Lord, I needed it. But it took a lot of my energy and while I was sitting on the toilet trying to get up the will to think again, I realized I was wiping away fluids that belonged to someone else in addition myself.

And that's when I remembered coming.

I groaned, retched and struggled back to my feet. Latched onto the side of the sink and turned on the taps. Ran some cool water on my hands and used them to rinse away his putrid fluids.

There was a nice big mirror over the sink. Christ Almighty. Who the fuck was that?

Touched my face and cringed at the puffy soreness along my cheek. Those eyes had seen much better days. And my mouth... I carefully rinsed off the dried blood with shaking fingers.

Closed my eyes and tried to get a grip on myself. How long had I been with him? What had I said? What information had I given up? Who was now in danger? Could I please just get him to kill me so I could feel better?

Then looked back into my face and tried to think about what I should do.

Focused on the room again, moving my eyes along the wall, slowly, so I didn't get too dizzy. There were two windows and they told me it was dark outside. But since they didn't open, they would never be escape routes.

And then the world outside erupted. 

Gunshots. Helicopters. Male voices. Intermittent silence that seemed too ominous. At least two explosions. I huddled in a corner. Too frightened to get up and lock the door. Listening to the chaos around me and never once even thinking about trying to get away because I was too busy hiding. Gunshots in the building where I was imprisoned, and I was immobilized with fear.

Fear of the unknown. Cape Fear. I no longer have anything left to fear. Nothing to fear but fear itself. Fear not, my child, I will protect you. Blind fear. Fear of the dark. So farewell hope, and with hope, farewell fear.

Bad people were inside the house with me. I could feel them and then, I could hear them. And no amount of word games was going to take my mind to anyplace safe enough from whoever was here. Where was Carlos? He would never just leave me. I heard stealthy footsteps outside in the hallway. Someone was coming my way... slowly, surely. I could hear them, coming nearer, opening doors quietly... hunting for what? For me, I just knew. I started shaking when I heard someone test the door handle to the room I was in; I put my hands over my eyes to hide.

Don't hit me again. 

It was the only thought I could rustle up into my quicksand of a brain. He pulled me to my feet. "Please, Carlos. I'll do anything," I whispered to him, desperation making me realize I still wanted to survive. "Please, my sweet. Anything."

I kissed him and didn't even feel the cut in my lip. I tried to stick my tongue down his throat and ignored the soreness in my body to press close to him. But he moved me away from him and I cringed, waiting for the punishment for my boldness.

"Lisa. Can you see me?" someone was whispering into my face. My eyes were open but unfocused. "C'mon, Love, come back to us. I'm here, baby, I've got you."

I knew that voice from somewhere. Was it a voice I feared?

"Oh, Christ." I heard someone else whispering nearby. "We need to cover her up before we take her out." 

I blinked as someone was shoving first one of my arms and then the other one into a heavy jacket. Looking down, I watched as hands worked the zipper of a camo jacket up. When the hands reached my neck, I followed them as they cupped my face.

And then I was looking into Terry's eyes. "It's me, baby. Are you with me, Lisa?"

I reached up and felt his face, bringing him back into my memory and into my reality.

"Terry, we have to move, buddy," I heard the other person say. 

Trying so hard to process the other voice but it took me seeing a fleeting glimpse of watery blue eyes to place it. Dino.

Blinking. Clearing out the fog. Looking through a haze and parting it like a curtain. Willing my mind to snap back from wherever it was. Trying again. And again. Until I could see my eyes blink. Until I remembered something beyond five minutes prior.

Green, tan and black war paint. Black knit caps and camouflage. I still knew who they were. I knew they shouldn't be there. I blinked back tears at what would happen to them.

"You came for me," I said, my croak of a voice almost unrecognizable to my ears. They were both looking at me and I knew what they were seeing. I felt shamed in front of their hard eyes because they were seeing the level I'd sunk to.  But I also felt such relief, such gratitude that they were there with me. And then they moved, checking outside the room, motioning me out. When I couldn't keep up with them, Terry reached back and grabbed my hand, tugging me hard to move me faster.

My feet stumbled along behind them, down the corridor and then out into a central room that had such a high ceiling. I got lost in looking up at the ceiling and thought I wouldn't mind at all floating up there, because it probably didn't hurt up there. And then he was yanking me harder and gunshots were close again.

As we got to the exterior door, there were four more men with us. Rescue party, I thought, wondering where the confetti and party hats were.

By the time we were moving outside the building into the dampness of the evening, I was definitely feeling my body and my strength was evaporating. We crept along the side of the building, hugging the wall. When we stopped at the edge, I knew they were evaluating the scene, deciding the best way to move. Terry had released my hand as the men made a quick survey of the area and then dodged around the corner to see what awaited our little group.

I slid down the roughness of the stucco wall and it took every bit of wishing in my body just to keep my head upright. It felt like the only energy I had was what I was using to make my lungs keep breathing. Tears were falling, warm on my cheeks, and I didn't even have the strength to wipe them away or even care that I'd lost it so badly I was just crouched in the dirt crying while I allowed others to save me. When they came back to me, I just wanted so badly to stay put and not have to move again.

Terry thrust his hand down to me and when I didn't respond, he dropped down to be level with my face. "Lisa, get up. We need to keep moving."

Shaking my head. "Just leave me here. I want to die anyway."

"Fuck. We didn't come all this way to get you to just leave your ass behind," Dino ground out to me just as gunshots zapped near us. 

I tried so hard to get up and I thought I was doing pretty well. But Terry suddenly slung his rifle over his shoulder, reached down and picked me up. It was a toss up if the jostling hurt worse than if I'd just walked but we were probably moving faster this way. On the other hand, his strong arms around me and his body pressed to mine... he was the one person I would have counted on to rescue me and here he was.

"Cover," I heard one of the other men with us call out and suddenly we were stopping, crouching low behind dense vegetation as somewhere nearby in the night, men speaking in Spanish were running past us. As we waited, one of my rescue party men crept closer to where Terry, Dino and I were. I had my arms around Terry's waist, my face in his neck and I was clinging to him because I was scared and I knew he'd protect me. I was trying yet again to think more clearly. But this man's news seemed to wake me like a cold bucket of water.

"You heard we took the target out?" he asked, his voice low.

I peeked around Terry and caught Dino's eyes on me. Looking at him, knowing who the target was, but wanting to hear it, I asked, "Who? Who did you take out?"

"Santiago's dead, Lisa," Dino told me.

"Who gave the order?" I asked, turning to look at the other man.

"It was a directive of the operation," he said.

Oh God. Someone, not me, but someone like me, had approved a hit on Santiago. That meant this little rescue party was ordered by State and Treasury. Which meant we actually stood a chance of having superior forces or weaponry. And that meant we might all survive after all. I had been too afraid to hope up until that point.

This time when we were moving, I tried harder to move on my own. But when I couldn't keep up, Terry again carried me. This was, I think, when shock began to hit me. As if my body decided it had done its duty and now that the worst part was over, it was giving in. It made a bizarre night turn into further chaos and mixed my jumbled mind up again.

And soon, I was flying again. Only this time, I really was flying. It was a helicopter and I looked up into the smiling face of Dave. "Oh my God. I'm so glad to see you," I told him, reaching for him like he was the only thing that would ever matter to me. He gathered me in his arms and let me hold on. The relief of being with someone familiar and trusted seemed to wash away my pain; but it was really just euphoria and shock making me feel good for a few minutes. I remembered the others who'd brought me there and searched around me for them. Dino was near the open doorway, peering out and he didn't see me staring at him.

I felt a warm hand on the small of my back and turned completely around as Dave's arms released me. 

Terry. He had tears in his eyes and pain written on his face. I reached a slightly shaking hand out and ran my fingers down his strong jaw. "I've always liked you in that black t-shirt and those camos," I told him just before I passed out.

When I was aware again, I was sitting with him on the floor of the chopper, his arms were around me and I was pressed against his chest. We had landed at the small airport in Chaguaramas. There was a MAC transport there waiting on us and it held US military insignia. State was picking up the tab for this trip, I figured.

Between Dave and Terry, I was almost carried from the chopper and up the steps into the plane. They laid me on a stretcher and someone I found out later was a medic started poking me. In my confusion and rebellion, I wasn't in any mood to be poked and I struggled to get away. My fist connected with something solid before someone grabbed both my wrists.  Terry was leaning over me and telling me to stop fighting.

"Could you hold me?" I asked him and he sat next to me, pulling me into his lap. I bit down on a groan of pain and made do with a grimace.

"Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable..." he started to say.

I looked up into his face, shook my head. "Don't let go."

And probably passed out again quickly after that. The next halfway clear image I had was of people leaning over me and someone shoving an ice pick into the vein in my arm. Well, that's certainly what it seemed like. And I was fighting them because the idea of another needle invading my skin was so much more than I could take. I was cursing them even as my words stopped being solid enough for them to understand.

I remember waking every so often and wishing my body would stop being so bad to me. And other times, I'd wake and forget where I was. Everything seemed so jumbled in my brain and I had no idea if I was hopped up so high on drugs I was hallucinating or if I was experiencing some sort of reality.

How much time and in what sequence things happened was open to question. Later, when I would say something about that trip, Dave would contradict my memories and I would spend fruitless hours dissecting those memories and trying to figure out at what point I'd gone so wrong.

My head finally cleared and I was watching a light. It kept moving and a voice was far off, telling me to follow it with my eyes. "Fuck no. It hurts," I croaked out. Someone laughed and the light went off.

"I'd say she's back with us," I heard the voice say.

"Welcome back, boss," said Dave. I figured he was the one who was squeezing my hand and I tried to turn my head to look at him. "You're safe now. You're at Bethesda."

How the fuck had I gotten there? "That was some trip," I croaked again. "Terry?"

No answer and I heard someone farther away clear his throat. Dave said, "He's not here just now, boss."

For days, no one wanted to tell me shit. Every time I'd ask a question, Dave or someone else from the Department was there to shut me up and tell me the room was not secure. I went from edgy to totally pissed off.

When Dave and I were alone the third evening, I asked for the hundredth time about Terry and Dino. For the first time, he didn't give me the same old bullshit non-answer. Instead, he handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "He couldn't stay," Dave told me. "They'll be in London until this gets straightened out. You'll be debriefed so you can define who did what. We can reach out for them anytime if it's necessary."

"Well, what the fuck is this?" I tossed the paper up in his face.  I felt like I'd been slugged, good and hard, and never understood why Terry always seemed so at ease at just blowing me off and never telling me goodbye. "I mean, that's it? That's what I mean to him? After everything, he doesn't even stick around? That just sucks."

"He didn't have a choice, boss. We would never have allowed him to see you until after your debriefing, anyway." Dave wasn't even able to meet my eyes. Do men always cover for each other when they do shitty things to women?

"There's always a choice." My voice was so cold and bitter.

I was doped up on pain pills and depression was the side effect. But the doctors wanted me to rest and heal. I had two cracked ribs and was grateful it wasn't worse. I felt like I had stitches everywhere, but they were really only on my face, my forearm and along one thigh. We won't even delve into the bruises that were scattered haphazardly on my skin. They wouldn't let me look in a mirror for several days and when I finally did, I cried.

"That bastard," I whispered.

"...is dead," Herman completed the thought.

I looked over at him and grimaced through tears. "They're letting me out of here today."

He nodded at me. "I'm here to take you home. Well, to a safe house."

Still crying and I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop. Herman didn't know what to do. My entire world was in an uproar. They didn't have to tell me much more than that I wasn't going back to my old apartment. I knew it was because they didn't know yet if Carlos had given up my hidden identity to the cartels.

"Take me to State. I need to be de-briefed and briefed," I told him. He shook his head, which pushed my buttons and stopped the tear factory. I became his boss again. "That's a direct order, asshole. Do it... now."

He squared his shoulders. Obeying my orders was his comfort zone. Not dealing with my tears. Those just made him nervous.

They didn't so much de-brief me as I forced them to answer my questions, to fill in the blanks because the drugs had robbed me of so much.

I had been with Carlos two long days and most of a third. The radio message to Terry had come the second evening. Terry had contacted Dave and he'd arranged for my protectors to come in to work with Terry and Dino on the rescue. They were able to move immediately onto the island since the cocaine was safely off Trinidad by then.

They knew where to look because the night I escaped from Kirk, Dino's contact had met him with concrete and pretty detailed information about where Kirk's son and the other two hostages were being held. When Terry heard me over the radio, they figured Carlos would keep me in the same general area. It was indeed where they found me.

"I don't need details at this point," I said. The CIA man looked up at me from the folder he was reviewing, his eyebrow rising as he stared at me, trying for that old stare-into-you-so-hard-you'll-give-it-up routine. "Don't fucking try that spook shit on me. It won't work."

Kirk. In the end, he'd come through after all. He led the diversionary raid in for his three men and allowed my protectors to mount the main raid for me, using the majority of his people to give them cover in a coordinated assault that overwhelmed Santiago's forces. Unbelievable. One noble gesture he obviously had no choice but to do, and they were ready to forgive him? I made a noise of disgust and the spook laughed at me. "You're such a hard ass. I'd forgotten," he said.

"It's not you he gave up, is it?" I said, slamming him with my own hard look.

So, in the end, Kirk, was it worth it? I'd never get a chance to ask him. He would always know better than to contact me again. He knew I'd never forgive him. But his son was alive and, who knows? Maybe in some small place in his heart, he had always intended to make sure I got out as well. Hell. I didn't believe that for a minute.

And, yes, despite my emotions, I did vouch for Terry and Dino. I would never believe they would have taken me in the first place if Kirk hadn't lied to them. They honestly thought it would work out, that I'd hear Kirk's plan and instantly be glad to be on a safe adventure with them to save hostages. They could never have guessed the risks and the danger, even though they should have. And, in the end, they had put their lives on the line to help bring me back alive.

During the time I was securely ensconced in a safe house, it seemed every one of my protectors began to come to the same conclusion: Carlos was the same weird, sick bastard who was more interested in revenge than in telling his cartel boss that he had me. The drugs had been more to subdue me and control me than to get me to give up my secrets. But he would have turned me over eventually... he wasn't that stupid.

Who was I? Still don't know? Still haven't figured that one out, eh? I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

Just kidding. I love saying that. 

The cartels knew me only by my work and code name. My identity was so closely guarded, they'd never been able to find out who I was. And it looked like they still didn't know.

One of my primary roles was as the person who sanctioned the drug lord targets, the ones we chose to take out permanently when that became necessary to balance the war on drugs. And then, my Department coordinated the covert operations that made it happen. Assassinations R Us, I used to say about my Department. My code name was the one they loved to hate because they thought I put the bull's eye on them; but really, I just did the analysis. I added it up and made the final case... along with the final call. I have that kind of analytical mind.

But until Kirk had yanked me backwards in time, I had never really felt in personal danger in that role. I had deluded myself that those days were behind me when I left DEA. Something material shifted in my view of my work and its dangers when I realized Kirk had given me up. It had been that simple. That quick. And the reality was, it always would be. I would always be one person's whisperings away from being detected. It had always been true, but I'd ignored that reality. It was what kept me sane and gave me the courage to make the decisions.

The bosses made me go through counseling in the aftermath of what happened. I wasn't shamed by the beatings or the drugs. I wasn't even shamed, frankly, by the rape. I was ashamed that I came, but was still able to rationalize it. Course, dealing with the emotional after-effects of rape wasn't as tough as it might have been since I had the advantage of being indoctrinated to handle it. I mean, in the work that I'd done in the military and with DEA, the chances of sexual assault were high enough that they did a pretty decent job of preparing me to overcome that eventuality.

But the thing that shamed me most was the thing no one but Terry and Dino ever knew about because there was no physical evidence. It was that it had taken Carlos only days to bring me to the point of submission to his will. Would never, ever have thought he had the ability to do that to me. Sure, the use of mind-confusing drugs and physical torture sped up the process, but I had thought I'd last longer than a few days.

If not for witnessing my immediate act of submission when they first found me, when I thought it was Carlos in the room with me, no one would have known but me. That, I concluded, was why Terry was so quick to leave me in Washington. He couldn't desert me fast enough and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that seeing myself through his eyes made what happened that much harder to cope with on a personal level.

The counseling was a farce. I played the game, pretending to hide, then reveal, then understand, then heal. But inside, I was holding on to my own secrets and never thought I'd forgive myself.

The weeks of healing from the physical injuries were the hardest. I was just at such a low ebb. Hurting inside and out.

And no Terry.

It was like he'd dropped off the face of the earth. I wouldn't look for him. If he didn't want me because of what Santiago had done, then fuck him. Not that this attitude ever stopped me from aching for him or from wishing with all my heart that I had him to hold me during those long, dark hours.

I needed him but I was too proud to go after him. 

Thank God for Dave.

Chapter 12

Sand was between my toes. It had also wiggled its way beneath the bottom edges of my suit. I peeled off the wet t-shirt that had been protecting my back from an over-eager sun. Then gave in to the exhaustion I'd created in my body and just leaned back into the sand, feeling it skritch along my back's exposed skin. My eyes shut to the sun; my skin tightened as the sea salt dried along it.

When my breathing normalized, I picked myself up and scanned the water for the others I had come there with. They were still snorkeling in the clear water, picking their way along the coral reef. I slipped my damp, sandy t-shirt back over my shoulders and re-entered the water. Sliding my flippers on my feet, I dove under and as I came back up, turned my head straight up so the water would slick my wet hair back and away from my forehead. Cleared out the mask and snugged it down over my eyes, creating the water-tight seal carefully before sucking the mouthpiece of the snorkel between my lips.

Face down in the water, getting my bearings and watching the fish swimming near me. Using my flippers, I quickly drove myself through the water in the cove and out through the breakers to where the others were. As I moved, I thought about how long it had taken to get enough stamina to even do this. God, I was enjoying the feeling of my legs and lungs being strong enough so I could stroke that way again.

There was something about getting past physical trauma that gave you a new appreciation when you started to feel your body respond in the old ways. This trip was the first time I stopped expecting pain every time I expended energy in exercising or other physical endeavors. I was using this time to re-teach my body that pushing it did not always equal pain.

It had been fifteen weeks since I'd left Trinidad. It had been seven weeks since I'd been a government official. 

It had taken a month after I got out of the hospital before I went back to work full time and, within a month of that, I wasn't fooling anyone that something material had changed. That's when they offered me the early out option, giving me medical retirement. They'd waved that gift of an option at me when the trauma I'd gone through in Trinidad seemed to affect my ability to make the decisions I needed to at work. It wasn't that I had become timid; it was that I was rabid to take out everyone whose file crossed my desk. I wasn't even waiting for research or extra data.

About two weeks before this trip, Dave had contacted me and said my bosses wanted me to come back. Just as a consultant whenever special circumstances warranted my peculiar gift to analyze certain types of input into outcomes, he asked. I tried it. It sucked.

This trip was Dave's idea. He thought I needed to get out of Washington for a while. He thought I needed to go to some peaceful island in the Caribbean so I could see that not every island was a place to be feared. He thought the British Virgin Islands - or BVI as the locals called it - would be perfect. And he knew how much I loved these particular islands. Lots of beaches, great snorkeling, wonderful sand and about as safe as you could get. I had been on Tortola for a week and had reached that point of a vacation where you finally slow down. I had three more weeks to go.

So, let's see. It had been almost four months since Trinidad. All healed up on the outside. Quiet on the inside. Well, okay, numb on the inside.

Dave had sat with me while I packed for the trip and he watched me try to pretend I was me again. He drove me to the airport and when we said good-bye, I told him I loved him. He was about the best friend I'd ever had and I had reached a point where I was disappointed we couldn't be more to each other.

This was the one man who'd come through for me in the end. He'd orchestrated the rescue through stubborn will and not let anyone talk him down from it. During the time I'd been recuperating, it was Dave who'd come to see me every day at the safe house. It was Dave who tried to divert everyone else's attention from the fact I wasn't doing a very good job when I did come back to work. It was Dave who continued to worry about me after I took the medical retirement.

And now I thought I was in love with him. I had called him every night since I'd gotten to Tortola; I was lonely and I wanted him to believe that I loved him. When we talked on the phone two nights ago, he told me it wasn't that "kind" of love. I didn't know there was more than one kind, I told him. Sure, he said, there was the romantic kind and the friendship kind. But I have both those kinds for you, I said. No, you don't, he told me, you just want to because it would be easier. Love is never easy, I told him softly and pulled a tear back inside me. You're still in love with someone else, he chided me. I don't think so, I replied.

So here I was. Drifting in gentle surf in Smuggler's Cove. Following parrot fish and studying stag horn coral. Spotting angel fish and absorbed in the way the current moved the fan coral. Then pumping my legs hard before the surf's push brought me into bruising contact with the shallow tops of the reef. This had become my favorite day trip. The next day, I was looking forward to sailing with some people staying at the diving resort I was at. We were going to Virgin Gorda. It had been years since I'd snorkeled at The Baths.

I giggled around the snorkel. Lord, it had been so long since I'd had the luxury of looking forward to another day. Part of it was this new man I'd met last night. He'd asked me to dance and we'd discovered a mutual attraction. He was with the group on that day's trip and I'd just found out he was going to The Baths with us in the morning.

Somewhere in the course of the trip over to Smuggler's Cove that day, as we continued our flirting from the night before, I had decided he was going to be my transitional fling. You know what I mean. A brainless fuck with a good looking stud who you screw to move you beyond feeling totally worthless after the last guy you gave your heart to dumped you like so much garbage and, in that screw, you transitioned into the next meaningful relationship with the next guy who'd dump you. Well, that's what you told yourself during the transition. But if the transition was good and therapeutic, afterwards you were ready to believe the next meaningful relationship would be the one that made everything else worth having gone through.

And as I was gently swimming, almost drifting where the current and surf wanted me to go, I felt so warm and at ease. Because, in my mind, I saw Terry and remembered how tender I'd felt toward him as we made love that afternoon while the rain pelted the windows. It was so bittersweet. Somehow, I had known it would be our last time. Oh, Terry, I thought, with a distinct pang in my heart. I guess I had always known he would never understand the mistakes I'd made during the original operation targeting Carlos Santiago. But it was the fact that he'd witnessed the depths I'd sunk to, the way he'd seen what I'd been reduced to when he and Dino came to rescue me... this was what he'd never get beyond.

Terry had only made good on his promise to come after me because it was, after all, what he did. He kept his promises.

It had never been about love. Not with Terry. We might have thought it at one time, but it was never true. Then why, I asked myself, does the memory of that man make you ache so badly? It was because of the potential, I reasoned.

By the time I made it back to the beach, I was feeling lonely again. I walked up to the little hut along the tree line and bought a bottle of Red Stripe beer. Padded back down to the surf's edge where I'd left my gear and stood watching the cove. Then walked back into the surf and sat in the gentle water, leaned back on an arm and sipped my beer. This was heaven; the feel of soft sand under me and cooling water lapping along my waist, the pull of the surf just enough to move me ever so slightly to and fro, cold beer giving me the slightest buzz as my body reveled in its fatigue. I sighed and turned my face to the sun.

"If someone took your picture right now and put it on a travel brochure, there wouldn't be enough hotel rooms for everyone who'd want to come here just so they could feel like you look like you're feeling," the man said.

I squinted behind me at him. It was my friend from the night before and I motioned him in to join me. We sat next to each other in silence for a while, just enjoying the water and the sun and the beer. And, of course, the courtship dance continued. Well, the we-should-be-fucking dance, anyway. Cause that's all I wanted and that's all he'd get. Just a quick fuck that would leave me feeling better. Just what the doctor ordered. Therapeutic fucking.

By the time the evening arrived and we were dancing again, I was in heat for him. Unfortunately for us both, there was some part of me that wasn't in heat. We were in his bedroom, necking and groping each other. I closed my eyes and when he kissed my neck, I called him Terry. Freaked me out a lot more than him. By the time the wrestling match between my libido and my heart stopped, I was shoving myself away from him and leaving his room with an apology.

A long, long midnight stroll along the quiet, soft beach failed to quiet the emotional storm the episode called up in me. Far up the beach from the resort, I plopped into the sand and lay on my back, watching the stars and seeking inspiration. It never came and, realist that I usually am, I finally just gave up. Back in my hotel room, I showered the sand out of my hair and only fell asleep by distracting my mind with word play.

Sun. Sea. She sells seashells by the seashore. Ship shape. The shape of things. The things that shape us. A changing sea. A sea of change. His eyes were the color of the sea.

With a start, I came back to wakefulness. I kept blinking, willing my mind to figure out what had startled me. Looked at the clock. Oh, crap. I had five minutes to meet the group going to The Baths. I was up and running for the bathroom, then sniggling into my suit, packing my snorkeling gear and all the other crap I needed for a day in the tropical sun. And by the time I was running for the lobby, I was way too late.

Well, shit. What a crummy way to start a day. On the other hand, I thought, it certainly would have been awkward to see my almost-fuckmate from last night. One of us might have fallen overboard in our effort to avoid each other on the little boat taking us to The Baths. With that thought consoling me, I only spent a few minutes tossing my gear into the room before I left again. Took one of the resort's motor scooters and headed for Road Town. Parked by Pusser's Rum because it was always where I'd ended up every other time I'd been to this town. This was the first chance I'd taken to come back there this trip.

Walked the back streets of the town and looked in windows of small shops. Passed the local prison and watched as family members went in and out its red wood gates during their morning visiting hours. Stopped by the ferry dock near Pusser's and soaked in the activity. In other words, generally just got myself good and hot enough so I would feel totally justified in having a nice cold Pusser's Painkiller.

Gosh, I think I could write poems about Pusser's. I'd been to both the one at Soper's Hole and the newer one on the north end of Virgin Gorda, but neither would ever compare to the original one in Road Town. It wasn't so much the rum I loved as it was the dark-paneled, pub, British colonial atmosphere. It was too, too BVI. I grabbed my Painkiller and headed onto the covered porch out front where I could sip in peace and watch the world go by. And stare into the waters of the port. And feel the breezes. And smell the salt. And know I was so far from Washington that it might never exist for me again.

Feeling so soft and mellow. Some man slipped into one of the seats at the table I was at and I didn't even get mad that this joker was intruding on my alone time because he wanted to put the moves on me. Obviously assuming I was pretty hard up because I was drinking alone at that hour. Just looked him in the eyes and got ready to politely tell him to get lost. But I never got past the eyes. They were the color of the sea.

"I was hoping you'd show up here eventually," he said, his voice that lovely timbre I couldn't help but remember with affection. "You told me once how this was your favorite bar in the Caribbean. When they told me at your hotel that you'd gone into Road Town, I took the chance you might stop in here."

How was this even possible? He looked so good. What was he doing here? His jeans fit so nice and that shirt... Oh, Terry, I moaned inside, where have you been?

He studied my face. When I didn't say anything, Terry looked out over the water and said, "Dave called me yesterday."

Like that answered anything? Dave called him? And said what? What possibly could Dave say that would make him fly down to this island and come looking for me? What could he have said that would have meant anything more to him than the fact that I'd been waiting for him for almost four months? He would come to me because of Dave and not because of me?

"You left me there and you never came back," I said, struggling with the pain he dredged up in me just by being so close. And here I thought I was getting over him. "How could I have meant so little to you?"

He turned to look at me, concern deepening his eyes to a heavy blue. He slipped his big, warm hand over one of mine that was lying on the table.

"You thought I just left you, Lisa? I thought you were told. We weren't given a choice. They put us on a plane once they decided we weren't going to be charged with anything. But until we left, we were under guard at Langley," he said, his voice low, controlled and sincere. "We couldn't even find you, Lisa. They said you were still in danger and that it would be up to you to contact us."

Seeing it from the spooks' perspective. Knowing they'd been behind the cloak and dagger bullshit game. 

"It's been almost four months, Terry. You never even tried to contact me," I said, my voice betraying me.

"And you never called me." He looked back out over the water and when his eyes came back to mine, I read his own pain. My heart lurched when I saw that. "I figured you would never forgive me for what happened. If it hadn't been for me, you would never have been in the danger you were. It was my fault Santiago got you."

"If it hadn't been for you and Dino, I'd be dead now," I said softly. And got a flash in my mind's eye of the moment they first found me, cowering and broken. Of how I'd looked and what I'd said. And after all was said and done, why was he there? "Why did Dave call you?"

"He told me you'd left the States and that if I ever wanted to see you again, I should take this chance." His hand came to my face and I closed my eyes as he stroked along my cheekbone. "Was he right?"

"He's always been such a good friend." I felt a tear, one lonely drop, slip from beneath my closed eyelid. "He knew this trip was as much about me getting my life back in order as it was about getting away. So, yeah, he was probably right."

"He also told me you still loved me. Was he right about that as well, Lisa?" he asked, his voice so deep and he was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my mouth.

I opened my eyes and looked into his. Did I ever love him? Was that ever what it was? How can you measure love when it happens in the craziness of what we'd been through in Trinidad? There was no way I could answer his question, so I leaned toward him until our lips met. We brushed against each other and then we pressed together. I felt his tongue gently sweep across my lips and I opened to let him in. In no time, we were kissing with such fervor and our tongues were reclaiming each other. By the time we parted, I had forgotten where we were and it shocked me to realize we were in public. What had happened was that intimate between us.

"Well..." Cleared my throat and looked away from the draw of his eyes. Unaccountably nervous and not at all sure where we went from here. Looked down as one of his hands stroked along my thigh. "Why are you here, Terry?"

"I want a chance, Lisa. Just a chance to make it right," he said. "I want back the part of you I had before I lost you."

Looked in his eyes, finally. I saw the sea and I saw what he'd meant to me. How he'd been what I'd clung to during a bad time in my life. How I'd wanted another chance with him as well. "I'm not sure there's room for you on the back of the scooter."

At first he just looked at me but when I laughed, he realized what I'd said. "Maybe a taxi would be a better idea, Love," he said.

When we got back to the resort, I gave the scooter key to the concierge and asked if someone could retrieve it. He looked at me and then took in Terry's hand holding mine. And said he'd take care of it.

Inside my room, it might have taken a few seconds before the first of our clothes began hitting the floor. It HAD been almost four months, for God's sake, can you just give me a break?

The first time we made love that afternoon, it was pretty fast and pretty rough. I wanted his mouth on mine and his cock inside me. Beyond that, any finesse or technique on either of our parts would have been wasted on me. Looking back on this, I found it surprising I wasn't feeling funny about sex after what I'd been through but, at the time, I think I just needed the kind of reassurance I would only get by knowing he still wanted me that way... and that badly.

But after, I relished just being held. And that we could stay this way as long as we wanted. I thought he was sleeping, so I pulled myself up and sat next to him, studying his face and his body. Remembering our times together. But other images intruded.

The vision of my times with Santiago was always so confusing. I was the most unreliable witness because so much of what happened was clouded by the reactions I had to the drugs and to the beatings. But even in the darkest of those times, I had worried for Terry and Dino. In my heart, I'd always known they'd come for me. But how cruel it seemed that they were the only two people in the world who knew how easily I'd given up and given in.

I felt his hand on my cheek and looked down at him. "I'm so ashamed of what happened. Of how you found me. How is it that it doesn't bother you?"

His eyes were so intent on mine, his jaw set tight. His calm, deep voice said, "Do you have any idea how many hostages I've been with in the first moments of their freedom?"

"So I was just one more hostage to you? You're able to be that cold about what happened to me?"

"Never. But what you went through, the way your captor worked so hard to strip you of your dignity and your resolve is more normal than you must realize, Lisa," his voice was so soft and I was listening so hard because I needed a resolution to this. "No matter how well trained you were, you're only human. You were fighting against impossible odds the moment he introduced drugs to the equation. It was a miracle you had any will left at all, baby."

"I gave in to him," I whispered, feeling tears but fighting them. "It happened so quickly."

"You survived." He sat up and pulled me into an embrace, his lips warm on my forehead. "Figuring it all out and feeling better inside, that takes time. And help from people who know and care about you, Lisa. Will you let me help?"

I nodded against his chest and let him hold me tighter. "Tell me when I'll be myself again," I asked him, my voice so soft and at first I thought he hadn't heard me.

"You'll never be the exact person you were before, baby," he said eventually. "Something really bad happened to you and those kinds of things always change people."

God, that just sounded too bleak. I felt my tears. They started so slowly, burning to escape my eyes, and then they were coming so fast and I was shaking from the intensity of the feeling of such loss and emptiness. Terry just held on to me, his arms giving me shelter and comfort.

"I just can't take it if this is all I'll ever be," I whispered when the tears stopped. I felt so tired. "It's like he robbed me of so much of what made me the person I was. I can't concentrate worth a shit. I jump at things that never bothered me before. The nightmares are about to do me in. I never seem to laugh anymore. I can't even remember the last time something tasted good to me. And now you tell me this is all I have to look forward to, Terry? How is that even possible?"

His hand slid under my chin and he lifted my face so I was looking right in his eyes. "Lisa, you will get beyond this. I promise. And when you do, you won't be chased by nightmares and you'll find new reasons to smile and laugh. All I'm telling you is that you won't ever be exactly the same as you were. But the choice will always be up to you as to whether you let this defeat you or whether you stop being a victim." He smiled into my eyes. "Even if you don't feel it right now, I know you're going to come through this even stronger. I'll be here for you, baby, every step of the way."

He was so sure. Listening to him, the confidence and the resolve, it gave me hope for my future. I wanted to be whole again. I didn't want to be crippled by what had happened any longer. I was also realistic enough to know I'd only be able to lean on him for so much. That working through this was going to be my fight, but that having his help was going to make a huge difference.

I leaned into him, kissed his bare chest and then snuggled against his solid body. He started rubbing along my back and then he dipped me away from him, searching my eyes. I recognized the look in his; I reached behind his neck and slowly pulled his lips toward mine so he'd know I wanted him like he wanted me.

That kiss. It was so sweet, filled with such longing and need. And then the hunger we were both feeling to be joined together overtook the kiss. By then, he had me on my back on the bed and our bodies were slowly writhing against each other.

"Let me love you, Lisa," he said, in this husky voice. I moaned my 'yes,' and his mouth began sucking along my neck. 

He was so tender with me. Every step he took seemed guided by his need to be careful with me, to help remind me who he was and what I'd always felt about him. To re-establish the connection between us. And to help me re-learn to trust that not every private touch hurt.

The time and attention he devoted to simply caressing me, to making me feel cherished and valued. By the time I felt his fingers, so light and non-threatening, begin to massage my clit and then slowly delve inside me... by then, I felt infinitely softer and more open. He was watching me accept his touch and I looked in his eyes as I came then, with it starting slow and sure before it seemed to melt away.

Lips together; deep, determined, possessive. His body coming on top of mine; sure, steady, welcome.

"May I?" he whispered into my mouth.

"Oh, yes, Terry. Now, please," I moaned to him.

I felt his cock come pressing into me and it felt like coming home again. Like I'd found my way back to him. And then he thrust more forcefully into me and I almost shook at the intensity of feeling that swept into me. When we started moving, together, we established a rhythm designed to extend this coupling. Before long, we were panting as we each got caught up in both the emotional and physical. The first time I came, it shocked me because it was so deep and it moved throughout my body like I'd been electrocuted. Without warning, I let out such a huge groan and when it was over, I was muttering his name and trying to kiss him. But all I could do was hold him because his mouth was avidly suckling my neck and sending shivers down my spine.

And still he moved inside me, now inexorably increasing the rhythm and the force, while I was telling him how good it felt to me. I had my legs around his waist and my hands were alternately pulling him harder into me by gripping his ass or they were trying to find his face to pull him to my lips. When his mouth finally came to mine, I was so close to coming that I was almost violent with the kiss. As that orgasm was consuming me, he started telling me to breathe as he watched my head fall back and heard my reaction.

As I came back to him, he was smiling softly at me. I reached up for his lips and we met with such passion and abandon. His thrusts became harder, faster and deeper. Then I felt him almost explode inside me, the spasms of his release feeling like heaven inside me. He called out to me, telling me he was coming, as if I'd somehow missed the signs.

Then we lay together, holding on, not wanting to ever let go or to move in any way. To just stay this way forever. Or to, at the least, stay long enough to capture the memory so strongly that it would stay forever.

When he rolled away from me, his strong arms carried me with him. I fell asleep, lulled by the beat of his heart, mixing the sound up with the sound of the surf.

It was the first time in almost four months that I felt safe and I slept the first peaceful sleep in all that time.

We stayed together on that island for two more weeks. And then he convinced me to come back to London with him. He wanted me to see where and how he was living. And, he told me, he was afraid if I went back to Washington, I'd find too many reasons not to consider his job offer.

Because that's the conclusion he came to after we'd been together all those days. He knew I was progressing with the emotional healing, that I was placing my shattered confidence and self-respect back in order. And he figured it was only a matter of time before I'd be working as an almost full-time consultant for State, just as my bosses wanted.

But he wanted something else for me. For us. He wanted us to have a future together. 

So he and Dino offered me a job. They wanted me to come help interface with clients and to help analyze information they got from contacts and research. Then work with them on strategy. There would be limited fieldwork, he assured me, when I was ready. A chance to meld the way my mind worked together with the usage of my operative skills.

When he'd first broached the subject to me, I'd laughed it off. But then he made Dino call me and, well, you'd have to know the redhead to know just how bluntly he will not take a 'no.'

It was a new chapter in my life. I still wasn't anywhere near as sure as Terry and Dino that this was such a great career move. But Terry and I were so far down the road in the love that was growing between us that I was willing to take any chance if it meant being with him.

He made me one promise. That life with him would be an adventure. What can I say? The man keeps his promises.