Tactical Submission: A Windsor Club Story

by Ada Maria Soto

  A waitress came over to take their orders. He knew he shouldn't order anything that would make him even more jittery, but they were at one of his favorite coffee shops which was unfortunately a trek from his apartment or work. "Cafe Del Tiempo." The waitress gave him a sideways look. It wasn't a common order. Then she turned to Amalie.

  "Why don't you order for me?"

  "Um…" He wondered if this was some sort of weird test. She had liked the latte he'd made but that was generic considering where they were. "Double Con Panna." The waitress made a note then left.

  "I don't think I've ever had a Double Con Panna."

  Jack shrugged. "It's just a double shot espresso with whipped cream, but they do the cream here fresh with virtually no sugar, so it doesn't overwhelm the flavor of the coffee."

  "Sounds good." There was a silence and Jack was aware of being watched. "Isaac likes you."

  Jack's head shot up. "I… I like him to."

  Like? What are you, ten? Like is a pretty sad term for what you know you've been feeling.

  "That's good to hear. He isn't always easy to like. He has a history of being an oblivious idiot, occasionally a jerk. Closing himself off when he should open up." Jack nodded, not entirely sure what to say. "Though, for all the times he plays the detached doctor, and all the horrible things he's seen people do to each other, he does not believe that the human capacity for love is a finite thing. Neither do I. But that's a rare belief."

  "I've…" It was the first-time love had been mentioned and it sent his pulse racing. She had said like before. Isaac liked him. "I've never…"

  "Been in love?"

  Jack shook his head and began twisting the napkin around his fingers again. His hands had always felt too large, his fingers too thick. He hadn't noticed as he'd been growing up, but could still remember how tiny the espresso cups looked in his hands when he'd done a shift on his first leave from the army. He took a deep breath and tried to find that place of calm under fire. He looked up and properly met Amalie's gaze.

  "That's better," she said, smiling again. "You should be able to look your boyfriend's wife in the eye. I can understand the need for privacy but there's no need for shame."

  "Boyfriend?" Jack's voice squeaked and his brain froze on that word.

  "That's how he thinks of you. Or at least wants to if you'll let him. How do you think of him?"

  For the first time her voice had a hint of an edge to it.

  "I just thought—" Jack's brain was scrambling for words. He knew he sounded like an idiot and it was making it worse. It always did. "I figured—" He shrugged, his eyes once again firmly locked on the table.

  "That he was going to keep you in the back room like one of his toys?"

  He shrugged again even as her words rang painfully true. She reached across the table and settled her hand over his. It was light, like one of the chickadees hopping around the table looking for crumbs, but her skin was liberally sprinkled with, what to Jack looked like splash burns, probably from chemicals from her life as a scientist.

  "He's better than that." Her voice was soft. "If you want him to be. If you just want this to be a relationship of convenience, something physical when you need it, he'll accept that, but I know he's making a place for more." Jack nodded, now truly unsure what to say. "I won't lie, he comes with as much baggage as anyone else, and far more complexities than others you could find, and that's not going to change, but he won't lie to you, he will respect you, and he'll do his best for you."

  Their waitress put their orders down on the small table forcing Amalie to move her hand from his. Jack decided to leave the waitress an extra-large tip. If she hadn't come he might have cracked right there in public. It still felt like something in him had just been stripped raw.

  "Lemon in coffee?"

  He looked at his Cafe Del Tiempo with the espresso in a small cup next to a glass filled with ice and a lemon wedge. "The lemon can bump up certain flavors in particular beans. Not many places serve it though."

  "I'll try it next time." She took a sip of her Con Panna getting whipped cream on her nose. She wiped it off. "This is pretty good to."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Text wasn't the best way to conduct a relationship but after coffee with Amalie, Isaac didn't want Jack to feel crowded or badgered. He'd gotten her report on the conversation a few hours earlier. They'd discussed coffee, Isaac's emotions and relationship skills, more about coffee, how she and Isaac had met (at a party where he had stopped her from drunk dialing her parents in anger), skimmed Jack's sexual history, and she generally agreed that someone needed to wrap him up, feed him soup, and tell him he's loved on a regular basis. The discussion of Isaac's emotions had led to some emotion on Jack's part and her thinking the feelings are reciprocal, but she'd done her bit and it was his turn to figure out the rest. Also, apparently, there are people who put lemon in coffee.

  How are you doing? He figured that was neutral and not too pushy, and text would give Jack the time to think over his answer instead of letting silence hang on the phone.

  Isaac was two pages into a paper on the accuracy of projectiles when used from a moving vehicle when his phone buzzed.

  I'm okay. There was a second buzz. How are you?

  Good. Was thinking about you. Isaac looked at the text and made a decision. Would you like to go out later this week? Get dinner, maybe catch a movie? He hit send and carefully put his phone on the desk. He wondered what Jack was doing, where he was. Was he at home? Had he gone to the gym? Was he hanging out with other friends? It was a minute but it felt like an hour.

  Yes.

  Chapter 27

  Sitting in front of the Dog Box Bar at three in the morning was something Jack never thought he’d do again, until his team landed a new assignment. He'd been feeling good. He had a proper date with Isaac that was fun. He hadn't freaked out. They had talked a few times since. Had phone sex and made tentative plans for a ‘back to nature’ camping trip that would probably leave them with bug bites, poison oak, and memories they could laugh about later. Dan said he was positively glowing. Now he was back in front of the Dog Box.

  "As far as we can tell the bar end of the place is legit but that'll really be up to the accountants to untangle." Jack focused as hard as he could on his CO and the detective who was doing the briefing, and tried to compartmentalize his brain while his team and Dan's was shown a layout of the bar and adjoining buildings. "However, we believe half the E in the city is being moved through the back rooms. The Feds think this is their case but screw them. We've got better intel and that intel is that one of the main money men is going to be there tonight." Jack heard one of his men give a dismissive snort and he gave him a hard look. Everyone on SWAT had become suspicious of drug related 'intel'. "This is a leather bar with a bunch of really disturbing kinky ass shit going down in the back rooms. People rent them out and do fuck knows what."

  I've seen kinkier. The Dog Box was not known as a top-quality establishment, certainly not the worst but there were better.

  "We can pretty much assume anyone tied up isn't going to be our money guy." The men laughed and Jack gave them all hard looks. "We’ve got descriptions and surveillance photos so just round up anyone who's moving and stick them in the main room."

  Jack gripped his hands in to fists to keep them from shaking. This was going to be bad. He could just feel it.

  "This is technically delivering search and arrest warrants. Try not to shoot anyone or crack any heads. We don't want the ACLU up our ass on this one."

  People laughed. Jack swallowed hard. He wanted to vomit.

  Now his palms were sweating. He wanted to rub them dry on his pants, but his team was watching him as they prepared to leave the van and rush the front doors. Dan's team was taking the back, which would put his team as the ones going room to room. He was glad for that. Dan obviously knew something about what he needed and was maybe less likely to judge the things they found and Jack could hopefully hide in the crowd of the main roo
m and not encounter anyone who might recognize him.

  Their CO received a signal from someone inside and they were given the go.

  The bouncer at the door was the first to freeze. Some of the patrons ran, they were tackled. Some dropped to the floor with their hands up. More than a few pulled-out cell phones and yelled about calling their lawyers. The naked boys in leather dog masks in small cages were left where they were. The first-time Jack had seen it, his thought was that it constituted a major safety hazard in case of fire or earthquake. Now they were simply people who were contained. His team was usually pretty good at sorting out legitimate threats from people in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they hadn't been given nearly enough intel, people were yelling, there was gear that could be used as weapons, there were too many civilians. Dan was driving people from the back rooms to the main one, and Jack could feel it about to go to shit, just because someone wanted to get one up on the feds.

  So much for hiding.

  Jack stepped up onto the small stage that was sometimes used for demonstrations aware that there were several phones still pointed at him.

  "Quiet!" he yelled as loud and deep as he could while trying to channel his third-grade teacher who could silence an entire yard with a single word. "We are looking for one person. If you are not that one person you will be free to go as soon as we find that one person." Dan's team came through the back door of the main room driving men dressed in heavy leather, as well as scantily clad to naked men ahead of them. The detectives followed pulling off masks and holding up pictures. "If you happen to be the person pushing quantities of E through the city, would you please raise your hand and save everyone a lot of time." Anyone who had their hands up quickly put them down.

  Jack pointed at the bartender who had left his hands up. "You."

  He slammed his arms down. "It's my first night here I swear I don't know shit really, please believe me!"

  "Open the cages before we write you up on fire code violations."

  "Yes, sir." The bartender squeaked and Jack wanted to laugh.

  A patron near the stage had his mask pulled off. It was black silk and out of place with the general leather motif. A detective held up a picture. "Got him."

  The suspect was whipped around, facing the stage as the cuffs were slapped on. He looked familiar to Jack, familiar and as out of place as the mask. Something about the way he held himself. He looked up at Jack and Jack recognized him. Hugh Lancing. His stomach clenched. The whole room seemed to condense down around him then tilt. Hugh looked at him, squinting while his rights were read. Then he smiled. A slow grin stretched his face.

  'Jack,' he mouthed silently before being dragged out the front door.

  Jack didn't move. He couldn't move. He couldn't hear. He wasn't sure if he was breathing. Someone was moving close to him but his vision refused to clear. Someone touched his shoulder. He sprinted outside having never moved so fast in his life. He knelt over the gutter and puked. It was blinding, shaking and spasming his whole body. It felt like it might never end. He felt a hand on his shoulder again. He turned his head enough to see Dan looking at him face full of concern. Jack heaved again. When it finally stopped, he looked up at Dan.

  "I'd ask if you're okay."

  Lie, lie, lie, lie.

  "Think I need to find a new favorite food truck."

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  KMC flashed on the screen of Jack's phone. He'd been given a day off to switch over from the night raid and he'd taken a day off to be sick, then he'd crawled his way back to work forcing a smile and jumping at shadows. Isaac had called. He'd called and he'd texted and he'd called again. He'd left a few messages but Jack hadn't listened to them. He'd only read the first few texts. He went to answer them but each time his fingers froze thinking of Hugh's long thin smile.

  How are you doing?

  How was your day?

  Would you like to grab dinner?

  Jack had stopped reading them after that. Dinner, after what happened. He'd hardly eaten in two days. He'd known it was going to happen at some point. Known his luck would run out. He'd thought it was going to happen in the army really, that he'd be sent home in disgrace. This was worse. He had respect now, authority. His men looked up to him, expected him to lead. Every time the phone rang his heart stopped in panic. He was waiting for the call from Internal Affairs. It would only be a matter of time, he was sure. Hugh seemed the type to name names, make deals. There would be a call. ‘What is the nature of your relationship with Hugh Lancing,’ they would ask. ‘None,’ he'd answer truthfully. But that a man like Hugh even knew his name would send IA digging. Club fees for the Windsor, secret email addresses to get him into dark corners of the Internet. And they'd follow him to Isaac, then Amalie, then Lydia.

  Jack started deleting texts and call logs. He tried to remember if Isaac had ever called his land line.

  Another text came through telling him he had a message.

  Idiot. How was he supposed to protect them if Isaac kept leaving messages? He could say stop. Just text stop. Isaac would stop but he'd want to know why. That was the thing. He had no way of breaking this off without leaving more of a trail.

  Jack took a breath and listened to the most recent message.

  "Hi, it's me. I'm afraid I'm coming across all clingy. It's just you haven't answered any of my messages or texts or anything. You're usually really good about that so I'm worried. I'm legitimately worried. And I'm sorry. If I came on too strong or moved too fast or just not giving you what you need, then I'm sorry. Please call, text, smoke signal. I just want to know if you're alright. Or if you're not alright, I want to know why and what I can do to make it better. I'm sorry, for whatever it is. I'm sorry."

  He clamped his jaw tight trying not to cry then pressed three to delete the message.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Isaac rubbed at his face. It wasn't that late but he hadn't slept well. The first night he figured Jack had been busy. Maybe he was on the night shift. But then he'd gotten another day of silence, then another.

  He thought it had been going well. It felt like it. They had a proper date which Jack seemed to enjoy. Talked a few times. There was even phone sex. They’d made other plans. Then there was nothing, and as the radio silence continued all the feelings he'd been holding at bay managed to break through. And it hurt.

  Amalie sat beside him and put a cup of coffee in his hands. He knew it was the cheap stuff they put in the old coffeemaker. The good stuff was still sitting next to the espresso machine. "Still nothing?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know what I did."

  She put her arm around him and he leaned into her side. "There's nothing to say you did anything."

  "I must have done something." It was always something he did. He moved too fast, or not fast enough. Didn't show enough emotion but insisted on acceptance of his life.

  "It could have been me. I don't like sugar coating things. I could have scared him off."

  "No. He was good. We talked, we made plans. It had to have been…" He sipped his coffee. It tasted flat.

  "Hey, he could have lost his phone and there's some asshole reading your messages to his friends and laughing their asses off."

  Isaac chuckled even though he knew that wasn't what happened.

  "Are you willing to consider finding him in person? You know where he works."

  Isaac shook his head even though he'd been contemplating walking into the County Sheriff's Office and demanding to see Jack. "No. His privacy is important to him. Plus, you know, creepy."

  "Yeah." She took the coffee from his hands and put it on the table before pulling him into a hug.

  "I thought he was it," He mumbled into the skin of her neck. "I really thought so."

  "So, did I." He raised his head to look at her. Her face was full of empathy and that somehow made it hurt more. "We still don't know what happened. And if he's not the one then I still believe you have someone out there waiting for you. I really do."

  C
hapter 28

  The industrial strength coffee cup easily withstood Jack drumming his fingers along the rim. He didn't drink the coffee inside. Dan sat across from him eating his lunch. They decided that it looked weird if all three of the team leads met together outside work on a regular basis without the cover of group or social events. They all knew it was spy movie paranoia and probably absolutely no one was paying attention to them, but after two more duds and an abandoned meth house blowing up on Gonzales, they needed to do something.

  "We need to get into the paper work. There's got to be some trail about where those tips are coming from. Even if it's an anonymous source they have to be landing somewhere. It's either that or go right to IA."

  Jack did not want to deal with IA. And it wasn't for 'I'm not a rat' reasons. He was willing to rat like hell if it kept his guys from getting blown sky high, but their evidence was all still circumstantial.

  "We can do IA but if I'm going to be spotted walking into their offices, I want to bring them something other than vague theories."

  Dan sighed. "We need more friends. No, I've got lots of friends, we need connections."

  "We wouldn't be in SWAT if we were politically minded enough to make the kind of connections that would be useful here."

  "That's true."

  Jack knew he had one connection, sort of. Someone no one would expect him to know. Isaac said he'd talk to Lydia, but he never mentioned if he had and she had never contacted him. He could ask. It had been a month with no calls from IA or lawyers involved in the Hugh Lancing case. His phone was heavy in his pocket. A month since the raid on the Dog Box and three weeks since Isaac had stopped trying to contact him. His last message had been 'for whatever I've done, I'm sorry'.

  "Uh-oh. You're making that face."

  Jack looked up. He'd been staring into his cooling coffee, not really seeing it. "What face?"

  "That thinking about whatever it is that went wrong to put you in a shitty mood for the last month."