Blind Seduction (Team Red)

by Hammond, T.

  “Yeah,” David confirmed, “he's looking pretty pathetic. Your dog is so abused, Teresa.”

  “Don't you start,” I mock-warned. I leaned forward to press a quick kiss somewhere in the vicinity of David's nose. Ha, that was kinda fun; maybe that's why he's always doing it to me. “I'll make coffee,” I said and rolled out of bed. “Get your lazy butt moving, you slacker. You promised to play ball and wear out my dog this weekend. Hop to it!”

  I grabbed my robe off the hook behind my bedroom door and wrapped it around my body. Coffee sounded like an excellent idea.

  ****************

  We had a wonderful Sunday. Unbeknownst to me, David had kept an overnight bag in his new truck for the past week, just in case, he told me; so fresh clothes and oral hygiene were not an issue.

  We had a picnic in the backyard where David played numerous games of fetch with Red. That evening, we threw a salad together and broiled a couple of steaks for our dinner. Yes, Red finally got his steak bites.

  For the first time, we touched upon the work David and Bas were doing for the military. David developed a computer program for satellite topographical mapping, which he sold to Uncle Sam. The project involved mini-drones, infra-red, sonar, streaming video, and a myriad of other bits of information which created holographic imaging. There were many possible applications, but the guys were focused on military security—offensive and defensive. They partnered to develop PreClan Video, and were scouting properties to set up their servers and workstations. Apparently upgrades were ongoing, which included a good amount of testing, and additional programming.

  “I’m the code developer,” David explained between bites of salad and steak. “It requires a lot of focus to create the platform for the programs we plan, sell, and upgrade periodically. Compared to me, Bas is somewhat scatter-brained.”

  David must have caught my smile at the accusation Bastian was absent-minded.

  “No, no, that came out wrong,” he corrected. “I meant that his abilities are more toward multi-tasking. He needs a lot of different things to keep his brain stimulated. He works on the program’s GUI as well as building drones, and fine-tuning the cameras and other electronics. The guy is a genius with his hands.”

  Feeling more than satisfied sexually, it only flitted briefly through my mind to consider how Bas might be a genius with his hands. GUI, pronounced gooey, I knew from my days of computer nerdism, stood for graphic user interface. “So, you’re saying you write the program, and Bastian translates it to the menus, and video output, through which the end user maneuvers through the software?”

  “Yeah. Exactly right. He makes it pretty,” David laughed. “Most of the graphics for the video games can be credited to him.”

  “You guys are developing video games too?” I was puzzled. When would they have the time if they were working on all this top secret military stuff?

  “We started out calling ourselves Preston-Declan Video, but we later shortened it to PreClan. We wanted a front business which provided some legitimacy for our more secretive work. Bas came up with the idea of throwing out a video game every year or two, and he is the one who does most of the work on those while I’m buried in code. He sketched out a few video games when he took some college computer graphics classes a few years back, and we only had to fine-tune them for sale through our company. A few of his video games are actually doing pretty well and showing a respectable profit.”

  “Geez, you guys are a couple of over-achievers. You’ve been doing this while working as soldiers?”

  “We had a lot of downtime when we were stationed overseas,” David explained. “In between testing the drones, which worked very well on a couple of the real missions we were involved in, and interpreting satellite data, we did a lot of development on our personal PreClan projects.”

  “Wouldn’t Uncle Sam automatically own the software you developed while working on their payroll? You mentioned you sold the program to them, so I’m a bit confused.”

  “The program the Navy already had in place when I started working for naval intelligence is completely different from the one I developed. I did a few things in my capacity as a warrant officer that helped to streamline what was already in place; but on my down time, I started developing a program that was so dissimilar to what the Navy was using, with a different platform and algorithm, it couldn’t have been integrated with the military’s systems.” David paused and topped off our wine.

  “When I had enough of my program developed, I tapped Bas to help me with the interface. He wasn’t working with me yet, we’d never even met, but I’d heard about him and knew he had the skills. We arranged everything thru emails and Skype. It took him over a year, as he was actively on the ground in some of the globe’s sandier climates, so he worked on the program in his off-time.

  “He and I arranged to meet for the first time to do a complete system run, and it went flawlessly. As much as our brains work differently, they meshed perfectly. I had an outside attorney, we didn’t want to go through the military JAG office, write up our incorporation paperwork, and we made an appointment with my boss to try and sell the program.”

  “So you two worked together, for over a year, without having met each other?” I asked.

  “Almost two years, by the time we could arrange to be in the same place at the same time. It took a few meetings with progressively more people, and higher up the food chain, but Uncle Sam eventually bought the program and exclusive rights to first choice of anything else we developed as PreClan, outside of the video games, of course. When it was time to integrate our software, Bas was given an assignment to my unit, and he stayed there the last four years of our tours.

  “The Navy put more pressure on him to test for his E-7, which would take him out of the field. He finally conceded, although he regularly snuck off with ground troops, under the pretense of needing to be there for drone field testing. He hated being behind a desk, but still tested later for his E-8, and left the service as a senior chief.”

  “You’re telling me, then, Bas would have been content as an E-6 for the full twenty years he was in the service?”

  “Yeah. Bas’ heart was on the ground, with his unit, getting his hands dirty. He loved when we needed to do drone tests. We had a pre-selected unit which did the simulations as well as the real time tests with us. Bastian was in his element. I will admit, his soldiering skills combined with his knowledge of the program, helped us make some huge leaps in the way the software was developed and utilized.”

  Our conversation covered a little more on the challenges they faced, without getting into any real detail. I suppose it was a matter of “if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” or something along those lines. David also touched on a few of the more promising locations they’d looked at, but none were quite right for the clandestine work they would be doing.

  We finished dinner and worked side-by-side to clean and dry the dishes, saving Ken from having to clean up after us tomorrow. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I did okay with clean-up, as long as I was methodical about where I placed things.

  When we snuggled up together on the couch, I caught a faint hint of sandalwood and lime clinging to his t-shirt. “Mmmm,” I sniffed appreciatively. “You tried on the scent Janey gave me for spritzing my pillows and window seat cushions.”

  “I saw it on the dresser and recognized the scent from Janey’s house. It has a nice cologne spiciness to it. I’ll have to get her to order some for me, too.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, loving the scent of the sandalwood mixed with David. On impulse, I mock-pounced and started raining kisses, alternated with exaggerated sniffing noises, over his neck and shoulders. “You smell like my bed. That is so friggin’ hot!” Laughing, he let me roll him under me as I slowed the kisses to soft and drugging.

  Much later, we were in bed, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin, with our bodies still linked. David stroked his knuckles over my cheek and told me, “I love you, Teresa.”

&nb
sp; I smiled, “And, I love you, David.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I wasn't surprised to get a call from Detective Stephens last night, asking me to drop by the police department. While I was on my cell with the detective, David called Bas. We were able to coordinate a ten o'clock meeting time for all of us, in Lieutenant Faber's office, on Monday morning.

  Bas agreed to meet us at my house, and we would travel together to the station. He arrived at eight so we could sit together over coffee and decide what we would, and would not, agree to do in our efforts to assist the police. While I was concerned about Officer Blair's actions, I wasn't convinced it would prevent us from trying to help if Red and I could make a difference with the task force.

  When David got up to call Red in from outside, Bas asked me, “How are you doing?”

  “I'm fine, Bas, more than fine,” I assured him. “Thanks for giving us some space.”

  I received a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Be happy. If you can't be with me, then I'm glad you found David. He's a good man.” David must have returned to the room because Bas said over my head, “Don't screw this up. She's probably the best thing that will ever happen to you.”

  “Yeah,” David agreed. He stood behind my chair and raked his fingers through my hair from temple to ends; it was longer now, already tickling my shoulders. He placed a soft kiss on the crown of my head (I guess he couldn't reach my nose from that angle). “I am well aware of how lucky I am.”

  “Is it time to go yet?” Red asked.

  “Almost,” I told him. “David is going to get you harnessed up this morning. And, we're taking Bastian's SUV, so you'll have some room in the back to move around.”

  To the room in general, I inquired, “How are we doing for time guys?”

  “It’s 9:15,” Bas replied. “If we leave now, we'll have plenty of time to find parking.”

  “Alright, pal! Quit spinning in circles or I'll never get this harness buckled. You'd be in the car already, with your head out the window, if you'd simmer down.” David joked.

  “But we get to go for a drive!” Red whined dramatically. What a ham. I relayed his passion-filled enthusiasm to Bas and David who laughed at the dog's excitement.

  ****************

  Fifteen minutes into the drive, drama dog had changed his tune. “Are we almost there? How much farther? We have been driving forever!”

  “Oh for goodness sakes, Red! Twenty minutes ago you couldn't wait to go for a car ride, now you can't wait to get out.”

  “Well, now I have to pee! And we're passing all these places which would be perfect.”

  “You peed before we left the house. We are not going to stop at every tree so you can mark territory. I know, for a fact, you can hold your bladder for hours, so don't try to con me you scoundrel.” I'm not sure how much of the conversation the guys were following in the front seat, but I'm sure they were catching the gist of Red's complaints from my end of the discussion. “You can wait another ten minutes for us to get there, then we'll let you sniff around before we go inside.”

  “Ten minutes?” I heard him drop dramatically to the folded down seatback beside me. Who knew he had such a sense of theatrics? “But... hey, what's that smell?” Our Oscar contender soon had his head back out the window again as he absorbed new scents with joyful glee.

  “Who knew Red was such an actor?” I asked anyone who was listening.

  Bas laughed, “It was a great tantrum until the part when he smelled us driving past half-a-dozen fast food restaurants.”

  “Oooh, shiny,” David mocked. “Our boy is easily distracted.”

  “So true,” I agreed, secretly happy he had referred to Red as “our boy.” I was glad my place in his thoughts included Red.

  “Hey, are we close yet? It’s been hours,” Red sighed, mournfully.

  David must have noticed Red had his head back inside. “We're passing close by the park. I think I smell hotdogs,” he lied—or at least I'm sure he was stretching the truth.

  “Hotdogs? Oh, I loooooove hotdogs! Can we get one?” I felt the air pressure change again, as Red thrust his head out the window once more.

  “Almost there,” Bas said, for my benefit.

  “Thank goodness! He's driving me nuts back here.”

  Bas slowed the vehicle and made a series of turns until he found a parking spot. He volunteered to take Red on his leash to a nearby weeded area so my boy could mark all the dead bushes, and dried grass, to his heart’s content.

  David helped me out of the car, a courtesy, rather than a necessity. He told me a few weeks back he realized I could do things for myself, but he liked making life a little easier for me. It seemed churlish to refuse his small kindnesses in an unnecessary bid for independence. He wasn't trying to make me dependent on him. He simply enjoyed holding my hand when he helped me out of the car. Truth be known, I liked it too.

  “Do you need anything from Red's backpack?” he asked.

  “No, he should be fine for a couple of hours without his water bowl. I'd rather have less stuff going through the security screening.”

  “Are we ready?” Bas asked, joining us. “I can hang onto the leash for you, Teresa. Time check is one minute to ten.”

  “Thanks Bas.” Red nudged my left thigh to let me know he was in position. Right then, a nearby clock started to chime out the first of ten bells.

  “It appears my watch is a minute slow,” Bas joked. “Let's get a move on.”

  We had barely made it through security when David called out from beside me, “Hello, Detective Stephens. Hope you haven't been waiting too long?”

  “No, no. I only arrived as you were approaching the front doors. We are ready for you upstairs. You must be Sebastian Declan, nice to meet you sir. I'm Detective Stephens.”

  I'm sure there were the appropriate handshakes and measuring stares all around, testosterone was thick in the air; or maybe it was purely my imagination. The five of us had an elevator to ourselves as we rode up to the lieutenant's office.

  “Boy, everyone wants to be top dog,” Red said. “The detective is very aggressive toward Bas.”

  Okay then, maybe it wasn't all in my head. “It’s common when you get three alpha males in close quarters, Red. Growl a warning if it looks like one of them is going to lift a leg and pee on something. I don't want to get splashed.”

  Red snickered, and gave me a status report: “The detective is embarrassed, David is really amused, and Bas is combative. I think he would happily bitch slap the detective.”

  “And who do I have to thank for adding that little gem to your vocabulary?” I snipped, “Janey, right?”

  “Actually, I think it was Ken,” he answered.

  “I'm going to have to have a long talk with Ken,” I promised.

  “Will it involve taking away cookies and no more doggie bags?” Red clearly was feeling frisky with all the tension.

  “Ignore them,” David suggested to the detective, “after a while the noise doesn’t even register. It’s like listening to an old married couple when these two get started.”

  The doors swished open, effectively cutting off any comment I might have come up with. In truth, we probably did sound that way. I thought I hid my contented grin, but David leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I saw that.”

  Red was back to work as we entered the lieutenant's office. “Marks, Faber, Jackson, Willman, and Blair are here. There are also two men, not in uniforms, next to Blair and a different man at a computer in the corner.”

  As we had agreed this morning, Bas and David stood at my back, one on each side of me. I was to be the spokesperson unless Blair's actions represented a threat to us. Red's job was to position me so I was facing Lt. Faber.

  “Gentlemen, Officer Marks, Lt. Faber, Good morning.” I said to the room in greeting. “Since Officer Blair is no longer at the computer, I will assume he was acting without your authority, Lt. Faber?”

  “Please, have a seat,” Lt. Faber, offered, momenta
rily avoiding the question.

  “Forward, two steps, on your right,” David instructed and Red led me to the indicated chair. I grinned internally as Bas and David drew their chairs back, simultaneously, so they were both a little behind me in the same pattern as if we were standing.

  When we were seated, the lieutenant began, “I would like to apologize. Photos and video were taken without your knowledge or consent a couple of days ago. Officer Blair was acting on his own accord. It is not our policy to discuss internal employee issues, or discipline, with people outside the department. However, since the incident affects you directly I felt, in this case, I needed to divulge some of the details.”

  Grateful for a direct answer, I still needed to clarify our priorities. “Regardless of your wanting to further explore our involvement with the task force, Bas, David and I will need to know what was going on and if I'm at risk. We appreciate your updating us with as much information as you are able to disclose.”