Beyond the Call of Duty

by Wendy Stone

  “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t have that much on my plate.”

  “Ah, so what was her name?” Tony chuckled, seeing Gabe’s face grow ruddy. “Teri said you probably had a blonde sucking your cock, and I’d guess by the look on your face, she was right.”

  “She was, but let’s not tell her that,” he said softly.

  “Definitely. She already thinks she knows everything. So, I need you available Friday night. Caitlyn is going out on her first date, and I want this kid checked out.”

  “Caitlyn? Isn’t she like twelve or something?”

  “Yeah, but she’s sixteen and thinks she’s all grown up.” Tony shrugged. “Just be here Friday and look dangerous.”

  “I can do that, boss.” He took another sip of his drink. “Anything else you need?”

  “No, that should do it.” Tony rose when Gabe did, walking him to the door of his study. Shaking his hand, he held him up at the door. “We gotta talk about your future with the company, Gabe, but not tonight. Tonight, you go home and see if you can make up with the lady you were with when Teri called. Have a good evening.”

  “That’s water under the bridge, Tony. See you in the morning.” Gabe nodded and headed for the front door. He opened it to walk outside, his hand instinctively going to his piece as three men suddenly pushed past him. One held an automatic and used the butt end of it to smash into Gabe’s head.

  Gabe went down, head spinning. He heard screams from Caitlyn and Tony’s wife Greta, and then he heard Marissa scream and the sound of a gunshot. Tony and his son Cameron were brought out to the hallway in front of him and forced to kneel as each was shot, a double tap to the head, mob style.

  The blood and gore from the violent wounds hit him in the face. He blinked, trying to reach for his gun again, and felt one of the gunmen bend close. “You’re lucky. The boss only wanted the family dead. Stay down and you’ll live through this.”

  “Fuck you!” Gabe managed to get out. Another guy hit him again, and it was lights out.

  He woke about three hours later and stared at the strange lights and the people in masks rushing around him. “Where’s Tony?” he groaned.

  “Put him out, nurse. We’ve got to dig out this bullet.”

  A mask was held close to his face. He heard a soft voice talking to him as the gas overcame him.

  Chapter Two

  Alexandra Hunter blew on the hot cup of coffee she carried in one hand. In the other was her briefcase, which was almost always attached to her. She hurried into the Justice building in Monroe City, excusing herself when she bumped into a group of men.

  The men turned, staring down at her before parting like the Red Sea in front of her. Lexi smiled, adding a bit of sass to her full lips. “Thanks, guys.”

  She got on the elevator, holding the door open with that same briefcase and cocking a dark, arched eyebrow. “Going up?”

  There was a rush of tailored suits and expensive loafers as they all tried to fit into the small car, pushing Lexi back against the wall. She was elbowed and jiggled, had her foot stepped on and coffee spilled on her tight, black skirt. One of the men asked her what floor.

  “Eight,” she said shortly.

  The men looked at each other and back at her before one pushed the button for her. She was used to this kind of reaction. The eighth floor was the Department of Justice floor and where her office was located. Men had a problem believing a woman, one barely five-feet-two tall, could do her job.

  Taking a sip of her quickly cooling coffee, she mentally reviewed her appointment book for the day. It was going to be a rough one, she knew that already, but she had a new case and one that might not be too happy about what she had to do with him; but then again, when were they ever happy about having to disappear out of their loved-ones’ lives?

  Gabriel Jacob Elliott was definitely going to be one of those. She read his bio and what he planned on doing for the DOJ, while she risked her ass keeping him safe. He had the information they’d been searching for on the scumbags that ruled the backstreets of Monroe City. Getting him to roll had been a huge coup, and her boss Jack Harris was going to be a stickler on how she treated him.

  She loved her job, and if she kept repeating that to herself, maybe one day she’d believe it. The thought brought a smile to her lips and helped to keep her civil as she pushed through the men to get to the elevator door. One of them, and she wasn’t sure which, pinched her ass as she walked by, and she made a mental note to pull all their files and send officers to their houses.

  Stella McCartney was sitting at her desk in the front office of the DOJ, looking her coolly professional self. She sipped her coffee as she fielded calls and held out a stack of phone slips that looked a mile high.

  “All of those for me, Stell? Dammit.” Lexi thumbed through them, briefcase between her feet, before she shoved the slips into the front pocket of her suit jacket. “Let me guess; he’s not in yet.”

  “Nope. You know better than to expect him before nine o’clock, Lex. Since he had the bypass surgery, he only works eight-hour days.”

  “Yeah, so he can give me a heart attack taking care of all these helpless babies.” She picked up her briefcase. “I’ll be in my office. Can you call and remind me of my appointment at ten? I don’t want to be late with this one.”

  “You got it, baby, and smile. When he finally decides to leave, you’ll probably get his office.”

  “And his cholesterol numbers,” Lexi said, smiling grimly. Jack had been a god to her; first in the office and last out, juggling cases like clowns juggle balls. He’d been absolutely amazing about the job. Before his heart attack and the bypass surgery that followed, Jack had taken care of all the big cases. He wouldn’t have put a case like this Elliott file on her shoulders, even though she was completely able to do the job.

  He always put his face on the tough ones, the ones that might be a bit harder to handle, the ones that might come back to bite him in the ass. He knew the ins and outs of what they had to do, and seemed to enjoy the more difficult cases. Since the attack, however, he was now only available from nine to five, delegated a hell of a lot more and left most of the political stuff to her.

  Stella was right; his office would be hers one day. Lexi was looking forward to his private bathroom, his key to the gym and pool and the view from his office windows. She sighed. Until that day, she had a hell of a lot of work to do.

  She got out her keys and unlocked her door, pushing it open gently. Since one of her co-workers had been blown up here in the offices, she was much more careful about just rushing in to places. Her office looked the same as it did the previous night when she’d finally turned out the lights at ten, just in time to hit the last of the trains out of Monroe City to the suburbs.

  She dropped her briefcase on the desk and growled when she saw her trash can was just as full as it was last night. She’d had to destroy her copy of a file on a case that was over now. The case had been finalized, and the man they’d been looking to put in the Witness Protection Program stroked out. That file, mangled and mutilated as she’d made it, was still in her trash can. She took it to the shaft that led to the incinerator, dumping it through the chute, turned and went back to her desk to start her calls.

  At ten, Stella buzzed her, reminding her of the appointment, and she put the rest of the messages she still had to get to under the corner of her desk blotter. Going to the small wardrobe in her office, she opened the door and stared into the mirror. She critically dissected her appearance, running her fingers over the slightly dark shadows under her eyes.

  She looked tired. Her amber eyes didn’t have their usual sparkle, her cheeks seemed a touch too hollow and her lush mouth turned down. She was a beautiful woman, but she couldn’t see it now. Now all she could see were the hollows and the shadows. Reaching for her extra make-up bag, she did what she could, adding color to her cheeks and using concealer to mask the shadows. She brushed out her long hair. It was naturally curly, reaching past the midd
le of her back. Grabbing it, she twisted the whole mass up, using a large clip to keep it that way. She reached for her suit jacket, neatly hung, and pulled it on.

  Gabe Elliott was under police protection in the hospital. It was time for her to make him disappear.

  * * * *

  Lexi left her briefcase in the car, holding the vase of flowers she carried near her face so no one could possibly recognize her if they had someone watching Gabe Elliott. She walked past Information, already knowing what floor he was on. The elevator played the same boring music they all did, and she hummed absently along with it.

  She got out of the elevator and headed down the corridor, her heels sounding loud and staccato, echoing as she walked. The cops at the door stopped her, and she showed them her United States Marshal’s badge and identification. She signed into the log and walked into the room, staring at the man on the bed.

  He was nothing like she’d thought he would be. He didn’t portray the arrogance or the front she’d dealt with before. She wanted him to need her more than she needed him, though. Lying in that hospital bed, he was half-asleep, the bandages on his body tinged with blood. He looked younger than the picture she had in her file. He looked vulnerable, and it touched a side of her she’d always been careful not to let get involved at work.

  “Mr. Elliott?” she asked softly, seeing his eyes open. He gazed at her as if he wasn’t sure who she was or what she wanted.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” he said, his voice slightly drowsy and baffled.

  She smiled. “Mr. Elliott, I believe you’ve been told about me. I’m Alexandra Hunter. I’m here to protect you and help you make the transition. I’ll be with you until we get you through trial, and then we’ll get you set up in a new life.”

  “You are going to protect me?”

  She could have laughed at the sound of disbelief in his voice. “Mr. Elliott, I’m a black belt in three different martial arts, I’m a sharp shooter and there isn’t a weapon I don’t know how to handle. Better yet, I was raised with four older brothers and a bunch of cousins. I was always in one fight or another. I am capable of handling your case and of handling you if necessary.”

  “But...I could break you with my bare hands,” he said, raising his dark brows.

  “You’d have to be able to get your hands on me first, Mr. Elliott. I’m also an expert in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “Gabe, please. It kind of sounds like we’re going to be together a lot.”

  “Call me Lexi, Gabe. You’re right; I’ll probably end up being your biggest nightmare.” She waited a second, and then continued. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was beaten up and shot as I watched my friend and his family killed in front of my face, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

  Lexi saw the look of powerlessness cross his face. She understood that. She’d seen it a lot in the cases she’d worked since starting with the DOJ. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I know how it feels to lose family, but we’ll get through this. I promise.” She motioned to the bag she’d put on the floor. “I’ve brought you some clothes. We’re going to get you dressed and outside to my car. You’re dying today, Mr. Elliott.”

  She laughed at the confusion on his face. “I know you’ve just been shot. You’re hurting, and the last thing in this world you want is for me to push and prod you, but your injuries are no longer life threatening, and the doctor says you can be moved. Faking your death here in the hospital will be a lot easier than blowing you up in a car or something equally horrific.” She reached out, taking the tube taped to his arm and quickly pulling it away. She eased the needle out and pushed a cotton ball on the hole in his arm.

  She reached around him, helping him carefully to a sitting position. He flinched and moaned as he moved, making Lexi feel even worse about how much more he would hurt before they reached the safe house and the other agents that would be helping her protect him. “Just let me do the work, Gabe. I’ll be as careful as I can.”

  He nodded, though his face was slowly turning white and his lips a pasty gray color. He remained sitting up, helping her take his arms out of the gown and exposing his chest and the white bandages around his abdomen and arm. She left the gown on his lap as she reached into her bag and pulled out a buttoned-down shirt and a zippered, hooded sweatshirt.

  “One arm at a time, Gabe, let’s do this nice and slow.” She got the shirt on him and buttoned it, feeling the heat of his skin and a brush of his chest hair before reaching for the washcloth that had been left on the bedside table. She dabbed at his face, carefully getting the sweat away from his busted lip and blackened eye. His face was swollen, giving him a lopsided look. He took the washcloth from her and wiped his face just a bit harder.

  She helped him with the hoodie, zipping it up. “Okay, now that was the easy part. She pulled out a pair of boxers. “I wasn’t sure which you preferred.”

  “Those are fine,” he said with a moan.

  “Okay, then just like the shirts, one leg at a time, and you let me do most of the work.” She knelt at his feet as he stared down at her.

  “You don’t seem old enough to be a fed.”

  “That’s what my boss is constantly telling me. I keep threatening to go find some gray hair dye so he’ll get off my case.”

  “Oh, no,” Gabe said softly. “That would be a shame.” He reached out and touched her silky black hair, wrapping his fingers around one of her curls. “Your hair is beautiful, Lexi.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She stood and put an arm around his waist. “Ready for this?”

  He closed his eyes, taking as deep a breath as he could with his ribs all taped up. Blowing it out, he moved to stand, leaning against her until he caught his balance. He grabbed hold of the IV stand, using it as a brace while she pulled his shorts up and finished untying his hospital gown. She helped him sit again as she handed him the washcloth.

  “I know this is a lot, Gabe, but you’re doing great. We’ll get these sweats on you, and then I’ll get you a wheelchair out of here.”

  “How are you staging my death?” he asked, watching her pulling the sweats over his bare feet.

  “It’s always easy to stage a death in the hospital. There are certain places visitors aren’t allowed to meander into, like the morgue. As long as we have a body, and we have that body cremated, how will anybody know the difference?” She smiled, wrapping her arm around his waist again. He stood up, his legs shaking as she tugged up the sweats and got him sitting again so she could put on his socks and shoes.

  She was almost done with the second shoe when there was a noise from the door. She whirled, still crouching, a huge .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol pointed at the person in the doorway.

  “Whoa, I’m a friendly,” the small nurse said, blowing out a sigh when Lexi holstered her weapon at the back of her waist. The nurse pushed the wheelchair inside and walked toward the bed, a couple of bottles in one hand and a little cup containing two pills in the other. “Doc wants you taking these until your pain is gone. One is a painkiller and the other is an antibiotic. The antibiotics are to be taken until gone, no matter how you feel. If anything shows sign of infection, bring him back immediately.”

  Lexi nodded, though she’d be calling their doctor if he needed any more care. She took the pills from the nurse. She recognized the big white pill immediately and moved the blue one until she could see the front. “Vicodin and Valium?”

  “Yes,” the nurse said.

  Lexi handed the small cup to Gabe and gave him a cup of water to take them with. Then, with the nurse’s help, she got him from the bed to the wheelchair. Everything he came in to the hospital with was to be left there; nothing could be brought with him in case something was recognized, giving away who he was.

  “Wait, Lexi. My earring studs. They’re in the drawer.”

  “I can’t allow them, Gabe. I’m sorry. Anything that might possibly be recognized from your old life can’t come into the new. If they we
re recognized, it could mean your life.” She was adamant, and didn’t slow her pushing, handing him the huge bouquet of flowers. “Keep your face hidden,” she said, pulling up his hood to hide his hair.

  “It’s just they were from Tony. It’s the only thing I have left of him.”

  She cocked an arched brow at him. “Your friend bought you earrings?”

  “Yeah, I know it sounds a bit strange...”

  “No, Gabe, it sounds a lot strange.” She stopped at the elevator, nodding at the cops who stepped off to head down to his room. She pushed him in, turning his chair so they could make a quick getaway when they reached the lobby floor. “I’m sorry that I have to say no. Your safety is in my hands, and I can’t let emotion or feelings change what I have to do to keep you alive and kicking.”

  “I know,” he said, moaning a little when the elevator jerked to a start. He yawned and leaned back on the wheelchair, pressing his hood-covered head into her stomach. “Can I say something without getting slapped?”

  “You aren’t going to try to come on to me, are you?” she asked with a chuckle. “I’ve had cases try that before too.”

  “What did you do?” He looked up at her, eyes still drowsy, and she knew the pills were working.

  “I kicked their asses,” she said mildly, “and I asked for Lulu as a back up. Lulu Sawyer would scare even the worst of the worst. So, what did you want to say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Lexi said with a laugh. She patted his shoulder as she pushed the wheelchair out of the elevator and headed out toward the doors.

  “Shit,” Gabe said softly, his gaze on the men coming through those same doors.

  “What?” Lexi asked.

  “Those are Traeger’s men. They’re the ones that killed Tony and his family.” He put his hand to his chest. “I need a piece.”

  “No, you need to keep your head down and your mouth shut.” She kept pushing as she shoved his head down a bit further. She didn’t give the three men more than a passing glance, but she saw the bulges in their jackets, and two of the men had ankle pieces as well. “Honey, Debbie is going to be so happy to see you when she gets home from school. I didn’t tell her they were letting you come home today. I thought you might like to surprise her.”