Now that his his journey was over, he stood in his luxurious apartment that overlooked the booming city, once covered with the bland, concrete blockhouse apartments, tossed up by three glorious generations of Soviet engineers, as crude indoors as they were out.
This latest job had paid very good, enough he'd indulge himself again, with a girl from the Mafia harem, cowed and trained to please. But she'd never provide the animal fear the other girl had as she'd looked at him,bound and naked, a few feet from her dead parents. It was all in her eyes, when he'd cut off her panties and let her roll away, kicking and whining through her nose and gag, getting the courage to peek up at him standing over her. He closed his eyes to remember her one, extremely arousing look of absolute dread that still resonated in his mind. It made him giddy as he stood in a silk robe and expensive light pants at the bank of tall glass windows, looking out but not seeing, pondering his next move.
The girl the mafia would rent him wouldn't be scared, probably not even worried what was coming. Worse, he couldn't slap or maim her to generate a decent amount of terror in her eyes, or they'd kill him. But it would do, as it always had, it would do.
Chapter Five
The amazing thing about these guys is how fast they can read someone
M. Vogel
Time to go, he got up, the same way he did in the field – eyes open, a quick check of his body, contracting all his muscles for a second, good to go, a roll back, then up, spin and his feet found the floor. He had to pee, then took a short hot shower to wake up a little, using the hot water to dispel the slight ache in his head. He considered returning to bed, remembering he was on his honeymoon, as long as that would last, another day, a week? How long could he delay his revenge?
Their previous plans were useless. Jabo was back in the service, officially the Army if anyone asked, pay grade light Colonel, that felt good. He'd heard of guys his age making light Colonel in World War II, commanding battalions, even regiments, but these days? Never.
There was nobody he needed to call as he rubbed his hand over his chin, looking in the mirror, seeing a well tanned man with hollow cheeks staring back at him. Not bad, this is as good as it gets, hot wife who loves me, check, great job I get to do how I want, check, enough status and rank nobody can fuck with me, check, and... I'm rich, as if that matters, given I have all the things money could buy, along with stuff he'd earned, that money wouldn't touch, like honor and a keen, feral mind that was hungry to get going. They could go on a real honeymoon later...
“You want to sleep some more hon?” He leaned out of the bathroom, watching her rise, catching a look at her yummy legs and battered hair, a real floozy – his wife and lover for life. Maybe they could push it one more day.
“No, we don't have to,” Cathy moved past him as he gawked at the bathroom door, sitting on the toilet, spreading her legs then giving him a half frown that said you can watch me piss if you have to, acknowledging his inner teenager staring at her beautiful body he'd explored completely, inside and out. Can husbands ask for no pantie days?
“Oh, you mean?” He was fishing, not sure, but hoping she meant their honeymoon could be cut short, for now, something they could take up later, when there weren't pressing issues, like finding the person who'd killed his grandparents and what they'd stumbled into, costing them their lives.
“Jabo, there are two things I'll never do, one is call you Jay or Bo, only Jabo and the other is bullshit around when there's things to do.” She finished then reached for the tissues, then looked up at him, a leer on her lips, worthy of a fallen woman or a fully unleashed one. He raised his eyebrows, seeing she was offering him a shot at tasting the piss he'd had to see shooting out in an arc not unlike his own, teaching him how similar all that stuff worked across both sexes. This woman could match him up at anything. Suddenly no pantie days seemed trivial. He'd really underestimated this lusty, once virgin girl – only in Texas.
He nearly dropped down then she huffed through her nose – too slow buster. She wiped herself before stepping into the shower, giving him a look of invitation he waved off, already dry, smelling of the perfume laden soap someone had put in the shower. How was that going to fly when someone got close, would they think he was one of those don't ask guys? There's something very satisfying about checking out your wife's amazingly cute, small ass before she closes the shower door, making him feel better about being married. He could tap that anytime he liked, or try some bonus stuff – she'd definitely be game. Boo Rah Ranger.
“I've got to get some stuff at the base, you wanna come?”
“How long?” her reply was relaxed, like he'd been the moment the flood of hot water washed over him, chasing away her own champagne cobwebs. Then she moaned as the hot water soothed her tingly, burning pussy, pointing the flexible head at her crotch as she spread her legs wide, wanting to get over her wedding night tenderness and ride that stallion again.
“Hour or two, unless I get briefed in, probably classified stuff,” he thought of her like a soldier, attached to his unit, “Uh honey...?”
“Yes,” she sighed again, deeply. Was somebody in there with her because that sounded downright sexual.
“Does your dad know anybody who can get you a rush top secret, crypto clearance, like in a day or two?” It usually took months, with deadpan FBI agents canvasing your neighbors, childhood friends, teachers, old bosses – the entire enterprise usually took far too long before they'd give you the week of training about how to handle 'secret stuff' and what they'd do if you fucked up.
“I guess, would someone on the Joint Chiefs help? Daddy went to school with some Admiral, Knight or something.” Her body brushed against the clear shower glass that her smooth ivory skin wiped clear of fog. Curious, she looked out the clear glass, catching her husband flexing his arm, admiring himself in a full length mirror. So men do that. “You look so cute, flexing.. Wanna go work out later?” He spun, getting a little color in his cheeks, like she'd caught him wanking to a screen full of porn. Mister tough guy had plenty of innocence left, to match hers.
One glance said she'd read him and saw all his silly weaknesses, what all men wondered when they were with a woman as stunningly beautiful as her, did he measure up? Her knowing look made him anticipate some future laundry day with her mucking around in his underwear, commenting on skid marks then asking how often he changed them – that would come he was sure. Real intimacy was going to take time to get used to.
“Admiral Andrew Knight, head of Naval Operations, the current head of the Joint Chiefs? Shit yeah, he'll do, he could iron it out pronto, have your dad give him a call.”
“Can you?” She could switch gears and go from his do anything woman to shy teenager in a flash. “I don't know all that secret military stuff like you do. I'd just mess it up, end up getting an arranged tour of the Pentagon instead, can you, please?” She opened the steamed up door to show her entire front, naked and wet, with her stringy blond hair that was attractive messed up. Better get used to saying yes to anything she asked. Then, a beat passed, how is that going to work when I'm the boss, later, outside of home?
His eyes stuck on her nether regions for a moment too long, making her huff in mock disgust, happy her ploy had worked. He hurried out, going to the bedroom to find her phone.
“Sure, what's your phone's code?” It wasn't necessary, he could run the replay he'd burned in, gifted with perfect memory. He'd carefully watched her tap it in as they lay in bed, giving her mom an update as they'd waited for a very late dinner to recharge and refuel so they could fuck until dawn. Top right corner, twice, middle, then bottom middle, three times. He'd have to get her to drop the redundancy to make a better code then shook his head. Who'd try to break into her phone? She snatched it from his hand to sit on the bed beside him, kissing his cheek then hitting her first built in number – Mom.
“Yeah, he's a hunk alright, oh mom, how could you ask that and yes, he is...” followed by girlish giggles. So much for hiding anything about his an
atomy from his mother in law. Did all women talk like this or just the love of his life, Cathy? He wasn't that big, normal, well maybe a little bigger than most men, it could be his fanatic fitness routine which he'd have to start back up today, enrolling Cathy in something a bit more martial and defensive, Tai Bo wouldn't cut it.
That cute thirty something Israeli attache' he'd met and not fucked, thank god, she'd do as an instructor for Cathy, if she was still in Washington D.C., attached to their embassy – Mossad, probably but who's asking? All those Israeli's were deadly fuckers. Their neutral country trained every competent citizen to blow your shit away with an Uzi after they'd disarmed you by breaking your arm. Regular folks when you came over for dinner, they all had an armory in their closet – driven to succeed and thrive, born with a national pride that makes everyone a warrior. Why the Arabs, a motley crew of masked, heavily armed clowns would want to take them on was way beyond stupid. They tried it, getting walloped each time – they reason they were fighting each other these days. Sunni vs. Shia – or to the boys in the Special Forces – dumb and dumber in sandals, scarves, and turbans.
“Out, out, woman working, get dressed, call daddy or the Admiral, get organized, we leave in ten.” He ducked in the bathroom, retreating quickly when he found his aftershave, perfect to cover the feminine soap aroma with a musky male spritz. It was the cheap stuff with a boat on the bottle. He knew would be gone the first time Cathy went shopping, for both of them. It was an impulse buy in Dubai, that brought a smile to his face as he found her father's number, memorized it, then punched the number listing. Time for some man to man with his father in law. Why did his mouth feel so dry?
“Jabo, how's it going, need some money?” Cathy's father laughed, still a little drunk and very happy he'd dodged the half million dollar bullet his wife had warned him Cathy's wedding would cost. Why not give it to them as a wedding gift, or set up a trust, the first of many.
“No, well, not yet,” he liked her father who'd turned out to be very human, cussing like a sailor then cruising half drunk among his many friends, most rich, a few from the old days, college or business, laughing it up as they turned to look at Cathy and him dancing or drinking at their table, happy they weren't bothered with conversations or stiffly offered congratulations, letting them be.
He explained what he needed for Cathy, not how she'd work with him, making it seem like he wanted to talk shop at home, to keep her in the loop and nothing more, so she could know what was going on in his life as an operator.
“I guess you can't explain what happened at the office otherwise, right?”
“Yes sir, and we're going to start up soon,” making him wish he'd phrased that differently, knowing his father in law might assume his daughter would be included more directly in his military affairs.
“She's loyal and true, you made a good choice,” he paused, thinking he might fess up and tell him how many times he'd tried to talk her out of it as she waited, pining, the girl left at home, waiting for her soldier boy. But she'd stood tall and told him to fuck off eventually, ending that fatherly intrusion.
“Andy and I go back, football in our prep school,” he stopped, knowing his son in law was in a hurry, to find the people responsible for his grandparent's murder, what his sources inside the FBI had told him, as a courtesy when he'd asked them to keep him informed on his new son in law. “Top Secret, Crypto? That sounds pretty high to me.”
“High enough, this line isn't secure...”
“Oh, right, okay, how quick, a few days, right?” Showing he didn't know this was a damn near impossible ask, or assumed anytime he asked for a favor it would be granted.
“Yes sir, that would be great, and thanks for the incredible party, all those people were a blast to hang out with.”
“I hope you mean that,” he remembered how stand offish Jabo had been when he brought a group of very influential people from his social and economic circle over to introduce. With a bit of bubbly in him, Jabo had been a bit cool, perfunctory – damn near goofy. But it was their wedding night and their minds were elsewhere. He'd passed the word to wave hello or shake hands then move on, let them watch, talk, or dive in as they liked without having to be social with people Jabo didn't know, ever the protective father.
“I'll be straight with you, you're intimidating, all that money and the people you know, but I won't kiss your ass or bullshit you, if you're clean with me, which I know you are, or have been so far.”
The honesty and courage of his words impressed him, not trying to curry favor or butter him up, not an ego maniac either, a nice guy, what he looked like in person.
“You won't need me often I'm sure, but when you do, Jabo, I'll be honored to say yes, even if it's a little dicey, understand?”
“Thanks, and well don't get ideas, when we live on our own resources,” he hoped that wouldn't antagonize him, assuming he would try to make him instantly wealthy, for Cathy, so she could live how she'd always lived, not spoiled but never needing to ask if they could afford what she asked for.
“A man's home is his castle, I won't be barging in nor will my wife, and good call Jabo,” that last was to assure him his respect was being earned not given freely, out of love for his daughter.
“I will owe you one, for this clearance thing and the wedding party, some day you'll be sitting on a beach and I'll be buying the beer and tacos, agreed?”
“Can't wait, you must know some very interesting places to hang out and relax.”
“The best, the best anywhere in the world,” they were done speaking, both busy men. Cathy opened the door, coming out in a thick robe with her hair done, waving at him as she smiled, knowing he was getting along with Daddy, not easy sometimes. They'd knock heads soon enough. “I have to go. Say hello to your wife from me,” he heard him say he would then they both hung up.
“Nothing fancy, you're the wife of a Colonel in the Special Forces,” she nodded, serious, understanding it was a deep insult to flaunt things like her family's wealth among the other wives whose resources were limited to their husband's earnings and part time jobs they could scramble up as they were transferred from base to base.
“So burn all my Christian Dior?” she waved at her closet full of designer dresses, “and high heels are out, do I need designer combat boots, Zanotti makes some with a zipper on the inside.”
“No jeans, on base, pants are okay, skirts, nothing see through on top, beyond that...”
“I've got some riding gear that's outdoorsy, but casual, I need to recon the fashion battlefield, then I'll be okay, ten minutes, I got face camo to get on.”
He got up, going to his closet which was a door in the wall while hers swallowed her up, an entire room. He'd had his new rank on a full set of new uniforms, complete with a set of fatigues, dress blues, greens, and every other form of military attire, all with light colonel insignia pinned or sewn on, in his size, delivered and stashed in the closet he'd claimed in their hotel room, giving him a choice of how he wanted to look on his first day back, after a total of thirty minutes out of the service. His civvies consisted of two shirts and some new blue jeans. Socks and underwear were still bagged in plastic. He'd need his boots from his the family house in the Hill Country, his first inheritance when his parents had died.
Whoever that guy was who'd talked him into re-upping, he had pull out the ass, enough this little display was an afterthought. He expected a personal hummer with a combat veteran driver and a fully loaded fifty caliber machine gun on the roof, flanked by heavy armor shields, ready for action, about right for his on/off base limo. He got a three year old black Crown Vic, like everyone else, the keys on a separate hanger with a note telling him where it was parked in the hotel basement.
“I guess we can stay here until we move to D.C., is that okay with you?” Jabo felt like he was being wimpy, checking in too much.
“A luxury suite in the best hotel in El Paso? It'll do for now and stop acting like I give a shit about trappings and elegance.” Sh
e walked over to him and they nearly got going again, wrinkling his shirt so he had to pull away, leaving them both panting lightly as she spun, returning to the mirror where she fussed with her hair. This was going to be interesting. “You're the only thing I want, and I got it, so fuck this shit, understand?” her smile still made him stagger like he'd been hit with an alien ray gun.
He nodded then carried her over the threshold of the doorway, for the hell of it and to end their ad hoc honeymoon with a bit of flair. She nibbled his ear as he continued down the hall, carrying her to the elevator where he let her down, giving the security guy watching the elevator security camera a little show as they descended to the basement.
“Colonel Bowie?” the soldier on guard at the Ft. Bliss gate stood back, and saluted, “welcome back sir, the word spread, is that the new wife?” He was very knowing and intrusive, making Jabo wonder if high rank made people treat you differently, like he was a rock star, someone they'd alert security was coming. “Welcome to Fort Bliss Ma'am, you two go right on through.”
“Your fame precedes me,” she smiled, rolling her eyes, taking in the sparse, utilitarian world that was now hers to live in and master. “Drop me at the BX, I wanna see if there's a sale on fatigues that fit a female figure, and something nice in a bullet proof bra,” she grinned at him, “I'll need one of those, right?”
He didn't dignify her joke with anything more than a suppressed grin, knowing she was really going to look at the other women to check out how they dressed, so she could fit in – mesh seamlessly, without leaving a ripple of envy or contempt – a tricky thing to do among the military wives who would have a secret pecking order she'd be breaking into. Lucky for her his rank would let her start somewhere in the middle, after that it was her game, not his.
She waved as he watched her stroll to the front of the BX, soon ignoring him. She walked up to open the door for a woman with a stroller and a young two year old in her other arm. She'd pull it off, easing his mind so he could turn to his other agenda, starting his personal mission to find out what the fuck happened to his grandparents.
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