Time and Space

by Rachel Robinson

  I wrench the greaseball’s head to the side, exposing his sweaty neck. “I will slit your fucking throat. Tell me,” I order, my voice quiet—stern. There’s rarely screaming in my job. If there is, I’m not the one doing it. This bastard has information I want. Horse told me so. “Where is V, asshole?” There aren’t very many tactful ways to get the information you want these days. Men, especially bad men, only respond to violence and typically they need to be within an inch of losing their lives to come clean. This asshole wants to be within an inch of it. Idiot.

  He sputters and whimpers. I release my grip a touch to give him some incentive to speak. “I don’t know. They don’t tell me,” he gasps in broken English. Pressing the tip of my knife harder, I pierce his skin. “I’m nobody. They don’t tell me where they travel!” His words are erratic now. I’m getting closer. This may be a truth. The men responsible for holding me hostage were many. The ring leader, V, was never around. Especially at night. He would have the lowly pee-ons guard my cell. Nighttime is when the shit always hits the fan. Always.

  I grunt. Thinking about V makes me angry. “Well, if you don’t know where he or his counsel is, fine. Maybe you can tell me why you have a basement full of underage children, then?” I press the knife in deeper until a stream of blood trickles down his neck, soiling the collar of his fake Armani dress shirt.

  “I don’t know!” He shits his pants. Perfect, now he has yellow pit stains and crap on his trousers.

  I cock my head to the side and spread my legs wider so I don’t dirty my own pants. “Now, that’s a fucking lie.” I spoke with an older child. I know the truth. This asshole is up to his eyeballs in trouble. Not only does he have ties to V and the counsel, but he runs one of the largest child trafficking rings in Mexico. He makes me sick. With a gloved hand I insert my pointer finger into the side of his eye socket and press with just the right amount of pressure. He feels it.

  “He’s not in Africa anymore!” greaseball screams out as another violent shudder alerts me to more shit exiting his filthy body. “That’s all I know. He’s back in the States. Please, please. Let me go!” Not a chance in fiery hell, you sick prick.

  I shudder. The motherfucker is back in the States. He’s too close. I shake my head. No, this won’t do. He’s supposed to stay far, far away. I’m to go to him. This makes V easier to hunt, but it forces the stakes higher. He’s in my world now. I loosen my grip on the knife. “Why is he in the States?” I already know the answer. I’m not scared.

  “He said he’s making good on promises.” Greaseball chokes on his own spit and starts shaking violently. Shock is setting in. I’d love nothing more than to slit his throat and watch every ounce of his dirty, tainted blood spill onto the floor. But he deserves a fate worse than that, so I radio for my men to come. He needs to be tried inside the U.S. for his crimes. I’ll make sure of it. Child rapists and traffickers don’t fare well in prison. I expect he’ll pray my blade stole his life instead. I remove my finger from his eye socket.

  Horse and Van come down the filthy hallway and scan the surrounding area. I nod toward the back where there is a set of large, rusty metal doors. “Kids are back there. Some look to be American. All ages,” I say, closing my eyes to force out the image of what these poor children had to endure. “Get them out of here. Some need clothing. All will need food.” Horse glares at greaseball as if he is solely responsible for every crime on earth. He wants to break his neck and pick his teeth with his pinky bone. If there’s one thing Horse hates, it’s men like greaseball. Offenses against children are always the worst. Unforgivable. Van heads for the double doors and radios for more help. I see him shake his head sadly as he enters and witnesses the atrocity for himself.

  I point at my bleeding, shitting companion with my bloody knife. “As for him…transport him back to U.S. soil and hand him over to the authorities. They’ve wanted his ass for a while,” I growl. “And, Horse?” He looks at me with his bright, angry eyes and raises a bushy brow.

  “I won’t kill him,” he replies, smiling. I nod once.

  “Alive,” I command, just to be sure. And with that simple word, greaseball starts wailing. Horse grabs him by his neck and drags him toward the exit. I smile, sling my hand to my hip, and admire the beauty of this moment. One truly hideous criminal is out of the world, hopefully the kids will be reunited with their families, and I’ve obtained information about V. Troubling information about V, but at least now I know. I can prepare, be watchful…I can plan. I love my job.

  I pull out my untraceable satellite phone and call Molly. She picks up on the first ring. “How’d it go, boss?”

  “Well. He did have the children here. I got what I came for. Please alert the FBI that we have him and we’re heading to the airport now.”

  Molly pauses. “How’s Horse?” I smile. She knows of his harsh tendencies, too.

  I snicker. “Having a blast!” I hear greaseball wailing down the hall. I cover the mouthpiece of the phone. “I said alive!” I bark out.

  Horse laughs, the sound maniacal. “I said I won’t kill him!” I shrug and take him for his word. I recap the events and the timeline so Molly can take notes in case anyone has questions, which they rarely do, and have her ready arrangements for when we arrive back in Virginia Beach. I have to turn away when Van and a few other guys usher the children from the back room. Their wounded eyes are too much for me to bear. It’s easier for me to stare down a serial killer, a felon, a monster than it is to look a child in their eyes knowing that all innocence is gone. Why didn’t I find them sooner? Why can’t I save them all? Why are fuckers so, so horrible? I’ll say it one more time. I love my job.

  Molly repeats the information back to me and then adds, “Oh, and Shoots like a Star called. She said she’ll be in Virginia Beach this weekend. She wanted to get together.” I cringe because I know what face Molly is making right now. Lainey and I have been in contact with each other since our meeting in NYC. Phone conversations have been polite and platonic. It’s been new and a distraction from my work. I turn around too soon and see the last of the children exit the room. A little boy who can’t be more than two years old turns and meets my eyes. I swallow and it sticks there. His face is dirty and his feet are bare and he clutches a rag like his life depends on it. I smile and wave, but his gaze faces forward as he continues his freedom walk. I want to tell him that I can empathize, that he’s safe now, but to him those are just words. I radio for Van to get the kids out of here first and as quickly as humanly possible. I can’t look at the little boy again until the vacancy in his eyes is replaced by something…anything else. It’s too familiar.

  “Thanks, Molly,” I mutter, ending the call. I’ll need a lot of distraction as soon as possible. Lainey wants to get together. With me. I wipe the blade of my knife on a cloth and head for the exit. I don’t smell the sweat, the iron tang of blood, or even the stale cigarettes anymore. I smell her.

  ****

  I hate the beach and seawater. Lainey knows it. The years of having a profession that requires early mornings dunked in cold water blossomed the hatred. She wants to get together at the beach. I know her game. She thinks if she invites me to the beach, I’ll be the old miserable, complaining stodge from the past. The thing about having years of your life stolen by captivity is that once you’re free, you don’t take a millisecond for granted. I live every one of them. Even the ones that coat me with a fine sheen of gritty sand.

  Of course I see her before she catches sight of me and, oh my, what a sight she is. Her tight black shorts do everything for her. As does the form-fitted tank top. All her perfect curves are hugged, tight, and exactly where I left them. While I scrutinize every nuance that is Lainey, I can’t forget that all of her perfection isn’t mine anymore even if every ounce of testosterone in my body says otherwise.

  Lainey smiles a cheek-splitting grin when she sees me waiting for her with a hot pink yoga mat tucked under my arm. Oh, yes, this woman knows exactly how to play the game.

&
nbsp; She whacks me with her rolled up mat. “Mornin’!” Lainey looks me directly in the eye like she’s trying to convey so much more than a greeting.

  I take in a deep breath. “Good morning. Man, do I love the ocean air. It’s so…fresh.” She narrows her eyes as she very obviously appraises me from head to toe.

  “You hate the beach.”

  “Do I?” I ask, raising one brow. Lifting the bottom of my black T-shirt, I pull it over my head. She ogles. I look away.

  I hear her shift uncomfortably next to me. “Thanks for coming. I figured we could both use a little Zen in our lives.” Lainey clears her throat. I let my gaze wander to hers. Enough time has passed that I’m sure she’s looked her fill.

  “How can I possibly tell you no?” I ask. Her clear, blue eyes grow wide. I’ve said what we both know as truth. I can’t, nor will she tell me no, either. “Shall we?” I extend my arm toward the water and the deserted beach.

  Walking toward the ocean and the firmer sand, I unroll my mat and look at her. “You lead?” She tucks a wayward strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. She has these graceful fingers, long and feminine. When we were together she never had them polished. Each time I’ve seen her recently they’ve been a different shade of pink. After she rights her hair, she moves her hands down her body self-consciously.

  Lainey swallows, smiles crookedly, and nods. She’s nervous. “Sure, I’ll lead,” she says.

  “We’ve done yoga together a thousand times. It’s no big deal. We’re two friends hanging out. Don’t worry, I’m going to stay on my hot pink slice of beach and you’re going to stay on yours. No hanky panky.” I actually do need a good stretching after all the time in the gym I spend lifting weights. Every muscle in my body is stiff. Lainey bends over to adjust the corners of her mat and I realize now everything is stiff. Her fucking glorious ass might as well be naked and saluting me. It’s an odd sensation, wanting her like I do. It’s familiar, but it seems so taboo at the same time.

  “Your man didn’t want to join? Let me guess. He hates the beach?” I sit down to stretch, reaching for one foot, and wince, and then the other. She looks over at me and the smile fades from her face.

  “No,” she starts, but then pauses. “I mean, yes, Dax hates the beach, but I didn’t invite him. I guess I’m confusing him lately.” She lies on her mat, flat on her back, with her arms stretched over her head. Turning just her head, she looks at me. “I guess I’m confusing myself, Cody.” The doubt is there and there’s no running away from it.

  I realize I haven’t taken a breath, so I exhale. It’s noisy. Even audible over the sound of the waves lapping the shore nearby. Before I can reply, Lainey switches poses and I follow suit, trying to decide what the fuck is going on inside her mind while bumbling with my big muscles. It’s a challenge I accept. I let her have this silence, planning to attack her with the question the second we’re finished. I can’t focus on yoga or releasing my ego or any of the other bullshit that is expected. I can’t be in the moment because of her proximity and she’s confused and fuck, is this my in? Do I throw caution to the wind and just kiss her senseless right here and really set the record straight? She won’t be confused after that; I know it for a fact. I go through the motions, pretending to zone out for the rest of the practice. “Down Dog,” Lainey says, her voice a hoarse whisper. Long blonde waves cascade on her mat as she lowers her head.

  “How do you know I’m up?” I whisper. I am, because how can I not be when her ass has been in my face for the past twenty minutes. I haven’t been this close to her in so long that there’s no controlling my reactions.

  A puzzled look crosses her face. “Huh?” She didn’t hear me. I snicker. She’s usually the one with all of the jokes. With a sigh, she falls back against her mat. I stay upright, mostly to be able to see her, and also because I want a good view of our surroundings. You can never be too careful, or too watchful. Paranoia set in the second I found out V is on the prowl. Ever so delicately, she lays her hand off of her mat, palm up in the sand in between us.

  I take her hand and she squeezes it. “What do you want?” she asks quietly, her fingers stroking mine. Isn’t it obvious?

  “What I want is quite simple and quite complicated at the same time. I want what I’ve always wanted.” Lainey sits up, keeping her fingers intertwined with mine.

  “This,” she says, as she looks down at our hands, “was always an impossibility. I want you, Cody. And there’s no way for that to happen unless someone gets hurt.” You know that saying that ‘all’s fair in love and war’? It’s just not true because nothing about our situation is fair. It’s fucked up. Lainey goes on. “Seeing you just makes me want to see you more and more, and how in the hell is that healthy for my relationship? I mean, Charlie Christmas, I’m getting married and all I can think of is the next time I get to see you and talk to you and you guessed it, be with you. This is why I didn’t want to see you. Deep down I knew this would happen. I’m so messed up in the head I couldn’t even work yesterday.”

  Every bone in my body is shuddering in protest. I grab her other hand, so I have them both. “We should go, Lane. You should get back to him.” Can’t hurt him now, can we? I wonder if her parents like him as much as they loved me. Do they take family vacations together? Does she tell him about our time together like it was ancient history? Does he know how easily she could be mine? “I promised no hanky panky and I’m not sure how much longer my dog will stay down.”

  Tears form in her eyes, but she smiles. “Namaste right here,” she quips. Shaking my head, I laugh. “For right now.” We talk for a while like that, hand in hand. She asks me about my aunt and my job, and if she can decorate my apartment, and if I have girlfriends. Lainey rapid fires the questions one after the other and I answer her honestly. She doesn’t bring up my years away. I can see when her mind veers there, but she shuts it down immediately. We start commenting on old ladies power walking on the beach and mundane stuff that couples always talk about. It’s time.

  I ask the question that burns a hole in my mind. “Does he know?” Everyone has secrets. Lainey’s are paramount. Briefly, she glances at me and then away, her lips a drawn tight line. I can’t stay away from her any longer. Crouching in front of her, I force her down onto her back, my hands on each side of her head. Her breath hitches, and my own heart stammers. In the push-up position over her, I bend my elbows so I can get closer—to smell her, to feel her body heat against mine. Her lips part. She wants me to kiss her. I ask her again, “Did you tell him?”

  Without hesitation, she simply says, “No.” When her beautiful eyes find mine again, I lean my forehead against hers and breathe her intoxicating scent into my body. It’s a moment I’ll always remember. Similar to the others that are vividly stored in my memory bank. Our first kiss and what happened directly following the kiss, the marriage proposal, the tearful goodbye before I left for the life-changing deployment. It was like she knew, but how could she? And now this: her reply of no means everything. More importantly, it changes everything.

  It’s the moment I know without a shadow of doubt that, after all this time, she’s still mine.

  He doesn’t know.

  Chapter Six

  Lainey

  I didn’t intentionally keep the yoga date from Dax, but I didn’t tell him either. Of course I knew he’d be upset. I’m fucking everything up and at the moment I can’t find it in me to care as much as I logically know I should. Being with Cody gives me a feeling that I don’t get anywhere else. It’s strange. It’s electric. The absence of it makes me want it that much more. You know how some people have secrets hidden so well that they can convince themselves they don’t exist? I’m the owner of one of those. I think all of the small lies that aren’t really lies trickle into the blank space where the one we don’t speak of resides. Cody is the only one who knows. This just complicates everything now when I’m dealing with Dax.

  I repeat myself one more time just to drive the point home. “I’m sorry, D
ax. I am.” He’s shirtless, his tan muscles rippling every time he paces my bedroom. His blond hair is wet from a shower and the grit at the bottom of the shower is why I was caught. Yoga at the beach wasn’t enough of an explanation. He then asked with whom, and I would never lie outright. I told him the truth and he damn near blew a gasket.

  From my perch at the end of my bed he is an angry mess. He stops in front of me, just far enough away that I can’t touch him. “You didn’t even plan on telling me. How sneaky is that, Lainey? What am I supposed to think? I’ll ask once more. Are you fucking him?” Ouch.

  I look down at the floor. Not because I’m lying, but because I wish I was fucking him and I feel like a disgraceful asshole. “No. I would never cheat on you, Dax. Not even with him.”

  “You say that like he’s a goddamn deity. Not even with him. I mean, fuck, what am I supposed to do?” he growls, bringing a big hand through his hair and pacing in front of me a few more times. He’s making me agitated. I’m not in a position to ask him to stop. He drops to a squatting position, his forearms against his thighs with his head down.

  I don’t dare make a move to approach him. When he’s angry he likes space. Wide open space. “I love you, Dax. He’s just a friend. At the very least I owe him my friendship. I owe him.” More than Dax can ever know.

  “Bullshit. If you thought of him as just a friend we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. A smart man would walk away from this fucked up situation. I’m not wise when it comes to you. I’m merely a lovesick fool with hopes and dreams of a future with you. I’ve spent every waking moment for years trying to convince you of my feelings and then you of yours just to have them stripped away in a freak of nature occurrence. So just tell me now. Put me out of my fucking misery.” He looks up at me. Scooting off the bed, I kneel in front of him. It’s safe now. I can see his eyes soften. “You still love him?”