by Laura Acton
Jon said, “Bram, Ray, Boss, cover Loki and take him out of here. Loki, give me Lucille’s controls.”
Loki handed the controller to Jon. “Make sure Lucille gets out.”
“I will. Now go. The rabble is focusing their assault on you, Lucille will be alright.” Jon reassured Loki.
Ray, Nick, and Bram surrounded Loki then hurried out of the room as they were bombarded with pieces of hens, full hens, rice, turnips, bread crumbs, and flour. The uniformed officers converged on the angry chefs with riot shields and began to take them into custody.
Getting Lucille going, Jon followed the guys. On his way out, he noticed something odd. He stopped and checked the first culinary station. The oven still had power. Jon switched it off because the dish inside was burnt and beginning to smoke. He cracked open the stove door to release the heat so the bird wouldn’t burst into flames.
Outside Trinity Convention Center – 2:40 p.m.
As Dan leaned against the command truck resting a bit, he watched Bram, Loki, Ray, and Nick pick food off their clothes and out of their hair. He couldn’t hide his grin as Loki plucked a hen leg from the back of Ray’s vest.
Jon strode up with Lucille and handed the controls back to Loki to put the robot away. “What are you smiling about, Broderick?”
Dan’s grin increased. “Sorry. This is too funny.”
As the others groused, Jon grinned, but it died as an angry man approached Nick. Jon’s senses went on high alert, and his hand moved to his MP5 as he shifted to protect Nick whose back was to the man. “What do you want?”
At Jon’s words, Nick turned and recognized the culinary competition organizer as he marched towards him in a brisk military fashion.
“You ruined my French hen competition. You should’ve been able to remove the bomb without ruining the entire electrical system,” Ponceuses accused with a harsh and commanding tone.
Nick started to placate the man. “Mr. Ponceuses, I assure …”
“Colonel Ponceuses, retired. You shouldn’t have had to destroy the wiring,” the retired colonel stated.
Loki stepped over, not intimidated in the least. “So, you have experience with defusing bombs?”
The colonel sputtered, “No, not exactly, but I ordered munitions.”
Loki barely maintained his professional voice, but a small smirk did land on his face. “So you only know how to obtain explosives not defuse them.”
The implication was not lost on Ponceuses as he quickly went on the defensive. “I didn’t procure the explosives. I’ve been retired for ten years.”
Lexa opened the door of the command truck and led Orloff Faverolles out. Questioning him was as useful as a wooden frying pan.
“I did nothing wrong,” Orloff asserted indignantly. He held up his cuffed hands. “Release me now! I must get back inside before my dish is ruined.”
Ponceuses stated, “Today’s competition is invalid, no one submitted a completed dish. The electricity has been cut off and won’t be restored until tomorrow.”
Orloff grinned. “My entry will be complete. The power isn’t off to my oven. I’ll win by default per the rules which say if a dish isn’t presented before the end of the time a contestant is disqualified.”
Jon scrutinized Faverolles, and his gut talked to him, “You were at station one?”
“Yes,” Orloff answered.
Inspector Pope joined the group, and Jon said, “Inspector, you may want to take Mr. Faverolles in for questioning until you determine how his stove, out of all of them, is the only one which has power.”
Retired Colonel Ponceuses bellowed, “You did this? You ruined my competition! You cheated just to win!”
Perspiration beaded on Orloff’s forehead, but he remained silent. His plan backfired. It would’ve worked if some birdbrain hadn’t found his little pressure cooker bomb and called the police.
Gripping Faverolles’ arm, Pope propelled him toward a cruiser. “You will come with me, sir. We’ll have a little talk downtown.”
Ponceuses followed Pope yelling at Faverolles.
Mother Hens
12
December 14
TRF HQ – Rooftop – 3:45 p.m.
Alpha Team returned to headquarters about fifteen minutes ago after wrapping up the call. Loki, Bram, Ray, and Nick all went to take quick showers and change into clean uniforms. Dan headed up to the roof. His chest still ached from running after Faverolles, but he wasn’t about to say anything. Lexa offered pain meds and luckily didn’t make a scene when he turned her down. Dan had put up with all the mother-hens he could stand today. Only three and a quarter more hours to get through then I can rest and relax.
Jon opened the rooftop door and strode over to Dan. His tone light, he said, “You ran after a subject. How’s your chest feeling?”
Dan maintained his outward gaze, wanting to ignore Jon. He bit back the nasty retort and deflected, “I can’t believe those chefs were so crazy. Pelting Loki with poultry. Funny the Colonel’s name, Ponceuses, is French for Sanders. Colonel Sanders, get it? And Orloff and Faverolles are both types of chickens. I think this should go on the weirdest calls list.”
Jon chuckled. “Definitely. It is right up there with the groin, gangs, guns, gumballs, glass, and gluteus maximus all in one day.”
“Don’t remind me,” Dan said and shivered.
“Inside now. Too cold for you to be out here.”
Dan blew out a breath in a rush. “Stop, Jon. Just stop. I can look out for my own needs. I don’t need a mother hen pecking at me all day.”
Jon pushed down the guilt he still felt. “Sorry, Dano, it’s just that I—”
Dan swiftly interrupted, “It wasn’t your fault. I’m still here. Sure, taking one in the vest hurts a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Not wanting to move into a full-blown argument, Jon said, “Yeah, well, alright. But you still need to come inside. We’re ready to debrief,” Jon stated.
Dan gave Jon a quick nod and turned to follow him down.
TRF HQ – Loki’s Tech Room – 6:30 p.m.
“Yeah, that one. Perfect!” Dan said as he chuckled.
“They’re not gonna like it.” Loki’s mischievous grin grew.
Dan sat back and swung back and forth on the stool. “That’s okay. I’m not too fond of your turtle dove thing or the frozen sniper picture.”
Hitting the print button, Loki said, “How many copies?”
“Five should be enough. One for each of them, one for the TRF tree, and one for me.”
“You?” Loki cocked his head at Dan.
“Just print it. Shift is almost over. I want to give it to them before we leave,” Dan answered without explaining why he wanted a copy.
“You riding your bike home?” Loki gathered the printed sheets.
Dan shook his head. “Nah. Remember I told you Jim would pick me up.”
“Oh, yeah. You should really consider getting a truck or a car. For the winter at least.”
“Not you too!” Dan tapped the printout. “Do I need to add you to the mother hen list?”
Loki chuckled. “No. Though I do care, Dan.”
“I know. Thanks. And I actually contemplated buying a small used SUV or truck. Though, I’m going to wait until after the new year.”
A broad grin broke out on Loki’s face. “If you want a deal, my sister Gina’s husband has a brother-in-law whose cousin’s father owns a used car lot.”
Dan chuckled at the five degrees of separation. “We’ll see.”
TRF HQ – Dispatcher’s Desk – 7:10 p.m.
Dan waited at the desk for the team to finish changing and for Jim to arrive to pick him up for dinner.
Tia finished her pass down to Peter then grabbed her purse and insulated bag from the drawer. Unzipping it, she withdrew the cookie she packed as part of her lunch. Tia ended up having lasagna with the team, but the salad she brought today would keep until tomorrow.
She nibbled on the caramel and fudge short
bread. It was delicious. “Dan, how did you know this is my favorite cookie?”
Dan gave her a lopsided grin. “Guessed.”
“How?”
“You dip shortbread into your chocolate caramel lattes.”
Tia smiled. Dan was observant. “Make sure and thank your mom for me. They’re scrumptious. I can’t believe the two of you made so many different kinds of cookies. The guys from the other teams have been enjoying the gingerbread men decorated like TRF officers. That was clever.”
“My mom’s idea and I will tell her thanks again. I’m glad you like them. This is the first year in a long time I’ve celebrated Christmas. I’m enjoying it.”
Tia was floored at what Dan openly shared with her. She often felt like a bartender because they often revealed things to her they didn’t tell anyone else. Tia liked it because it helped her connect with all the team members.
As the rest of the team exited the locker rooms as a group, Dan pushed off the desk. He cleared his throat gaining their attention. “I have a little something for Jon, Ray, and Boss in the spirit of the last two days. Loki helped me.”
Nick, Jon, and Ray peered at one another and then at Dan.
Grinning Dan handed a piece of paper to each of them.
Lexa glimpsed the one in Ray’s hand and covered her mouth as a laugh bubbled out.
Bram peeked over Jon’s shoulder, and he blurted, “Perfect!”
Nick only stared, flabbergasted.
Ray folded the picture as a smile lit his eyes. Glad Dan has a sense of humor. Though if he and Loki team up we’ll be in for some amusing pranks.
Jon cocked an eyebrow. “Dano, you know as TL I can make your life hell.”
Dan’s lopsided grin appeared. “Bring it on. I can take it. I don’t need to be mother-henned.”
Jon glanced back down at the paper which displayed three hens dressed in what could only be described as old lady clothing, and the heads were replaced with photos of himself, Nick, and Ray.
Dan waved his hand in the air and said, “A one, a two, a three.” He and Loki sang together, “On the third day of Christmas, Alpha Team gave to me, three mother hens, two lovey-dovies, and a frozen sniper in a pear tree.”
Jim strolled in just as the team burst into laughter. Marvelous to see Dan happy and laughing.
Jim’s Apartment – 7:40 p.m.
Heather rushed forward, having not seen Dan in months. Her arms wrapped around him as she hugged him tightly. “So happy you’re here. Been too long, Dantastic! I’m so glad you came to dinner.” Heather squeezed harder.
Dan winced but hugged Heather in return. Her greeting full of warmth and he didn’t want to let on that her embrace caused him discomfort.
On the ride home, Jim realized something was up with Dan. Outwardly he looked well if a bit thinner. He was aware the investigation into his time in Special Forces took a toll on his brother, but the way Dan moved bespoke pain. He interrupted Heather’s death grip saying, “You’re gonna love dinner.”
Releasing Dan, Heather stepped back, her face beaming. “I worked very hard recreating a dish I saw on a cooking competition show.”
“I’m sure I will. Smells wonderful.”
Jim inclined his head towards the bedroom. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
Heather scrunched up her face wondering what Jim wanted Dan to see, but before she could say anything the timer buzzed in the kitchen. She hurried to go remove dinner from the oven.
Dan followed Jim to the room and was not surprised when Jim closed the door and rounded on him. He expected this since the drive over.
Assessing eyes raked over Dan. “Health status.”
Softly sighing, Dan walked over to the bed and unzipped his coat, knowing what would come next. “I’ll give you the short version. My chest muscles ache. I got hit in the vest at close range yesterday.”
“Hit?”
Dan started unbuttoning his shirt. “Shot. 9mm. Hell of a lot of bruising. Running after a subject today aggravated my muscles and increased the pain.”
Jim moved forward as Dan lifted his t-shirt. “Colorful. Damn. You’re not back two full days, and you get shot! This isn’t Afghanistan, and this shit shouldn’t be happening to you. Did Dr. Fraser check you out?”
“No. Some overworked doctor.”
“X-rays taken?”
“Yeah, nothing cracked.”
“I’d tell you to take a few days off, but I know you too damned well. You’re laying off upper body workouts I assume.”
“Yes. Jon, Ray, and Boss were rather annoying today. I swear Jon thinks I can’t do my job. Spent the day biting my tongue.”
Jim probed and checked Dan’s range of motion, noting the slight grimaces. “I doubt Jon believes you can’t do your job.”
“You weren’t there. Treated me like glass in sparring. TRF hand-to-hand isn’t easy, but it isn’t even close to how hard we trained with Ripsaw.”
Conceding that point, Jim said, “Got to know your entire team pretty well when you were in a coma. They all care about you and Jon is protective like Blaze. He has a duty to keep the whole team safe. Cut him some slack.”
“I did. You have no clue how much I wanted to slam him to the ground like Ripsaw used to do to us. Figured I might piss him off enough to come at me, but I didn’t want to hurt him or alienate the team.”
Jim stepped back. “I can understand that, and I’m glad you didn’t. I realize trusting people is difficult for you, but Blaze, Winds, and I all witnessed how Jon and the rest of your team behaved in the ravine, at the hospital, at the church, and while you hung on for dear life. If Brody were here, he’d tell you that you can trust them.”
Dan changed the subject. “So what’s your verdict?”
Damn deflection, Dan relies on that when he is uncomfortable with a topic. Though, Dan will come around when he is ready. He decided to lay off for tonight. Jim said, “Well, I’m going to tell you what you already know.”
Dan rolled his eyes yet listened, trusting Jim without question.
“Take it easy for a few days. Avoid running and anything which will strain your muscles.”
“Kind of hard to do with my job.” Dan lowered his t-shirt and slipped on his button-down shirt.
“I understand, but if you don’t, you might end up on medical leave. How’s your pain?”
“Manageable mostly but edging up steadily.”
“What did the doctor prescribe for you?”
“Nothing. As I said, he was busy, and I wanted to leave. Besides, Lexa was there, and I didn’t want to ask in front of her.” Dan finished buttoning up.
Jim shook his head. Dan’s insecurities keep rearing their heads. At least he’s honest with me. Small blessings. Glad I landed in Toronto instead of Vancouver near my parents. He needs someone to watch out for him still. “I’ll call Dr. Fraser and have him phone something into the pharmacy, and we can pick it up on the way back to your place tonight. If you jarred it today, tomorrow you’ll need something stronger than OTC meds.”
Dan held Jim’s gaze. “Has to be something which doesn’t impede me working. I’m not taking more time off. I’ve worked with worse pain.”
A small frown crossed Jim’s face. “Not news to me. I’m quite familiar with your capabilities, but I’m keeping my vow. You don’t need to be in pain, ever. I’ll help whenever you want—like always. They’ll be non-narcotic. Promise me to take the meds tonight so you can sleep undisturbed. And this way you’ll have some on hand if you need them while working.”
Not wanting to relent, Dan finally agreed. “I will. Thanks.” His stomach rumbled. “I’m starving even though I ate a huge lunch.”
Jim pulled out his phone. “Let me call the Doc while you go check out what Heather made for dinner. She’s aware of your appetite so you won’t leave here hungry.”
A smile lit Dan’s eyes as he exited the bedroom. He caught Jim say, “Hi Malcom, it’s me, Jim. I have a favor to ask.”
Ten min
utes later, Jim entered the small dining area to find Dan filling the glasses with water and Heather carrying out two side dishes.
Heather beamed at Jim. “Honey, can you carry in the main dish? It’s the last of what needs to be brought to the table.”
“Sure, sweetie.”
“Dan, would you like a glass of wine or a beer?” Heather asked.
“No, water is fine. I work tomorrow.”
Both Heather and Dan took their places at the dining table as Jim strolled out of the kitchen carrying a large covered serving platter. He set it down and with a flourish, lifted the lid.
Dan erupted in laughter as he stared at the dish.
Heather’s eyes widened, and she worried her lower lip as she stared incredulously at Dan. He was laughing at her offering.
Jim glared at his brother when he caught a glimpse of Heather’s face. His protectiveness of his soon to be wife prompted Jim to demand harshly, “Explain yourself now, Broderick!”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Dan said between laughs, as he tried to stop his chuckles. “I’m not mocking your cooking, Heather. Truly I’m not.”
Heather relaxed. According to Jim, Dan didn’t lie, and she was now extremely curious what caused him to laugh so heartily.
Jim set the lid down and took a seat wondering if Dan’s mind had finally snapped. “So what is so damned hysterical?”
Taking several breaths as his mirth died down a bit, Dan pointed to the dish. “Three French hens!” He then went on to explain the call at the Trinity Convention Center. By the time he was done, all three were laughing.
As Heather carved up one of the three roasted hens, she asked, “What did you say the name of the chef was who rigged the bomb?”
“Orloff Faverolles.”
Heather began giggling. “Oh, my gosh. This is his recipe! He lost the competition on the show, but the roasted hen recipe sounded delicious.”