by Nicole Fox
“Well,” I began to say to myself, but didn't finish my thought. I just closed my eyes, instead, and brought up the memory of the dream, of Jace crying out as I spanked her ass, as she ground against me. I reached beneath the covers, found my manhood, and started to do the only thing I could.
I didn't know how much longer I could do this.
Living without Jace was Hell. If I was never going to see her again, I might as well just hop a bus down to New Orleans and get this slow torture over with. What was the point, otherwise?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jace
The bell hanging over the front entrance to Walter's World of War rang violently, its brass clapper banging like crazy, as the door opened.
I was in the back stacks, sorting through some items that had been misplaced. I mean, really, who would put The Crippled Eagles in the World War II section? I tucked the book under my arm and came around the corner of the shelf. “Hey,” I called out. “How are-”
“Jace?”
I stopped in my tracks, nearly dropped my copy of the out of print book right there on the floor. I shook my head from side-to-side. “No fucking way,” I said, my voice almost gone from surprise.
There, in all her glory, stood Benji. Still thin as a rail, with her high-pitched voice. She'd dyed her hair black, pitch black, and had gotten her eyebrow pierced. But, yeah, that was her, grinning from ear to ear.
I ran to her, she ran to me, and we met in the middle like the Germans and the Allies at the Battle of the Bulge. I'd been doing some reading in my downtime, okay?
We circled around, our arms clasped around the other. “Oh my god,” I said, realizing there were tears squeezing out from the corners of my eyes.
“I hardly recognized you without makeup,” Benji said.
“Me?” I asked. “You, with your black hair and piercings.” I laughed as we broke apart and looked her up and down.
“Yeah, well, I can wear what I want now, right?” she replied, still grinning.
We went in, hugged again, laughed louder. Loud enough that I heard Wally's chair shift in the back room. “Andrea? You alright out there?” he asked in his quavering voice.
“Yeah, Wally!” I called back. “Mind if I take my lunch early? Old friend just came by.”
“Oh, go ahead. It's raining today, so it'll probably be slow. Take all the time you need.”
I grabbed my purse from behind the counter. I grabbed Benji's hand as I flew past her and dragged her out into the Seattle mist.
“Where are we going?” she asked, laughing.
“Coffee shop!” I said. “I haven't been able to talk to anyone in months unless it was about Napoleon's campaigns or the Civil War, girl!”
“Months?” Benji asked and sighed.
We got into the coffee shop and ordered our drinks. Despite how empty the place was, we still kept the really deep chit chat, like what was going on with the F&BMC to a minimum while we waited. I wanted to be somewhere quiet and secluded before we went into all that.
After our drinks finally came, we headed off into the back area, with its small coffee table and overstuffed chairs. I cradled my cappuccino between two hands and settled down. Benji took the seat across from me, and after a quick glance around to make sure no one was paying any close attention to us, our words came out in a mutual avalanche.
“How's the MC?” I asked.
“Have you heard from Koen?” Benji asked at the same time.
We both laughed. “Okay,” I said, “you go first. You're the one who came all the way up here, right?”
She grinned. “Yeah,” she said in that high-pitched voice of hers, “things are going great. You have no idea. I managed to get the info out of that,” she dropped her voice low, “FBI agent on where to find you. I just wanted to see how you were doing, and to say thank you.”
“She didn't happen to tell you where to find Koen, did she?” I asked.
“You guys still haven't spoken?” she asked, making a face.
I shook my head and took a sip of coffee. I set the mug aside, frowning. “Still won't let us even know where the other is. He could be in Oregon for all I know.”
“I just don't get it,” my friend said. “We're all safe. Volkov hasn't come after the club at all. I mean, Hell, I still work there.”
“Yeah? How's that going?” I asked, wanting to change the subject from Koen. It was painful to even think about, especially after my dream the night before.
She smiled coyly, almost conspiratorially. “I started dating one of the guys.”
I grinned, my eyebrows waggling. “In the club?”
She nodded.
“He cute?”
She grinned wider and pulled out her phone. She flipped through, showing me the pictures. He was cute as Hell, but still looked like a nice guy. Thankfully none of their dirtier shots came up as we went through the images.
As we went through the shots, though, my mind wandered back to Koen. We couldn't have that, the picture taking, the smiles, the feel of our bodies against each other, the taste of our lips.
None of it.
Benji must have noticed the change in my expression. “Jace, honey,” she said. “You need to talk to that agent, see if there's a way for you guys to be together. Like I said, Aleksey hasn't come after us. Things are fine.”
I knew why he hadn't gone after them, though. It was because Koen took all the heat on the deal. Now, Aleksey was focused on him. I shook my head, saying, “With Aleksey still out and in control, we're not safe, girl. He casually ordered us executed in that park, had Xavier murdered. As soon as we set foot in town, we'll have bullseyes on our backs. Even if we found each other, somehow, and stayed away, we'd always be looking back over our shoulder.”
Benji sighed and frowned. “Yeah, you're probably right.” She reached across and grabbed my hand, squeezed it tight. “Still sucks, though.”
I smiled a wistful little smile. “Yeah,” I said, squeezing back. “It sure does.”
# # #
Koen
I was standing at the edge of the dealership's main building, staring out into the sun-beaten lot, sucking down bad coffee from a cheap Styrofoam cup. My starched dress shirt itched my skin, the collar dug into my neck, and my tie felt ugly, like it was choking me. Even my face was irritated from the fresh shave that morning.
This was bullshit. Absolute bullshit.
I was wasting my life, here. Not only did I not have Jace by my side, but I couldn't ride my bike either. I had to wake up every morning, work a shitty job I hated. And the only consolation I had was getting to rub one out after my subconscious delivered up a hot dream.
I could just leave, though. I knew I could. I could start searching for my woman. Go high and low, looking everywhere. Just take what money I had, buy a cheap, reliable car from the owner here, then take off. Start in one state and zigzag across the country. Start someplace like Maine, then come back down through the states, stopping at each one.
Better yet, I'd start in Washington, work my way down to Oregon, then through to California. Check in every coffee shop, tattoo parlor, bar, book store. You name it, I could search it.
I took another sip of coffee, the bitter brew filling my mouth. It had been on the burner since the early hours of the morning, and it had picked up that acrid flavor a while ago.
As I swallowed it down, though, I realized that finding her wouldn't accomplish a damn thing. What made me think I was so damned special that I could find her and outwit the Russian mob while we went into hiding? Why did I think I could get away with it, when no one else had?
All it would do if I found her was put a target around our necks. What use would it be to get her back, just to be torn apart again right after? And, that time, forever? How much more bitter it would be to watch as Jace was put in the ground?
If The Wolf found us, the one that died first would be the luckier of the two. The one that lived would be stuck and alone until the ground ate them up, too.
I frowned and poured out the rest of my coffee.
Aleksey had to go first. No other way about it.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jace
Benji stayed with me for a couple days, both of us sharing the small efficiency. It was cramped, but it was just like the old days. It was funny to think how much things had changed in just the last few months. We'd gone from being roommates and hookers, to working as bartenders and bookstore clerks.
A few days after she flew back to New Orleans, I got a call.
“Wally's World of War, this is Andrea speaking,” I droned into the receiver as I twirled an old pen with my fingers.
“Hello Jace,” Claire McKesson's voice said from the other side.
“Fancy hearing from you,” I said with a sigh. “Didn't you just call a little while ago? Checking up on me to make sure I'm not out running around looking for Koen?”
Claire laughed. “No, I'm just calling to see if you wanna come home.”
I dropped the pen. “What?” I hissed.
“We've got a lead, and I need you and Koen back here.”
“When?” I asked, suddenly breathless from the news.
“Yesterday, if possible. Figured you'd say yes, so I've already got a ticket in your name at the airport. You leave tomorrow morning.”
I nearly cried from joy as I hung up the phone, despite the fact that I might be walking into a death trap. Anything could go wrong. Anything.
But, at least I'd get to see my man again. No matter what happened, that would be worth it.
# # #
Koen
The agents had picked me up from the used car lot and taken me right to the airport. They asked if I needed anything from my old place, but I told them not to bother. All of it belonged to Peter O'Dwyer, anyways.
I touched down at Louis Armstrong New Orleans Airport later that night. It'd never felt so wonderful to have my teeth snapped together by a shitty landing. We bounced down the runway as we began to slow, then taxied to the gate.
Agent Claire McKesson was waiting for me when I walked out of the jet bridge and into the terminal. She smiled warmly. “No luggage?” she asked.
“Why bother?” I asked. “How'd you get in, anyways? Thought no one was allowed back here?”
She grinned. “Perks of the job,” she said. “Got a car out front waiting for us.”
“Is she going to be there?”
I had to ask. Ultimately, she was the only reason I'd come home. I wanted to take down Aleksey, of course. But, if I could do it with Jace by my side, that would be even better.
“Who?” Claire asked, teasing me a little.
“You know who.”
“Benji?” she asked, shaking her head. “No, Benji has to work tonight, I think.”
“McKesson,” I said, my voice carrying a note of warning with it.
“Oh, don't get your big bad biker briefs in a bunch,” she said, laughing a little at my expense. “Of course she'll be there. She touched down just an hour or so ago.”
We got out of the terminal and climbed into the back of a big black Tahoe with heavily tinted windows that was waiting for us. We sped through traffic, headed for our destination.
The office space was small, but discreet. Just a simple office in a business district on the outskirts of the city. No sign above it, or lettering on the doors. I briefly wondered if Fed would be there. Claire and I got out and headed inside while the driver stayed with the car. As we walked, I scanned the parking lot, searching for his bike or any sign of a friendly face.
Nothing.
We entered the building and headed back through the small reception area, which was nothing more than a vacant cubicle, without even a computer or phone set up within. With Claire in the lead, we turned down a hallway and went into the third door on the right.
And there, as the door opened, she was. Her hair was a little longer, her makeup a little less heavy. But, still, just as pretty as I remembered. She was seated at the conference table, surrounded by Fed and several of the other agents who had been working the case.
I was stunned. This was real, right? I almost pinched myself.
Jace, though, must have been waiting for this for hours. “Koen!” She sprang up from the table like a puma and came running at me. “Babe!”
She was on me in a flash, and I caught her in my arms as she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. “God I missed you,” I said, pulling her close to me as we spun in a circle in the doorway, her shoes knocking against the metal frame of the door. We both laughed frantic, half-sobbing laughs.
She released me from the death-grip of her thighs and dropped to her feet. I leaned down, pulled her face close, kissed her hard. Our arms went around one another, completely oblivious as we disappeared into our own little world.
When we came back up, both grinning as we looked into one another's eyes, I realized Fed and the agents, even Claire, were giving us a light, sarcastic round of applause.
“Alright, you two,” Fed said. “Get a room later, we got work to do still.”
I blinked as I looked at Fed. I recognized him, that was for sure. But he was so different, now. Gone was the facial hair, the earrings. He'd even started to let his hair grow back out. And, to top it off, he wore khaki cargo pants and, of all things, a bright red polo shirt.
“Fed?” I asked, my arms still tightly wrapped around Jace.
“You got it, brother,” he said, grinning wide enough to split his face as he came over to me. He grabbed my hand and shook it before pulling me into a big bear hug. “Good to see you, man,” he grunted in my ear.
We clapped each other on the back. “Damn, Fed,” I replied, “what the Hell these monsters do to you?”
He let go of me and held me out at arm's length. “Me?” he asked as he reached out and brushed a piece of lint from my shit. “Look at you, man. Dress shirt and slacks and shit. They reformed your sorry ass.”
I grinned and hugged him again, both of us laughing.
Instead of just three months, it had felt like three years. Longer, even.
Agent McKesson cleared her throat from the head of the table. “When you three are done,” she said, “we can get down to business. Then, all of you can go get married for all I care.”
The three of us laughed, then took our seats. Jace and I sat next to each other at the conference table, our hands tightly clasped together where no one could see. So tight, it seemed, we'd never again let go.
“Probably wonder why we brought back,” Claire said, dropping a telephone book sized file on the conference table. “This is the accumulation of everything we know about Aleksey Volkov. We've been going back through this stuff day and night since we sent you into Witpro, trying to find something we could use to put him away.”
Jace and I both nodded. We knew she'd been doing everything she could to bring us back home.
“The problem, it turns out, is that we'd been looking at it all wrong. We'd been looking for ways to prove that he was illegally selling his arms and somehow hiding it off the books, coming up with fake serial numbers, fake figures. All of that. Every time the Port Authority would do an audit on a Volkov Arms truck, we'd get jack shit, though.”
She picked up another much slimmer folder and tossed it on top of the yellow pages thick one. “That right there, guys, is the information we got from Fed and Koen when we first all came into contact. I was going back through the files and I realized something didn't seem right, so we started going back through the information we'd obtained from the Port Authority on the comings and goings. Turns out, the trucks he's using aren't his own. We didn't realize it, until we started to match the times and dates you'd given in your accounts of the robberies with the shipment dates that the PA had. None of the trucks you robbed were coming in marked as Volkov Arms, they were under a host of other subsidiaries and shell corporations.”
; I cocked my head to the side. I hadn't ever really thought about it, before, since I'd just been knocking over the trucks Fed's contact had been giving us. We didn't really need to know which companies he was using to run them with. That part hadn't mattered to us.
“Which explains a whole lot of things,” Agent McKesson continued. “We think he's stamping guns with serial numbers he already has in product, and hiding the costs and proceeds off books. What you were stealing, guys, wasn't from the main stash, what he sells legally to wholesalers and governments. They were guns that manufactured illegally to be sold overseas. Nothing ever shows up on his audits, or in his tax documents for Volkov Arms as a loss, because they were never there to begin with.”