Double Down

by MB Austin

  “Maji? You okay? I thought you were working,” Bubbles said in a rush. Hello was never her style. “Not that I’m not glad to hear from you. Wait, let me go outside. I’m at work.”

  “Ooh, sorry. You know what, this was a bad idea. I’ll drop you an email.”

  “No,” Bubbles blurted. “Don’t go. We’ve barely talked since Christmas and you’re going silent again, aren’t you?”

  Maji blew out a breath. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It was so great to see you.” She didn’t need to say the rest out loud. Bubbles had given up her first Christmas with her newlywed husband’s family to visit her at Landstuhl. And given Maji the strength to keep going. “But I had a not-safe-for-work kind of question.”

  Bubbles laughed. “My favorite kind. Don’t want to discuss your sex life with Ava, huh? She’s doing great, by the way. Chemo sucks, but she’s a trouper.”

  “Thanks, Bubs. For everything. I know I should be there—”

  “Can it. Best thing you can do for Ava is get your head back together and come home smiling. Speaking of which…sex, right? You forgot what goes where.”

  Maji laughed despite herself. “As if. But seriously.” Maji swallowed. “I get scared. I mean, I freeze and stuff. I can’t just relax and have fun.”

  “Oh, honey. Are you doing the watching yourself from the ceiling thing?”

  “Sort of.” Bubbles had told her what that was like, when they were teens and she tried dating after years of sexual abuse. “But also, I get angry. Or something like it. Like if I feel good, it’s too intense and it crosses over to…aggression. And God knows, I don’t want to hurt this woman.”

  “You won’t, Maj. I know you.” Bubbles sighed. “But that does suck. And you’re going to hate this, but…it takes time. Why do you think I married Rey? The man’s a fucking saint. No pun intended.”

  “So what do I do tonight? She’s expecting a hookup, not a therapy session.”

  Bubbles laughed. “Tonight? Wait—tell me you’re not locked in the bathroom, calling me for advice.”

  “No. I’m picking out what to wear.” Maji opted not to tell Bubbles about the uniform and what Reimi wanted her to wear under it. That was too much, even for her best friend.

  “Okeydoke then,” Bubbles said. “Just try. Stop when you can’t handle the fun anymore. If she’s nice, she’ll understand. If she’s not, you didn’t miss anything anyway.”

  “Right, okay. I can do that. Hey, tell—”

  There was a loud knock at Maji’s door.

  “Ava and Hannah that you love them. Got it. Go let your date in. Love you,” Bubbles said and hung up. She was never big on good-byes.

  * * *

  Maji followed Dave down the hall to Romero’s room.

  “I noticed the uniform on your bed,” Dave said. “You haven’t given it back?”

  Maji shrugged. “Could come in handy.”

  “I suppose. Better pack it up with the rest of your gear. We’re moving to rooms by Erlea’s suite tomorrow.”

  Maji sat at Romero’s desk and viewed the security video on his laptop. The guy on the grainy images looked like any member of the hotel’s facilities crew, in coveralls with the Gran Balearico logo and a photo ID clipped to his belt. He entered the utility closet with a key card and exited with a toolbox. “If I saw him during my security review, he just blended in,” Maji told them. “Who is he?”

  “We believe this is Arturo Echeverra.”

  Daddy. “He doesn’t look much like his old self. Not even like the age progressions or other mockups.” The digital renderings showed Echeverra with glasses, facial hair, bald, semibald, and all the permutations to help them spot the fugitive. “That’s a talented makeover.”

  “Yes. There is a plastic surgeon here on the island, a Dr. Lyttleton. For a price he will perform facial reconstruction without any official paperwork.”

  Great. The guy she had picked to erase the last physical reminder of Fallujah was a scumbag. “You want me to get into his office, take a look at his files?”

  “Nothing that involved,” Dave replied. “We’ll hack him if you can get in and set the connection up for us.”

  Romero assessed her. “Will he buy it if you show up as Erlea? He might be able to tell the difference. And we’d rather not tip him off.”

  “Well, I’ll have to be convincing,” Maji said. “Give me a few days to get the hang of the double gig before you send me in.” She stood to leave.

  “We have one more tape,” Romero said, cuing it up as she sank back down.

  Maji watched the same guy let himself into a hotel suite, exiting barely a moment later. “Still no. He does a pretty good job of not looking at the cameras.” If he had a uniform, badge, and card, surely he knew about those, too.

  “Yep.” Dave gave her a wry look. “Want to see what he left in Nigel’s suite?”

  Maji looked at the photocopy of the note and envelope. She assumed the original was being fingerprinted and checked for traces of DNA. The envelope was addressed to Erlea, with a hand-drawn bee by the name. The note inside contained a few lines of verse.

  Your forgiveness is too much to ask.

  But to see you again would be a peek at heaven.

  If only my tears could wash away my sins like the waves on the shore.

  “Doesn’t sound like a threat,” Maji noted. “But definitely coded. And if it’s really from long-lost Daddy, two questions: One, why is it addressed to Erlea, rather than to Beatriz? And two, why is it in Spanish rather than Catalan?”

  “It’s a famous poem,” Romero explained. “Every child in Spain learns it. Echeverra may have helped her memorize it to recite at school.”

  “And maybe Erlea can help with the name question,” Dave said. “Plus a few more.”

  * * *

  Maji jogged back to her room and found Reimi standing in the hallway, with her hair down and in a figure-hugging dress.

  Reimi gave her an uncharacteristically shy look. “Did you change your mind?”

  Maji shook her head. “I had an event, lost track of time. You want a rain check?”

  “No. I want you to change. I brought the secret ingredients for our special recipe,” Reimi replied, drawing Maji close and giving her a lingering kiss.

  The embrace pressed Reimi’s bag against Maji’s belly, and she felt a telling shape—no, more than one. “Let’s go inside.” She let Reimi into her room and asked, “You keep your toys here at work?”

  “No, silly. I keep them in a locked compartment in my moto, underneath the saddle.”

  Maji smiled at the idea of Reimi commuting with sex toys literally under her motorcycle seat. “Clever. What kind of bike do you ride?”

  “A Capri 150. Looks like a Vespa, but without the price tag.”

  “Fun. I have a bike at home. It’s electric.” Maji fished for something else to say. “You want a glass of wine or something?”

  “God, yes. And to get out of these.” Reimi perched on the edge of the bed and slipped her shoes off with a sigh.

  “May I?” Maji asked, reaching for one foot but not touching it.

  Reimi smiled up at her. “You are such a gentleman, even in that dress. I like that you ask me. Keep doing that.” She spotted the uniform hanging nearby. “Why don’t you get changed, and I’ll pour the wine?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” If Reimi was willing to lead, she could at least try to follow. She gathered up the pants and shirt, then thought about the accessories. “Do you want me to wear the binder?”

  Reimi eyed Maji’s chest. “Can you make it easy to take off?”

  “Yes, ma’am. How about the…” Maji brushed one finger over her upper lip.

  “No. Mustaches tickle.” Reimi held out her bag for Maji to take. “Do you know how to dress yourself with this?”

  Maji nodded, swallowing. “I’ve had a little practice. But if I get it wrong, promise not to laugh.”

  “Oh no, I will only laugh tonight if you please me very much. And I think you do want to pleas
e me.”

  Damn, but she did. Maji crouched low and brought one foot up to press her lips into the sole. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  Closed in the bathroom, Maji peeled off her dress without giving herself time to think. She opened the bag and found a harness, a handful of condoms, and not one but two very colorful dildos. The double-ender she laid by the sink, not ready for that tonight. Baby steps. She laughed at herself. If she managed to show Reimi a good time, surely that counted as some kind of leap.

  “Red or white for you?” Reimi asked through the door.

  “Just water, please.”

  In the silence that followed, Maji suited up. She didn’t really buy the image in the mirror, despite her hair tucked up under the cap and the visible bulge by the trouser fly. In fact, she felt kind of stupid. But it’s not about you, Rios. Get over yourself. She stood up taller, gave herself a stern nod, and walked out to greet the woman she meant to please.

  Reimi’s kisses tasted like red wine, earthy with a hint of cherries, and she moaned as she pressed herself against Maji’s groin. So far, so good.

  Maji’s pulse pounded as the kiss deepened. Maybe too good, too soon. “May I rub your feet?”

  “Is that really what you want?” Reimi countered, undulating her hips in a way that moved the strap-on in a most distracting way.

  Maji grasped Reimi’s hips firmly, holding them still. “I want to make you feel good from one end to the other. Just tell me where to start.”

  “You mean that, don’t you?” Reimi arched back to look her in the eye. She sighed. “You are so sweet.” She twisted free and sank onto the bed, pulling Maji by the hand. “Feet.”

  Maji smiled with relief. She knew how to use her hands, how to give. And she could breathe, stay oriented to this moment in time. “Scoot up and get comfy.”

  She dimmed the lights and grabbed a bottle of lotion off the bureau, then sipped her water and handed Reimi her wine.

  Reimi frowned. “I should not drink too much. I have to drive home all too soon.”

  “Have what you like. If need be, I’ll drive you home and take a cab back.”

  “If you don’t watch out, I won’t let you leave this island.” Reimi sounded wistful, as if she knew that was a feat she could never pull off.

  Maji worked her way up from Reimi’s feet to her calves and thighs, pushing her skirt up to reach the full length of her quadriceps, noting that the underwear she’d felt under the skirt earlier was gone. Maji hummed a little but didn’t solicit conversation, enjoying the simple contact.

  Reimi silently watched Maji’s hands glide and knead, patient until her torso came within reach. Then she tugged Maji’s shirttails loose and unbuttoned the uniform shirt, sliding her hands over Maji’s shoulders. “What strong hands and arms you have. Such power. You could be a brute, if you chose.”

  “That’s not a choice I can make, no.” If Reimi wanted to be handled roughly, hurt even, this night was ending with the massage.

  “No, not you. You are tender,” Reimi concurred as she slid the shirt off Maji and tugged the binder loose. She smiled as Maji shivered under her touch. “Better?”

  Maji leaned into the palms cupping her breasts and tried to reach Reimi’s lips with her own, to really connect. To leave her brain behind, finally.

  But Reimi shook her head and instead bit Maji’s neck lightly, her hands sliding down to undo the trouser belt and zipper. Arms bracketing Reimi’s shoulders to keep her weight elevated, Maji felt the air cool her bare flesh as the layers of pants and underwear bound her thighs together. As she started to twist to work them off, Reimi stopped her again, turning Maji’s face so their gazes locked.

  “Wait,” Reimi breathed, reaching between them as she lifted her hips, wrapping one leg around Maji’s hips to draw her closer. “Come inside now.”

  Okay then, done with foreplay. Maji tried to shush the internal monologue and just be present. “Tell me what you like,” she prompted.

  “Slow and deep to start,” Reimi whispered, her eyes shining.

  Maji moved her hips as slowly as she could until the base of the strap-on butted up against Reimi’s public bone. As she did so, Reimi arched her back and looked past Maji, up to the ceiling, humming. Maji lifted Reimi’s other leg and helped her wrap it around her hips, pulling them even tighter together. And then she started to make tiny circles, eliciting deeper, louder noises from Reimi as her face flushed and her eyes began to glaze. This, yes. Right now. “Yes,” she said aloud. “All for you.”

  “Oh yes. Harder now,” Reimi urged, starting to drive her pelvis back into Maji’s.

  Maji’s core tightened and she leaned back, starting to thrust in earnest. An urge swept over her to go fast, to let go and—she froze, feeling her pulse pound at her temples, the sweat prickle her back. The taste of metal filled her mouth and she swallowed hard.

  Reimi grasped her chin, looking at Maji with pleading eyes, nearly whining. “Please.”

  “Fuck.” Maji met her gaze, coming back down, finding her breath again. “Hold on to me.” In one smooth motion, she gathered Reimi to her and rolled them together until Reimi looked down at her.

  Reimi seemed surprised to be still connected, startled but not angry. “Like this?” she asked, as though being on top was novel to her. She moved experimentally, smiled. “Oh.”

  “You set the pace,” Maji assured her. She offered her hands to Reimi, who laced their fingers together, palms pressing for support. “Take what you want.”

  As Reimi rode her, gradually increasing the pace until her humming grew into guttural shouts, Maji kept her gaze glued to Reimi’s face, all her attention on her expression. Her unbridled pleasure kept Maji anchored. It was almost enough to get out of her head completely, to be nothing but sweat and breath and pulse. By the time Maji realized that Reimi wasn’t the only one approaching climax, it was too late to hold back. She reached out and pulled Reimi close, feeling more than hearing the urgent curses uttered near her ear. All the boxed-up fear and anger dissolved in a flood of endorphins. Hallelujah.

  Chapter Ten

  Maji opened the door that connected her new room to Erlea’s suite. “Does she know we have access to her?”

  “Not until we’re sure she’s not in league with Daddy,” Dave replied, laying the comm devices on the desk in Maji’s new room.

  “She might trust me more if I tell her.”

  “Let’s see how she reacts to the card first,” Dave said.

  Maji pointed across the room at the connecting doors between her room and Dave’s. “You have access to mine?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Ready if you need me.” He flipped her a second key. “And mine’s all yours, if you need out of here in a hurry.”

  “Thanks.” Should she warn him about the nightmares? “And Dave—if you hear voices, well, just me but loud…”

  “Don’t come rushing in and sing you a lullaby?” He gave a sympathetic half smile. “I won’t, if you don’t. I get a rerun now and then, too, of some days I’d rather not relive.”

  “Got it. Very often?”

  “Not anymore.” He paused. “Taking anything I should know about?”

  Maji thought about Celeste’s intervention. “They gave me pills at Landstuhl. But I weaned myself off.” Close enough.

  “Good call. I had to take ’em for a while once, and they really messed me up. What about your snoring?”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “Not what I hear.”

  “From who?”

  “Taylor.”

  Tom. She missed him and the rest of her team, the brothers she’d never wanted growing up but wouldn’t trade for anything now. “Taylor’s out of date. They fixed that when they put my nose back in place. I was overdue for a good cleanout.”

  “Alrighty then. I hear snoring, I’ll politely pretend I didn’t.” Her look didn’t deter him. “Your voice solo in English, Arabic, Russian, Spanish…and I know there’s a bunch more. Anyway, leave you alone, check in next day. Good?”<
br />
  “Good. Fine.”

  He put on his extra earnest face. “And if I hear two voices and one sounds very happy, maybe calls out your name, should I rush over then? Hypothetically speaking.”

  Hypothetical, my ass. “What room were you in last night, Dave?”

  “Terrible little room in the old wing. Walls like paper over there. I bet they’re much better over here, so long as one uses a little discretion with guests.”

  She laughed despite herself. “Fuck you. Hypothetically, pretend they’re soundproof. And try not to be jealous.”

  “Of having an in with Paragon, maybe. The single life? Nah, I don’t miss it for a second.”

  “Well, mazel tov. I’m very happy for you.”

  “Hey, I’m not knocking you. Life’s short, right? Maji, oh, Maji.” His Reimi imitation sucked. “What kind of cover name is that, anyway?”

  “Lebanese. Short for Majida El Roumi.”

  “The singer?”

  “Yeah. My grandparents were huge fans.” A consistent lie. “I use it on my traveling ID.” Paired with a truth.

  Dave shook his head. “Shit. I did three details in Beirut. If I never hear that woman again, it’ll be too soon. No offense. You sing?”

  “Not even in the shower. Dogs howl, small children cry.”

  He laughed. “No playing double onstage, then.”

  Maji closed the door behind him and flopped onto the new bed. No more guests. She twisted her back both directions, calculated the time in New York. It was so great to talk with Bubbles. She should tell her. Not the details, but at least thanks. Could she? Not if the firewall was up, like every mission before Fallujah. But she was a Reserve now. Did that change things?

  Maji opened the laptop and the secure portal that she and Hannah shared. In place of her standard screen, a message box blocked her sign in: Firewall operational. Standard protocols apply. That was it, then. No Hannah, no Ava, and no more Bubbles, until the mission was complete.