by Gray Gardner
“What?” Burton yelled, tired of all of the dramatic pauses.
Ferguson smiled and said, “I shoved you into my shoulder and squeezed you so tightly that you coughed up all of the saltwater and then some.”
Burton smiled too, at first. It was just a reaction, but she smiled nonetheless. He really had saved her, and not just by accident as he compressed the water out of her lungs. He followed her across the Atlantic, from London to Dover, dove from a helicopter into icy waters, and literally tried to use his hands and breath to get life back into her. She caught herself giving him an adoring look and then frowned.
“Wait a minute,” she said, holding up a hand. “What happened after that?”
Ferguson sighed, “We took you to an MI6 facility until you were well enough to go back to your house. By that time, we’d recovered information from the castle rubble and caught the other RPP members who were active. You were adamant about getting back to school, so we altered your memory with a few hallucinogens and some hypnosis, sent you home, and kept extremely close tabs on you until you left for UVA. You made it easy for us all on your own. The boys over here in the US took it from there.”
Burton stared at him. She’d been watched all four years of college by the CIA. She knew exactly what kind of indiscretions they’d witnessed, but that was neither here nor there. There was something missing. She rubbed her lip as she thoughtfully stared out of the window.
“You saved my life.”
“Yes.”
“And, for a while, in that MI6 hospital, before you erased it from my memory, I knew it.”
“I came to visit you every day.”
She turned and glared at him. “Is that why?”
He looked confused. “Why what?”
“After, when you came to my house in London, and then at UVA. When you called me, and I looked forward to it, and when we accidentally ran into each other when I went to Oxford…Is that why I fell hopelessly in love with you?”
“Baylor.”
“I was infatuated with you, wasn’t I? It wasn’t love at all! I was grateful!” she shouted, holding out her arms. “Tell me I’m wrong, John! Tell me!”
“It’s not that simple!”
“Then I’ll make it simple,” she snapped through her teeth, grabbing his lapel. “When you proposed, and you said that it was the next logical step, were you doing it because you thought we should just get married because we’d been together so long? That you owed it to me? Or did you really see yourself spending your life with me?”
“I don’t think I can answer that.”
“Well I can!” she shouted, pushing him backwards as tears filled her eyes. “I was so in love that I couldn’t imagine a life without you! I pictured us growing old together, having children, making memories! And you know what? It turns out that any of those memories could have been faked! What was real, huh? What about our relationship was real? Did you ever really love me? Did I ever really love you? Was it all just some fucked up relationship?”
“Yes!” he shouted, grabbing his head and looking at her. “Yes, yes. It was all a bleeding mess! I knew I couldn’t marry you unless you knew why you were so attracted to me. Why you thought about me. Why, when you were at Oxford, you unconsciously went to bars I’d told you about when you were in the MI6 hospital, seeking me out even if you didn’t know it. I was your rescuer and you loved me for it. I couldn’t tell you the truth or I would lose my job. But I couldn’t go on without you knowing.”
She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t feel her legs. She fell to the floor and buried her face into her knees. “So you first slept with and then decided that you just might marry my roommate?”
The next thing he said was the coldest of all.
“That was real.”
Burton cried as she thought about all of the time she spent devastated over losing him. She thought it was all because of her, her job, her inability to be close to people since her parents and aunt had died.
“Baylor,” he sympathetically said, kneeling down next to her.
She quickly jumped to her feet and he followed. “I wasted years on you! Do you even remember what I was like after we broke it off?”
His chin fell to his chest as he thought about her pain. “I could never forget.”
“Don’t you think the truth would have been better?”
“If Agents Eubanks and Payne hadn’t stumbled across your past with the CIA they never would have tried to recruit you and you never would have been the wiser! Yes, that was my intent and that would have been better!”
She shook her head as fury bubbled beneath her skin. “You don’t think that having an explanation for why I’m terrified of authority or, or why I shrink away when people raise their hands, or why I can’t bend my left pinky finger, not to mention why I couldn’t get over you wouldn’t have been helpful?”
“Yes,” he nodded, fumbling with his words. “Y-yes, I do, that is to say, of course that would have been helpful.”
“I abandoned my life in New York and joined the US Armed Forced because of you!” she hollered, suddenly pausing and looking around for Connor. He wasn’t in the room anymore. Oh God, how much had he heard? Where had he gone? She wanted him to know about her past with Ferguson, but she didn’t want him to find everything out like that.
“You quit your job at Goldman-Sachs and signed up for military service because of me?” Ferguson quietly asked, more to himself than to her.
She’d had about enough of Ferguson.
“You saved me. I didn’t even know I was in trouble and you ended up saving my life, John. I’ll always be grateful for that,” she said, backing away. “But I can never forgive you for making me fall in love with you.”
She turned and walked out, knowing she had to find Connor. The way she felt about him was real, no lies. She rehearsed a way to convey that to him as she poked her head into every room along the long hallway.
The back of her hand furiously wiped across her cheeks as she pursued her new target. She was done with Ferguson, it was the past and she couldn’t change it. With Connor, though, she actually had a chance. He might even forgive her for being such an idiot and take her back. He was that kind of guy. The good kind. She ran faster.
Unfortunately, the suits from the Basement caught her first. She fought every step of the way, desperate to find Connor and spill her guts, because if anyone was worth being vulnerable for, he was. They had her and struggled to get her to the elevators. They got her through the elevator doors and subdued her once they were out of sight.
She grumbled obscenities as the doors opened to the long white hallways of the Basement and one of the suits grabbed her cuffed arms in front of her body and pulled her forward. She tripped through the rows of doors and was about to give up all hope when they passed a conference room and she saw Connor arguing with the former President of the United States of America. It would have seemed weird to other people, but it was actually up to par for her. She dug her heels into the tiled floor and peered inside. He looked really pissed.
“Connor! I know. I know I’m weak, and I’m an imbecile, and, and I’m a total mess in social situations, and I have this shady past, but you have to know this—I love you,” she caught her breath and looked up at him, literally begging him to love her, too.
Connor’s pulse quickened as he opened his mouth, but he hesitated before he spoke.
Austin backed up with a knowing grin, finally speaking to the security guys about leaving them alone and finding Ferguson.
Connor was grinning at her, with that same grin like he knew something she didn’t. Only this time, she knew, too. She exhaled a breath of relief mixed with an excited giggle and flung her cuffed hands over his head, hugging him as best as she could. He wrapped his strong arms around her and lifted her up, walking out of the room.
A lot of things that had affected the last decade of her life had now been explained. She felt more complete, more relaxed, and definitely ready to move forwa
rd. And with Connor with her, she felt kind of invincible. That could be a good or a bad thing, but she felt it anyway.
She even felt like she could work with Ferguson again. He was sorry for everything that had happened, and God bless him, he really had himself convinced that he loved her. She couldn’t describe her elation at the fact that they hadn’t gone through with the engagement. She didn’t want to be married to someone who didn’t love her. Of course, he could have handled it in a better manner than porking her roommate, but the outcome was what mattered. She was with Connor now, and they really did love each other.
“I’m ready to move forward,” she softly said, feeling a bed on her back as Connor dropped her and shut the door to his room.
“Mmm,” he replied, lowering himself on top of her in the dimly lit room. “My brave girl.”
She sighed as his lips met hers, the memories that had rushed back to her now fading in the bliss of Connor; his touch, his scent, his mouth everywhere on her body.
“It’s more like coercion but whatever. I’m ready,” she said breathlessly as he lifted her shirt, pulled her bra to the side, and sucked on her nipple.
He paused and looked up at her.
“They don’t own you, Baylor,” he stated, giving her a hard look. “No one does.”
She raised a brow at him as he worked her jeans off and was rewarded with one of his knowing grins.
“Okay,” he said, running his hands around to her ass and squeezing as he felt the heat remaining from the former president’s spanking. “I own you, baby, but you love it. And no one spanks you from now on but me.”
“How about just no more spanking?” she asked, squeezing his t-shirt as he kissed around her neck.
“That’s a turn on for both of us and is non-negotiable,” he said, stifling her response by spreading her legs and sliding into her.
The Captain, The Baker, and The Promise Maker
Saint Petersburg
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, Connor. Damn it.”
Burton glanced back at Connor as he helped her put on the tattered old coat in the darkness of the van. If he continued looking at her with those eyes she just might give in, and she wasn’t ready to be quitter. They’d put so much into it…she’d put everything into it.
Connor kept saying that to know her was to love her, but she wasn’t so convinced as she and Ferguson gave sober updates to each over the webcam. He seemed to hate her now more than ever, even though she actually felt a little sorry for him. After all, he had stayed with her and tried to do the right thing, even though he knew he didn’t really love her. She always turned to Connor after those conferences and would do something she knew she wouldn’t be able to do in the coming weeks, like squeeze his hand, or rub his leg, or just wrap her arm around his. He didn’t seem to mind at all.
In the van ride to the drop-off point, he was the one doing things to her that he knew he wouldn’t get to do once she stepped out of the van. He ran his finger along the side of her face, held her close, and told her he loved her.
“I have to do this. I want to do this,” she said, giving him a look of resolve.
After finally agreeing to go undercover in St Petersburg the CIA immediately began preparing for her insertion into the streets of the Russian city. Not all of the kidnapped children were orphans, but the independence of street life would get her closer to the division of the slave ring that snatched the kids. She was going to be a runaway.
Over the past week she was not able to bathe, so her hair was greasy and tangled around her face. They gave her an apple and a carrot stick at noon and a glass of whole milk at eight o’clock at night. Her full cheeks were already sunken in and dark circles had appeared under her eyes.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” she said, poking at her newly capped back tooth with her tongue. It was a global positioning device made to look like a crude filling, but it still caused her gums to ache anyway. The decision had been made that the smugglers wouldn’t sweep a child for bugs, so they went ahead with the GPS chip.
“I can wait as long as it takes,” he answered, holding her gaunt face in his hands.
She gave a weak smile. He’d been great the past few days, supportive and nurturing and everything she needed after her discovery about her past. He didn’t even care that she hadn’t showered or brushed her teeth in a week.
He was going to miss her. He tried not to think about it as they looked at each other in the dark. One of the Russian liaisons was sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, talking to someone on a cell phone.
“It’s time,” he said in Russian, looking at the pair in his rear-view mirror.
Burton nodded at Connor. “I have to go. I want… No, I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” he grinned, which just made what she had to say harder.
“If, well, if… This could turn out badly for me,” she stammered, looking down at her dirty fingernails.
“Burton, don’t give me this speech.”
“Just listen,” she choked, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She hadn’t thought she would get this emotional when she had to leave him. “I love you and I don’t want you to get yourself into trouble or worse, if I don’t come back.”
“Stop,” he demanded, pulling her onto his lap as they crouched in the back of the van. He pressed his lips against her forehead, which smelled like salty sweat and oily hair. It didn’t bother him in the least. He could barely pull himself away as she continued.
“I’m not going until you promise me,” she softly said, wiping her face.
He sighed and held her shoulders. He could feel every bone in her back as his large hands wrapped around her. It was not in his nature to put people in danger. Especially little girls, though he had to remind himself she was not so little and definitely not helpless. Still, even though he’d insisted he be present when they inserted her into the streets, he was beginning to think he wasn’t strong enough to let her go.
She turned and opened the door into the starless night. A flurry of snow and freezing air burst inside. She stared intently back into his eyes.
“I need to hear you say it,” she said, over the wind.
“Okay I promise,” he nodded, grabbing her hand as she forced a tight-lipped smile and turned to jump out. Surprised, she looked back at him. “If anything does go wrong, that’s not going to be the last thing you hear me say.”
She sucked in her breath as he pulled her back into the van and kissed her deeply.
“I love you,” he said, as she stepped back into the dirty snow of the city alley.
She wrapped the ratty old coat tightly around her body and scooted back into a cavity in the brick building structure. Then he was gone.
It was cold and lonely, it reeked of garbage, she was fucking starving, and she really wanted Connor with her. If this was what she had to do to get to have a life with him, though, she was willing. The CIA was certainly not willing to let her go until she fulfilled this duty for them.
She wanted to do it. She wanted to help. She just wanted Connor with her, too.
Burton hadn’t been entirely sure what “deep undercover” had meant when she decided that she’d better just do as the agents wanted. Now she’d been schooled thoroughly on the subject. On the tenth day of living in alleyways and digging through trash for food, she really had a grasp on the concept. Her hands and face were in a constant state of frostiness, she couldn’t even feel her feet anymore, and the other kids living around her insisted that she get off their “turf” and go bum around another place.
The afternoon of that tenth day finally lent itself to a little action. A boy who had just chastised her with a string of Russian obscenities had abandoned his task of verbally abusing her and wandered over to a van on the side of a bakery. He acted like he knew the people, took a roll to eat, and even laughed with the 2 men. Before Burton could even blink, the boy was in the van and it was screeching away.
Ten days. What was it? A holding period? A flight schedule? A boat schedule? She had to find out.
A month into living on the streets with trash fires as her heating system and leftover dough from the bakery as her sustenance was enough to get her moving and making an effort to get noticed. The bakery seemed to be right around where the kids were snatched. Maybe the baker was in on it.
The bakery was bustling, but she noticed at the side door in the alley a man in a white apron was chatting with a young girl in large, old pieces of clothing. Good God, it was the baker. He looked way too interested in talking to her as Burton passed and leaned against a wall in his storefront.
What now? How could she get everyone’s attention and steer the baker towards her? Thievery. All she had to do was swipe on hot dinner roll to get him to pounce on her. He grabbed her and dragged her back into the store with him.
The look he gave her was excessively greedy as she cried and pleaded with him. She wasn’t acting, either. She thought he might try and shove her into an oven, he was yelling so many things at her. Instead, he shoved her into a storeroom, proceeded to tape her wrists, ankles, and mouth, and locked the door behind him.
Not what she had expected. Burton fell over to her side as she sat in the warm darkness. It wasn’t the best plan, sure, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. She had to admit the climate controlled room was like paradise, but lying in the dark on a concrete floor bound and gagged was not too comfortable. And anticipating what was to come made her very uneasy.
She stayed there the rest of the day, all night, and into the morning. She wondered what Connor was doing. Was he pacing the floor of the command center? Was he still in Saint Petersburg keeping an eye on her? Was he back at Langley fighting with Ferguson?