Vanguard Security

by S. J. Bishop

  “Yes, really. Max. I’m gonna go clean up.” I closed the bathroom door.

  I heard her jump off the bed and come to the locked door. Then she yelled, “I bet that’s short for Maximus considering what I know about you.” Innuendo dripped off every word.

  I did not dignify that with a response. Instead, I tore a strip of clean-ish fabric off my shirt and used it to wipe at the drying blood on my abdomen. Thankfully, it was just a graze.

  After finishing the minor first aid, I allowed Vanessa the first shot at a shower. She was in and out quickly, as was I after her. When I returned to the room, she was sound asleep on top of her covers. I removed the top comforter from my own bed and placed it over her. I was asleep myself moments later, fully dressed under my sheet.

  Sometime deep in the night, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it, but it started again moments later. With one eye open, I read the caller ID and felt all the air escape my body.

  “Mr. Martin, sir. I’m sorry to call at this late hour but…” the Hospice nurse’s voice faded, my brain refusing to hear the end of that sentence.

  “Was it fast? Did she say anything?” So many questions came tumbling out of my mouth. I’m sure the woman responded, but again, I heard nothing.

  I turned to face away from Vanessa, not wanting to be heard. As the nurse explained what was to come next, Ma’s wishes and final preparations, all I could do was stare at the large, noisy air conditioner unit that stretched across the wall under the bay window. I willed myself to make no sound, focusing on my breathing and the damp spot spreading across my pillow.

  “We sent Mr. Cruz home. He was there with her until the end. It was fast, Mr. Martin,” the nurse continued. “He has her belongings.”

  Cruz. Such a great man. He was there for her when I wasn’t.

  At some point, the line went dead. Either I hung up or she did, I had no clue. I lay there, as silent as possible, reeling from the news. My mind catalogued all the ways I’d let Ma down, over the years and just in the past few months.

  I’d put her in that place, knowing it would be her last. Never mind the fact that Carmichael was the best care facility in the country. She hadn’t wanted to be away from me. I hadn’t wanted to be away from her, either, but I just couldn’t. It had been selfish. I’d spent my life’s savings putting her in the fanciest place I could find to appease myself, not her.

  And the call! I’d ignored the call from the nursing home just hours earlier. I’d never called back. I’d left Cruz there to do what I should have done myself. I’m the worst son in the world.

  I lay on my side, not daring to move, wondering how I’d find the strength to wake up tomorrow.

  28

  Vanessa

  Something woke me from a deep sleep. At first, I wasn’t sure where I was. I looked around, expecting the now familiar outline of Martin’s spare bedroom to greet me. Instead, dark, ugly wallpaper with a television bolted on an extendable arm was all I could make out. That, and the unmistakable sound of someone crying. Not a full cry – no sounds came from him, just the telltale breathing change.

  I rolled toward Martin to find him on his side, facing away from me, the thin sheet shaking with each labored breath. I went to him.

  “Martin. What’s wrong?” I felt along the outline of his sheet, expecting to feel blood from one of his wounds. He let out a low, soundless wail that I understood immediately. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

  Not waiting for a response, I climbed into the bed with him, under the sheet, and covered him with as much of myself as I could. We stayed that way for minutes, me tailoring my breathing to his, keeping him safe from the outside world in my own little way.

  Martin turned to me, not saying a word, and nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. We remained like that, intertwined, his breaths calming. Minutes later, he moaned, “Vanessa,” his voice just a whisper on my skin.

  I kissed him, softly, hesitant. First on the top of his head, then down his wet cheek, finding my way to his lips. “I’m here,” I whispered back between gentle kisses. “I’m here.”

  Martin pulled me tighter, his strong arms pressing me to him until I couldn’t breathe. But I didn’t pull away. I’d gladly suffocate right there in his arms before denying him whatever peace he needed.

  His hands released me, and I inhaled deeply. Then they found me again, this time slowly tracing a line up my thigh. With nothing more than his button-down shirt as a barrier, I raised my leg and threw it over his broad hip, pulling him to me.

  He kissed me then, harder, with need. His other hand, from behind my head, tugged at my hair. I opened my mouth to receive him, groaning with pleasure at the display of strength. I was his.

  The rogue hand beneath the sheet found its way back up my thigh, this time on the inner portion, causing my entire body to tremble. Every muscle tensed as his fingers pushed my underwear aside and found their mark. I clawed at the back of his shirt and bit his lip. “Please,” I begged.

  Rhythmically, he ground his hips into me, his fingers ready to finish the job they’d started the night before. So long ago, and yet my body reacted as if we’d never stopped.

  He pulled away just as I was about to explode, and I cried out, “No, no, no.” I felt blindly beneath the sheet for his hand, begging him with my hips to come back to me.

  “Sshh,” Martin whispered in my ear, then he kissed me gently, sucking my bottom lip, and disappeared under the covers.

  Moments later, I felt my underwear glide down my leg, and Martin’s hot breath tickling against places I’d only dreamed about. His tongue found me, gently at first, but not for long. I bucked and cried, but he held me firm, both massive hands engulfing my hips.

  In my mind, I wanted to resist, tell him that this was his night. I was here for him. But it came out in nothing more than guttural noises. I dug my fingers into his scalp and gave in.

  As the first wave washed over me, I tore at his hair and back, anything I could get a grip on. I whimpered, a bevy of colorful words spilling forth. Finally, when my senses returned, I managed a feeble, “Please.”

  Martin emerged from under the sheet and threw it off of us, panting and sweating. He lifted his shirt from my body with one swift motion, raising me off the bed with one hand as if I weighed nothing. “I need you.” His voice vibrated on my stomach as he traced kisses up my body and to my waiting lips.

  “I’m yours.” I could barely catch my breath long enough to mutter the words, but he didn’t need them. What passed between us was bigger than words. Sitting upright in Martin’s lap, I threw my head back as he suckled at my left breast, somehow knowing it was the most sensitive. “Now, please. Now.”

  The zipper that kept me from him released, and I felt the heat from his flesh on mine. Then, the moment I’d been waiting for. I felt him enter me, my body only offering the slightest resistance at his size. The earlier efforts of his tongue were now a welcomed assistance. Ever so slowly, he eased himself into me, kissing and caressing every inch of my body. We stayed like that, unmoving, allowing ourselves the triumph of finally giving in.

  I wrapped my legs around his back, still sitting in his lap, and slowly ground our hips together. Our sweat-slicked bodies writhed together. It wasn’t long before my pleasure mounted again, the gentle rocking motion becoming more frantic.

  Sensing my need, Martin lowered me onto the bed, never losing his stride. I grabbed for the headboard, but there wasn’t one. Martin took my hands in his, and I squeezed as hard as I could. Picking up the pace, he pounded into me, sending me tumbling over the edge of my ecstasy. Just as I thought I could handle no more, he called out, his drawn out ‘God’ mixing with my equally long ‘fuck’.

  He fell on top of me, panting, both of us unable to move or think.

  A few minutes later, after regaining our strength, Martin rolled over, allowing me to breathe, and kissed me softly. “You sure cuss like a sailor when you cum, Ms. Genovese.”

  “You make me cum like a porn sta
r, Mr. Martin.”

  29

  Martin

  I awoke the next morning to Vanessa straddling me, her long, unruly hair falling in my face and tickling my cheek. She kissed me, then quickly ran her tongue down my torso. Her hands and mouth engulfed my cock before I was fully conscious.

  “I must not have done a good job last night if you need to finish up today.” I moaned as her hot breath covered my full length.

  She came up for air. “You were so good last night that I’m thanking you properly.” She smiled, and my heart melted.

  “Keep that up, and your ‘you’re welcome’ will be very fast.” I lifted my hips to match her rhythm, feeling myself rise to full staff in her wet embrace.

  She mumbled something that sounded like “That’s the point.” I pulled her up, loving what she was doing but wanting the real thing.

  With that sexy smirk on her face, she climbed on top of me again, lowering herself down on me slowly. I watched in awe as she licked two of her fingers and began rubbing herself in time with my thrusts.

  The world faded away, and she rode me, raising and lowering herself the full length of my cock with every stride. The control it took not to finish before she could catch up amazed me. When she picked up speed, her legs shaking with each push, I knew release was coming.

  That’s when a knock on the door pierced our veil, and the world came rushing back.

  “I can’t stop!” she cried out. Neither can I! We came together, too late to care if death was at the door.

  Cruz called through the locked door, “Martin. Martin. Open up, man.”

  Jumping from the bed in one motion, I threw on my pants and motioned for Vanessa to run to the bathroom. She gathered her clothes quickly and ran.

  When I opened the door, Cruz met me with a hug. “I’m so sorry, man.” Then he pulled back. I was sure the scent of sex had wafted off me and assaulted him. He composed himself and entered the room.

  “My, uh, shirt’s ruined.” I pointed to the crumpled bloody shirt in the floor, trying to cover for us.

  “You OK?”

  “Yeah, looks worse than it feels right now.”

  “I bet.” He smirked but said no more about the subject.

  Vanessa came out of the bathroom, her hair smoothed down and wet. “Hey, Cruz.” She sounded overly cheerful. I didn’t dare look at her for fear of it showing on my face.

  “Good morning, Ms. Genovese.” Cruz offered her a smile. For the first time since taking this job, jealousy didn’t course through me.

  “What’s the plan?” I screwed up my eyebrows and stared at the large cloth bag that I’d just noticed in his hand. The obvious outline of money stacks could be seen through the fabric.

  “Wire transfer didn’t go through. It was blocked. We’re looking into it.”

  “So you robbed a bank?” I asked.

  “Funny. I went to your father’s,” Cruz turned toward Vanessa, “and he gave me what cash he had on hand.”

  “Thanks for everything you’ve done, Cruz.” I gave him a stiff, uneasy hug, not used to such physical displays with the men in my charge.

  “Don’t worry. We have everything covered. Word on the street is two men died at the Park Place last night. No word on whether Antony was one of them, yet. But that was some good work.” Cruz patted my back. I motioned for him to step closer so we could speak in private. Vanessa took the hint and went about digging through the bag of clothes and disappearing into the bathroom again.

  “They know about the house in Canada. How the hell are they getting this information?” I paced the floor.

  “Not sure, sir. I’ve got my guys working on it. The plate on that SUV came back to an Anderson, Christopher. We’re looking into it. There are over four hundred in the metropolitan area. In the meantime,” he looked up at me, hesitating, “you have arrangements to finalize.” Cruz handed me a folder with Ma’s name on it.

  I couldn’t move to take it, so Vanessa did. She flipped through the papers and said, “She wanted to go home. Where’s home?”

  “Caldwell, West Virginia.” I found the chair closest to the door and sat.

  Cruz chimed in. “We could secure the house, have men posted. Your mom’s house was in the middle of nowhere. We’d see ‘em coming a mile away, easily.” I could see the wheels spinning.

  Vanessa looked at me and smiled kindly. “I told you I always wanted to get away and live in a small town. Now’s my chance.”

  Not waiting for me to argue, Cruz strode toward the door. “I’ll call Ms. Wallace and make it happen. Rodriguez is downstairs with Rhonda. You’re all set. You don’t worry about anything besides getting your butt home.” With that, he closed the door quickly behind him.

  Marco showed up at the hotel a couple hours later as we prepared to leave. He’d called Vanessa and begged to see her off, which she agreed to, as long as Ophelia didn’t come with him. I took a load of things – we didn’t have much, just the money and a duffle bag of clothes that Cruz had gotten from Marco – to the car as Marco pulled up.

  I peered inside the vehicle to confirm that nobody was with him, nobody named Ophelia at least, and texted Vanessa that she could come downstairs. Moments later, she emerged from the room with a fresh t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. The sight of her stirred mixed emotions in me. I wanted to go to her, kiss her, and drag her back into the hotel room. But then I felt the presence of her trusting father beside me, and I shrank in my skin.

  “Martin, my man,” Marco hugged me tight. “I just want to thank you for saving my little princess.”

  “Just doing my job, sir.” I felt my face redden at the nickname. I’d betrayed this man’s trust.

  “You take care of her. She’s all I have left.” Tears filled the mafia boss’s eyes. I knew exactly what he meant, as I realized that she was all I had left in this world, too.

  “You have my word.”

  30

  Vanessa

  I was looking forward to the six-hour drive to Martin’s childhood home in West Virginia. Not only did I have him to myself, but we had plenty of time to get to know each other better. And I wasn’t wasting any time.

  “So, what kind of kid were you?” I asked, my hand resting beneath his on the center console.

  “A handful. Ma used to say—” he stopped.

  My heart skipped; how could I have been so thoughtless? I pulled my hand from beneath his and ran my fingers through his hair. He took a deep breath and continued, “Ma used to say that she wished I had ten kids just like me, as punishment.” He smiled at the warm memory.

  “Ten?” I laughed. “Kind of a late start,” I teased him and ruffled his hair a little.

  “Don’t you worry. I’m not looking to start a baseball team.” He turned and smiled at me. “Although…” he winked, “we’re gonna have ten acres of land that needs tendin’.” Martin put on his best southern drawl.

  “Daddy will hire someone.” I slapped him.

  We drove in silence for a while, letting the asphalt beneath the tires soothe us, changing from the flat, even land to winding mountain roads as we neared his home state.

  When we’d almost reached the state line, Martin broke the silence. “I think you’ll love it in Caldwell. Everyone knows everyone. Of course, they know each other’s business, too. But that comes with the territory.” The way he said it made me wonder how long he’d been thinking about how I’d accept his birthplace.

  “I’m sure I will. But hey, if not, you can always send me home.” I’d meant it as a joke, but seeing the look of shock on his face as it snapped around at me, I instantly regretted the words.

  “Second thoughts?”

  “Of course not. We’re going on an adventure.” I tried to change the subject, “What’s Cruz’s first name?”

  Martin thought for a minute, then laughed. “I have no earthly idea.”

  “Men.”

  We fell back into a comfortable quiet, crossing the last state line. I stared out the window, amazed at the dif
ference between D.C. and West Virginia. Some areas looked unkempt and worn down, but they had a rugged feel to them that I’d never found at home.

  We could go for miles without seeing another house, and then, a few would pop up randomly. The cities we did find, few and far between, were still less dense than home. I marveled at how people could live so far from each other. How would I manage with no human contact?

  Then I remembered I had all the human contact I needed. I ran my hand along Martin’s thigh, feeling his thick muscles tense. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Nothing.” My fingers crept deeper into his personal space.

  “I’m not a machine, woman,” he said rather loudly but with a hint of brevity in his voice.

  “I’m sure with some practice…” I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  “Well, as nice as that sounds – and believe me I’m game – we should probably not do it going up a mountain.”

  I removed my hand and made an overt pouting gesture. “Men,” I said again, and we both chuckled.

  Later, when my back and legs couldn’t take another minute, we passed a small green sign that read ‘Caldwell 19.’ Above it was a large billboard. A cartoonish looking older man’s face covered the entire real estate of the sign, complete with a white cowboy hat and cigar. The words “Anderson for Mayor” barely squeezed in below his picture.

  “Guess we need to get up on the local politics,” I said.

  “What?” Martin tried to look at the sign, but we’d already passed it.

  “How long have you been gone? Do you know any of the locals anymore?” I asked, realizing that I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

  “Ma’s lived here all her life, and so had I, until the Academy. It’s what you’d expect from a small town. Hell, the high school still had a phone booth in the parking lot last time I was here.” He thought for a moment, then added, “I guess it’s been at least five years since I’ve come back. Ma came to live with me after she got sick, and the house stayed empty. I couldn’t bring myself…” he stopped.