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the-original-b · 4 years

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Archangel--Chapter 6: the Seza Sanction

Format: Prose/ Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 7 of 9 (Previous Chapter | First Chapter)

Word Count: c. 10,000 (sorry about that)

Summary: Subtle hints, suspicions, and a stack of bodies lead Khai and Krueger to a truth neither of them want to face.

Warning(s): blood, violence

Khai locked her desktop computer, gathering her handbag and coat before stepping out of her office to walk through the waiting area. “Danielle,” she got the receptionist’s attention, “tell Simon I’m out to lunch if he asks for me, okay?”

“Cool,” Danielle said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting a friend at Tillman’s.”

“Oh..?” Danielle raised her brow. “A friend, or a friend?”

“Yes,” Khai said, grinning.

“I’ll let him know, Miss Khai,” she laughed.

“Thank you.” On her way out Khai passed a fair-skinned woman, seated legs crossed in the corner wearing a dark wool coat, blue jeans and mid-calf boots.

The woman turned the pages of a Time Magazine issue, and waited for Khai to exit the waiting area before she shut the magazine and walked up to Danielle’s desk. “Excuse me?” She said. She spoke with the intonations of somebody who had lived in the city all her life.

She looked over the monitor at this woman, who had icy blue eyes and dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “I’m here to follow up with Mr. Wells regarding a job offering. He and I spoke last night.”

Danielle looked through the digital calendar on her desktop monitor. “I don’t see any appointments in Mr. Wells’ book right now… what did you say your name was?”

“Just let him know I’m here,” she said. “He knows who I am.”

Danielle shrugged. “If you say so…” She picked up her landline and dialed Simon’s extension. “Mr. Wells?” she said. “Hi, I have a woman here to see you about a job offering? She says you spoke to her last night…” She looked back up at the woman. “Dark hair, blue eyes. Roundish face.” She looked back down at the monitor. “She says you know who she is… I don’t know, she didn’t tell me… okay.” She hung the phone up and looked back up at the woman. “The conference room is through those doors over there, at the end of the hall.”

“Excellent.” The woman turned toward the door and stopped to face her. “Danielle, right?”

“Right.”

“Thank you, Danielle.” The woman crossed the doors and proceeded down the hallway, crossing a second set of doors and stepping up to where Simon stood looking out the window.

“You really couldn’t give my receptionist a name?” Simon asked

“As far as you’re concerned, my name is Nomad,” Seza said. She reclaimed her native accent speaking to him.

“Except that’s not a name.”

“Make my check out to cash, then,” she commented. “You have something for me?”

Simon turned around and found his seat. He paused when he looked ahead to see her standing. “Aren’t you gonna sit—?”

“No.”

“Of course not,” he murmured. He opened his desk drawer and retrieved the still-warm document, sliding it across the desk to her.

Seza picked the document off the table top to study it. When she was satisfied, she picked a pen up off his desktop and signed where designated. She turned it over to Simon for him to sign. When he did, he put the paper back into his drawer. “The advance?” she said.

Simon bent over to retrieve a duffel bag and placed it onto the desk with a thud. “That’s half a million in cash,” he said. He unzipped the bag and pulled a roll of $100 bills from it, holding it up for her to see. “And this is one percent; you and your boys get the rest when it’s done.” He tossed her the roll of bills.

Seza snatched the money out of the air and broke eye contact to undo the rubber band that held the bills together. She began to thumb through it, counting her way to fifty notes.

“Between the five of you left over from yesterday, that’s a hundred thousand a head.” Simon closed the bag up again and lifted it up off the desk with both hands, placing it out of sight again. He sat back down. “A cool hundred thousand can buy a lot of… what do you even buy with your money? Guns? Body armor?” A sarcastic smirk spread across his face. “Hair products?”

Seza looked up from the money roll to glare daggers at him. “Lipstick,” she shot back sardonically. She shoved the roll of bills into her coat pocket. “And eye shadow.” She took a few steps to the window to her left overlooking Sixth Avenue, cursing him in Arabic under her breath.

“Somehow you don’t strike me as an eye-liner-and-French-tips kind of gal,” he commented. “Still, if that’s what you’re into, I’d be open to working with you in the future and getting you as much of that as your heart desires. Depending on how this project turns out…”

Whatever Simon said after that faded into the background. Seza looked out at the faces below; in the crowd she spotted Krueger, sporting a tan wool overcoat and matching scarf. With a beaming smile on his face he embraced a woman and kissed her cheek before they set off toward wherever they were going, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She looked a little harder and recognized the woman he was with as the one that just told the waiting room receptionist where she was heading for lunch.

“Anything’s possible,” she told Simon. With that she turned and headed for the exit.

Simon let out a breath of relief once she was gone. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled again to calm his nerves. His unease in her presence wasn’t helped by the fact that he was terrified of her.

His peace was disturbed by the ring of his conference room phone again. “Yes?”

“Mr. Wells, it’s me again,” Danielle said on the other line. “I just wanted to let you know the surveillance footage is back online.”

“Thank you, Danielle.” Simon hung the phone up and leaned back in his chair again, shutting his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Krueger and Khai walked into an upscale chophouse with trendy décor and furnishings tucked away in the Rockefeller Center. They were greeted by the hostess.

“Welcome,” she said. “Just the two of you?”

“Hi, yes,” Khai said. “We have a 12:30 reservation.”

The hostess checked her monitor. “Liz Khai, there you are..!” She took two menus and held them against herself. “If you’ll follow me.”

“Lead the way,” Krueger said.

She led them past the bar area to the booths tucked in the side of the dining space, and they hung their coats on a pair of hooks on its corner post. Khai wore a deep red blouse with heather gray slacks, black round-toe stilettos and a dark blazer; Krueger was dressed in a classy black sweater under a pale gray jacket with black slacks and lace-up shoes.

“Justin will be right with you guys,” she said warmly.

“Thank you,” Krueger said to her. Then he turned to Khai. “So who do you know that owns this restaurant?”

Khai shrugged. “Nobody on our payroll,” she said with a laugh. “I think we’re going to have to pay for this one out of our own pockets.”

“Shame,” Krueger noted, chuckling.

Their server, dressed in a pale blue button-up shirt and dark slacks arrived shortly after with a pitcher of water to fill their glasses. “What’s up, guys. My name’s Justin, I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon. Can I start you off with something?”

“Yes,” Khai said. “I’ll have an Old Fashioned.”

Krueger arched his brow. “Is that so?”

Khai arched her brow right back at him. “Yes, sir. Best in the Five Boroughs,” she added, gesturing the space around them.

Krueger looked at Justin. “I’ll have one too.”

~~~~

As promised, Justin took care of them as they conversed, first over their cocktails, and then over their lunch orders. When he finally arrived with their check, Khai opened it when she noticed a few loose bills sticking out of the top of the booklet. “This is change,” she noted.

“The woman at the bar over there covered you,” Justin replied, thumbing over his shoulder at the person in question. “Her treat, she said.”

She looked past the server at the woman seated at the bar in front of what looked like a martini; the woman stared right back at her with piercing, icy blue eyes. Khai’s brow furrowed just a little while she tried to place where she’d seen her before. “Thank her for us when you get a chance,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on her.

“You bet,” he said. “Thanks for dining with us today.” He took his leave to tend to the other tables in his section.

Krueger turned to his left in his seat to see who she was looking at. His expression flattened—he recognized her immediately. “Ah, scheisse,” he breathed. How long had she been there watching them?

Seza got up from the bar and walked right over to their booth, her hands in her coat pockets. “Curious running into you here,” she said to Krueger. “It’s amazing, the people you bump into in New York.”

“It is,” Krueger deadpanned, icicles growing from the look he gave her. He moved his left hand across his table setting to rest it on top of his knife.

Seza looked over at Khai, seated across from him. “And you must be his new friend..! Miss Khai, am I right?”

“Charmed,” Khai said with a smirk. She blinked slowly, keeping her eyes on her.

“May I sit?”

“No,” Krueger enunciated.

Seza offered him a wry half-smile and pulled a chair over from behind her to their table. She straddled it and crossed her arms atop its back, leaning forward and turning her head to hold each of their gazes for seconds at a time before looking at the other person.

There they sat for a long ten seconds. There was nowhere more public than the middle of a restaurant in the heart of Manhattan and, by extension, nowhere safer from Seza, but both Khai and Krueger knew she was armed—if not with a gun or that sword of hers then something else. Neither of them dared to take their eyes off her for a moment.

Finally, Krueger broke the silence. “What are you doing here, Seza?”

“I’m watching over you,” she replied. “Same as I always have.” She shot a quick glance in Khai’s direction before looking back at him. “I approve of the company you keep.”

“That means a ton coming from you,” Khai added. “Thanks for the endorsement.”

Krueger shot her a look, discreetly shaking his head and pleading with her not to antagonize the armed assassin sitting less than a yard from them.

Seza shut her eyes to exhale, then raised her left hand up off the chair to prop her head against it and fix her gaze on Krueger. “I’m also here—as a professional courtesy—to inform you that my employer recently paid me a five thousand dollar advance to draw you into the open. They intend to kill you, and after that they’ll pay the other four hundred ninety-five thousand.”

“Then why not just offer you the kill order?”

“They did,” Seza clarified. “I declined.”

“Danke,” Krueger said, coolly.

“Natürlich… A word of advice, Archangel,” she continued. “Keep a low profile and stay out of sight for the next few days. The surviving members of the squad that joined me at the cabin are looking for payback.”

Krueger blinked. “Another professional courtesy?”

Seza looked away from his eyes for a moment before reclaiming them. “A personal one.” She went to stand.

Krueger’s fingers curled tighter around the knife in his left hand the instant Seza’s weight shifted off the table.

Noticing this, Seza smirked at him. “You don’t trust me?”

“You did try to choke me on the floor yesterday.”

“Only after you shot at me.” She stood up fully, stepping back over the chair and standing completely on one side of it. She didn’t take her eyes off of Krueger until he loosened his grip on the knife. Then she looked at Khai, studying her for a while before her expression softened. “Be good to him, Miss Khai.” Seza returned the chair to the table behind them, turned, and left the restaurant.

Krueger watched her leave, and when he was sure she was gone, let himself breathe again. “That could have been disastrous.”

“For her I think it was,” Khai said, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Krueger turned back around to face her. “Why are you smiling?” he asked.

“The way she looked at me,” she said, swishing the remains of her Old Fashioned around in the glass. She brought the drink to her lips and finished it, the single giant ice cube clinking inside the glass. “You certainly have a type, I see,” she added with a chuckle. “Were Jocelyn and Emma that feisty?”

“You have no idea..!” he said, smiling a little. In light of everything that just happened she still managed to coax one from him. He picked his glass up to finish his beverage, but put it back down as he realized something. His expression began to flatten.

Khai could see the gears turning inside his head. “What is it?”

“How does she know your name?” he put forth.

Khai broke eye contact as she thought on that too. Before now she hadn’t actually seen her in the flesh, much less introduced herself to her; Seza would have no way of knowing who she was.

Then she remembered where she saw Seza’s face before, and suddenly everything she disclosed to them had a whole new meaning. She gasped audibly as she put the pieces together, and all manner of undesirable possibilities bloomed in her imagination.

“Elizabeth?”

“Excuse me, Milo” she said, reclaiming his eyes. “I have to check something.” Her heart was suddenly racing, and her mind was moving faster, but she slowly, methodically slid to her right and exited the booth to reclaim her outerwear and handbag.

Krueger saw it in her expression—she figured out some crucial detail. “Go,” he said. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Call me in twenty minutes,” she added. “I’ll explain everything.”

“Of course.”

~~~~

She’s a chameleon, Krueger’s words echoing in Khai’s mind as she rode the elevator. Hide in plain sight… infiltrate, impersonate… you’d never see her coming.

The elevator doors opened, and she slowly walked to the glass doors of Simon Wells’ office space. She tapped her keycard on the reader to unlock the doors and pulled one open, paying more attention to the faces around her than perhaps ever before. When she made it to the conference room waiting area, she paused to look at the corner where Seza sat, barely an hour ago.

“How was lunch?”

Danielle’s voice pulled her back to reality. “It was good,” Khai said, nodding. She took a few slow steps toward the desk. “Before I left there was a woman seated there, right?” she asked. “About this tall, blue eyes, good-looking… ”

“Yeah. She said she was here to speak to Mr. Wells about a job offering.”

Shit..! “She’s not with him now, is she?”

“No, she left a few minutes after you did.”

“Mhm… Do you know if Simon’s in there with anyone?”

“No,” Danielle noted. “I don’t think so.”

“Uh-huh.” Khai checked her wristwatch and looked back to her. “Did you break for lunch already?”

“I ate at the desk,” she said.

“Take a half-hour,” Khai advised. “Walk around the block, get some fresh air. I’ll let Simon know I sent you out.”

“Umm, sure. Okay.” Danielle, reluctant at first, stood up and wrapped her down coat around herself. “Thanks, Miss Khai.”

“Any time, Danielle.” She waited for the receptionist to leave before investigating Simon’s office. Danielle was a good kid, barely out of high school. Probably an NYU student working a second job four nights a week to make her share of the rent. Khai didn’t want her to be involved in any of what could happen next.

Khai crossed the doorway of Simon’s conference room, her coat still over her shoulders and bag in her hand, and scanned the room from her spot near the door.

Simon watched her from behind his desk. “Hi,” he said. “Can I do something for you?”

Khai took a few slow steps toward him and his desk. “I figured I’d let you know I’m back from lunch.” She walked over to the perimeter wall and leaned against it to look out the window to Sixth Avenue below them. “I had some time to think about the Orham mess last night.”

“Yeah?” Simon poured himself a glass of scotch from the decanter on his desk. “What’s there to think about?”

“Why somebody would want him dead.” She spotted the exact location Krueger met her an hour ago. From there she could see Tillman’s as well. She could have watched a couple meet up where they did and walk to the restaurant together. That’s exactly how Seza found them, she concluded. “It just seems a waste to me, all that information.”

“Hey a guy like that probably made fewer friends than enemies,” Simon said. He gulped from his glass. “Anybody could have sent people there to collect his head.”

But how many knew where to find him? “Suppose you’re right about that.” Khai turned her head to look at him. She noticed the corner of a large duffel bag poking out from under his desk. “So I guess it’s over then. Job’s done.”

“Looks that way.” Simon raised his glass. “Hallelujah. Time to pick up the pieces.”

“Mhm…” Khai’s personal phone began chirping inside her handbag. She fished it out to answer the call. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Krueger’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Doctor West..! Good to hear from you again.” She moved her other hand to cover the receiver, looking at Simon and nodding toward the exit. “I have to take this.”

Simon gestured the door. “By all means,” he said.

Khai faked the conversation on her way out of the conference room. “So the labs came back, finally...? How did I do..? ”She continued out past the waiting room, and through the glass doors. “Normal, huh…? Yes… Well, I’ve been meaning to exercise more but, you know how it is with work. I haven’t found a gym I like either—she was in Simon’s conference room,” she finally whispered once outside the office space.

“You’re sure of that?” Krueger said.

“Certain. I could see the restaurant from his window. That’s how she knew where to find you.” She went down the hall as she continued, occasionally checking over her shoulder for other people in the space with her. “She sat right there in the waiting room, and I just walked right past her..! God, I should have exposed her when I had the chance!”

“Don’t blame yourself,” he reassured her. “You didn’t know it was her.”

Khai took a breath to collect herself. “Yeah... You’re right.”

“So we know he hired Seza to draw me out,” Krueger said. “Did he say whether he sent her after Orham?”

“He didn’t admit to anything, but I don’t see any other possibility,” she replied.

“Neither do I. The only reason he would have to kill the man holding all the secrets is to protect his own… I think Orham knew something Simon didn’t want getting out.”

“I agree completely. But we don’t have anything tangible to prove that.”

“What about what we got from the servers,” he suggested. “Is there anything we can draw from the data?”

“I’ll take it to my guy in Brooklyn and see what he can salvage, if anything…” she pulled the phone away from her ear when somebody stepped out of the men’s restroom and headed for a different set of glass office doors from the ones she just walked out of. “But for now let’s do as Seza suggests. Stay under the radar while we figure out our next move.”

Krueger was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again. “That does seem to be what’s best for now. What will you do in the meantime?”

Khai looked back at the office doors. “I go back to work. Keep my eyes on Simon and report back to Isaac Hayden.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Be careful out there, Milo.” Yeah, that was a safer goodbye than what she was really thinking.

“You too, Elizabeth,” Krueger said. “I’ll call you later.” The phone clicked in Khai’s ear, telling her he hung up. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a second before exhaling. She put the phone back into her handbag and crossed the glass doors again to return to her office.

~~~~

Krueger parked his car half a block away from his home in Rego Park. He took a moment to peer through the windows and mirrors and scan the faces of the men, women, and children walking along both sides of the street before shutting the engine off and stepping out. He took another quick glance over his shoulder before heading to his home.

As soon as he locked the door behind him, re reached into his inside jacket pocket for his personal cell phone and scrolled through his contacts for Alex. He hit the call button and held the phone to his ear, checking through the window between dial tones until the answering machine finally picked up. “You’ve reached Alexander Krueger,” the recording said in German. “I’m unable to get to the phone at the moment, so leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Krueger checked his watch again—at this hour it was barely past 8:30pm in Düsseldorf—it wouldn’t be too unreasonable to assume he was still awake. “Alex,” he said in German, “it’s your father. It’s been a while since I last heard from you, I’m just checking in to make sure you and your mother are doing well.” It wasn’t the first time his life was in imminent, real danger, but given how much he knew about Seza’s crew, he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity again. “Give me a call back when you get this.” He ended the call and searched his contacts for another name.

This time, the person he wanted to reach picked up almost immediately. “Hello?” The voice on the other end belonged to a young woman, a high school senior.

“Hi, Victoria.”

“Hey dad!” In his mind’s eye he could see his daughter’s smile—Emma’s smile. “How are you?? I’ve missed you.”

“I know, I said I’d call more often,” he noted, taking a seat on a bench by the coat rack. He held the phone between his left ear and shoulder as he unlaced his shoes. “But work has been crazy the past few days.”

“Right, a lot going in in the world of private consultative security?” He could see her jest eye roll and it brought a smile to his face.

“You could say that.”

“Look, dad,” Victoria said, “I know whatever it is you do for work is more than just security, you don’t have to hide that detail from me.”

Krueger shrugged as if she could see him, and admitted. “Yes, it is more than security. My line of work is dangerous, and your mother made me promise her I wouldn’t expose you to it.”

“Yeah, I know. She mentions that whenever I ask about you. I remember the gun defense positions you taught me though.”

“How many of them are there?” Krueger quizzed her.

“Twelve. Thirteen if you count the two versions of the second one.”

“And what’s the most important rule about them?”

“Give them whatever they want so you can go back home to your family.”

“That’s my girl,” Krueger smiled. “How is your mother, anyway?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “She’s alright. She, uh… started seeing somebody.”

“I’m aware,” he noted. “I’ve met Tim.”

“Is that right..? Will I have to separate you two?”

“No, no, there’s no need for that… have you been keeping up with your German?”

Victoria sighed audibly. “Nein, Ich habe nicht geübt. They don’t teach it in school.”

“Victoria…”

“I know, I’m the worst child of a native-speaker,” she laughed. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll minor in German next year.”

“No need. I’ll start teaching you again.”

“That of course means you’ll have to come by.”

“I know,” Krueger said. “Things should stabilize after this job, I’ll arrange a schedule with your mother.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” she suggested. “Over dinner?”

Krueger knew what day tomorrow was. “Perhaps,” he added, smiling a little. “I’ll need you to broker that meeting with your mother for me.”

“You got it..!”

“I should let you go,” Krueger said. “If I don’t see you tomorrow, happy birthday.”

“Thanks, dad. I love you.”

“Ich liebe dich auch.”

~~~~

Seza conferred with her associates late that night in lower Manhattan over pizza which she barely ate. The five of them dressed casually—dark long-sleeve shirts and jeans over shoes of various styles. “What have you found?” she asked them.

“A way to draw him out,” one of them said.

“We didn’t find Milo Krueger,” another elaborated. “But we checked that alias you got from Wells and found a few things.”

Seza nodded. In a way she was happy to see he practiced what he taught her. “Tell me.”

“An order for furniture placed late last week,” the third one said, “A business-class flight and car rental in Miami before that, and this.” He slid an envelope toward Seza. “A home in Cambria Heights.”

Seza opened the envelope, looking at the photos therein and studying the notes and diagrams that accompanied them. Her expression remained flat as she examined the pictures. “Who are they?”

“Our way of drawing him out,” the fourth one said.

Seza put their plan together. It was heartless, but effective. “I’ll call the client with this,” she said, putting the envelope in her coat pocket. “We act tomorrow. Get some rest,” she advised, dismissing them.

They nodded and stood up to leave, leaving a few bills between them to reimburse her for their share of the pizza before exiting and going their separate ways. Seza gathered the money and took it to the front, depositing it in the tip jar before asking for some extra plates and a to-go bag.

She had her hand under the paper bag to support the stack of leftover pizza slices and plates inside it as she walked down 1st Avenue toward her lodging three short blocks from the pizzeria. She fished her phone out of her coat pocket and dialed Simon’s cell phone.

He picked up after a few rings. “Wells,” he answered.

“It’s Nomad,” she said. Without breaking step or looking she handed the leftover pizza to a passing homeless person and kept walking. “Contact your shooter and have him ready to move on the address I’m sending you now. We’ll take him tomorrow.” She ended the call and hit the keys in sequence to generate the string of alphanumeric characters and hit the Send button before shutting the phone and continuing onward.

~~~~

Krueger ran five miles in forty-five minutes the following morning, then returned home for breakfast before taking his P30L to a shooting range out in Long Island. He burned through two boxes of ammunition before getting back into his car and heading to a gym for an hour. He had a quick shower on-site and ate lunch at one of Everett’s diners.

Then he returned home as the sun began to sink behind the horizon to reflect on what happened since this whole thing began with Simon and the Partners. He picked his phone up to bounce his ideas off of the person he could trust most with what he theorized.

She answered after two rings. “Liz Khai,” she answered.

“It’s me,” Krueger said. He took the phone to the seating area and leaned against the wall. “Can you talk?”

There was a second or two of silence on the other end before she spoke again. “I can listen.” Krueger heard a shuffling over the phone, figuring she probably stood up to leave her desk and head someplace quieter.

“I’ve been playing the past few weeks over and again in my head trying to make sense of everything,” he began. “The hitmen in Miami made no mention of Orham or the bug in Simon’s conference room phone, and Simon seemed genuinely surprised when I exposed the device.”

“Meaning he didn’t know it was there,” she added at a whisper.

“Right. That also means Simon—assuming he and Orham were in fact in contact with each other at some point—hadn’t expected him to sell information to his rivals, and must’ve made the decision to have him killed after Caruso gave us his name. We agree the only reason he would remove Orham is to hide something from somebody?”

“Yeah.” Khai continued his thought. “But for any of that to make sense, Simon and Orham would have to have made contact long before the microphone was even placed, and Orham would have to have known something Simon felt was incriminating enough to have him killed.”

“I agree completely. But we’re still left with a massive question.”

“What the Hell was it,” Khai theorized.

“Exactly... any updates from your Brooklyn contact?”

“He’s running a decryption script on what we were able to salvage from the cabin. As of last night it’s twenty-seven percent cracked.”

“Any estimates on time of completion?”

“Tomorrow evening the latest, he says.” Khai was quiet for a little before talking again. “Milo, whatever happens after this, I want you to know—”

The phone buzzed in Krueger’s hand as she began talking again. He looked at the display and saw Emma’s home number across it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Can you hold that thought? I’m getting a call I’ve been expecting.”

“Uh, sure. No problem.”

“I’ll be done in a minute.” He put Khai on hold and answered Emma. “Hello?”

“Hello, Milo,” spoke a male voice he didn’t recognize. “Or do you go by Sebastian? That is the name this house is under, isn’t it? I don’t know, why don’t I ask these two ladies sitting next to me?��

Krueger tightened his grip on his phone as he slowly sat down. Everything he needed to know was in that string of words. “What did you do to them?” he demanded, his voice reduced to a guttural snarl.

“Nothing yet,” he said. “They’ve still got all of their fingers and toes, but my friends are getting bored; they’re telling me if you don’t show up in forty-five minutes they’ll do something to them. I was able to talk them down to the full hour so, you’re welcome.”

Krueger took a quiet breath to quell the verbal wrath building up within him. “What do you want?”

“You. Here. Unarmed and alone. Sixty minutes.”

Krueger checked his watch. Accounting for traffic he would have thirty minutes to prepare.

“Don’t be late, Specialist.” The man on the other end of the phone hung up.

Krueger looked down at the phone is his hand, and stood back up as he resumed his conversation with Khai.

“Milo, are you still there?” she asked.

“I am,” he said blankly. “They have Emma and my daughter.”

“What??”

“Seza’s associates. They found my old home and now they’re holding my family hostage.”

“Oh, no…” Khai whimpered. “I- I can meet you at the armory..!” she suggested. “It’ll be short-notice, but I can get something together for you.”

“No time for that,” Krueger said.

“Damn,” she whispered. “What else can I do to help you?”

Krueger thought a little. “Stand by,” he said. “If I don’t call you within two hours, take everything we know to Isaac and get yourself out of the Boroughs. Remember, Seza saw your face, she may have her men come after you.”

“Okay,” she said, hiding the fear and worry in her words. “Alright, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“Call me in two hours, Milo,” she appealed. “I mean it.”

“I will,” assured her. “I promise.” He hit the button to end the call and took a deep breath before heading upstairs to ready himself.

~~~~

“It’s been forty-one minutes,” one of the mercenaries said. The four of them were dressed in black tactical gear and matching wool caps. “You think he’ll show?”

“If I were him,” another one said, noting the two women seated on a couch in the room with them, “I would.”

“You’re gonna regret calling my dad out like that,” Victoria noted. She was slim, about her mother’s height, with tan skin, green eyes, her father’s nose, and her mother’s jaw and black hair. “You’ll see when he gets here.”

“Is that a fact, now?” one of the mercenaries said, kneeling down in front of her. “There’s five of us and one of him. I don’t see the odds stacking up in his favor.”

“I don’t know where you learned to count, guy,” she said, gesturing the space around them, “But I only see four of you.” She was terrified of them, but maintained her father’s lesson to hide that fear from the people scaring her.

“She’s got a point,” one of the mercenaries added sotto voce. “I haven’t heard from the boss all day.”

“Your boss probably ran and hid as soon as he heard my dad was coming. He’s gonna feed you those guns one bullet at a time.” She managed a wry smirk.

“Shut it, both of you!” the one in front of Victoria ordered. He stood up and gestured his associates to take their positions around the house. He looked back at her before heading to his place. “You’re lucky the boss lady said not to hurt you two.” He placed his fingers onto a communicator to activate it. “November to Watchdog, are you in position?”

Simon’s shooter sat tied to a chair on the second floor of the house across the street, the edge of Seza’s blade against his neck. In her other hand she held the radio in front of his mouth. “Watchdog in position,” he said. “Standing by.”

Seza, dressed in the same gear and wool hat as her squad mates, thumbed the power switch on the radio as soon as he finished, and returned her sword to the scabbard. “Thank you,” she said to him. Then she held onto his chin and forehead and pulled in opposite directions to break his neck. The shooter had incapacitated the residents, so they wouldn’t get in the way as Sea cleaned up after herself, cutting him free from the chair and returning the bolt-action .308 rifle he brought to its bag.

Krueger parked his car two blocks east of Emma’s home; knowing Seza’s mercenaries would probably be watching the street, he would have to get to the house from the neighbor’s yard. He exited the car—clad in a dark waist-length jacket, tan tactical pants, mid boots, and a black wool beanie--and scanned the street quickly before heading to the house directly behind Emma’s.

The properties in that part of Cambria Heights were nearly identical—they all featured concrete driveways beside the houses with a short set of stairs leading into the house near the kitchen area, and a standalone garage at the end of the driveway adjacent to a fenced-in patio. Krueger knew the layout of the neighborhood, having lived there for years before his split with Emma, and returned tonight to use that knowledge to his advantage—he vaulted over the waist-high gate at the end of the driveway and moved toward the garage, then climbed the chain-link fence to his right to mount the roof of the garage and scale the back fence into Emma’s backyard.

Once there he knew he had to stay quiet and out of sight. He bent his knees to absorb his landing and minimize the noise, and maintained a low squat as he kept to the shadows and crept closer to the house. From a few yards distance he spotted one of the intruders, and identified a suppressed 9mm P226 in his thigh holster.

The moment the intruder turned away from him, Krueger crept up behind him and pulled the gun from the holster, firing it low into his back causing him to buckle to his knees and fall forward. Krueger shot him in the back four more times to make his point before moving on the house.

Inside, one of the mercenaries straightened up when he heard the noise outside. He looked at the other two in the room with him and signaled one of them to the side door.

Emma and Victoria noticed their change in behavior, and Emma held onto her daughter a little tighter.

The intruder raised his weapon and proceeded to the side door to slowly open it and peer around the corner into the cold night, scanning the concrete driveway from the staircase. He turned toward the garage and peered over the banister just as Krueger bounded out from behind the stairs him to grab him by the hair and pull his head back into the handrail. He smashed the intruder’s face with the grip of the handgun, forcing his head backward and breaking his neck over the rail before putting a round into his temple for good measure.

The other two inside the house sprang into action, raising their weapons and pointing them toward the open door. “Where the hell is Watchdog?” one of them whispered.

“Forget Watchdog, where’s Nomad?” the other one replied.

“Not fucking here, that’s for sure.” He looked back over his shoulder at Emma and Victoria seated on the couch. “Screw it,” he hissed. “Stay on the door,” he said. Then raised his weapon at the two women with them. They gasped and shot their hands up in the air. “You,” he said, “up you get.” He took Victoria by the cuff of her elbow to stand her up on her feet. She resisted at first, but complied after the muzzle of the gun was pressed a little harder into her forehead.

Emma stifled a sob. “Don’t hurt her,” she pleaded.

“Mom—!”

“Whatever you’re going to do to her, do it to me!” Emma cried.

The other intruder looked back over his shoulder at the chaos behind him. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“Stacking the odds in our favor,” he said.

“We’re under orders not to harm them—!”

“And who’s orders were those? Is she here right now?” He pulled Victoria completely up off the couch.

In the chaos, Krueger inched through the side door and quietly raised his stolen P226.

“Face it,” the intruder continued, “she left us behind. We’re on our own here—”

He was interrupted when a bullet came through the forehead of the man standing right in front of him, sending a spray of blood all over him but not the women.

Emma let a startled scream slip out as the last intruder stumbled backward, stunned for an instant before he reclaimed his footing and pulled Victoria in front of him as a shield and fired twice in Krueger’s direction. Krueger dove to his left before the intruder could shoot, and reclaimed his stance just in time to watch the intruder walk backward toward Victoria’s bedroom with her in front of him.

“Milo!” Emma called out, tearful.

Krueger shot a look in her direction, keeping his gun trained on the bedroom, and strafed over to his left toward her on the couch, stepping over the body and kneeling down next to her. “Did they hurt you?”

“Our daughter..!” she said. “Save our daughter!”

“Yeah,” the intruder called from behind the closed door. “Come save your daughter!”

Krueger slowly stood back up and raised the gun again. He pulled a spare magazine from the fallen man beside him and took measured steps toward Victoria’s room. He tucked himself into the entry of the other bedroom and flung the magazine at the cracked door, hitting it with an audible knock. When no bullets shot past him in response, he held the gun close to his face as he pushed through the now-open door and reclaimed his target—the other man cowering behind an innocent bystander, pressing a suppressor into the side of her head.

“Dad..!” Victoria whimpered. Her hands up in front of her.

“Keine sorge, mein liebe,” Krueger reassured her. “Jetzt bin ich hier.” He studied the man tucked behind his daughter pressing the gun against her temple. His eyes were wide, his breathing and pulse elevated, his hand shook, and—most importantly—his finger was beside the trigger, not on it.

“Drop it,” the intruder ordered. “Or she dies.”

Krueger’s eyes narrowed, his hands steady. He glanced at his daughter, locking eyes with her for the briefest moment. Ten, he mouthed.

As in Defense-from-Position-Ten. Victoria blinked, calmed herself down, and inched her head forward.

The intruder moved the gun to keep in on her. “I’ll shoot her right here,” he threatened, thumbing back the hammer and pushing the gun harder into the side of her head. “Believe me, I’ll do it..!”

Krueger tightened his grip on the gun. “No, you won’t,” he said.

Victoria threw her head backward into the intruder’s nose and got both her hands around the gun, grabbing it by its slide and hammer. Immediately afterward, she thrust her hands forward and drove her hips back into him, clearing him and ducking out of the way to her left, just like he taught her.

Krueger fired two rounds into the center of the intruder’s chest, pushing him into the back wall; he kept the sights on him as the other man slid down the wall, and placed a round between his eyes after he stopped moving.

When it was over, Krueger lowered his gun and looked over his daughter, on her knees covering her ears. He knelt down next to her and gently placed his arm around her shoulder, as if the slightest addition of weight would crack her in two. “Victoria,” he breathed.

She looked back up at him, with tears in her eyes and a quivering lip. “Dad..?”

“It’s alright,” he comforted her, placing the gun on the floor to pull her into him with both his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest. “It’s alright,” he repeated. “It’s over now… Victoria, you handled yourself perfectly,” he added, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

Krueger allowed his daughter a moment to calm herself, then when she was herself again he reclaimed the gun and walked her back to Emma in the other room, who scooped her up in her arms and held her in a tight embrace. Krueger walked up beside her, and Emma pulled him in as well, holding her family close to her.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed, wrapping his arms around the two of them. “I promised I wouldn’t let this part of my life into yours.”

“I know,” Emma said, the wobble in her voice beginning to level. “You promised me a lot of things, Milo. But none of that matters.” She untucked her head from between her daughter and ex-husband to look the man in the eye. “Because you kept the most important one—you kept us safe. You protected us no matter what. I will never forget that.”

As they reconciled in the living area, the first intruder Krueger encountered in the back yard made it up the side door stairs on his hands and feet, mustering the strength to move a handgun he recovered from his associate in front of his face and point it toward the three of them.

Seza stepped over the prone man from behind him, sweeping the gun away with her right foot and squatting down over him to hold his arm between her calf and thigh while she wrapped her right arm around his neck. “Shhhh,” she ordered. With her left hand he slowly pressed the point of her sword into his armpit, pushing the metal deeper into him and holding it there until he stopped struggling.

Krueger heard the man’s gun fall to the floor, and snapped his own gun toward the doorway. He blinked when he saw Seza there, crouched down over her now dead supposed comrade with her sword in his side.

She looked up at him, releasing her hold on the sword and holding her hands up by her shoulders. Slowly, she stood up and tuned around in a complete circle to show him she wasn’t otherwise armed. “I’m not here to hurt any of you,” she clarified, reclaiming Krueger’s eyes.

Krueger stepped away from Emma and Victoria as he lowered the gun, maintaining his grip on it but resting it in his other hand. “Still watching over me, then?”

“Always,” she said. She kept her hands away from her sides to keep them all at ease. “The last one is taken care of,” she continued, nodding in the direction of the house across the street. “You should have no problems leaving.” She broke eye contact with him to address Emma and Victoria. “Is there anywhere you can stay for the next few days?”

Briefly, Emma thought of Tim, but decided not to involve him in this lest he became a target as well. “There’s a hotel in Bayside,” she said. “My company runs events there all the time, they’ll let us stay for a while.”

Krueger knew the place, and the place knew him. “Not good enough.”

“Milo,” Emma began.

“They found you here, Emma,” he told her. “And they’re using you to get to me. Until we know with certainty that the threat is gone, the safest place for both of you is as far away from anybody who knows you as possible.” He reached for his smartphone. “I know somebody,” he said, drafting a text message. “He can take you out east for the weekend.”

“Dad,” Victoria started, “you really don’t need to—”

“Of course I do,” he said with an honest half-smile. “It’s your birthday. Get a bag together,” he continued. “Both of you. I’ve arranged for pickup.” He hit Send and pocketed his cell phone again, then moved to follow Seza back out the door, who reclaimed her blade and stepped out of the doorway.

Emma held onto his wrist to stop him, looking him in the eye.

“I’ll be alright,” he reassured her. “She’s one of the good guys.”

Wistfully she let him go, watching him exit out the side door into the night.

Krueger caught up with Seza in the driveway. “Five shots and not a single fatal wound,” she said, gesturing the newer of the two corpses at the top of those stairs. “I’d say you’re getting sloppy… Lovely family,” she noted, hoisting a rifle bag over her shoulder. “She’s definitely your daughter.”

“Seza,” Krueger said. “Why are you helping me?”

Seza looked away from him while she put the right words together. “Because I owe you,” she finally said, reclaiming his gaze. “You taught me almost everything I know, and more you gave me a chance when nobody else did. I owe you everything,” she confided. “And I never got to thank you for any of it… although after today,” she jested, “I think you’re the one who owes me..!”

“Another personal courtesy?” he suggested, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Something like that, yes.”

“I see. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I had to kill your squad.”

“They’re not my squad,” she said. “My squad was butchered near the Laos-Cambodia border, so don’t apologize to me for defending your family from a pack of mercenaries.”

“Mhm.” Krueger exhaled before continuing. “Seza… what we had—”

“Was wonderful,” she interposed. “In so many more ways than I can express to you.” A genuine smile spread across her face as she recalled their time together. “What we had was special, yes, but we had it. Our time is passed, and we’re not those people anymore.” Her expression was content, almost happy, as she came to terms with where they stood now. “Miss Khai really is lucky to have you in her life.”

Krueger nodded in understanding. There was no trace of deceit or duplicity in what she said—Seza meant every word.

They maintained eye contact for a few more seconds before Seza’s mobile phone buzzed in her pocket. She retrieved it and read the number on display, then gestured Krueger to stay quiet while she unfolded the phone to answer the call. “It’s Nomad,” she said.

“Nomad, I haven’t heard from my guy,” Simon said. Seza had him on speaker phone for Krueger to hear. “Tell me your people got something good for me.”

“They don’t,” she said. “They’re dead, and so is your shooter.”

“…You want to say that again?” Simon growled.

“If you insist. The mercenaries and your marksman are dead, the family is unharmed, and the specialist is unscathed.”

“What!?”

“I watched him walk away from the house,” she elaborated.

“Then why the fuck didn’t you shoot him!?” he barked.

“Because you paid me to draw him into the open, and that’s what I did. Just as I told you after the Miles Orham order, if you wanted him dead you should have put it in my contract.”

Simon was fuming on the other end. “Listen to me you little c—”

Seza broke the phone in two before he could finish, and lifted the lid of the trash bin to her left to deposit the two halves. “Maybe take a closer look at the people you choose to work with,” she advised, fishing out a small recording device from one pouches on her jacket and holding it up by her face.

“What’s this?” Krueger asked.

“A professional courtesy,” she answered, placing it in his jacket pocket. “It’s not thermite.”

“Still sore about that?”

“Quite the opposite, actually. It was very clever, I’ll use that trick in the field someday,” she added with a smirk. Then she looked him in the eyes and held her hand out for him. “Until we meet again, Milo Krueger.”

Krueger took her hand in his and slowly, firmly, shook it. “I only hope it will be as allies, Nomad.” He released her, and their fingertips held onto each other for a moment as they held each other’s gaze. Then Seza let her hand fall to her side, turned around, and walked away, disappearing behind the corner of Emma’s home.

~~~~

Krueger waited with Emma and Victoria for the SUV to arrive, and walked them out to it as the driver and passenger stepped outside to load their bags into the back.

“Let me know when you’re there,” Krueger told Emma as they embraced.

“I will,” she answered. “Tell me when you’re safe again,” she said, looking him in the eye.

“Of course.” He opened the rear passenger-side door to let her in and went to see his daughter off. “I guess we’ll need a rain check on that dinner, huh?”

Victoria nodded, her hands in her coat pockets. “Yeah,” she said. “I think so.” Her usual bubbly self was starting to shine through again.

Krueger held his daughter tight, rocking back and forth a little with her in his arms. “I’m sorry again for ruining your birthday.”

“Are you kidding me? I got to see my parents together again under the same roof,” she said, looking up at him. “You made my birthday!” She tiptoed up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Ich liebe dich, Papa,” she said.

“I love you too, Victoria.” He opened the door again for her to sit next to her mother, and closed it behind her. Then walked up to the passenger of the car—Henry Everett—to shake his hand.

“I’ll have a crew clean the house up,” Everett said. “When your girls come back it’ll be like nothing happened.”

“Thank you again for this, Henry,” Krueger said.

“Of course, Milo. I’m happy to help you.” The older man returned to the passenger side door. “Come by Pharaohs some time, I’d like your expertise on something we’re doing.”

“Just let me know the next time you’re there,” Krueger said.

Everett gave Krueger a casual salute and a smile before opening the passenger side door and entering the vehicle.

Krueger watched the SUV head north toward Linden Boulevard, keeping his eyes on its tail lights before they dissolved into the numerous indistinguishable glints in the distance. Then he turned his wrist upward to check his watch and confirm he still had time to spare.

He retrieved his smartphone and dialed Khai’s number. “Elizabeth, it’s me,” he said as soon as she answered. He started for his car two blocks away.

“Milo,” she sighed, “thank God… are Emma and your daughter okay?”

“They are. Henry’s taking them out east for a few days, they’ll be out of danger.”

“That’s great to hear… was Seza there?”

“She was,” Krueger confirmed. “She was actually helping me.”

In his mind’s eye he could see Khai’s inquisitive look. “No kidding,” she said.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “She eliminated two of them, and confirmed it was Simon who had sent her after Orham at the cabin.”

“Did she happen to hand you proof of that?”

“She did. An mp3 recording of her conversation with him, and possibly more.”

Khai was quiet for a while. “If only I could spend an hour inside that woman’s head,” she mused.

“Are you sure you’d want that?” Krueger said.

“No, I guess not,” she chuckled. “I’m petrified of what’s rolling around in there.”

“That makes two of us,” Krueger noted. “I’ll scan the recorder for more information and send you what I find.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Khai said. “I’ll talk to you soon, Milo.”

“Good night, Elizabeth.” Krueger ended the call, and remembered there was something she wanted to tell him earlier that day. He didn’t stress it; he figured if it was important, she would let him know some other day.

~~~~

Khai sat in front of her laptop late that night, in her robe and satin nightgown as she listened again to the audio files Krueger emailed her. One was the conversation Seza had with Simon over the phone mere hours ago which—while damning for its own set of reasons—wasn’t enough to build an ironclad case against him. The other she played again and again, tying to make more sense of it.

“This only works if you’re willing to play, Mr. Wells,” one distorted voice said. “Think of me as Odin; I keep a number of ravens in my employ, and those ravens go out into the world and fetch information which I hoard, and sometimes forward to interested parties.” She recognized the filter and speech pattern—this was Orham talking. Who knew how old the recording was?

“For a price, of course,” Simon’s voice replied.

“That’s right, for a price. Of course… Consider it an investment in what you’re trying to accomplish.”

“I just don’t want it traced back to me.”

“Trust me, the information I get is scrubbed six times before I even see it. No sources ever in my line of work. You can wash your hands of this once your part is over, but if this scheme of yours is going to work, you need to tell my ravens where to go.”

Simon sighed audibly. “And you’re sure this’ll work?”

“Trust me, Mr. Wells. At the end of all of this, you’ll be sitting on top of the kingdom.”

Khai could infer what it all meant, but without something black-and-white she was ultimately left to speculate. And she knew she couldn’t go back to Isaac Hayden with mere circumstantial evidence. She resolved to leave it be for the night, and forwarded the audio samples to herself so she would see them at her desk in the morning.

She headed up the spiral stairs to the bathroom to wash up before continuing to her bed. She undid her robe and folded it over the back of a chair, then rested her glasses next to her clock radio and slipped under the sheets, lying on her side and curling her knees close to her chest as she tried to quiet her mind long enough to drift to sleep.

Khai ate lunch at her desk the following afternoon, Friday, giving her plenty of time to reflect on what she knew and what she theorized. Thanks to Seza she now knew with certainty that Orham and Simon were in contact, and that they discussed some plan he had—for what they didn’t say, and she was free to hypothesize, but wasn’t about to confront the man over an educated guess.

But a timely email from her Brooklyn contact eliminated the need to guess. She scanned the attached, decrypted files and found correspondence from Simon’s desk to Orham dated three years ago confirming what they spoke about and detailing a plan to forward a list of all the Partners and their subordinates. He finished it with, your birds can take care of the rest.

Khai sat back in her chair, shaking her head in astonished disappointment as she put all the pieces together. Simon contacted Orham to spy on the Partners and their subordinates, setting him up to compile a list of every illegal action they’ve ever taken and from where. When the list was complete, it would be forwarded to interested parties—be they federal authorities, the Company, someone else—and provide them with a blueprint and step-by-step guide to dismantle the organization, conveniently leaving Simon alone as the last one standing to pick up the pieces and start anew, at the head of his own national enterprise.

But Simon underestimated Orham’s ambition, and when the Branch began leaking secrets, he had to look outside for help. Unfortunately for him, the help he hired was too thorough, and very nearly dug up his once-buried skeletons. He had to act quickly and decisively to stop the leaks from shining a light on his schemes so he looked again to the private sector for a secret weapon of sorts, without the knowledge or blessing of the Partners, to torch the project and hopefully eliminate the ones who were on to him. He hadn’t counted on that secret weapon turning against him, however.

And now that she has, the game was over. Khai knew everything.

“You actually went and did it,” she said to herself. She queued up the documents for print. “You son of a bitch…”

Khai stepped out of her office, documents in hand, and walked past Danielle’s desk toward the conference room.

“Miss Khai,” Danielle tried to stop her, “he’s in a meeting right now—”

“This is urgent, Danielle,” Khai replied, “I think he’ll forgive the intrusion.”

Khai stepped through the hallway and into the conference room, where Simon sat with C.J. Silvio and two others. She strode up to the desk.

“You three,” she ordered, “Leave.”

Silvio looked up at her from behind his sunglasses, and over to Simon sitting across from him.

“That wasn’t a request,” she repeated.

They heard it in her voice—Khai was serious. The three of them sheepishly got up out of their chairs and left Simon alone with her.

“You want to tell me what this is about?” Simon asked.

“It’s about you,” she said, holding up the printed correspondence. “And your deal with Orham.” She placed the sheets of paper on his desk and slid them in front of him. “Did you really think somebody wouldn’t find out?”

“Find out about what, what is this?”

“You know exactly what that is..! It’s why you hired Nomad to get rid of Orham and put Milo in a position to have him killed. I’ve been on to you for literal days,” she commented, “don’t think you can pull that shit.” Khai ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled, turning and taking a few steps away from him to compose herself again. “Honestly, Simon,” she continued, placing her hands on her hips. “You were going to betray them? Give them up to put yourself ahead?”

Simon’s expression flattened as he sighed and hunched over his desk, clasping his hands together on his desktop. “There’s a lot you don’t know,” he said, looking away from her.

“I know enough,” she replied, looking back at him. “I know that conversation you tried to hide from me speaks volumes to who you are as a person,” she noted, gesturing the printed message. “I know you should be ashamed of yourself, I know your father would be ashamed of you… and I know the Partners won’t let this go.”

Simon looked back up at her at her mention of them. “Let’s not get crazy,” he said. “Orham’s gone, he’s not a threat anymore. So you don’t need to take this to them.”

“We’ll let Isaac Hayden be the judge of that,” she countered. “Good day, Simon.” With that Khai turned and left the conference room to head back to her office, gather her belongings, and leave the building.

Simon sat alone in the conference room, his elbows on his desk top and hands together in front of his mouth as he considered everything that happened over the past few weeks, and everything that could still happen.

Danielle peered her head around the corner of the conference room door. “Is everything alright, Mr. Wells?”

Simon nodded absentmindedly. “It’s fine,” he said. He looked up away from his hands at her. “Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? We’re closing early today.”

Danielle blinked. “Uh, sure. Okay.”

“Don’t wait for me,” he noted. “I’ll be right behind you, I just need to make some calls.”

“Sure,” Danielle said. “See you later, Mr. Wells.”

“Have a good one, Danielle. Enjoy your weekend.” When she was gone. Simon took a deep breath and unlocked his desk drawer to retrieve a handwritten note with a phone number to dial in case of emergency. He picked his handset up off the cradle and dialed the number.

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gaycrouton · 6 years

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Nebraska Nice - 50 States of Sex

Author’s Note: Hey! This is my submission for the “50 States of Sex Challange” created by @viceversawrites and @softnow on Tumblr. My state was Nebraska and I hope I did it justice!

He felt bad, he really did. What was supposed to be a simple stakeout turned into him and Scully sitting outside for hours in record breaking heat. They were posing as a couple on a picnic; weapons, handcuffs, and IDs loaded in the basket as they waited for someone suspicious to emerge from the cornfield. It had been reported that a man was walking through the fields under the guise of detasseling, but was actually injecting the corn with harmful pesticides.

He figured it’d be simple enough, the detasseling crew usually got out at noon, so he and Scully would be waiting there to get him away from the prying eyes of the crowd, hopefully catching him in the act. He told her to wear what would appear to be ‘casual date’ clothes in case he saw them before it was time to catch him. So she wore a spaghetti strap sundress as he wore one of his button ups while they sat on a hill overlooking the field.

It was fun at first, this impromptu date with Scully, she even teased him that this was more romantic than their normal dates. They caught sight of the man almost immediately, but then they lost him. He was adamant he’d emerge, so they sat there and waited.

And waited.

After the first hour Scully put her hair up as sweat beaded along her forehead and neck, Mulder had no doubts his shirt was probably damp in a few places. As he watched her raise her arms to tuck auburn hair into a rubber band, he noticed an unusual flush to her skin. That should have given it away, but he was too busy enjoying seeing so much casual Scully-skin to realize. Even an hour later when he watched her scan the field, admiring her newly revealed freckles adorning the bridge of her nose, he didn’t notice.

It finally struck him when she itched her back, shifting her spaghetti strap and revealing a sliver of pale, porcelain skin; Scully was getting an atrociously bad sunburn. He didn’t really know what to say. There wasn’t really anything they could do about it in that moment, and he didn’t really want her to be mad at him in that moment, they were having such a good time. Retrospectively, he wanted to smack himself, but he just continued flirting with her as they watched the cornfield. They stayed out in the sun for another hour, practically pouring sweat, and that wasn’t even the worst part.

Around three thirty, they finally saw a shady man appear. They slowly made there way to him as he packed up his bag, “Excuse me, are you Jeremiah Morgan?”

The man whipped around, revealing all the pesticides in his bag, before throwing it at them and running into the field. They both grabbed their guns and ran into the field, not immediately realizing that wasn’t the brightest thing to do. Mulder had the advantage of being a bit taller than the corn was at this stage of growth, so he could see the man’s trail as he ran. Eventually, he caught up with him when they burst out the other side of the field, tackling him to the ground.

He eased up on his knees and got his handcuffs out of his back pockets. “Jeremiah Morgan, you are under arrest for damaging private property and endangering public health. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in-” Mulder trailed off as he noticed red lashes along his forearms. He pulled Morgan up to his feet and saw the man was untouched, being he was covered in detasseling gear.

The man caught him as he examined the other part of his arm, “What? Ya run full force through a corn field with no protective gear on, and ya didn’t expect ta git corn rash?” the man drawled.

“What’s corn rash?” Mulder asked curiously, seeing that some areas looked like a rash whereas others looked like little cuts and abrasions.

Morgan shook his head as if he just asked the dumbest question in the world, “It’s a rash of sorts that happen when bare skin rubs against the harsh corn leaves. Or if yer an idiot and run through the field. Count yer blessin’s, at least you weren’t the short lil thang wearing a purty little dress.”

Fuck, Scully.

He followed Morgan’s amused gaze and saw her standing at the outer edge of the cornfield, embellished with a vicious sunburn and corn rash covering every area of her body. Her sundress left her arms and a good portion of her neck, chest, and back bare and it only came down to mid thigh, leaving her sandal-clad legs completely exposed. She must’ve seen Mulder had it handled, because she was focused on looking at the full situation of her condition, not yet seeing she had a few cuts on her face. God, he really felt horrible.

After everything was said and done- Morgan handed off to the local P.D, a trip to a local Farm and Fleet for Aloe Vera and Benadryl Itch Cream, a thousand apologies tumbled out of Mulder’s mouth- they were finally stumbling into their motel room hours later. They always rented two hotel rooms, just to avoid suspicion, but they’d been sharing a room ever since they got together and nothing made him happier.

“The Corn State can kiss my ass,” Scully grumbled, kicking her shoes off begrudgingly.

“Actually, Iowa’s the corn state,” at her glare he added, “But yeah, fuck Nebraska.”

She laughed lightly at his willingness to please her. “Thank god it’s not Iowa, remember that broken shower? We were dirty the whole trip,” she recalled, grimacing as she tried to raise the dress over her sore body.

“Hey,” he cooed, making his way around the bed to help her. She dropped her arms and was pliant to his touch as he slowly unzipped the back of her dress, inching close to her ear to murmur, “I happen to remember just how dirty we got in that motel. As I recall, you seemed to really enjoy it.”

He eased her straps gently down her shoulders and lowered the dress to her ankles, helping her step out of it so she was left in just her little cotton underwear. Only Scully could make Fruit of the Loom look sexy. “While that may be true, if I can’t take a bath in the next two minutes I’m seriously going to cry,” he chuckled, stepping out of her underwear. “Ah, Mulder!” she cried, giggling as he cradled her in his arms and walked to the bathroom.

“I simply can’t let that happen,” he exclaimed in mock gallantry, bending down so he could snag a plastic bag from the bed.

He discarded the bag in the sink and set Scully down on the lip of the bathtub, bending down to adjust the water and let it fill up a bit. “Mulder,” she laughed, “I’m sunburned, not incapacitated. I think I can manage.”

He pivoted on his knees so he was looking up at her cherry red face, holding back a frown when he saw a lash on her cheekbone and on her forehead. He grabbed her hands in his and kissed them gently, resing them on her bent knees as he pled, “Scully, I feel really guilty. Because of my poor planning, you look like a lobster. An attractive one, but a lobster nonetheless. Not only that, but you got some hellish Midwestern corn lashing. Please let me take care of you. You’re always so strong, please let me help you for once.”

Scully regarded him with a sweet smile as he spoke and, when he was finished, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Mulder,” she whispered as she broke away. “You help me more than you could possibly imagine, and for the thousandth time, I don’t blame you. In fact, aside from the pain, I had a really nice time today. But, yes, you can take care of me in whatever way you see fit,” she added suggestively.

He scooped her up in his arms again before slowly lowering her into the tub, ignoring the jolt of arousal her throaty moan of relief caused. He stood up and watched her snuggle down into the water with closed eyes, a content smile playing on her lips. She looked beautiful as ever, but he had to admit, she looked pretty funny with her pale torso and flaming appendages.

He turned around and got some surprises out of the bag. “What’s that?” Scully murmured from behind him, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

He pulled out a bag of Epsom salts and poured them into the bath, swishing his hand around in the water until it became milky and bubbly. “Well, while you were in the pharmacy, I picked up a few other essentials.”

“Pray tell.”

“I got some Epsom salts, for your bath,” he said, holding up the empty bag before tossing it in the corner.

“Mmm,” she hummed appreciatively, swishing her arms in the water so the bubbles danced over her creamy breasts.

He dragged his eyes away from the erotic sight, clearing his throat as he pulled his next suprise out. “I bought some honey vanilla candles,” he informed as he lit them, placing them on various ledges along the bathroom until her skin was illuminated by the candles glow and the faint aroma permeated the air.

“Very nice,” she cooed appreciatively.

“Aaaand, last but not least,” there was a loud pop and Scully raised her head a little bit to see what he was doing. “A mini bottle of champagne to help you relax,” he laughed as he poured it into a ninety-nine cent, plastic champagne flute he bought.

“Mulder, you really didn’t have to do all this,” she smiled, accepting the champagne from him.

He leaned in over the bath and kissed her, “I know, but you deserve it.” A shy smile tugged on her lips and she looked away, taking a drink of her champagne. He did that to her all the time now, showing her love and telling her it was what she deserved. Scully was so hard on herself, and, to him, she deserved the world. Especially after all it had put her through. She was better at accepting it now, and he wasn’t sure if it was her realizing she deserved the best, or her being comfortable enough with him to know she didn’t have to put up her strong defenses and allowing him to treasure her. He hoped it was both.

She relaxed into the tub and he walked out to grab her toiletry bag. He grabbed her body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and a towel before returning to her. He got on his knees behind her head, grabbed a plastic cup from the counter, and started pouring water through her hair, getting it wet before he started washing her hair, smiling at the little sounds of pleasure she made as his fingernails scraped against her scalp.

After half an hour, the champagne was gone, his clothes were soaked, and Scully was squeaky-clean, happy as can be. He stood up and discarded his pants and shirt, leaving him in just his boxers as he grabbed a towel. He offered her his hand to help her stand up before wrapping the terry cloth gently around her, picking her up once more. This time she simply relaxed in his arm and placed little kisses on his throat, nipping playfully at his adams apple.

He was insanely hard from giving her a bath and they both damn well knew it.

He sat her down gently on the bed and he reached into the other bag to grab the various ointments. He looked between them both before realizing he’d have to consult Dr. Scully. “Hey, do you want the Aloe Vera or the itch cream? Do I put them both on?”

She let the towel flutter open on the bed, revealing her shining supple skin. From the way her nipples were protruding and the glisten that was only present on her inner thighs, she was equally as affected from their bathroom endeavour. She leaned back on the bed, resting her weight on her palms, “Aloe Vera on the burns, that hurts worst, just put the itch cream on top of my arms additionally, that’s the only area that itches uncomfortably.”

He smiled and took the plastic cap off the green bottle. He decided he’s go top to bottom and he put a small little glob on his fingers. She was looking at him with adoration as he brought the dollop to her face, rubbing it in with gentle circles across the taut red skin of her face.

He continued the same pattern on her neck, her upper chest, upper back, arms, and legs. Everywhere that was red, adding some to his own reddened face and forearms for good measure. He set the half empty bottle on the nightstand and poured a dollop of Benadryl into his palms, rubbing it between his hands before spreading it over her arms.

She watched him like a hawk the whole time, he felt her eyes on him and it didn’t help lessen his throbbing arousal. Though, neither did caressing almost every inch of her body. He took a step back and looked her over. “Did I miss anything?”

She reached her arms out in an attempt to grab him. He gave her his hand and let out a surprised yelp as she unexpectedly tugged him down, his body falling clumsily on her. Before he could say anything she wrapped her legs around him and playfully rubbed her nose against his. “Yes you did. You missed some very important areas,” she rasped huskily.

He bit back a moan as she ground her bare crotch into the tent of his pants. He could feel how hot and wet she was from the way she instantly dampened his boxers. “S-Scully,” he stammered, trying to regain a semblance of composure. “I don’t want to hurt you, you’re so burned.”

He was so focused on having an ounce of control, that it was easy for her to shift their weight so she was resting on top of him. She leaned over him and grabbed his hands, pinning them above his head and giving him a fantastic view of her tits. “Muhlder,” she moaned, drawing out his name as she rocked against him. He was so fucking hard right now, he swore all his blood was in his cock.

She leaned down so her head was a few inches away from his, so close that her breath tickled his lips, “You’ve been so good to me,” another roll of her hips. “I want to make you feel as good as you’ve made me feel.” God, he loved it when she used that tone on him. Her voice dropped lower than he imagined it could and she sounded like audible sex. She was such a seductress. He was so lucky.

She released his hands temporarily and reached between them to tug his boxers down, he knew she loved feeling his skin slap against her. He raised his hips to help her and, in a flash, his boxers were gone and she resumed her previous position. She ghosted her lips over hers in a tease, puckering them slightly but backing away when he tried to meet her, playfully darting her tongue out to lick his lips instead. “I promise, nothing will make me feel better than you fucking me.” She bent down again and spoke into his parted lips, “Can you do that for me?”

He imperceivably nodded before crashing his mouth against hers, lavishing her with a passionate kiss. His cock was trapped against her throbbing center and his abdomen. Everytime her tongue ran against his, she’d thrust her body, raking her wetness along his shaft. She lifted her head to break the kiss and she beamed down at him with swollen lips. “I love you so much,” she panted seriously. She went from temptress to adoring in a matter of moments and he felt like his heart could burst from how much he loves her.

He raised his hands to cup her face and gave her another chaste kiss on the lips, “Scully, I love you. You’re my everything.” This is another thing they did all the time; express love to each other like they were in a melodrama. What could they say? So many years of hiding meant they had a lot of affection to catch up on.

Scully smiled as she reached down in between them, grabbing his shaft and running it along her opening. He was practically writhing on the bed to keep himself from bucking inside her. In one sudden motion, she sank down on him and they both groaned in pleasure. This had been building up for hours and it was a sweet reunion.

He was glad he could at least grab her waist safely because not touching her was torture. He gripped her sides, lavishing the way her soft skin felt against his palms as her body slid up and down. She rested her hands on his chest as she used her knees to rock up and down, impaling herself on his engorged cock. She would raise herself up, so that only his head was in her, and she would gyrated her hips all the way down, continuing that several times as he panted under her.

“You have no idea how much seeing you like this turns me on,” she whimpered, trying not to lose her rhythm as she became desperate.

“Seeing me like what? Cock deep in you?” he asked wanting to hear her voice, to hear her talk more about what turns her on.

She grabbed his hands from her hips and dragged them up to her breasts, where they could be put to better use. He tweaked and pinched her nipples as she continued, “Y-yes,” her words already breaking up from their momentum, “I love see-ing your face when you’re f-fucking me. I love the way y-your muscles tense and your face contort in-ah, fuck,” she stopped as he added more pressure on her nipples, “-pleasure,” she moaned.

When you’re fucking me. Hearing her talk like that would forever be one of his favorite things and it made his cock ache even more than before. He couldn’t resist anymore and he started thrusting upwards into her. “God, yes Mulder, just like that, agh,” her tone was high pitched and breathy now, laced with desperation, and he knew she was close already.

They were thrusting against each other like their lives depended on it and all the stress of the day was worth it, being it brought them to this beautiful moment of release. He started rotating his hips and she screamed his name, her whole body quivering and shaking above his as she came. “Yeah, that’s it baby, cum for me,” he growled, holding her so she wouldn’t fall off him.

Pet names were new to them, the first time one slipped he thought he’d get a bullet in the leg, but instead got a blushing girlfriend and shy smile. “N-no. I like it,” she’d admitted in embarrassment. He didn’t realize until later that it turned her on. A badge of honor, a stake of claim. She was his and he was hers.

She was still pulsating around him when he started rubbing her clit. A whine of excitement left her lips as she continued bucking against him. He quickened up the pace, both of his hand and his dick and she was quickly chasing a second orgasm. God bless the non-existent refractory period of women. She reached a hand between them and kneaded his balls, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he cried her name.

He flicked her clit just right and she gasped, spasming once more, only this time she wasn’t alone. She collapsed on him as their bodies were wracked with ecstasy, trembling slightly against one another as they came. She nuzzled her face against his neck and kissed his thudding pulse point. Enjoying the rhythm she was responsible for creating inside his body.

She fell on her side, his cock sliding out of her, and cuddled him with sleepy enthusiasm. He hooked his foot on his boxers laying forgotten on the bed and he brought them up high enough for him to grab. He leaned away from her for a moment so he could wipe away the semen leaking out of her and onto her thighs. When she was cleaned up, he wiped their mixed arousal from his shrinking cock and abdomen, throwing the boxers in the corner when he was done.

He reached down and grabbed the blankets, bringing them up around them before turning off the bedside lamp, trying not to awaken the human tomato laying on his arm. He nuzzled closer to her and whispered, “How does your body feel?” he asked, still concerned about the toll today took on her.

“Thoroughly fucked, sated, sleepy, relaxed, and surprisingly, not painful,” she murmured against the skin of his arm, not opening her eyes. She placed a lazy kiss on his arm before mumbling, “I love you,” the last word breaking a bit as she fell into sleeps embrace.

He leaned closer and kissed her forehead, “I love you too.”

Maybe Nebraska wasn’t so bad after all.

Footnote: Detassling is a shit ass job in the midwest where you literally go out in the fields and de-tassle the corn stalks. It’s torture. Also, “Nebraska Nice” used to be one of their slogans. Hope you enjoyed!!

#50 States of Sex #The X Files #The X Files Fanfic #txf ff #msr #msr smut #msr fanfiction #msr fanfic #scully #mulder #mulder and scully #50 states of sex challange

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