Found Wanting Pt. 03

Author's Note:

See Pt. 1 for blurb. Also, if you haven't already read Pt's 1 & 2, I strongly recommend doing so before proceeding.

All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

***

Copyright © 2023 Jake Lazarus

All rights reserved.

This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author (except for the use of brief quotations in a review).

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, business, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

***

Thirty

Bruce

"Explain to me again why they're expected to cook a full-sized turkey in less than an hour," Bruce asked in bewilderment.

Reyna chuckled and said, "If it wasn't hard, there wouldn't be any drama. These people are world class chefs. They've got to make it hard so some of them fail. Have you really never watched reality TV?"

"Never. I'm not sure I've averaged more than a few minutes of TV a year in the last decade and a half. Also, are they really world class chefs? They kind of just seem like a motley collection of assholes."

'I guess maybe they're also chefs. Should we watch something else?"

"Not on my account. I don't have any shows so we should watch whatever you want. I'm just happy to spend time with you."

"Ditto, babe," Reyna murmured as she snuggled into him.

In truth, Bruce would have preferred to watch something in which he could get a little more invested. But, as he had said, he knew nothing of current programming. He was also a strong believer in never critiquing a decision without offering an alternative. A more engaging program would have distracted him from the fact that he felt like King Damocles, with a thread holding the proverbial sword over his head. He was not a believer in problems resolving themselves. And, outside of travelling to Miami and killing everyone affiliated with the mysterious Victor Zlodey (a strategy which Reyna had repeatedly forbidden), he did not have any idea how to ensure her safety. So, as with the program, he was forced to remain silent.

He spent the rest of the show paying far more attention to the way Reyna's starboard nipple reacted to the light caresses he was delivering to the underside of her breast than what was on the screen. Far from being distracted by his actions, she had slid her hand up his inseam and was languidly stroking his balls through his jeans.

As the credits began to roll and the channel they were watching rolled into the news, Reyna whispered, "I don't think I've ever enjoyed watching a show more."

Bruce smiled and murmured, "The TV was on?"

She tilted her head up and accepted the kiss he offered. As their lips parted, she sighed and said, "I could get used to this."

"Do you want to 'watch' something else?" he asked with finger quotes for emphasis.

"I want to watch you take your pants off."

"Your wish is my command," he replied somberly before scooping her up in his arms and standing to carry her into the bedroom as she peppered kisses along his neck.

"I'm so fucking turned on, babe," she panted as she struggled out of her leggings. "I didn't give you blue balls, did I?"

"No. But that would be a small price to pay to gaze upon such a sight."

She smiled up at him from where she had finally succeeded in removing her leggings, allowing her to spread her legs open unselfconsciously and languidly tease her clit. Bruce paused in the process of unfastening his belt and dropped to his knees as though he had been shot.

Reyna looked at him worriedly and said, "What are you..."

Her words faltered when he licked along her seam.

"Fuck," he gasped. "You're delicious."

He delved his tongue into her core, savoring the way her wetness surged for him. His hands sought out her erogenous zones as he continued to thrust his tongue into her depths, one hand going to the breast he had spent the last hour stimulating and the other seeking out her clit. She bucked her hips, thrusting her soaked entrance against his mouth. Within seconds, she was approaching her release and he gave no quarter.

"Bruce?" she whimpered just before her legs snapped closed around his head.

Her hips spasmed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her under the unrelenting ministrations of his tongue. Her essence covered his face, but he was nowhere close to satiated.

Her legs opened enough for him to hear her whimper, "It's too much."

"Honey... I haven't even gotten started."

"What?" she gasped.

Bruce licked along her seam with a delicate touch, barely touching her with the tip of his tongue. When he reached her clit, he tenderly spread her open with his thumbs and placed the lightest of flicks on the tip of her pleasure bud.

"Oh, babe," she moaned softly. "That feels incredible."

Bruce kept up the minute strokes of his tongue on the tip of her clit, teasing her with agonizing deliberateness. She took his head in her hands and tried to pull him into her, clearly desperate for more friction against her pleasure bud.

"Unh uh," he hummed against her clit.

"Please," she hissed.

It pained him to refuse her, but he was confident she would thank him in the end. His teasing continued until he felt her wetness surge across his chin and her panting became labored. He awkwardly fumbled at his belt and tugged his trousers down.

"Oh, babe," Reyna whimpered desperately. "I'm so fucking close."

He stood quickly, turning her yelp of protest into a scream of ecstasy as he buried himself in her silken depths. His thrusting served as an accelerant for her orgasm, like squirting lighter fluid on a campfire. Her essence sprayed across his chest with every movement of his hips. Gripping her thighs, he fucked her energetically, prolonging her orgasm until her breathing grew ragged. He buried himself as deep as he could in her velvety channel and bent to kiss her deeply.

When their lips parted, she murmured, "Bastard."

"You don't mean that," he whispered before kissing her again.

She smiled and admitted, "Perhaps you're right. But that doesn't mean I won't get you back." She sighed before adding, "You want me to go down on you?"

"Not as much as I want something else."

"Are you afraid I'll edge you into a coma?" she asked coquettishly.

He snickered and said, "Well... maybe I am now."

"I'll be nice... mostly."

"I'm sure you will be, but I have something else in mind for you."

She stretched lasciviously and said, "My body is yours to do with as you will."

He rose above her and took a moment to remove what remained of his clothes before rolling her over onto her belly. Positioning himself above her, he straddled her knees and dragged the head of his cock across her ass.

"So good," she murmured happily.

Lining himself up with her entrance, he slipped the head in and sighed in contentment at the feeling of her silken embrace. Gripping her hips, he pulled her up to her knees, burying himself in her in the process. She looked over her shoulder at him and wriggled her hips playfully. He slid his hands from her hips, filling them with the perfectly rounded globes of her ass.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

"Fuck... so do you."

"Not gonna last like this, honey."

"I want you to cum inside me, babe. Please fill me up."

"Reyna," he gasped as he buried himself a final time before exploding deep into her womb. He felt her inner walls rippling along his length as she joined him in release. Pulling her body against his and arching her back, he cradled her breasts and latched his lips onto her neck.

"Yes, my love," she sighed. "Just like that."

He laid her down gently as their collective pleasure receded. He quietly padded into the restroom to warm a cloth to clean her up. When he returned, he found her climbing from the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly. "I was going to..."

She raised a hand and said, "Did you forget the fact that you made me squirt all over the goddamned bed? This is going to take a bit more than a thoughtfully warmed towel to clean up."

"Oh," he replied quietly. "Sorry."

She hurried to his side, pulling him close and kissing him adoringly before saying, "I'm not, and you shouldn't be either. It was incredible."

"Oh... um... great?"

"You did good, my love. Really fucking good. Now let's get these sheets changed so we can get some sleep."

His smile was so wide that he worried he would strain a muscle in his face. The smile was still there when she curled up against him and kissed him lovingly goodnight.

***

The following morning, as Bruce was walking slowly around the preschool in the midst of a light rain, he heard a car approaching. He turned to see the Sheriff's cruiser pulling up to the curb beside him. The passenger side window lowered, and the Sheriff looked at him questioningly.

"I was hoping for a moment of your time," Nathaniel called out. "You willing to step out of the rain, or should I dig out my slicker."

Bruce shrugged and climbed into the cruiser's front seat. He took off his hat and shook it out before closing the door to the car.

"See anything interesting?" Nathaniel began.

"Nope," Bruce replied simply. "Not a goddamned thing.

"You don't sound happy about that."

"Of course not. We know who the enemy is. He's already sent at least two guys to kill her. I don't think he's going to give up."

"You don't think the report the state police put out about a Columbian cartel-style assassination of a Ukrainian hitman in Jacksonville will throw them off the scent?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny any allegations..."

"Save it. Don't insult my intelligence. They included pictures, so I know it was the same guy. Interesting solution to hide the gunshot wound by chopping his arm off. Well... both of them."

"It was, at most, a delay of the inevitable. They know she was wrecked here, it will only be a matter of time until they come back here to look again."

"Why not take her and the boy and go?"

"She won't do it. Says that'll just mean she'd always be looking over her shoulder."

Nathaniel paused for a moment before saying, "So, what? She just wants to wait for the inevitable?"

"She doesn't have a death wish, if that's what you mean. I suggested a less passive approach, which she also vetoed."

"I'll do whatever I can to help you, but I don't want a war in my town. Why won't you let me take this to the state police? Or hell, the feds."

"Guys like this Zlodey always have moles on the inside. If you report this to them, his guys will beat them to town. And then you'll have the aforementioned war spilling into the streets."

"There must be something we can do."

"Use the fact that we're a small town. Use those insufferable gossips to let people know the score. Make sure your office gets word right away if guys with strange accents show up in town."

"Then what? If you put them in county lock-up, word will get out basically right away." Nathaniel shook his head and added, "I cannot accept a scenario where our only choice is to just execute every thug this guy sends."

"You think I like it?" Bruce exploded. "All that matters is her and Alton."

"Then convince her to go. It doesn't matter where. We'll keep an eye out around here. If this Zlodey sends more guys, I'll call in the feds. It won't matter then if he's got ears in their offices, because no one but you and her will know where you're going. I'm sure you can get her somewhere safe without anyone knowing where you went."

"Maybe," Bruce replied weakly.

"I get the urge to kill every one of those bastards, my friend. But that won't actually make her appreciably safer. If this asshole sends more guys, I'll sic the FBI on his ass. It's not a perfect strategy, but it's better than waiting for them to bring the fight to you."

Bruce nodded and said, "Ok. I'll talk her into it. Somehow."

Thirty-One

Reyna

"Isn't it wonderful?" Reyna gushed as she beheld the spectacle before them.

"It's a mistake, is what it is," Bruce grumbled.

"Oh, come on. It's just a few hours. We'll head out tonight. You know as well as I do how much Alton's been looking forward to this."

"As you wish," he conceded reluctantly. "But we're on the road right after."

"Our bags are already packed. Where are we headed, anyway."

"I can't tell you."

"I thought we didn't have any secrets," Reyna pouted.

"I meant the place is a secret. It also doesn't have a name. But I suspect you'll love it."

"So long as we're together."

"Always."

She looped a hand through his arm, keeping a firm grip on Alton with her other hand. They were making their way through a maze of automobiles, but she could already hear the sounds of their destination in the distance.

"Wow!" Alton shrieked when he caught sight of the top of a Ferris wheel. "Is that a fairy wheel?"

"Ferris wheel, buddy. You want to ride on it?"

"Yes!"

Despite his warm tone, Reyna could feel the tension radiating off of Bruce increase with every step. Whether it was the danger she faced from the Georgian mobster or merely the thickening crowd, she could not be sure.

She squeezed his arm and pulled him close, "I really appreciate you doing this for us, babe. It means a lot to me."

"You know I'd do anything for you."

She kissed his cheek lingeringly and whispered, "I'm a very lucky girl."

They proceeded to the entrance and collected their tickets. Just inside the door, Reyna heard her name called amongst the din of the crowd. She glanced around curiously until she spotted Janice standing near a corndog stand with a remarkably tall man.

"Hey, honey," Janice called out in greeting. "Fancy meeting you here. This is Dennis." Janice knelt down to Alton's level and said, "It's good to see you again."

Alton leaned back into Reyna fearfully, prompting the latter to say, "You remember Ms. Janice, honey. From the hospital, and then later at our apartment?"

"Hospital?"

"Yes. Right after Mr. Bruce saved us from the car crash."

"Yucky juice?" Alton asked suspiciously.

"That's right. She gave you the juice."

"You look a lot better than you did that night, young man. Have you been taking good care of your mother?"

"Yes," came the proud reply.

Janice stood back up and said, "And who's this handsome fellow you're with?"

Bruce scoffed and said, "We've met before."

"Holy crap! Bruce! I didn't recognize you with that smile on your face."

"Very funny."

Janice looked to Reyna and murmured, "Told you."

"Fine," Reyna snapped. "You were right. About everything."

Janice's eyes widened slightly as she took Reyna's meaning. She then smiled brightly and said, "Well, good. I'm so happy for both of you."

"Fairy's wheel!" Alton shouted excitedly.

Reyna shrugged and said, "Shall we?"

***

The sun set over a group larger than Reyna could have imagined, all happily enjoying both the carnival and the fellowship. Mariko had joined them shortly after their arrival, along with a man whose name Reyna could not remember, but the description her friend had offered of her companion's coupling gear would haunt her for years to come. Janice's nephews were there, along with their well-meaning, but somewhat daft, parents. The last members of their group, and the least expected, were Skip and his partner Edwina, a Latina woman at least 20 years his junior who towered over him and was always quick to call him on his orneriness.

The last duo proved the most helpful in maximizing fun for the young ones, ironically. Skip, having spent the prior two decades as the chair of the county fair organizing committee, knew all the tips and tricks for avoiding the lines. He also gave Reyna a not-so-subtle shake of his head to warn her off riding the Tilt-a-Whirl, explaining later that it was notorious for a multitude of pinched fingers and at least three concussions. Edwina, whose day job was training service animals, was leading a beautiful mastiff who drew children in like bees to honey, giving the children of their group no end of companions to join them on the various rides.

Stuffed with food, the health implications of which Reyna refused to even contemplate, the group made their way to an enormous open field which abutted a large stage where a band was just starting their set. Years of pop and dance music filling her music player had conditioned her to dismiss country music, but she could not deny the energy of the group as they quickly captured the focus of the crowd. She glanced over at Bruce to find a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as they swayed to the music. She wondered where he got his energy. He had been carrying Alton on his shoulders for the last hour and showed no signs of fatigue. This was made even more amazing considering the fact that Alton was, to put it gently, a wiggler, making carrying him on one's shoulders an exercise in constant vigilance.

She leaned up to Bruce and said, "You sure you're all right carrying him?"

"Of course. How else could he see? In any case, I like carrying him."

She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him briefly before settling back against his side with an irrepressible smile on her face.

"You look really happy," Janice observed from her other side. "So does he."

Reyna glanced back over at what she thought of as 'her men' before replying, "Which 'he'?"

"Both of them."

Reyna did not even try to suppress the goofy grin which spread across her face. "I really am."

Janice leaned in closer and whispered, "Did you tell him yet?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you're crazy-stupid in love with him, of course."

"Sort of?"

Janice chortled and said, "How do you sort-of tell someone you love them?"

"It's complicated. We're not high schoolers navigating a first crush. There's history to consider, for both of us."

"Bullshit. If he loves you the way I know he does, there is no such thing as too early."

Reyna glanced worriedly back at Bruce before leaning close to Janice and whispering, "Are you sure?"

Janice grinned and said, "Sure is a challenging word, honey. No one in town... hell, likely no one in the universe, knows him better than you do. But I know he's never shown the slightest interest in anyone in town outside of his hermit-like appearances to do a good deed before fading back into the background, hopefully before anyone noticed. I've seen more of him since you two got together than I did in the three years before that. If that isn't love, it's sure as hell love adjacent. The real question is: are you sure?"

"I... think so," Reyna hedged. "Its just so hard to judge these things when, as near as makes no difference, the first complete sentence a man ever speaks to you is that he's devoted his life, his fortune and his sacred honor to your safety and happiness. And he says it in such a way that you never doubt for a fucking instant that he means every word. Typically, you get a little age on a relationship before that level of commitment."

"Or not at all," Janice gushed. "How did you go weeks after hearing that before you slept with him?"

Reyna shrugged and said, "It was just how things worked out, but I wouldn't change a thing."

"I should think not. Just remember, I get credit for introducing you if anyone does. Something to keep in mind when you're deciding on a maid of honor."

Reyna snickered and muttered, "I'll keep that in mind." She was about to add a quip about her friend's own hypothetical nuptials when she felt Bruce stiffen beside her. Her head whipped around, and she said, "What is it?"

"Saw someone I recognized," he replied without looking at her. "We should go."

"Shouldn't we tell someone?" The sheriff?"

"Fine. Call him from the car." He dropped Alton from his shoulders into more of a basket carry and added, "You lead the way. I'll be a few meters behind you, but don't look back. He might not have seen you so just walk normally. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to Alton."

"Bruce?" she hissed worriedly.

"We have to leave now, or this could get real bad, real quick. Go, honey. I'm right behind you."

Reyna nodded firmly and made her way in the direction of the truck, ignoring the surprised calls from their friends. She whipped her phone out and texted Janice to let her know what had happened, hoping that she could quiet the rest of their group without raising suspicion.

Leaving behind the crowded fair for the parking lot filled her with almost crippling terror, the sudden absence of close-packed strangers giving her a profound sense of agoraphobia. It took every bit of her willpower to resist the urge to look over her shoulder for the pursuit her anxiety told her was only steps behind. Upon spotting Bruce's truck, her mind provided something else to worry her: how was she supposed to avoid looking suspicious standing helplessly beside a truck to which she did not have the keys.

This fear was allayed by a soft growl from the darkness which soothed her nerves effortlessly, "I'm two meters behind you. Go to the driver's side."

She did as he asked and seconds later was strapping Alton into his booster seat as Bruce drove sedately out of the parking lot.

"Shouldn't we pick up the pace a bit?".

"A single vehicle speeding through a nearly empty parking lot is far more conspicuous than one that isn't."

She nodded worriedly and said, "How can I help?"

"Keep watch for any other vehicles. Nearly everyone in town is at the fair, so it should be easy to spot a tail."

She turned to look over the back of the bench seat and said, "Who did you see?"

"It was one of the guys who came by the house a few weeks ago trying to track down your whereabouts."

"Are you sure?"

"If they follow us, it was him. If they don't, we're leaving. No stopping by the apartment, no nothing. We're gone as of five minutes ago. This time tomorrow, we'll be somewhere they can never touch you."

"What about our stuff?"

"Check the glove box."

She flicked the switch and peered inside to find a small handbag. She glanced in his direction and received a curt nod in reply. Opening the bag, she found several tightly wrapped stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

"That's fifty grand," Bruce offered distractedly. "I can get my hands on a hundred times that much with twenty-four hours' notice. Anything you need... we'll pick it up on the way."

The pitch of the engine picked up noticeably as they left the fairgrounds behind in favor of the sprawling residential areas which ringed the city. Reyna replaced the money and turned to look back out the rear-window.

A moment later, she whispered, "Damnit. There's a car back there."

"What kind?"

"How the hell should I know? I can only see the headlights."

"Look closer, honey. You can tell a lot from headlights. If they're dull, it's an older car. If there are two pairs of lights aligned horizontally, it's likely a domestic. Trucks will be high enough off the road that you can see a shadow beneath them."

Reyna looked closer before saying, "Bright lights. Low to the ground. Looks like they've also got a second set of lights, but not the high beams."

"Fog lights, likely meaning a more expensive car. Are they gaining?"

"Yes, but not quickly. Maybe it's just someone else headed home."

"Let's find out."

Bruce slowed to take the next cross street, an arrow-straight state highway that led due-east to the turnpike.

"Still back there," Reyna whispered fearfully.

Bruce grimaced in reply but said nothing. A few minutes later, he took another left onto a north-south road. Before Reyna could update him, he grunted, "I know. They're still there. Listen, honey. We've got to make for my place."

"I thought you said it was time for escape plan Alpha."

"The last place I want to be with hostiles on our tail is in the middle of the Everglades. We've got to make a stand."

"No," Reyna stammered, her anxiety nearly overwhelming her. "Not with Alton in the car."

Bruce glanced over and said, "I gave you my word that I would keep you safe, Reyna. Both of you. I swear I won't let anything happen to either of you. At my place, I'll have the advantage."

"I'm not doubting you, babe. I just don't see how involving him in a shootout makes him safer."

Bruce turned to her in the dim light coming off the ancient dashboard and solemnly vowed, "I have no intention of having a shootout. Please, my love. Trust me. I won't fail you."

Reyna sighed deeply before nodding and saying, "I trust you."

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles tenderly, before returning his attention to the road before them, and the death which followed them.

Thirty-Two

Bruce

"What are you doing?" Bruce grunted as a light flashed in his peripheral vision.

"I'm calling the sheriff," Reyna replied, as though it were the most reasonable response imaginable.

"Don't. At least... not yet. Nathaniel's a good man. Competent, dependable, and loyal. But he hasn't been in a gun fight in two decades. Even then, he was amongst an entire squad of his own guys who vastly outnumbered their opponents. I can't keep all three of you safe at once. Let's hold off on calling him until things calm down."

"But you don't know how many of them there are."

"Only as many as will fit in a sedan. I just don't want Nathaniel compromising himself by rolling up with sirens wailing only for these guys to light him up unsuspectingly."

"But what if whatever you've got planned doesn't work, babe? You've got to have some degree of backup."

"Fine," Bruce conceded. "But don't call 9-1-1. Call him directly and put him on speaker."

The phone rang a handful of times before the sheriff's familiar voice said, "Evening Ms. Lewiston. Enjoying the fair?"

"It's Bruce, Nathaniel. We've got a situation."

An urgent rustling could be heard in the background of the call for a handful of seconds before the sheriff said, "Ok. I ducked into a food truck. Give me the details."

"Spotted a face at the fair I recognized from that day at my place a few weeks back. Reyna, Alton and I departed and now there's a car following us. I'm leading them to my place."

"Why not lead them back to town? Just pull up in front of the station and I'll have my people ready."

"What happens if they light you up with automatic weapons fire, Nathaniel. Neither of us want a firefight in town."

The sheriff scoffed and said, "Like you'll fare much better alone? That's insane."

"I can control collateral damage at my place, and you know it."

"Why not just make a run for it?"

"That just means that our eventual confrontation will be in unfamiliar territory, and without the protections that exist on my property. I know you don't like this, Nathaniel. But you know I'm right."

"I really hate you sometimes."

Bruce ignored Nathaniel's jab and said, "Don't come tear-assing out to the house. If these guys mean us harm, they wouldn't hesitate to open fire on a squad car. If you must come, do so quietly. And wear your body armor."

The other end of the line was silent for a few moments before Nathaniel said, "Be careful, my friend."

"You too," Bruce replied warmly before nodding at Reyna to hang up the call.

Once she had replaced her phone in her purse, he said, "They're liable to roll up on us once the population density drops off. If that happens, things are liable to get loud. There are earplugs in the ashtray. You and Alton should put some in."

"Babe, what are we going to do when..." Reyna began, but Bruce cut her off, "Here we go..."

The truck's engine roared as they accelerated rapidly. Bruce did not need to glance at the dash to know they were travelling at nearly one-hundred-fifty kilometers per hour. He saw Reyna run her hand over Alton's belt in his booster seat, ensuring that it was snug, before making the same check of her own belt. A quick glance in the mirror showed that the pursuing car was gaining on them quickly despite their terrifying speed.

"How far?" Reyna stammered with a fear that both devastated and enraged him. He had vowed to keep them safe. Her fear was like a flashing neon sign advertising his failure. He shook his head and said, "Not far enough. Hang on."

He lifted slightly off the accelerator and watched the mirror closely, waiting until their pursuer was within a few dozen meters.

"What are you doing?" Reyna hissed.

Without looking from the mirror, he muttered, "I'm gonna hit the brakes and they'll fly right by."

"This is not the time for the quote game!"

As the car came along side and matched speeds with them, Bruce stomped on the brakes. The other car swerved wildly, having already committed to an attempted pit maneuver just as they started to slow. Bruce reached beneath the dash and flipped a switch, causing all of the vehicle's lights, including those in the interior, to extinguish. Bruce quickly turned onto what appeared to be a gravel driveway and proceeded along the path at only about twenty kilometers-per-hour.

"Won't they see our brake lights?" Reyna whispered.

"Nope, we're completely blacked out. They're effectively blind, especially with the moon just three days past new." He patted the dash and added, "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts. I've made a lot of special modifications myself."

Reyna groaned and whispered, "I don't like this game anymore."

"Just trying to lighten the mood. We're nearly there."

Bruce kept his attention split between the rough gravel road ahead and the headlights in the mirror which were erratically meandering along the road they had just left. He was trying to suppress the lingering hope in the back of his mind that their pursuers would not lose their trail, the bloodlust which he had prayed was in his past rearing its ugly head at the edge of his consciousness. It only took a brief glance to the side to remind him that far more was at stake than whether or not he had evolved past the man he had tried so hard to kill before returning to the country of his birth. His feelings for her were further heightened by the affection he felt for her son.

In an instant, he knew that he had transcended what he had always thought of as his prior life. That mindless automaton was no more. In its place, was only a man who would do anything to keep those he loved safe.

"When we get there," he began without preamble, "I'll need you to do just as I say. Stay as quiet as you can. Once I get you inside, I need you to swear to stay there until either myself or Nathaniel comes to get you."

She nodded and said, "I promise."

The ground beneath them smoothed out as Bruce turned back onto a paved road, several kilometers from where he had initially turned off. He could see the dim glow of their pursuers far to the rear suggesting that, while they might not have been reacquired, they were likely far from out of the woods. He slowed to a stop at the entrance to his property. He had briefly considered leaving the truck far enough away to distract their pursuit, but he had ultimately abandoned that strategy as it would leave Reyna carrying Alton over a longer distance while he covered their retreat. He hopped out to quickly open the gate before driving through toward the house, leaving the gate ajar behind them.

"Let's go," he snapped as the truck came to a stop just a few dozen meters from the house, out of sight of the road.

In an instant, Reyna was out of her belt and struggling to free Alton while Bruce dug out his trusty satchel. He then opened one of the locked boxes affixed in the bed of the vehicle. From this, he extracted a larger bag. He peaked inside to confirm its contents before slinging it over his shoulder, leaving it slightly open.

"Ready?" he whispered once he was finished locking the box.

Reyna held Alton close and was whispering reassurance to him. She nodded firmly at Bruce; her fear evident in her eyes even in the almost complete absence of light. He reached for her hand and led her toward the house. Charlie came bounding out to meet them and fell into step at Bruce's side. So complete was Reyna's trust in him, she made no sound of protest as they veered toward the barn, rather than the house.

That silence ended, however, when he closed the door to the barn behind them and, after donning a bit of protection, flicked on an overhead light.

"What is that?" she whispered.

Alton was less restrained, calling out, "Pirate Mr. Bruce!"

Reyna turned to him and snickered despite her terror. She whispered, "Why are you wearing an eyepatch?"

"Saves the night vision in my dominant eye. Into the panic room."

"You mean the bank safe?"

"A bank safe has the lock on the other side. There's a storage locker under the chairs. It's got water, non-perishable foodstuffs, books... even an oxygen bottle. There's a light on the ceiling which is battery operated. Long story short..."

"Too late," she muttered.

"You've got enough in there to last a week," he continued. "I want you three to go in there and lock the door behind you."

"Charlie too?"

"Please. Just like Nathaniel, this isn't his style of op," he gestured again at the panic room and added, "Don't open it until I come get you."

She glanced around inside the space, which was barely over ten cubic meters, before saying, "I don't see a window."

"I'll knock using the theme from your favorite movie. Now go, those jokers could be here any second."

"Bruce... I..."

"No time, honey. Get inside, quickly."

She leaned up to kiss him quickly before hurrying Alton into the panic room. Bruce kept his eyes glued to hers as he swung the door closed, trying to show the same love he saw there in his own tortured gaze.

"Be careful, Bruce. I lo..."

Her words were cut off as the door, which would stop anything short of conventional artillery, clanged shut. Moments later, the lock slid home with a soft thud.

Bruce leaned his head against the cool steel of the panic room as he whispered, "I love you too, Reyna."

He reached up and clicked off the light above him. As he did, he felt the weight of worry for them lift from his shoulders, freeing him to seek out those who would harm his loved ones so he could make them understand the profound depth of their miscalculation.

He stood unmoving for several minutes, barely breathing, as his ears collected data about his surroundings. The night was not overcast and the humidity was low, at least for central Florida in early autumn, meaning sound carried well enough for him to hear the thump of a car door closing down by the gate.

Without hesitation, Bruce moved to the back entrance to the barn and slipped outside. After glancing around with his night vision protected eye for a moment, he decided it was worth the risk to get a higher perspective. He padded noiselessly over to the ladder built into the barn's northern wall and made his way up to the gently sloping roof.

He kept low, wary of providing a silhouette even in the dim starlight, belly-crawling across the roof until he could spot the headlights of a luxury American sedan down by the gate. He spotted two figures walking confidently up his driveway. Just before the lights on the car timed-out, he spotted what was either a small machine-pistol or a very large hand-gun in the hand of the larger of the two men.

He carefully slid the contents of his larger satchel from the bag. It took him a few moments to make it ready for use, enough time for the trespassers to reach his front porch. The larger man kicked the door to his house open unceremoniously and strode inside. He helpfully flipped the light on, allowing Bruce to identify him as the man he had seen both down by the river bank and earlier that evening at the fair. He was also able to make out that the weapon the man carried was what was frequently, and incorrectly, termed a submachine gun in popular culture, a particularly nasty looking and, more importantly, wildly inaccurate one at that.

The second man was of average height and weight, with long brown hair and expensive appearing clothing. What was in the man's hand, however, made Bruce's blood boil with rage. It was a reasonably small, albeit unusually shaped, yellow plastic case.

"Fucking savages," Bruce muttered.

Without another thought, Bruce pulled his rifle to his cheek and fired, dropping the man immediately. He then quickly slipped the rifle back into its satchel and scrambled back across the roof. He heard footsteps coming from the direction of the house so he slowed his progress, not wanting to get caught halfway down the ladder. After a few moments, he heard a distinctive creaking come from the direction of the aforementioned ladder.

"Really?" Bruce murmured to himself. "You're just going to climb up to where the guy with the sniper rifle is waiting for you?"

Moments later, a hand snuck over the edge of the roof. Before Bruce could even fully contemplate what he had seen, he was rolling off the edge of the roof. As he was still falling, he heard the distinctive chatter of automatic weapons fire.

He landed with a crunch, recognizing the unforgettable pain of a broken rib immediately. He rolled awkwardly to his feet, quickly revising his damage estimate to 'at least three fractured ribs', and stumbled away from the barn.

As he fled, he heard the distant crash of footsteps through the fog-like muffling that always accompanied close proximity to gunshots without proper hearing protection. Once again, his instincts took over his movements, sending him lurching to the left just before the firing started again. He quickly realized that the larger man had seized upon his idea of firing from the top of the barn and was hosing the entire area down.

A quick look around told him that he was nearing a copse of trees. He dove the last few meters, heedless of the shriek of protest from his ribs, and slid behind a small berm. The firing behind him continued unabated until his foe's clip was once again depleted.

Bruce briefly considered taking the easily discernable man out with his rifle, only to realize that the satchel with the rifle was still at the base of the barn's wall. Grumbling to himself, he pulled his trusty pistol from his better-secured satchel. He gave thought to trying to take his foe out from his covered position, but he knew it was a one-in-a-million shot as pistols were truly only accurate out to about a dozen meters and the barn was at least twice that distance away from where he hid.

He knew he needed to close the distance between them without giving up the advantage of the cover he now held. Scanning around frantically, he spotted a small, but distinct, shape sticking out of the ground just a few meters away. He knew he would have to leave cover to reach it, but he could think of no better strategy.

He made the agonizing crawl to the pump for his well. Just a few meters beyond it, he reached the clean-out between the pump and the cistern on his roof. He had to pull a multi-tool from his satchel to loosen the cap, but he managed it with little noise. Without warning, the cap popped off and a deluge of lukewarm water flowed from the pipe.

Bruce scurried quietly back to his cover and waited for the inevitable. Less than ten seconds after he took up his position, the sensor in the pump clued in to the loss of pressure in the line going to the cistern and rumbled to life. The quiet chugging of the pump's motor combined with the spurting water provided more than enough noise to attract the attention of Bruce's foe, who was still standing on the barn's roof scanning his surroundings like a prodigiously tattooed gargoyle.

The giant scrambled down the ladder and lumbered toward the pump. Bruce held his fire until he was sure of his shot. Two new sounds rang out in the darkness, the distinctive loud pop followed by a metallic clank made by a suppressed pistol being fired. Bruce stood cautiously, keeping his pistol trained on the prone form of the gunman. As he approached, he moved his pistol back to his satchel, the baseball sized hole in the back of the giant's head leaving little doubt as to his fate.

Bruce made his way slowly to the house to find the first trespasser moaning loudly, still laying where he had fallen. Bruce dragged his rocking chair to the man's side and sat carefully, his ribs loudly protesting his every move.

He looked down at the unmoving man and said, "Would you like to know why I didn't kill you?"

"I do not fear torture," the man spat in a high-pitched voice.

"It was the chainsaw," Bruce continued, unphased. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" The man merely stared at him hatefully in response. Bruce sighed and said, "So, here's your situation. Your spinal cord has been severed, meaning you'll never again use your arms and legs." He paused for a moment before adding, "Or, come to think of it, your cock. You'll never have sex again. I know enough about you sick bastards to know you'd rather die than live like this, so I'll make you a deal. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll give you a painless death. Otherwise, you'll spend the next twenty years in a jail masquerading as a hospital. As I'm sure you're aware, your former comrades will have little interest in freeing you, considering that you're now basically worthless to them. So... what's it going to be?"

"Who are you?" the man spat at him angrily.

Bruce smirked to himself and replied, "No one of consequence."

Thirty-Three

Reyna

"Ok... who brought the dog?" Reyna asked loudly as a loudly yapping shih tzu dashed toward them at full speed.

"I think it comes with the house," Bruce posited without confidence.

"I hope it's friendly. There's going to be no keeping Alton away from something that fluffy."

They watched the dog scamper across the well-kept lawn until it arrived, dramatically stumbling over a small curb bordering the sidewalk upon which they stood. It tumbled across the concrete, coming to a rest in the grass on the opposite side. It appeared no worse for wear and was back on its feet in seconds, making a beeline straight for Alton. The latter giggled in delight as the diminutive dog hopped energetically on its back legs in an unsuccessful attempt to lick someone, anyone, on the face.

"He's so cute! Why's he so hairy."

"Might not be a 'he'," Bruce suggested.

"How can you tell?" Alton replied excitedly.

"You walked right into that one," Reyna muttered.

Bruce kept his eyes on Alton and said, "Why don't we just respect its privacy, buddy? Want to go see the house?"

"Yes!"

Bruce led them across the wide lawn, past the expansive plantation style house which overlooked the Atlantic. After several minutes walking, in the anxious company of their new canine companion, a small house came into view. It was dwarfed by the larger main house and would be easy to overlook amongst the gently swaying palm trees and the rocky coastline.

Alton, and his canine companion, reached the door first and banged on it eagerly. Reyna arrived a few moments later and said, "Settle down, sweetheart. Bruce needs to unlock the door first."

Bruce, having just deposited their suitcases on the house's wide porch, reached between mother and son to unlock the door. Alton quickly scurried inside, leaving the adults on the porch. Reyna peeked inside to find a luxuriously decorated interior with plenty of windows overlooking the water.

She turned to Bruce and said, "It's lovely."

"I'm glad you like it. Why don't you two get settled and I'll see to the luggage."

"What's there to see to? There's only the two bags... we could unpack while holding our breath. Why don't we just relax for a bit out here on the porch?"

"Too much to do," he replied gruffly. "I'll set the bags inside. Then I've got to check the perimeter and check in with Daanyal while you guys get settled."

"What's your rush, babe?"

"Well, we've got to figure out where the dog came from, for one..." Bruce muttered before heading inside with the suitcases.

He emerged again a moment later and headed purposefully toward the main house, not even favoring Reyna with a passing glance on his way out.

"Fuck," she groaned as she sank into one of the porch's ample selection of attractive and comfortable-looking places to sit.

Things had been so hectic since the confrontation at Bruce's house, they had barely had time to hold hands, much less the kind of soul-searching conversation which was required when your boyfriend brutally killed two maniacs who were hell-bent on chopping you up with a chainsaw. She was terrified that he was pulling back again, just as he had done after the assault in the grocery store.

She had tried to talk to him several times during their frantic evacuation to... wherever he had taken them. She suspected it was one of the Caribbean islands which was formerly part of France, based on the sparse signage she had seen, but she genuinely had no idea.

Their interminable imprisonment in what Bruce referred to as his 'panic room' had lasted, at least according to the clock on her phone, less than ninety minutes. During which time her only indication of what was happening outside the featureless walls of their jail were faint echoes of what she suspected was gunfire. When Bruce had at last returned, using a portable speaker placed on the side of the safe to play the theme music to a certain beloved movie about the imprisonment and elimination of spectral nuisances, the excitement had been over. The entire sheriff's department was already on the scene, along with the coroner. No bodies were in evidence, but it was impossible to miss either the pool of blood on the porch or the deep suspicion with which everyone at the scene, save Nathaniel, had regarded him. There was also the undeniable fact that Bruce had sustained a rash of injuries: five broken ribs; a dislocated shoulder; and a deep puncture wound in his thigh. The fact that he claimed the injuries were the result of falling off the barn did nothing to allay her fears for his health.

Every time she had tried to broach the subject of what had happened, he suddenly realized that there was some pressing need which both begged for his attention and required that he leave her company for a time. She could guess at the possible reasons for his standoffishness, of course. But whether he was troubled by taking life, worried for the safety of her and her son, or worried over how she would react to the actions he had taken; she still needed to talk to him... to make him believe that she was with him, come what may.

A yelp of surprise from inside the house followed by Alton shouting, "Doggie... bath time," brought Reyna quickly out of her chair and hurrying inside the house to at long last discover what a shih tzu looked like when its entire face was covered in Cheez Wiz.

"Oh, honey," Reyna exclaimed, trying very hard to keep from laughing as she began a frantic search for towels... a lot of towels.

***

That evening found Reyna once again seated alone on the porch. Bruce had continued to be present and endlessly helpful, especially when it came to Alton. He had handled dinner; and dishes; and story time; and getting Reyna a cocktail; and belatedly returning the dog to his friend, the mysterious Daanyal. She was honestly unable to tell if the ceaseless activity was a conscious effort on his part to avoid... whatever it was he feared would happen if she ever managed to get him to hold still for long enough to have a serious conversation, or if he was truly unaware of how he was behaving.

She caught sight of movement within the trees off to her left. The house in which they were staying was ringed by trees a few meters thick to create a secluded feel, except on the east side of the house where the jungle seemed endless. It was here that she spotted movement. She listened carefully for anything suspicious, but heard nothing. She looked around frantically for any sign of Bruce. But, as had become the norm recently, he was nowhere to be found. She rose from her chair and hurried inside to collect a poker from its spot beside the fireplace before returning to the porch, her improvised weapon held cautiously before her like a broadsword.

"What's wrong?" Bruce's unmistakable voice whispered from the darkness.

"I think I saw something moving," Reyna hissed. "To the east."

"Where, to the east?" he called out somewhat louder.

"God damnit," she huffed. She then raised her voice to call out, "Never mind! It was just you, sneaking around in the bushes rather than spending time with me."

He emerged from the gloom moments later, a frown on his face. He climbed the steps to the porch slowly, like a man walking to the gallows.

"Am I truly so unpleasant to be around?" she asked snippily.

He sighed and said, "I'm so sorry, Reyna."

"Why?" she pressed.

"I made a huge mistake. I tried to be something I'm not, and now I've hurt you. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"If you want me to be happy, why are you spending all your time in the woods?"

"Because I'm a monster. Nathaniel and his guys cleaned up as best they could, but I saw your face when you saw the evidence of what I'd done."

"Oh, you mean when you saved my son and I from being chopped into little pieces, likely while we were still alive?"

He whirled to face her and seethed, "I didn't save you. I murdered them. The guy with the chainsaw, I intentionally paralyzed him so I could pick his brain for all he knew about you before I drove my knife through his temple."

"Why are you trying to shock me, Bruce?"

"Because you've built me up in your mind to some noble creature who's valiantly trying to protect you from the forces of darkness, but I'm no better than they are. We both kill without remorse if we believe it will achieve our objective.

"No," she retorted firmly. "They kill because they were ordered to, or for pleasure. You do it to protect those you care about. There's a difference. The fact that you feel bad about it proves I'm right."

"You don't understand," he grumbled before rising to walk off his frustration.

"Then explain it to me."

He stared at her with an almost unnerving intensity and said, "I have killed three men to protect you and Alton."

"I know that," she replied quietly. "Thank you."

He sighed and said, "I would kill a hundred more, hell... a thousand more, if that's what it took. And I don't 'feel bad' about it. I'm glad they're dead. Everyone who would threaten you deserves death." He turned to look out into the darkness before adding, "But you deserve so much more than a soulless murderer, honey."

"You're not soulless, Bruce," she answered softly as she rose to stand beside him. "You're a man toiling under the unimaginable burden of trying to keep your loved ones safe from God knows how many evil men who are trying to kill them." She let the silence linger between them for several moments before adding, "Do you want to know why I'm certain you have a soul?"

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't do this. Right now, I can still walk away when this is over. But... if you say it..."

"I don't want you to walk away ever again. I know you've done frightening things in your past, but that isn't who you are anymore."

"But," Bruce interrupted lamely.

Reyna glared at him and said, "Who was the last person you hurt before you met me?"

"You expect me to say it was before I returned to the States, but it wasn't. Some men from my past showed up at my house a few years back. They arrived when I wasn't home and killed Charlie's predecessor to send me a message. Hung him from that big oak out in front of the house."

"Oh my God, babe."

"When they returned the next night," Bruce continued undeterred, "I killed all but one of them. Did it with a knife, so the D. A. couldn't get his shorts in a bunch about it, even though they were all carrying shotguns. The one I let live took a message back to his superiors that seemingly convinced them that I wasn't worth the trouble."

"Killing in self-defense isn't murder, you dolt," Reyna snapped. "You're so goddamned committed to this idea that you're a monster that you haven't even stopped to consider that you might be completely full of shit. You're not a monster. You're a good man." She lowered her voice and murmured, "It's a good thing I'm in love with you, or I'd part your hair with this fucking poker, just to knock some goddamned sense into you."

"You shouldn't..."

"What?" she growled. "Love you? Perhaps not, considering you're too chicken shit to admit, at least out loud, that you feel the exact same fucking way. I appreciate the hell out of all you've done for us, Bruce. But, at a certain point, you've got to decide whether or not you give a damn about my feelings, or if you're just another alpha male asshole who knows what's best for the brainless, overwrought, hysterical woman who's only value to the world is a warm place to stick your cock!"

She stormed off the porch in a fit of rage. Both at his maddening behavior and because she had known at once that she had gone too far. She was hurt by what she saw as rejection in the face of her profession of love, even though it did not take a relationship expert to know that she had, to put it mildly, bungled what should have been a tender moment. Her frustration at not being able to think of a way to get through to him, once and for all, had bubbled over and she had taken it out on him.

She stilled as she sensed his approach, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off a chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze blowing her hair in her face. He stopped just short of wrapping his arms around her, standing close enough behind her that she could feel the heat radiating off his body without the benefit of his touch.

"I've never thought that of you, Reyna," he said firmly. "You're the strongest person I've ever known. This isn't about whether or not I love you, honey," he paused, almost as though in hopes of retracting the term of endearment. He shook his head and said, "It's about what you deserve."

She turned to face him, unwilling to hide the tears streaming down her face. "You said you wanted my happiness. Well, you are my happiness... you and Alton. So, I guess I'm fucked, because I'm in love with someone who's so convinced that he's not right for me that he can't open his eyes to the fact that he's all I ever wanted in a man."

Thirty-Four

Bruce

It was a time before smart phones, before social media, a time when the man who would become Bruce Lazarus was still an innocent, despite the law declaring him an adult. Were it not for the opening salvos of what would become the longest war in his country's history taking place around the world, it could have even been called a peaceful time. He was leading a hiking trip for a local youth organization. It was something he did during the summers for a little extra spending money. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined anything could actually go wrong.

Then had come the horrible morning when more than Michael Roberts innocence had died. A young boy, not more than eleven, had joined the trip. Michael had remembered him as something of a troublemaker, a ringleader amongst a group of boys who picked on those they saw as weaker and always quick to complain when things were not to their liking. Their incessant complaining was why Michael had, when woken in the middle of the night with complaints about the insects, told them to leave him alone. 'They were in the woods,' he had argued to himself. 'What did they expect?' The next morning, Michael had awoken to the awful truth that the boy whose health form made no mention of any known allergies had been stung by a wasp in the middle of the night and suffocated when the allergic reaction closed his airway.

Everyone had told him it was not his fault, even the boy's grief-stricken parents. But he had felt the hollowness of their words; the accusation they dared not voice, but which was all too present in their eyes. The morning of the funeral, Bruce had stood unmoving in his childhood bedroom filled with the knowledge of what he should do, and the fear of what that action could mean to him. In the end, he had gone to the funeral. Whether it was to avoid the added appearance of guilt his absence would establish or simply to offer support to a devastated family, he could not say. The eyes of the boy's extended family were what he most remembered. The grief mixed with rage at an uncaring God who could allow such a thing to happen. It had been something Bruce had remembered often during his years wandering in the wilderness, wondering if that doomed camping trip had been when he was damned, rather than nearly a decade later when he had nearly caused the death of his family.

As he stood near the water's edge on the breathtaking estate of his old comrade in arms with the woman who meant more to him than life itself glaring at him with a mixture of hurt and anger, he recalled that moment in his childhood bedroom so many lifetimes ago. He knew this was another such decision... one where either option involved pain and heartache. Honor demanded that he release Reyna from her feelings for him, no matter how painful it would be for both of them. But, as she had said, that meant completely ignoring her wishes, something he could not do in good conscience. This impasse led him to recognize, at long last, that if the thing Reyna was asking him for perfectly aligned with what his own heart yearned for with a desperate hunger, then how could he let his admittedly damaged honor stand in the way.

He felt something change deep within him with an almost palpable click. This woman loved him, not in spite of his transgressions but because of who he had become as a result. She saw his dedication to her happiness rather than his scars; his devotion to her son rather than the abhorrent husband and father he had been in a prior life; his love for her rather than the acts of violence he had committed in service to a cause itself so corrupt as to be indistinguishable from the evil it purported to oppose.

These thoughts passed through his head in an instant. He reached out to take her hand and whispered, "Can you ever forgive me?"

"For what?" she replied guardedly.

"For ever allowing you to think that I did not love you with all that I am."

"I don't doubt that you love me, you dumb bastard... just whether or not you can ever allow yourself to be in love with me. There's a wall between us, babe. Sometimes it goes away, if things are going well. But every time something happens, it comes right back up. This sounds horrible to say, because it makes me sound ungrateful, which I most certainly am not. But, there's more to loving someone than being willing to die for them. A lot more."

"I know. And while I'll never lose my willingness to give my life for either you or Alton, I'll also never not love you both."

"No more walls?" He shook his head firmly, but she pressed, "This thing with the mobsters isn't over, babe. If they find us, and you end up saving us again, you can't fall into this place of believing I'm suddenly better off being alone and miserable rather than in the arms of the man I love... the man who has saved us so many times I can't even count them anymore." She gazed up at him, unshed tears brimming in her eyes, and whispered, "Promise me you won't leave again. I want you, Bruce. In my arms, in my bed, in my life... Alton's life too."

He sighed and said, "I will try, my love. I have many demons. In the past, when they reared their ugly heads, no one except myself was affected. I do not know what will happen if you're with me."

"We will confront them together, as partners."

"We're way more than partners at this point, honey."

She smiled warmly up at him and said, "Then why aren't you kissing me?"

He chuckled as he looked around and said, "I believe we have already established that I am quite foolish when it comes to a certain devastatingly beautiful woman."

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her, muttering, "Just kiss me, you fool."

"Nice one," he murmured just before her lips met his.

The moment she touched him, he felt as though every cell in his body exploded simultaneously and was immediately reformed into a better version of itself. There were no more hidden revelations; no more unspoken declarations; no reservations. All that remained was two lovers who sought nothing more complicated than their partner's happiness.

A sigh escaped her chest as she opened her mouth to him. This sigh turned into a moan when he slid his hand into her hair and deepened their kiss. Their tongues intertwined feverishly as they each sought more. Her hands fumbled for his jeans, tugging him closer and wriggling in delight when she felt his arousal pinned between them.

"Make love to me," she gasped as he relinquished her lips to trace his tongue down the column of her neck. He gladly lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, before heading for the house. "No," she whispered into his ear before sucking his earlobe briefly between her lips. "On the sand."

"But what about..."

"Do you have any reason to believe there's anyone within five-hundred kilometers that both knows we're here and is not trusted implicitly by you?"

"Well... no. But..."

"I have always wanted to make love to the man of my dreams on a starlit beach. Are you seriously going to deny me this?"

"You know I can't say no to you."

He turned back toward the water, walking the dozen meters until they were on the sand. Setting Reyna gently on her feet, he removed his shirt and spread it on the sand. Reyna's dress soon followed, providing a reasonably ineffective, but sufficient for their purposes, beach blanket. By the time Bruce finished removing his jeans and briefs, Reyna already stood naked with the water lapping at her ankles. He approached behind her and wrapped his arms around her comfortingly. She sighed in contentment, taking a moment to reach back and redirect his manhood so that it pressed snugly against her ass. He slid his hands across her belly to find her breasts, her nipples already pebbled and aching for his attention.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear before kissing her neck.

"I love you, too," she stammered. "Babe... I need you inside me.:

He led her back to their clothes and sank down onto the blanket. She followed quickly after him, straddling his thighs and regarding his throbbing cock hungrily. Their hands reached out as one for the other's pleasure centers. She gripped his penis in both hands and began slowly stroking him. He lightly teased her clit with one hand and caressed one of her magnificent breasts with the other.

"I'm torn," she panted. "I can't decide which I want more: to feel you explode in my mouth as I worship your cock with my tongue; or deep in my pussy as you suck on my tits; or even in my ass as you..."

"If you keep talking like that, you're going to get 'I die of shame because you finished me off on my own belly', instead."

She chuckled and said, "That could be fun too. You could watch me lick it all up like the bawdy wench I am, and always will be... at least for you."

"Don't sweat it, honey. We have our whole lives to share every experience you can dream up."

"I know, but this is some level ten fantasy shit here. We're talking top of the heap in the spank bank."

"Only until we make new fantasies, my love."

"Don't think I wasn't thinking about just that in that private plane you somehow arranged for us to come down here." She glanced down at his cock again and grunted in frustration when pre-cum welled up at the tip. She swiped it off with the tip of her finger, lifting the dollop to her lips to taste. She then gazed into his eyes wantonly and whispered, "I've decided."

Without another word, she shifted her hips forward and sank onto his throbbing manhood. Her arousal was such that she easily took him to the root without difficulty.

"Fuck," he grunted as her hands on his chest reminded him of his broken ribs.

"Oh, babe," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

"A small price to pay, my love." He sighed in contentment, "You feel... perfect."

"So do you," she whispered.

He pulled her close and claimed her lips as he began thrusting into her molten core. She kissed him with an urgency that took him by surprise, her tongue twining with his desperately as she gripped his face like a life buoy. When he felt moisture on his face, he stilled his hips and broke the kiss, looking at her with concern.

"What's wrong, honey?"

She took over their love making, slowly swiveling her hips and causing a moan of pleasure to escape his lips. She whispered, "I never thought I'd find you. I spent all those years reading those silly books, planning out my happily ever after. Then I got mixed up with that shithead who gave me Alton. After long enough with him, and certainly once I got pregnant and left him, I just figured that was all off the table for me." She sighed in contentment as he met the movement of her hips with a thrust of his own, burying himself deep in her silken heat. She kissed him and murmured, "I'm just so happy, babe. So very happy. And I love you so much."

"I love you too."

They continued the languid pace of their lovemaking, neither anxious to seek out their own pleasure and focusing instead on their lover. Reyna sucked unhurriedly on Bruce's nipples as he kneaded her flawless ass and stroked her back with light touches of his fingertips, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

"I'm close," she panted against his chest.

"So am I," he gasped.

"I want to cum with you, babe," she whimpered against his chest. "Please. I'm so close."

He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him; how he would always be there for her and her son; how much more he loved her than he had ever thought it possible to love someone. He wanted to tell her everything, but all he managed to stammer was, "Reyna," before his pleasure consumed him.

He thrust his hips a final time and exploded deep within her womb. The moment she felt the first eruption of his seed, her own pleasure crested. They rode out their mutual pleasure, their bodies spasming in shared ecstasy. Her inner walls milked him hungrily, coaxing every drop of his essence into her core.

"Yes," she hissed greedily. "I can feel you filling me up, babe. It feels so fucking hot."

"You feel incredible, honey," he replied as his pleasure began to recede. "I love you so fucking much."

"Ditto," she murmured as she dropped her head to his chest. After a few deep breaths, she raised her head to look at him and said, "Thank you."

"I believe we've already discussed thanking each other for sex. In any case, it was certainly my pleasure."

"Oh, mine too. But I wasn't thanking you, babe. I was thanking the Gods for finally giving you to me."

He smiled and said, "Then perhaps you should introduce me to these Gods, so that I may also thank them properly for introducing me to my soul mate."

Thirty-Five

Reyna

"Good morning, beautiful," Bruce called from his spot at the table by Alton's side.

Reyna's heart caught a bit at the sight of the two of them sitting so naturally together. Alton appeared to be mixing something which looked a bit like pancake batter and Bruce was watching him carefully while helping surreptitiously, making certain Alton could take all the credit. It was exactly the kind of thing her father used to do with her, the kind of thing she had always dreamed Alton would one day experience.

Alton looked at Bruce queerly and said, "Why did you call Mommy beautiful?"

"Because she is," Bruce answered easily. "Don't you think so?"

"Yes. But you shouldn't say that. Mommy gets mad when men call her pretty."

"Only some men," Reyna pointed out as she joined them. "I happen to like it very much when Mr. Bruce calls me beautiful."

"Not Mr. Bruce. He said I can call him just Bruce."

"I figured the 'mister' was a bit formal, considering how much time we spend together."

Reyna nodded, swiping a telltale tear from her eye before saying, "I think that makes perfect sense. What are you guys making?"

Alton's smile lit up the entire house as he announced, "Strawberry and banana pancakes with sprinkles."

"Sounds... interesting. Where did you get the recipe?"

"Bruce knewed it. He knows everything."

"Indeed he does," Reyna agreed as she stood. "Anyone else want coffee?"

"Yuck!" and "Sure," were the replies. She headed to the kitchen to prepare the beverage and bask in the rightness of the scene. Whatever his prior failings as a husband or father, it could hardly be said that Bruce had not learned from his experiences. He was showing the ideal amount of attentiveness to Alton, neither being too standoffish nor too oppressive. It had been something Bruce had shown increasing comfort in doing, but the way he was interacting with her son this morning was on a whole new level. It filled her with happiness, both because of how happy it was making Alton and because it reinforced the commitment Bruce had made to her.

She delivered coffee to Bruce and juice to Alton, along with a kiss to the forehead for each, before resuming her seat.

"You shouldn't kiss mister... I mean Bruce, Mommy."

"And why not?"

"I did'ed it once, and he said to not do it again."

"You caught me off guard, buddy," Bruce offered contritely. "I didn't mean to bark at you. I think we know each other a lot better now and it would be just fine if you wanted to kiss me goodnight."

"Bruce and I have become very close, honey," Reyna explained. "Do you know what that means?"

"That you're allowed to kiss him?"

"Yes. It also means we sleep in the same bed, and that we love each other. What do you think about that?"

"What if he snores?" Alton asked seriously.

Reyna guffawed before saying, "He doesn't, at least not much. But I would still want to sleep with him even if he did."

"Ok," Alton replied congenially. "When can we make the pancakes?"

"Right now," Bruce announced as he stood with Alton under one arm and the bowl of batter in the other hand.

The pair were soon pouring a very lumpy looking batter filled with unusually large chunks of fruit into a skillet. Reyna enjoyed her coffee while watching them prepare the first batch.

"Any word from home?"

Bruce turned her way and said, "I haven't heard anything from my contacts. As far as whatever it was you and Nathaniel cooked up, it honestly went over my head. Technology and I parted ways before social media became a thing."

Reyna chuckled and said, "Think of it like a message board. Nathaniel set up a public account, where anyone can see the posts. It gives him a way to get us information without anyone knowing we're the recipient. Like an airplane dragging a 'will you marry me?' banner behind it. Everyone can see it, but its only meaningful to one person."

"Makes sense, I guess. But I haven't... whatever you call it to see if he... said... something."

"I hereby nominate myself as the chief technology officer of our relationship."

"Seconded," Bruce offered with a grin. "All in favor?"

"Where's the laptop?"

"It's in the living room on the desk. Daanyal said to remember to use the VNP, whatever that is."

"VPN. Virtual Private Network. It means people can't figure out where we are or what we're doing on the internet."

"Sounds handy. Let me know if I can do anything to help."

"Just keep being beautiful," Reyna replied as she left the room.

As she pulled the laptop from its case, she heard Alton ask Bruce, "Why did she call you beautiful?"

"No telling, buddy. But we shouldn't hold that against her. You've got a pretty terrific mom, you know that?"

"I know. She's the bestest."

"Crikey," she exclaimed quietly.

Once the laptop booted up and she had established all the appropriate connections, she took a look at the social media accounts Nathaniel had promised to set up. The only posts she found used a pre-agreed-upon code phrase which meant the FBI investigation was continuing but had made no significant discoveries. This disappointed her because, while the house in which they were staying was amazing, she missed the town she had begun to think of as home. She missed her friends. She even missed her job. Reyna also knew that this secluded house on the beach would start to feel stifling if they spent long enough there, especially with no clearly defined end point.

Perhaps the frustration of the unknown was what drove her to dig deeper into social media, or perhaps it was as simple as a desire for some semblance of all she had left behind, no matter how happy all she still had made her. A single Goolgol search was all it took to send her down a rabbit hole. By the time her coffee grew cold, she had learned a great deal and developed the beginnings of a plan, the first part of which had already been set into action.

She stood with a suddenness which surprised her, as though the laptop had scalded her. Looking around with a fearful expression, it took her a moment to remember where she was and how she got there. She glanced back at the computer screen and had a sinking feeling.

She looked worriedly between the kitchen and the laptop several times before muttering, "No point in crying over spilt milk."

She walked into the kitchen to find Bruce and Alton cleaning up. She asked, "What happened to the pancakes?"

"We burned the spit out of them," Alton announced.

Bruce looked at her sheepishly and added, "I forgot to take into account all the sugar in the fruit. We tried four batches but could never strike the right balance between 'not done' and 'meteor'. Also, it would seem that the cast iron skillet, despite its dark appearance, had never been cured. What have you been up to?"

"Um... stuff. No word from Nathaniel, by the way."

"I guess it was too much to hope that the Feds would take the wealth of evidence at my place and decide that was sufficient to lock up a up-and-coming gangster."

"Especially one from a country our state department is trying to convince to side with us against the Russians. Geez, it feels so 1980's to say something like that."

"You know what they say about those who don't know history..."

"That they had more sex in high school?" Reyna guessed with an playful grin.

"What is sex?" Alton inquired innocently.

Bruce chuckled and said, "Talk about walking right into one."

She glared at him and said, "I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts on the subject."

Bruce shrugged and took a seat before saying, "Remember the book I read you the other night where one of the characters was a space wizard?"

"Loop Skyworker?"

"That's the one," Bruce replied, ignoring Reyna's snort. "You asked me if he could really do magic and I told you that lots of people can do magic, if you look at things from a certain point of view. Well... sex is magic that two grown-ups who love each other can do together. Think of it like a... um... happiness spell. They do it together to make each other much happier than they ever could have been otherwise. Make sense?"

"I guess so. Can I play with the blocks now?"

"Sure buddy. I'll go get them out for you."

Reyna stopped him on the way past and kissed him briefly before saying, "That was incredible, babe. You're really great at this."

"Thanks."

"And, later, maybe we could work on our spell craft together. I found some, um, spell components in the bedside table." Bruce raised an eyebrow inquiringly, to which she responded, "I think it said, 'water soluble lube'. Also, I just decided that 'ass magic' is a far preferable term to the pedestrian 'anal'. Don't you think?"

He kissed her again and said, "You're logic is unassailable, my dear."

Her smile faded as she remembered why she had sought him out in the first place. She said, "Come back in the kitchen when you're done getting him squared away. I'll make brunch while we discuss next steps."

"As you wish," he replied regally before turning away a moment before Reyna's expression turned from apprehensive to undeniably anguished.

By the time he returned several minutes later, Reyna had gotten her emotions under control and had food prep well under way. He came up behind her and kissed her behind her left ear in a way which made her go momentarily weak in the knees, a movement which sent her from pleasure to worry in an instant when she heard the grunt of pain escape his lips as she slumped against him.

She turned quickly and said, "I'm so sorry, babe."

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. You broke five ribs. Why won't you let me take you to the doctor?"

"Even here, there would be a record of such a visit. Besides, you yourself said there's nothing they can do besides give me pain medicine, which I don't want anyway."

"I know. I just feel terrible because I keep hurting you."

"You could never hurt me, Reyna. You're the elixir which charms my soul."

"Don't be so sure," she muttered.

"What was that?"

She sighed and said, "I did something."

"That sounds ominous. Did you forget to use the VNP?"

"VPN... and no. But I suspect what I did will irritate you at least as much. I contacted someone."

She watched his face as he mentally suggested, then rejected, all manner of people whom she could have contacted. Then his confusion turned to worry, and he said, "Was it your friend from Miami? What's her name... Hannah?"

"No," she replied softly. She then took a deep breath before adding, "It was Ingrid."

She was prepared for anger, resentment or even hurt. Because while she refused to regret her decision, she had known when she pushed 'send' that it was something upon which she should have sought his counsel. The fact that she had felt certain he would say no in no way mitigated her guilt. She was thus prepared to weather his reaction in pursuit of both growing as a couple and helping him purge some of the demons from his past. What she had not been prepared for was for his face to completely shut down. He did not even respond, he just stood there as though he had glimpsed the face of the Gorgon.

She took his face in both hands and said, "Don't do that. You promised you'd stay with me."

His eyes found hers with agonizing slowness and she recognized the hints of betrayal there.

"Why?" he stammered after a painfully long time.

"Because your children deserve to know the truth, babe."

"Why didn't you ask me?" he clarified.

She looked at him steadily and said, "Because you would have told me not to. But I didn't tell her anything, yet. I just said I had information about your death. They deserve to know their father isn't dead, Bruce. That he's a good man who made a mistake a long time ago."

"Why couldn't you just let sleeping dogs lie, Reyna? Wouldn't they be better off thinking their father died because of his profound stupidity when they were babies instead of knowing that he abandoned them for their entire childhood? You've taken me from someone who made a fatal mistake a long time ago to a man who has made a daily conscious decision to ignore his obligations for fifteen years."

"Call it what you want, but that's all in the past. You have a chance now to be a part of their lives moving forward."

"I would be the worst sort of deadbeat in their eyes. How could they ever possibly want that?" he seethed. "How dare you interfere in something you know nothing about!"

She flinched as though struck. His expression softened slightly, and he took a step back, demonstrating, even in anger, that he would never permit even the suggestion that he would harm her to enter her head. She took a deep breath and said, "I told you my mother left when I was a baby, that I have no memory of her. But I still search her name every time I get online. Sometimes I'll find something she posted on social media she didn't make private, or even a news story about her. She's not a good person, from what I can tell. She frequently complains about minorities or stolen elections.

"But, despite the fact that I can't imagine liking her as a person, not a day goes by when I don't wish she would come back into my life. Maybe we'd never form the kind of relationship I fantasize about, but I'd at least get to ask her all the questions that have gone unanswered for my entire life. And she didn't have an altruistic reason for leaving. She just fucked off and went back to her partying lifestyle.

"I've never met your children, babe, even though I hope to one day. Maybe their mother remarried when they were young enough that they grew up calling someone else Dad. If that's the case, I'll know long before we tell Ingrid what really happened. But I think it's far more likely there are two high schoolers somewhere who have always wondered what happened to their father. If that's the case, shouldn't they at least be given the choice about whether or not they want you to be part of their lives?"

Bruce appeared lost in thought for several moments before finally saying, "I don't know."

Reyna smiled wearily and said, "I'll take 'I don't know'. I can't tell you I'm sorry I did this, babe, because I did it knowing you'd be upset. I hope that doesn't cause you to lose faith in me, because I swear I had your best interests in mind. I can also promise you that I won't do anything else about this without talking to you first."

He sighed and said, "I believe you."

She looked at him expectantly for a moment before nodding and saying, "Thank you."

Thirty-Six

Bruce

"This is a bad idea," Bruce grumbled as he hastily packed their last suitcase.

"Yeah," Reyna snapped. "You mentioned that. I'm all ears if you've got a better suggestion."

"Damnit," he muttered.

He wanted to curse... everything. The Gods for never allowing them a moment's peace and cutting short their impromptu holiday; fate for causing Reyna to decide, on a whim, to take a look at the social media account of her best friend in Miami; his own stubbornness for not granting him the serenity to have gotten over his hurt and anger at his love stemming from her decision to contact his former wife before their world had been upended yet again. But he knew the truth was both simpler and far more complicated. The fault, for everything, lay with one Victor Zlodey. But despite his hatred for Zlodey, and his silent vow to personally supervise the villain's last breath, Bruce could not find it in himself to curse the man's very existence. Without Zlodey's vendetta, he would have never met the two people who had quickly become his reason for being.

Things had been tense around their little corner of paradise ever since Reyna had confessed to contacting Ingrid the previous day. It would have been easier for Bruce to be unreservedly angry with her were it not for the fact that he completely understood her motivations. Indeed, she had picked at a scab covering part of his subconscious that he had been trying to keep suppressed. A task which had been growing increasingly difficult since Reyna and Alton had entered his life and he was learning, in many ways for the first time, what it was like to have a family. Reyna had encouraged him to take some time to come to grips with everything before they took any further steps. She had not even checked the email box from which she had contacted Ingrid as part of her commitment to take no further action without him. He had intended to take some time that morning during his routine patrol to reflect so that he could intellectually accept what he knew in his heart to be true, that she had acted with his best interests in mind.

That chance had been stolen from him the moment Reyna's terrified exclamation interrupted the calm of their early morning routine. He had rushed into the living room to find her staring in horror at the screen of the laptop. On the screen was what looked to be a handwritten note which simply said, 'you're next'. When one flipped to the second image in the post, it showed a couple zip ties and a ball gag. The comments were full of playful replies, or snarky suggestions that Hannah turn down the risqué-ness of her 'content'. The post had also 'tagged' Reyna, whatever that meant.

"What am I looking at?" Bruce asked in confusion.

Reyna groaned and said, "This is Hannah's page, babe. They've got her."

"Are you sure?"

"She never posts memey bullshit. Look," Reyna clicked on the screen and a grid of images appeared. All but one showed a smiling Hannah, usually in the company of at least one other equally beautiful person. "She especially wouldn't do something like this considering that, as far as she knows, Alton and I disappeared two months ago. You said yourself that Zlodey's people were casing her apartment. He must have grown impatient and grabbed her hoping I'd come running."

Bruce took a measured breath before saying, "Then that is the one thing you must not do."

Her face clouded and she thundered, "I will not ignore this, Bruce! She's my friend, and she's in trouble. You saw the comments, the cops aren't going to do anything." Bruce held his hand up in an attempt to get a word in edgewise, but she ignored him. "And I guess you're not going to do anything either." She stood and stomped across the house to the doorway of the room before adding, "Will you at least keep an eye on Alton so I can go save my friend, or is that too much to ask?"

The door slamming shook the entire house. Bruce felt the familiar weight of despair settle over him as a voice in the back of his mind whispered insistently that he had once again ruined something beautiful by imposing his own ugliness. He allowed himself to wallow in it for nearly a full second before he shook his head angrily and hissed, "No," before standing and purposefully striding to their room. He knocked once before entering.

Reyna glared at him angrily and snapped, "What do you want?"

"I didn't say 'sucks to be her', honey. I merely said you shouldn't risk yourself in attempting to rescue her. I would never allow her to languish in captivity without a second thought. How could you think such a thing?"

She deflated as her anger faded. She sank onto the bed and said, "You said it yourself, babe. You'd burn the whole world to save us. Why wouldn't that include sacrificing my friend?"

"I see," he replied curtly.

She stood to cross the room to him, taking his hands in hers. "You're scared, Bruce. We both are. It doesn't mean you're less of a man, it just means you're not stupid. It would make complete sense if your plan was just to stay here until the world forgot we existed." She glanced outside before adding, "I could think of worse places to spend eternity... and certainly worse people with whom to spend it." She sighed wearily. "But, we don't have that option anymore. Zlodey's just going to keep escalating until he's in prison for life or one of us is dead."

"Where does that leave us?"

"You were right. We have to take the fight to him. I had hoped the police would help us, but they seem content to drag their heels until the fighting is over. That means it's up to us."

"I cannot sign off on any course of action which places you in danger."

"And I cannot agree to staying here while you go try to take on the entire east European mafia by yourself."

"Where does that leave us?"

"We return home..." she began.

"No," Bruce interrupted firmly.

"We go home, and Alton and I enter protective custody. Nathaniel said he was certain he could arrange it based on the combination of the wreck and the attack at your place. That'll also give me a chance to try to convince the Feds to help Hannah. In the meantime, you can see if you can find her without taking on the combined might of Zlodey's forces. You know... sneak in the side door and make off with her before they even know you're there. Isn't that what you said your specialty was?"

"Not exactly," he grumped, seething internally at his hatred for her plan... and at the fact that he could think of no better idea.

She stomped her foot and said, "Could it work?"

"Sure... if everything goes right. We'd need a way to keep in touch that couldn't be tracked."

"We do it just as we did with Nathaniel. We each set up a few accounts which we can post to and the other checks them without following them... using a VPN... and incognito mode." He frowned deeply, so she patted his arm and said, "I'll teach you."

"Fine," he huffed. "I'm going to go give Daanyal the good news."

***

Two hours later, they were loading the last of the suitcases into the SUV for their trip to the airfield. Daanyal had arranged for a private jet which would fly them from Haiti to Savannah in the hopes that even if Zlodey was watching all possible airports, one over seven-hundred kilometers from his home base would be far beyond his imagination. Savannah was also at the outer edge of the plane's cruising range, or else Bruce would have argued for an even more distant initial destination. A car would be waiting for them there which they would drive to Jacksonville. Here, Bruce would drop Reyna and Alton at the local FBI field office before proceeding to south Florida. It was as good a plan as could be hoped for, considering the absurdity of their cause and the speed with which they were moving.

They moved out just before sundown in the hopes of making it so their presence at the airport at each end of their journey took place in darkness. Daanyal had offered a full convoy, complete with a squad of his most trusted men, but Bruce had decided discretion was more critical. Reliable electricity was uncommon in this part of the country, much less a half dozen identical hundred-thousand-dollar SUVs. One was bad enough.

They had just turned out of Daanyal's compound when Bruce began to suspect he had made a grievous error. The road had been utterly devoid of other traffic when Bruce had glanced in each direction before pulling out. But, before he even got up to speed, he spotted a motorcycle behind them. He tried to tell himself it was just a dumb kid traveling far too fast on poorly maintained roads. After all, the motorcycle was travelling far in excess of the speed limit. But this fantasy evaporated when the motorcycle braked hard just as he pulled up beside them. Bruce looked over to see the helmeted rider scanning the inside of the car. Before he could tell Reyna to get down, the rider reached out to a smartphone attached to his handlebars and started a call.

"Damnit," Bruce muttered as he began to accelerate. He glanced at Reyna and said, "Does that phone Daanyal gave us have any signal?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because we just got made. Text him and tell him what's going on. And hang on, I'm going to try to circle back before the fun starts."

"Babe?" she whispered fearfully.

"Just hang on," he grunted before stomping on the brakes. The SUV was far too ungainly to attempt a legitimate bootlegger's turn, so he had to settle for braking until they were moving slowly enough that he could turn around awkwardly. The bike stayed with them easily, just out of range in case Bruce decided to start shooting. He briefly considered running the smaller vehicle off the road, but decided it gained him no advantage. His enemies already knew where he was headed, the only thing he could do at this point was to try to beat them there.

"Daanyal wants to know what you plan to do."

Bruce looked around and spotted three pairs of headlights headed towards them. He said, "Tell him we're coming in hot... and hell's coming with us."

The SUV's supercharged engine was screaming as they sped back towards the compound at nearly one-hundred-fifty kilometers per hour. The cars headed toward them were closing at a frightening rate and Bruce doubted he would reach the gate before the cars did. He also knew he could not depend on his foes to act with a normal level of self-preservation. Their objective, after all, was Reyna's death and it would not be surprising if they were operating under the belief that they would be killed if they failed.

He finally caught sight of the gate alongside the arrow-straight road in the gathering gloom. He pressed the accelerator even harder, silently pleading with the vehicle for just a bit more speed. He gave thanks that the entrance to Daanyal's compound was angled in his favor, barely thirty degrees off their present course. The approaching vehicles would have to brake far more sharply to make the turn than he would. As if on cue, he saw the telltale sign of the oncoming vehicle's brake lights illuminate the trees alongside the road behind them.

"Hang on everybody," he warned just as he momentarily stomped on the brakes, praying that the antilock features would keep them from losing traction while still allowing them to shed a fraction of their speed. He then tapped the accelerator briefly to settle the vehicle before yanking the wheel to dart into the entrance to Daanyal's compound just ahead of the oncoming threat.

Automatic weapons fire laced the rear of their SUV and Reyna screamed for Alton as they shattered the gate to the compound, striking it at over one-hundred kilometers per hour. Bruce dimly heard Alton reply to Reyna's desperate plea as he sped along the narrow unfinished road toward the compound and safety. A glance in his mirror told him their pursuers were close behind... and gaining quickly. He felt a sponginess to the controls that the gravel path alone would not account for.

"I think they took out a tire," he grunted.

"What does that mean?" came Reyna's terrified reply.

"That they're going to catch us." He glanced behind him and said, "Alton? I'm going to need you to lie down on the seat. Keep your seatbelt on, just lie down. This will all be over soon, buddy." He glanced at Reyna and said, "You too. Get as low as you can."

"Why?" she sobbed.

"Because the tailgate has a hell of a lot more stopping power than the rear window does. Now, do it."

"What about you?"

"I'll try to duck. We're almost there, anyway. Now. Get. Down."

Another burst of weapons fire rang out behind them, and Bruce heard several rounds strike the back of the SUV. He felt the vehicle's control slip even further, likely meaning he had lost another tire. He felt he could almost see the jungle beginning to thin up ahead.

"Just a little further," he grunted.

A crunch of metal filled the surrounding jungle as one of the cars crashed into the rear of the SUV. Bruce sawed at the wheel, fighting to regain control, but it was for naught. They only had one intact tire. This combined with their terrific rate of speed and the poor condition of the road meant that as soon as the collision shoved the rear of the SUV sideways, the tireless rims of the wheels bit into the gravel. In an instant, they went from speeding down the road to careening wildly out of control. Bruce felt the vehicle begin to roll but before that could happen, they slammed into a medium sized tree. The tree was instantly destroyed, and the impact robbed them of much of their speed.

Just as Bruce was reaching for his satchel to make sure as many of the bastards pursuing them joined them in their journey to the afterlife as possible, the entire world exploded. Automatic weapons fire rang out from everywhere.

He turned to Reyna and hissed, "Stay down."

Her lips moved, but he could not hear her response over the thunderous commotion outside the vehicle. He pulled his pistol free from the satchel and leapt from the SUV. He quickly determined that Daanyal's forces had joined the fray. Fully kitted-out men were streaming in well-formed lines of attack from the direction of the ocean. Behind him, he could spot what appeared to be about a dozen locals and two Europeans taking shelter behind three sedans which looked older than he was.

It was quickly evident that Daanyal's men would overwhelm the opposition. It was a matter of training and equipment. The men who had chased him fought individually with weapons designed more for their frightful appearance than their combat effectiveness. The troops of Bruce's old comrade-in-arms, not surprisingly, fought as one with battle tested equipment.

As Bruce looked on, he saw that the European duo had reached the same conclusion and were moving to escape. Their path took them in Bruce's direction, moving away from the firefight laterally rather than retreating directly to the rear. Bruce moved to intercept. He did not particularly care whether these men died in the jungle or were captured far beyond the reach of any caring governmental power, he just wanted to ensure they did not escape. He approached cautiously even though the men were moving with the gracefulness of a drunken cow. Even amongst the din of the firefight behind them, he could hear the footsteps of each clearly. In the end, he decided they might have information of value and called out for them to surrender. One of the men made the fatal mistake of firing in his direction. Bruce's pistol spoke twice, introducing the brains of each man to the surrounding jungle.

"You dumb bastard," he muttered grimly before heading back toward the firefight. The shooting had ended and, as he approached the clearing, he saw a group of locals on their knees with several of Daanyal's men guarding them. One of the sergeants was holding Alton in his arms while the others seemed to be dispersing frantically.

Dread shot through Bruce like he had been submerged in the frigid waters of Tierra Del Fuego and he picked up his pace. He ran straight for the ruined SUV and ripped the door open frantically, but he had already known what he would find. His eyes whipped around to the master sergeant, and he hissed, "Where's Reyna?"

The reply shattered Bruce's world.

"She's gone, sir."

Thirty-Seven

Nathaniel

"What do you mean... gone," Nathaniel asked fearfully.

His friend's vacant expression did not change a whit. The reply was just as devoid of emotion. "I mean, they took her. No one can figure out how it happened. One minute there's a massive firefight. The next thing we know, all the enemy are seemingly either dead or in custody. Only problem is, no Reyna."

"I don't understand..."

"It's not rocket science, Nathaniel. We scoured the area and didn't find a body. Ergo, someone took her. No one on our side saw anything, and no one on their side knows anything except for the fact that there was one more mobster in their group than we saw during the fight. The only question seems to be whether the entire exercise was designed as a diversion, or if someone saw an opportunity to both save their own skin and make their boss happy."

"Weren't you with her?" Nathaniel asked in genuine confusion.

"No," came the reply from a voice which had gone from emotionless to something undefinable; darker. "I seem to recall already explaining to you that I had failed her on every level."

"Cut the bullshit, son," Nathaniel retorted angrily. "I might not have seen the amount of fighting you have, but I've been in a firefight. There is no control there, only survival."

"You're suggesting I abandoned her to save my own skin?"

"I don't know what happened, but I know you well enough to know you had a damned good reason if you left her during a fight."

"Save it, Nathaniel. There's no excuse for what I've done."

"Again, bullshit. But we can deal with that later. All that matters now is two questions: what are you going to do, and how can I help?"

"I'd rather not speak to the former..."

Nathaniel slapped his hand on the counter of his dated kitchen and growled, "Do I have to throw my badge in the fucking ocean for you to treat me like your friend instead of someone who's looking for a way to lock you up?"

The man he had known for nearly a half decade glared at him in a way which made his blood run cold, and whispered, "I'm going to kill 'em all, Nathaniel. Every last fucking one of them. Is that what you wanted to hear? That you're aiding and abetting a mass murderer?"

"You think you're shocking me? Hell, I knew when I saw your face that there would be a reckoning. Just be careful. You can't very well save Reyna if you're dead."

"You asked how you could help," came the reply, not even pretending to acknowledge Nathaniel's warning.

"Anything."

"Watch the boy."

"Of course."

"This is no small ask, Nathaniel. The odds aren't exactly in Reyna's favor here. If she doesn't return..."

"Then Nana and Pop-Pop Means will make sure he's loved. Don't you worry about that." Nathaniel was quiet for a moment before adding, "Do they know about the boy?"

"I'm out of the prognostication business when it comes to these assholes, but they left him behind in Haiti."

"Well... if they come for him, we'll give them a hell of a fight."

"Thank you," the grim-faced man replied without emotion. He stood and walked to the door of Nathaniel's house without even a backward glance to the living room where Alton was reading a book with Yancey.

Nathaniel said, "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

"He's already been through enough," came the flat reply. "No point in making it worse getting his hopes up about a family he'll never have."

The Brawn

The heavily modified pickup pulled into an exclusive Miami parking garage adjacent to a gym catering to clientele who would describe themselves as discerning. The vehicle raced through the structure even though the obnoxious smokestacks of the truck barely cleared the concrete joists which supported the roof. The humidity still lingered from the brief rain shower which had ended an hour prior, casting an unnatural stillness over the area. The truck skidded to a stop in front of an unmarked door and the driver hopped out. The beast of a man lugged an oversized gym bag from behind the driver's seat as a uniformed man approached. The former handed the latter the keys before proceeding through the aforementioned door. Neither noticed a third figure slip through the door just before it latched.

The man who had arrived in the truck hurried through the bowels of the building until he entered another nondescript door and began disrobing. He had just removed the last of his clothing when the newcomer silently entered the room.

"Area is off limits," the giant grunted as he got to his feet without making any move to cover his nakedness.

The newcomer looked around cautiously before proceeding forward at a measured pace.

"You want broken back?" the giant asked reasonably. "Ok. I can break back."

The giant cracked his knuckles menacingly and lifted a collapsible baton from his gym bag before stalking toward the newcomer. In response, the other man began running across the expansive locker room toward his quarry. The giant roared a triumphant battle cry when they closed within a few meters of each other. The exultant sound turned to a grunt of confusion as the smaller man appeared to stumble awkwardly to his knees. Just as the giant snapped his baton to full extension, the smaller man's hand shot out. The giant noticed the tiniest glint of light off something in the man's hand before he felt an unusual sensation in his right foot. He started to turn to see what had become of the newcomer, but his leg buckled and he fell to his knees.

His surprise turned into shock as a lance of pain in his back quickly spread like wildfire through his chest. He saw a hint of movement in his peripheral vision and swung wildly behind him with his left arm. Another dull thud resonated through that arm and as he retracted it, he felt wetness dripping from his fingers. He rolled awkwardly and managed to stand on his good leg.

The mysterious figure stood before him; his scarred face as devoid of emotion as a statue.

"I will kill you!" the giant roared.

"I think not," the figure spoke with a voice straight out of a nightmare.

The giant surged forward, his right arm swinging down with a hammer fist blow powerful enough to fell an ox aimed directly at the stranger's head. At the last moment, the stranger sidestepped the blow and made his own strike, burying six inches of razor-sharp steel into the right side of the giant's chest.

"Bozhe moy," the giant wheezed as he dropped back to one knee.

The man took a step back and sat down calmly on one of the benches. The giant reached for the knife but was interrupted by the voice which seemingly came from the grave, "I wouldn't."

"Why not?" the giant spat weakly.

"That's the only thing keeping your lung from collapsing."

"What do you want?"

"I am going to ask you one question. If you answer it truthfully, I will kill you. If you do not, I will keep carving until you do."

"Help!" the giant screamed.

There was a commotion in the hallway. The newcomer sighed and reached into his satchel, extracting a handgun with a suppressor and an extended magazine. Two figures burst through the door, neither quite up to the giant's impressive size but both significantly larger than the stranger.

"Hey," the one on the left shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the stranger.

Two cracks rang out, not significantly dissimilar from the banging and crashing coming from the weightroom outside. The two erstwhile saviors slid unceremoniously to the floor as a small, but quite important, portion of their brains decorated the door behind them.

The stranger turned back to the giant and said, "I'll kill as many as you like," before calmly shooting the man in the hip.

He approached the giant, prompting the larger man to reach for him in desperation. The stranger's hand shot out to grip the giant's wrist firmly before jamming the still smoking muzzle of his pistol into the giant's left eye, crushing the eyeball instantly.

When the giant started to scream, the stranger dropped his wrist and reached out to grip the knife still stuck in the giant's chest, slowly twisting it until the giant quieted.

"Better," the terrifying voice whispered. "Now... where is Reyna Lewiston. The woman your associates kidnapped two days ago in Haiti."

The giant hissed, "I don't know what you're..." but his words turned into a wail of pain as the knife was ripped from his chest and plunged repeatedly into his gut.

"Answer. The. Fucking. Question," the demon hissed, plunging the knife into the giant's intestines with each word.

"She is at Victor's"

"You don't think I already checked there?" the voice asked calmly as a booted foot collided at high speed with the giant's exposed genitals.

"Bimini," the giant grunted. "They're at place in Bimini. But you will never..." the giant began, but his words were interrupted when the pistol whose muzzle was still crammed into his eye socket barked a final time.

Reyna

Bright light pierced through the tiny window, waking a weary Reyna. She peered around her fetid cell and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Pulling herself into a seated position, she looked around despondently, but nothing had improved. There were still the sheets stained from her repeated bouts of seasickness; the bucket which served as her toilet; the now empty bottles of water which had been all she had been provided for nourishment.

'Three days' she thought dispiritedly. 'Unless', her subconscious pointed out, 'it was more than a day before you woke from that blow to the head'.

Three days trapped alone in a tiny cell on a ship which was headed, at least according to the sun, generally north. She knew other people were on board, obviously. She could hear crewmen shouting outside. But she had not seen or spoken to another person since waking in her prison.

She had no memory of how she had come to be in this predicament. The attack in the jungle was a blur in her mind. She remembered the gunfire; the crunch of metal; the heat; fear for Alton and Bruce; the panic which gripped her when she realized Bruce was joining the battle. Following that, her only hazy memory was of her door to the SUV opening to reveal a diminutive man with a triumphant grin on his face.

As she came more fully awake, she realized that something had changed: she was no longer seasick. Focusing her senses on her surroundings, she realized the constant thrum of the engine had faded to a barely perceptible hum. The unending pitching of the ship was also gone, even though her inner ear was not wholly convinced that all was well.

She carefully stood on the bed, not wanting a repeat of the incident a few days prior when she had fallen and nearly upended the disgusting bucket. She could barely reach the porthole, but that was enough for her to see that they had docked.

While she was still trying to see something of value through the porthole, she heard a noise behind her. She turned to find the diminutive man she recognized from the jungle regarding her with disgust.

"I think she will require some clean-up," he said dismissively before turning and stalking away.

A pair of women quickly replaced him and stared at Reyna, the looks of annoyance clear on their faces.

"Follow," the taller one muttered before walking down the companionway.

The other woman gestured for Reyna to follow but kept her distance.

Reyna bowed to the inevitable and followed, the movement reminding her painfully that it had been some time since she had eaten. She soon found herself in what passed for a restroom on the ship and discovered that the pair of women intended to bathe her.

"Why don't you guys just wait outside?" Reyna offered weakly.

"Strip," the shorter one replied tersely.

Reyna hesitated and soon found herself being manhandled by the two women. Before she knew it, she was naked and being shoved under a freezing cold jet of water. The women were quick with their work, scrubbing her down with sponges while trying in vain to stay out of the icy spray. Reyna's hunger-weakened attempts to resist them were met with dismissive swats.

When they were through, they tossed a towel in her direction and stood back to watch her. Their demeanor was not one of cruelty, or even anger. They were irritated they had been given the job of cleaning up the stinking prisoner, nothing more. She was given a pair of shorts and a tank top, both of which were too small to cover very much of her shivering skin. She was still wondering whether this was for lurid purposes, or merely a security measure, when she was shuffled outside.

She was once again confronted by the tiny man from the jungle. He looked her over, and even sniffed her briefly, as though she were a piece of fish in the market. He then nodded indifferently and said, "Good enough," to her bathers. He turned to her and said, "Time to go see Mr. Zlodey, Ms. Lewiston."

Thirty-Eight

Reyna

"Reyna!"

The shriek from the voice Reyna would recognize anywhere as belonging to her best friend, Hannah, echoed off the walls as the former was led into yet another room after what seemed like an interminable trek through the large estate. She looked around and quickly spotted Hannah rushing towards her. Reyna shrugged off the hand which gripped her upper arm and hurried to embrace her friend. As they embraced, she felt a small measure of the crippling unease which had been her constant companion since the attack in the jungle dissipate.

"I'm so sorry," Reyna whispered.

"Don't sweat it, honey. I'm just so glad you made it."

Hannah led her over to a couch and took a seat. Reyna dropped wearily onto the cushion beside her. When she collided with the admittedly remarkably soft leather, it took all her energy to keep the room from spinning after the lengthy journey from the ship.

"You don't look so good," Hannah whispered conspiratorially.

"I'll live. Are you ok?"

"I'm better now that you're here. I was so worried."

"How long have you been here?"

"About a week, I think. Sometimes its hard to keep track of the days."

Reyna sighed and said, "Don't I know it..." before taking a good look at their surroundings for the first time. Far from the squalor of the ship, this room was... luxurious. The couch on which they sat likely cost well north of five figures, to say nothing of the enormous flat panel adhered to the wall or the well-stocked wet bar in the corner. "What kind of jail is this?" she muttered.

Hannah snickered and said, "If this is jail, then I can't believe we didn't fess up to keying that asshole's car a few years back."

"Hannah..." Reyna stammered groggily. "What's going on?"

"You don't look so good," Hannah repeated, this time with genuine concern. "Do you want a bottle of water or something?"

Reyna could only nod in response.

Hannah hurried over to the wet bar and collected several bottles of chilled water. She also soaked a bar towel and wrung it out before returning. She handed a bottle to Reyna, from which the latter drank greedily until she nearly choked. Hannah took it from her and scooted closer to rub her back as Reyna coughed weakly. When Reyna sank back into the cushions, Hannah laid the towel across her forehead.

Hannah watched her friend carefully for several moments before whispering, "Reyna? What's going on? You look terrible."

"Thanks," Reyna muttered as she took another gulp of water.

"I wasn't judging. I know you came here on the yacht... was it seasickness?"

"No," Reyna answered quickly, before adding, "Well... yes."

"I'm confused."

"Yes, I was dreadfully seasick. But if that was a yacht I arrived on, then I'm One-Eyed Willy."

"I don't understand. Victor said that you guys knew each other, and that you were going to come visit. I told him you'd disappeared off the face of the earth a few months ago like Keyser fucking Soze, but he said you'd just been really busy. I figured no way you'd uproot Alton like that..."

Reyna gripped Hannah by the arm with a vice grip and hissed, "This is very important, Hannah. Did you tell them about Alton?"

"Well... no. It kind of never came up. He only brought you up for the first time a few days ago. We'd been... you know..."

"You must be certain," Reyna pressed. "Think!"

"Hey," Hannah complained, but Reyna could see in her eyes that something had changed and her friend was rapidly reviewing the course of events which had led her to this moment. At last, she whispered, "No. I didn't tell them anything about you. As I said, he was the one who brought up the subject. I just told him you'd disappeared. When he insisted that you were coming here, I was so happy to see you that I stopped questioning him." Hannah looked around furtively and added, "What's going on?"

"You mean since I vanished suddenly a few months ago without so much as a word to even my best friend in the whole goddamned world. My friend who, apparently, was so worried that she hooked up with a megalomaniacal asshole."

"Don't," Hannah snapped forcefully. "I was wrecked when you disappeared. I pestered the cops so much that I nearly got arrested. Those assholes wouldn't even let me file a missing persons report, they said only family could do it. Then I went to Palm Beach county and said I was your cousin. They said it was out of their jurisdiction. The fucking feds said I had no proof you'd been picked up by human traffickers. I was about to create a fake ransom note when I finally got your text."

"What text?"

"About a month ago. You said you'd gotten a take-it-or-leave-it contract gig in Alaska that paid a king's ransom, but you had to leave right away to get the gig. And it was so far from civilization you couldn't get a signal unless you drove two hours to town."

"Why would I take Alton to the middle of nowhere?"

Hannah shrugged and said, "Sure, it sounds fishy as fuck now. But when I got the message, I was just so relieved you were ok that I didn't question it. Besides, you were always worrying about money. Who wouldn't take a ten-week gig that paid fifty grand with all expenses paid? Especially if it was just processing a shit-load of hot military guys coming home from the middle east. I knew how much you hated everything you have to deal with in the ED."

"What else did I say?"

"Not much. It wasn't like we could keep up a conversation. You'd just occasionally hit me up to ask how things were going back home. You know: if I was seeing anyone; if there were any new spots in town; which clubs I was..."

Reyna could see realization dawn in her friend's eyes. She reached out a weary hand to grip Hannah's shoulder comfortingly.

"Fuck!" Hannah hissed fiercely. "I'm such a fucking sap."

"How could you have known?" Reyna replied reassuringly.

"I don't know, maybe the fact that my best friend vanished without a word? Something she would never do. And then she texts me out of the blue. But instead of asking about me, or my mom, or telling me about why the fuck she went AWOL; she asks if I could please share my itinerary so I could be seduced by what I now strongly suspect is not, in fact, a fabulously wealthy European playboy."

"I mean... he might be," Reyna allowed. "He's just also a mobster that's trying to kill me."

"What!" Hannah exclaimed before quickly lowering her voice in deference to the bored looking guard who had remained after the little bastard who had escorted Reyna from the ship had disappeared to 'report in'. "Why?" Hannah continued.

"Because he's catastrophically insecure about his perceived virility?" Reyna replied with a shrug. "Who knows with these macho assholes. He came into the ED one night with an... injury... to one of his testicles. We cared for him as best we could, but it could not be saved. This asshole then apparently decides that everyone who knows that he's gone from a bicycle to a unicycle has to die. The doctor who attended was killed in his car the next day. As soon as I heard, I panicked. I grabbed Alton and ran."

"Where'd you go?"

"That is not question you should ask," a baritone voice interrupted them. "Question is why she did not give me chance to explain."

Reyna's head whipped around to spot a young man with unnaturally blonde hair approaching them. He was an inarguably handsome man in his mid-twenties with blue eyes and a strong chin. He was slim without being skinny and was dressed in a tracksuit which somehow managed to look opulent.

"Reyna... darling," he said as he took a seat next to a suddenly uncomfortable looking Hannah. "So nice to see you again."

"Victor," she allowed carefully. "You're looking better than the last time we... met. How are you feeling?"

"Never been better. Is that not right, Hannah?"

Reyna cast a suspicious gaze toward her friend and quickly saw guilt darken her features. She turned back to Victor and said, "Then why have you been trying so hard to kill me?"

"One cannot allow contract to lapse once it has been written. Is bad for business. I assure you... is not personal. But I did not invite to discuss past."

"Abduct," Reyna interrupted.

"Whatever," Victor replied dismissively. "But now things have grown complicated."

"You mean you never imagined telling your goons to kill a helpless woman would lead to so many of them getting killed."

"Indeed. I wish to propose truce. I wish to show you alternative to living like hunted animal. But we will speak no more of ugliness now. Am sure you must be hungry after long journey. We will dine by pool in one hour. Your attire has been laid out in Hannah's suite. Am sure you wish to... how you say... freshen up? The guard... er... valet... will escort you to the pool when you are finished." He stood before adding, "Until then," and walked quickly from the room.

***

The dinner was nothing short of a thirteen-year-old boy's fantasy of what the fabulously wealthy must do behind closed doors... a thirteen-year-old boy who had discovered pornography far too early and would need thousands of hours of therapy later in life before he could ever hope to have anything remotely approaching a stable and healthy relationship. The pool Victor had mentioned was in a courtyard surrounded by walls three stories tall. Within the courtyard, Reyna could only spot two men who weren't obviously armed guards. In addition to Victor, there was the diminutive man with whom she had first become acquainted in Haiti, and whose name she now knew was Feodor Alfredovich.

Her own gender, by way of comparison, was extremely well represented. In addition to at least a dozen staff, mostly waitresses and bartenders, there were also at least that many women who were seemingly guests. The latter group was dressed uniformly as Reyna and Hannah were, in bikinis that were little more than three coasters with a bit of elastic tasked with keeping everything in place. Reyna had scoffed at the idea of wearing the ridiculous garment, but when they had returned from showering, their other clothes had been removed. She had briefly given thought to just going nude to dispense with the charade, but had decided that Victor likely needed little in the way of encouragement to decide a woman was 'begging for it'.

She had managed to bring Hannah up to speed while they were cleaning up. She suspected their guard let his imagination run wild when he realized both women were sharing a shower, but she could think of no better way to speak to Hannah without being overheard. In any case, Hannah was, as near as makes no difference, her sister.

Hannah had been amazed to hear about the lengths to which Victor had gone to kill her, and all Bruce had done to keep her safe. But she had been absolutely flabbergasted to learn that her closest friend, one who had forsaken the dream of romantic love even existing in the world, had found her soulmate in the gruff, stand-offish protector.

When she had at last recovered enough to speak, she had simply said, "I can't wait to meet him."

"I suspect you'll meet him far sooner than our captor thinks," Reyna had predicted grimly.

Reyna had somehow resisted the urge to gorge herself at the dinner Victor hosted, knowing it would certainly lead to sickness after so long without food. She had nibbled at the simplest foods she could find, such as bread and fruit, hoping her beleaguered stomach could handle it without gastrointestinal fireworks.

Victor interrupted her thoughts, dropping into the chair beside her. "You enjoy food?"

"Don't expect me to be grateful you deigned to feed me after locking me up with nothing for so long."

"I had no idea you were not fed," he replied sternly. He raised his voice and shouted, "Feodor!" The diminutive man hurried over and stood at attention on Victor's other side. Victor regarded him the way one would react after stepping in room temperature animal excrement when crossing a darkened room in bare feet. "Ms. Lewiston claims you withheld food. Did I not instruct she was to be looked after?"

"There must be some mistake..."

"Silence! You will confine self to quarters. No food for one week."

"Yes sir," the man replied feebly.

"Go!" Victor roared. He turned back to Reyna and said, "Apologies. How can I make up to you?"

"Let us go," Reyna replied simply.

"But you have not yet heard offer. Stay tonight and see what you would be missing. Tomorrow... we will talk again." He looked around before calling out, "Liya! Come over here and meet guests."

A woman stood from the other side of the table that caused Reyna's eyes to widen in amazement. She was, without question, the most striking woman she had ever seen. She was about Reyna's height with a similar hair color, but there the similarities ended. She was curvy in a way which would catch the eye of anyone who crossed her path, regardless of sexual orientation. Large, natural breasts and perfectly rounded hips, all surrounded by flawless, creamy skin unto which a master artist had laid what must have been their crowning achievement. Tattoos covered her rib cage, save her breasts which were left untouched, in addition to one arm and one leg. Reyna was normally indifferent to the tattoos which were becoming increasingly ubiquitous, especially amongst the younger generations. But every other tattoo she had seen was little more than crude scribbling next to the layered artistry which decorated this woman's skin.

As Liya approached, Victor extended his hand and pulled her into his lap. He turned back to Reyna and said, "This is Liya. Liya... Reyna and Hannah."

"Please meeting you," the stunning woman replied in heavily accented English.

"I thought perhaps Liya could explain how I have healed from injury. But I am remembering that her English is not good."

"That's fine, Victor. I have no reason to doubt you."

"But you saw injury. Surely you must wonder how could heal. She cannot explain, but she can show." He glanced in Liya's direction and spoke in a language that sounded harsh to Reyna's ears.

Liya shrugged and slid off his lap. He rotated his chair a bit so he was facing Reyna, smiling at her hungrily. She noticed movement and glanced down in time to see Liya, whose bathing suit had been discarded, extract Victor's penis from his trousers and wrap her lips around the head.

"Welp," Reyna stammered. "I think that'll about do it for me."

"Me too," Hannah muttered.

"We'll just head back to our room."

"You will stay," Victor commanded cruelly as his hand came down ungently on the back of Liya's head. "I insist."

Thirty-Nine

The Brains

A well-equipped sedan drove sedately along one of the island's few roads. It had just departed from the dock where it had collected its passengers after they crossed from the southern island. The trip was a quick one, with the sedan shortly entering the parking lot of a modestly sized hotel along the northern island's western shore.

The diminutive man in the rear of the sedan leapt out without waiting for the vehicle to come to a complete stop. His companion trailed after him, trying to ignore the looks she was getting from the hotel's other guests. She was adorned in a dress which did little to conceal her buxom figure, or the tattoos that covered much of her body. The driver, after a moment of indecision, tossed the keys to the sedan in the direction of the front desk and hurried after his boss.

There was a nervous energy in the group that was hard to miss, with each fidgeting in a way which would have driven the others to madness were they not also preoccupied. The elevator finally arrived a few moments later, disgorging a group of twenty-something tourists who spoke of plans to soothe their scorching sunburns with copious amounts of alcohol at the pool side bar.

Other guests were shooed away from the elevator by the driver, who made little effort to hide the pistol he carried beneath his jacket. The diminutive man seemed to be intently studying everyone in the lobby. The woman whispered cautiously to her companions, asking what was wrong, but she was ignored. The doors to the ancient elevator finally closed and they began their journey to the third floor without taking notice of the man dressed in a unseasonably warm grey hoodie and jeans, standing just outside the window to the bar.

Feodor breathed a sigh of relief when the lift began to rise. "Move us to a new hotel tomorrow," he snapped in Georgian. "This place is so old, it is a wonder it is still standing."

"I will see to it," the driver replied curtly.

"And you," Feoder grunted, turning to the woman. "What was the meaning of that ridiculous display back at Victor's house?"

"What would you have me do?" she wailed plaintively. "If I refuse him, he will know you and I are together."

"I do not expect you to refuse him, fool. I expect you to worship him. Your performance today was far too tepid. Nothing like you were with him in the beginning. Unless your wish is for him to get suspicious and kill us both, you must act more like..."

"What? Like whore?"

Feodor smiled triumphantly and said, "I could not have said it better myself," as they entered the hotel's most luxurious suite. He added, "Speaking of... go get cleaned up. I can smell him on you."

"Piece of shit," she muttered as she headed for the bathroom.

Feodor turned to the driver and said, "If he is to come, it will most likely be tonight or tomorrow. After that, the woman will be dead, or we will have moved on. Tell your men to stay sober or I will have their balls. I would add that they should be watchful, but I suspect a failure on that front will have more immediate consequences. And not by my hand. You stay by the door."

"Do you want me..."

"Inside. If you make yourself inconspicuous enough, I'll tell her to suck you off in the morning."

"Yes sir."

The driver dragged a chair over by the door and took a seat, although Feodor did not fail to notice that he positioned the chair so he would have easy line of sight to at least part of the bed. He cared little if his underlings got a thrill from the sight of his woman's body, it only heightened the rush of power he felt over the fact that he alone dictated how she used that body, and for whom. As he waited for Liya, he picked up his phone to see if there had been any updates from any of his sources. His gut told him that he was here, he just hoped that he could make the man listen to reason. He knew he was gambling big with his hope that this man, this killer, would remove Victor in exchange for the return of his woman. But he would have risked far more to move up in the syndicate.

Liya exited the bathroom nude, oblivious to the guard's leering. She crossed to the bed, still toweling her hair, and sat next to Feodor.

"Better?" she huffed.

"Better," he allowed. "I have a few more items to check. Why don't you get things started for us?"

She shrugged, tossing the towel aside and reaching to unzip his pants. She had just extracted his still flaccid cock when a dull thud came from the direction of the balcony. She looked around in confusion until Feodor pushed her away and struggled to tuck himself back into his trousers. Her bewilderment turned into a scream when, after hearing a thump behind her, she turned to find the guard sliding lifelessly to the floor.

"Shut up," Feodor hissed.

He slowly spread his hands, his eyes locked on the darkened balcony, and said in English, "You might as well come in. We are unarmed, and there is no one else here."

He waited for several minutes; the anxiousness slowly being overtaken by his irritation. After at least ten minutes of inaction, Feodor carefully climbed to his feet. A glance in the direction of his guard left little doubt as to the latter's fate. He gestured for Liya to stay put before walking slowly to the sliding door to the patio and, after a calming breath, opening it. He stepped outside into the cool, humid air and the soft crashing of the waves.

"That's far enough," a voice devoid of emotion whispered.

"Why you did not come in?" Feodor asked. When he received no reply, he said, "It is pleasure to finally make acquaintance." He paused for effect before adding, "El Barquero."

Feodor was close enough that he could sense his visitor's presence, but he could neither see nor hear him. He decided his best course of action was to make his pitch before he shared the fate of so many of Victor's other men.

"That's right. I know who you are... and what you have done. It was no easy thing, mind you. You certainly did not make things easy, considering that you killed everyone who Victor sent after her. I knew we were dealing with someone both highly skilled and unaffiliated with any government after you dismembered Ilya in Jacksonville. Then Victor grew impatient and sent Yevgeny and Giorgi to finish job they had started on highway. No one else pays attention, they would rather fuck and get high. But I saw what they did not. The bullet you put through Yevgeny's spinal cord, it was identical to two kills in Bolivia and one in Ecuador... all credited to El Barquero. When you so easily dispatched Pyotr in Miami, I was certain."

Feodor received no response to his revelation and the silence was long past unnerving him. Were it not for the smallness of the patio, he would have wondered if he was not just standing in the dark talking to himself.

After several tense minutes of silence, he heard the chilling voice say, "Where is she?"

"You will just kill me if I tell you. I suggest exchange instead." When he got no reply, he decided to press on, "You get the woman, and my word that this vendetta against both her and you is at its end. In exchange, you remove Victor in way which suggests South Americans were at fault. We both get what we want."

He heard something behind him and startled out of reflex. He turned to find Liya standing at the door nervously, still quite nude. He immediately decided to turn this to his advantage.

"This is Liya. She is another of women Victor has mistreated. Earlier today, he raped her in front of Ms. Lewiston."

A deep rumble emanated from the shadows, causing Liya to gasp in terror.

Feoder hastened to add, "Do not worry. I ensured no harm came to your woman. But I can not hold Victor at bay forever. He intends to add Ms. Lewiston to his harem... or to discard her if she causes him much more trouble."

An uncomfortable silence once again descended, causing Feodor to peer intently into the shadows. Yet no matter how hard he looked, he could discern nothing beyond a vague outline of a human and the unmistakable shape of a large pistol.

"Um," he stammered, his anxiety very nearly getting the better of him. "Liya... my dear... I have not introduced guest. This is man our associates south of border call El Barquero. That means 'the boatman'. It is reference to figure in Greek myth who ferried the dead to underworld." Feodor smiled evilly at the shadowy presence. "They call him this because he has over one-hundred confirmed kills across nine countries. He personally ferried entire upper echelon of La Paz cartel to underworld in single weekend. You will never meet man more familiar with death. That is why he will help us remove Victor."

"He will save me from Victor?"

"That is what we discuss when you join us. I propose exchange. His woman's life in return for Victor's."

"What is your plan?" the gravelly voice whispered.

Feodor smiled and took a seat, "You are man of action. I like this. I am man of strategy. Tactics. I see plans within plans. This I have been planning for many weeks. Victor has many guards at compound. However, when he is having after-dinner orgy, they all stay close so can watch. Or participate, if Victor over-indulges. You will take my car with Liya. Guards at gate will only see her because you will be in shadow. She will also be naked. And, as you can see, no man could ignore such perfection. She will get you inside compound just as orgy starts. Then..."

What remained of his plan, and indeed his life, came to an abrupt end when the visitor's pistol flashed and Feodor's brains sprayed across most of the formerly pristine patio.

The Beauty

"I did not join in abduction of woman," Liya whispered tearfully. "Please do not kill me."

"If you're still crying when we arrive," El Barquero replied softly, "Victor's guards will kill you. Get it together."

"What is point. You will just kill me like you did rest."

"I don't want to kill you. I just want to get Reyna and her friend to safety."

"But you killed all those men."

"That's right."

"Why would you not kill me?"

"If you get us into the compound, you have nothing to fear from me."

She nodded fearfully and wiped her nose pitifully before saying, "I will help."

She reached down for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head to reveal her braless breasts. She regarded El Barquero with suspicion, noticing how his soulless eyes did not so much as flick in the direction of her bountiful assets.

She squinted at him and said, "You are gay?"

"I am nothing," came the reply in a voice which caused a chill to run down her spine. "And put your clothes back on. Unless you always arrive naked."

"No. Naked usually comes later."

"Then get dressed. Otherwise, the guards are likely to suspect something."

"We are nearly there," she whispered as she pulled her top back on. "Turn left at next driveway."

Another deviation from Feodor's plan had been that it became necessary for El Barquero to drive since none of the erstwhile consigliere's guards had survived the night. Liya lowered her window as the sedan pulled to a stop, calling out in Georgian to the guard. They were waived through after a brief exchange. El Barquero pulled the sedan into the parking area between a luxury SUV and a super car. He collected his effects and climbed from the car, a grunt of pain escaping his lips as he bumped the wheel.

He opened Liya's door and offered his hand to help her from the vehicle. She smiled warily and led him toward the main house. They proceeded through a maze of corridors, steadily heading deeper into the house until they heard a voice call out behind them.

Liya gasped in surprise and turned toward the voice. El Barquero shoved her roughly into an alcove before turning to face the threat. As he did, a shot rang out. The nine-millimeter round found his abdomen, passing through but taking plenty of tissue with it. He whipped his pistol from his satchel and eliminated the threat before turning back to Liya.

"You are shot," she said worriedly.

"Do you have a way to get out of here?"

"Yes. I have money at hotel."

"Then get the fuck out of here. Go home and forget any of these assholes ever existed."

"But what about you?" she hissed anxiously, her eyes dropping to the blood dripping on the floor from his wound.

He glanced at his wound before grunting, "I'll be done with my mission long before this becomes a problem. Now go."

Forty

Reyna

A sleepless night following the disgusting spectacle by the pool left Reyna almost delirious by the time dinner rolled around the next afternoon. The accommodations were luxurious, but quite secure. They had also been fed regularly, although both the quality and quantity were lacking. When she had asked a guard why their breakfast was nothing more than water and a poached egg, she was told that Mr. Zlodey had suggested that she was too fat. The memory of Hannah hurling her own poached egg at the guard's face in response was one she would never forget.

After lights out, she had had a long discussion with Hannah about how she had found herself in Victor's sex palace in the middle of the Atlantic. The answer, it seemed, boiled down to: he's kind of good looking and really rich. For Hannah, it had just been another meaningless fling wherein she would unapologetically exchange a few rolls in the hay for an all-expenses-paid long weekend in paradise.

Part of Reyna mourned the demise of her friend's carefree lifestyle, especially since Reyna herself had made the conscious decision to leave such adventures behind when she had become ensnared in the toxic relationship which eventually led to Alton. She hoped that, assuming they got out of this predicament, Hannah would be better positioned to find her own soulmate. It was a concept Hannah had always belittled in the past, but her outlook seemed to have changed after seeing the happiness Reyna could not hide, even in their present predicament.

Reyna had been careful in how she discussed Bruce, not wanting to give anyone eavesdropping any actionable information. But it was obvious from her friend's reaction that she had been unable to hide just how totally in love with him she was. Even sitting in what amounted to her cell, she could not help but swoon when she thought of him. And it was more than just the fact that she was confident he would rescue them, it was all of him. His warmth, his love for Alton, his indefatigable drive to put her happiness above his own. It made her want to be a better mother, a better woman. Not for her own sake, but for his. In truth, she had no way of knowing the fate of either of the men in her life, but she had faith that Bruce had kept Alton safe. And, having seen to her son, he would stop at nothing to rescue her. It had been difficult the previous evening to not inform Zlodey of his impending demise. But she ultimately decided that it was one thing to be confident her love would save her; it was something entirely different to make his task harder.

The guard arrived to take them to the dinner where Zlodey had promised she would 'be his', saying, "Mr. Zlodey ask you are to be his guests."

She ignored him pointedly, staring instead at the mind-numbing cable news program. When the guard crossed to the TV and turned it off, she looked at him and said, "Tell him we're busy."

"He insists."

"I insist that he fuck right off. We're not hungry."

"Do not say you were not warned," the guard warned before departing.

"What do you think that means?" Hannah asked worriedly.

"That we're about ten minutes from being raped."

"Fuck."

"Exactly."

"What do we do?"

Reyna sighed wearily and said, "Stay alive. We cannot stop them if that is their intent. I counted eight guards yesterday."

"I think he has even more than that. When I first arrived, he said they were all part of his staff. But yesterday, they all had guns."

"We just have to keep our heads and stay alive."

"You really believe he'll come for you, don't you?"

Reyna nodded grimly and said, "Yes... and I'm so fucking worried I can barely breathe."

"Why?"

"He won't accept anything less than our freedom, no matter the cost. Victor could have a thousand guards, and Bruce would still come for us."

"I'm sure he'll be careful," Hannah offered lamely, but Reyna was unconvinced.

Her musings were interrupted when the guard returned with a comrade and they each lifted one of the women unceremoniously onto their shoulders before heading in the direction of the courtyard. Her strenuous pounding on the back of the brute who carried her only resulted in a mocking laugh.

Reyna's efforts to free herself were interrupted when the unmistakable chatter of automatic weapons fire echoed throughout the compound.

"What was that?" Hannah hissed as they were rudely dumped onto a couch near the exit leading to the courtyard.

Reyna shook her head worriedly, her insides wrenched in panic at the thought that those shots could have been intended for Bruce. The guards looked around fearfully for a moment before rushing through the exit. Gunfire rang out again, albeit quieter and just a single shot. Reyna looked at Hannah and nodded ominously in response to her friend's unspoken question.

The latter whispered, "What should we do?"

Reyna shrugged helplessly, no more able to look away from the courtyard than she could have taken flight.

Hannah yelped in horror as one of the guards dropped awkwardly to the ground amidst a growing pool of blood. This paled in comparison, however, to the blood curdling scream which escaped her lips as Victor dashed toward the doorway where they were hiding, surrounded by a phalanx of his guards. It was a battle of attrition as they ran, another guard dropping lifelessly to the tile floor every few meters as the remainder kept up a barrage of weapons fire toward Reyna's right. By the time they reached cover, only two of his guards remained and Victor had sustained a nasty cut to his face.

"Where is he?" Victor screamed when he spotted Reyna. "I know it is him, The fucking boatman."

Reyna could only shake her head fearfully. Victor stalked over to her and yanked her cruelly to her feet, pulling her tight against his body. She could feel his panicked breathing against her hair and knew he was on the verge of losing control.

"I asked question, cunt," Victor shouted in her ear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do not lie to me!" he screamed.

One of the two remaining guards risked a peek around the edge of the doorframe and fired off a wild burst of bullets. He looked back toward Victor questioningly.

Victor snapped, "Well? Do you see him?"

"I see nothing," came the trembling reply.

"Then look again... and keep shooting. He will not leave without her." Victor gestured to the other guard and said, "Back him up."

The guards moved to comply with the first leaning further out of the doorway to fire down the side of the building while the second crept across the entryway toward the opposite side of the doorway. A crack rang out as the first guard reloaded, accompanied by the pop of glass.

"Fuck!" Victor screamed in frustration as the second guard stumbled before crashing to the tile, dead. "Where is he!"

The courtyard had grown deathly silent, with only the frightened breathing of those remaining alive to break the silence.

Victor pulled Reyna tighter and hissed, "Irakli! What do you see?"

Reyna focused in on the last guard and realized what Victor was too scared to see: the guard was slumped against the door jamb and no longer breathing.

"He's dead," Hannah hissed from her spot crouched against the wall.

Victor moved slightly and Reyna felt a cool cylinder press against her temple. He shouted, "She is dead if do not surrender! Her and other woman!"

The distant crashing of waves was his only answer. As the seconds stretched out, Reyna could feel the gun's barrel pushing harder against the side of her head. Just as she was composing herself for an action movie style maneuver to free herself, the pressure of the gun suddenly vanished an instant before she felt a crash against the back of her skull which nearly knocked her unconscious.

"Stop moving," Victor hissed as he pressed the pistol back against her head.

"Victor!" a voice called out, seemingly from all around them.

It was a voice barely recognizable as human, filled with more rage and pain than most people would experience in a hundred lifetimes. Reyna could see Hannah's face pale at the sound, and she felt Victor tense in response. But all she felt was soul crushing sorrow.

A movement caught her attention in the courtyard, and she gasped reflexively when her eyes spotted the figure there. His clothes were in tatters; covered in what looked like weeks' worth of dirt and blood. His left hand held the largest pistol Reyna had ever seen; the left held a wicked looking knife dark with blood. His face was a horrifying mask of blood and pain thanks to a fresh slice across his forehead. Blood flowed freely from entry wounds in his stomach and thigh.

One thing stood in Reyna's mind above all the rest. The cool grey eyes which she knew could hold so much love and affection were gone, replaced by two gunmetal orbs straight from a nightmare.

"Let her go," the terrifying voice rang out again around the man's staggered breathing.

"Why? You will just kill me."

"Release the women. Then we will fight like men. Surely you can't be afraid of a man who's been shot and stabbed more times than I can count."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you die where you stand."

"How? If you make move, I will kill her."

"Then you can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces."

Reyna's heart soared at the obvious quote, and the desperate hope that his choice of words meant something remained of the man she loved in the killing machine before her.

Victor, apparently not a fan of eighties fantasy movies, failed to recognize the quote and reacted to the threat by pulling another pistol from his belt and reaching beneath Reyna's arm to point it at Bruce.

"Now what, 'Boatman'?" Victor hissed. "You cannot win. You will die and this one will either join you in death or join my harem. Same with blonde."

"You have forgotten Feodor's plot to overthrow you, Victor. He orchestrated all of this to replace you. He already stole your woman."

Reyna felt the pressure of the gun ease slightly as Victor contemplated Bruce's words. In a blinding instant, Bruce's gun came up and fired directly at her. A thud sounded next to her head seconds before a boom went off next to her ribs. Bruce crumpled to one knee as Victor screamed in pain. Knowing she would never get a better chance, she swung her fist back and connected solidly with Victor's groin before she desperately tried to roll free. Another pair of shots rang out, followed by the sound of a body crumpling to the ground behind her.

"Oh my God! Reyna!" Hannah screamed in a fashion which sent an icy spike of fear straight to Reyna's heart.

Her eyes whipped around in time to see Bruce sigh wearily and collapse onto his side. She spared a quick glance to confirm her suspicion that Victor was indeed dead before rushing to Bruce's side. Hannah arrived a moment later and looked on helplessly as her friend struggled to gain some measure of the situation.

Bruce had sustained at least three, and perhaps as many as five, gunshot wounds in addition to the knife wound on his head. She tore her shirt off and used it to wipe the blood from his face, confirming that he was white as a ghost. She applied pressure to the head wound and turned to Hannah to snap, "Towels. As many as you can find. Now!"

Hannah hurried away while Reyna labored to control the bleeding, but he had suffered from so many wounds that she struggled to decide which was the most critical. When Hannah returned, Reyna tasked her with putting pressure on the belly and thigh wounds while she wrapped the towel around his head and tied it off so she could look at the wound just under his armpit.

"Do you know where we could find a phone?"

"I think Victor has one... but you can't call 9-1-1. Even if he makes it, they'll lock him up and throw away the key."

"We might not have a choice," Reyna snapped. "He's lost a shitload of blood. Jesus, if someone came into a level four trauma unit like this, we'd tell every nurse and doctor on the wing to drop everything so they could help. But I'm not calling the police yet. Bruce gave me a number. He said the man who answered would do anything I asked. Once."

"I think this qualifies as a once-in-a-lifetime emergency. Let me see if I can make his phone work."

Hannah crawled over to Victor and undertook the grisly task of extracting his phone from his trousers and unlocking it using his dead face, which Bruce had thoughtfully not perforated with an unsightly bullet hole. She rushed back to Reyna and was given a lengthy number, which she called on speaker.

"Identify," a flat voice answered.

"My name is Reyna Lewiston. I was given this number by Bruce Lazarus."

"How may I be of service?"

"He's been shot. He'll die if he doesn't get a miracle. We need a trauma team, and we need it five minutes ago. And we need to get the fuck out of here."

"I have your location," the voice replied calmly. "Hold the line for thirty seconds." Twenty-nine seconds later, the voice came back and said, "I can have a doctor on site in four minutes. A fixer will arrive six minutes after that. A response team will be there within the hour. Once our friend has been stabilized, they will take you anywhere in the world you wish to go. Will there be anything else?"

"No," Reyna replied shakily.

"Please pass my regards along to our mutual friend if he recovers and tell him it was a pleasure doing business with him."

The line clicked ominously. Before Reyna could fully comprehend all she had heard, a buzz sounded from the direction of the compound's front door.

Forty-One

Reyna

"Are you sure he's going to make it?" Hannah asked worriedly over the steady thrum of the helicopter blades as they sped northeast just a dozen meters over the placid waters of the Atlantic.

"No," Reyna admitted grimly as she connected a new bag of fluids to Bruce's IV. "He's in real bad shape."

"But the doc patched him up?"

"We did what amounts to battle-field surgery back there. I don't know who the man on the phone was, but it's a good thing he sent the woman he did. I was talking to her when we were scrubbing in. She was a field surgeon with the Navy who did five tours in Afghanistan. Five! She did all she could, but he lost a ton of blood. To say nothing of the massive amount of tissue damage. The doc said normally she'd be bullish on his chances, but she didn't like how things went down at the end."

"What do you mean?"

"When we stripped him, we found a waterproof envelope in a pouch around his waist. It had fake passports for you and I, along with two tickets for flights to San Juan and another pair from Puerto Rico to New Orleans. There were also instructions for how to get in touch with someone at the FBI about protective custody and a number to call to arrange reuniting with Alton."

"That seems very thorough. But your face tells me I'm missing something."

"There were only two tickets, Hannah. For you and I."

"But... why only two?" Hannah asked in puzzlement.

"Because he didn't plan to survive."

"I don't understand. You mean he didn't think he would make it?"

"Maybe," she replied lamely. "Or perhaps that he felt he didn't deserve to survive."

"What the hell does that mean? He saved us. To say nothing of all the other women at the compound, between the staff and his god damned harem."

"He believes that the man he used to be, the one who was so adept at dispensing violence, is a monster who should be eradicated. He thought he had done that when he left that life behind. But every time he was forced to react to threats on my life with violence, he pulled back. It did not matter that he did it to save Alton and I. All that mattered was that the monster had returned."

"Was it that he didn't think you could love a man who did those things?"

Reyna shook her head and said, "I think it runs deeper than that. Bruce hates that man. And, by extension, he hated himself. When he killed the man who was holding me at gunpoint, he didn't even tell me he'd returned to town. I caught him skulking in the shadows, trying to guard us from a distance. When he took on the two men at his house, he just shut down completely. That was two men, Hannah. How many must he have fought to save us this time?"

"I overheard the fixer that guy sent saying something about eleven bodies."

"And that was just at the compound. How many more must he have confronted before he found us?"

"God damnit," Hannah muttered.

"What?"

"Now you've got me feeling guilty. None of this would have happened if I hadn't decided a fling with a billionaire sounded fun."

"This wasn't your fault, babe. You must know that. He would have just kidnapped you if you hadn't gone willingly."

"Maybe. But I still can't believe that I fucked him. I mean, Christ, Reyna. I had a threesome with him and that tattooed goddess of his."

"Not sure I can blame you where the girl is concerned," Reyna replied seriously, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "She could turn a nun gay. As for Victor, he's probably not even the scummiest guy you've slept with. Remember that guy sophomore year? The one who always wore a vest with no shirt."

"Jeremy!" Hannah spat. "Don't remind me. Did I ever tell you about the time he 'accidently' fucked me in the ass?"

"Yes," Reyna snickered.

"And that mother fucker had a huge dick. What a waste."

"I've missed you," Reyna whispered, reaching out to take her friend's hand.

"You too, babe." Hannah was quiet for a moment before adding, "I'm guessing you won't be coming back to Miami."

Reyna shook her head and said, "Not unless Bruce wants to." She paused, sparing a glance down at where he was stretched out unconscious. "Assuming he makes it."

"Of course he'll make it."

"I'm a nurse, Hannah. I know the truth. He needs a bit of luck. And he needs to want it."

"In that case, I'm sure he'll make it. Because you're fucking awesome, and you love him. The man hasn't been born who could turn down that combination."

"We'll see," Reyna sighed. She then glanced back up and said, "Regardless, I like Accassihiapa. I like my job there. I like the life Alton has there."

"Can I at least come visit?"

"Of course. And we'll come visit you as well. How else will I convince you that you should make the move to become our new neighbor. I have it on good authority that a new lawyer set up a practice in town recently. He might need a sexy, blonde paralegal who can be talked into a threesome if the mood strikes her."

"One time!" Hannah yelped.

"What about senior year with the forwards of the basketball team."

"Oh, I thought you were talking about with another girl. It doesn't count as a threesome if its just two guys... unless they're into each other as well."

"Ladies and gentleman," Reyna announced loudly. "We've begun our descent to TMI international airport."

"Fine," Hannah acquiesced with a laugh. "I know you've found your person and will never again know the joy that is being made airtight while on ecstasy, but don't expect me to pretend that it isn't amazing."

"You talk a big game, but something's changed about you. I think you'd take a dependable guy who knew just how fantastic you are and would love to curl up on the couch with you and binge a dumb reality show rather than ten hung studs with rocks for brains."

"Maybe," Hannah allowed.

Reyna's ready challenge to her friend's tepid response was cut off when Bruce let out a groan of pain. In an instant, everything outside of her love's welfare left her mind. Her eyes quickly flitted across his dressings and the device the doctor had hung from his IV stand which showed his vitals. Both his blood pressure and his O2 saturation were far too low for her liking, but she knew the only thing that would fix that was time and more fluids.

He groaned again and she bent over him and whispered, "Hang in there, my love. We'll be home soon."

***

After the helicopter touched down in a deserted high school parking lot, they were transferred to an ambulance which Reyna was told would take them anywhere she wished to go within five hundred miles. She wondered once again what kind of job Bruce had done for the man on the phone which could command such service, but she tabled that thought in favor of higher priority items.

After the helicopter lifted off, Reyna turned to Hannah and said, "Decision time, babe."

"I know," Hannah responded dispiritedly. "You really do make... whatever that town is called..."

"Accassihiapa," Reyna supplied.

"There. You make it sound really great. But I've got a job, assuming I haven't been fired for abandonment, and an apartment. I can't just walk away from everything."

"I did..."

"I know, but that was under threat of death. I'm merely bored. But I promise I'll come visit once things get settled."

"Same here," Reyna promised before pulling Hannah into a hug. "I'm going to miss you."

"Ditto," Hannah whispered. "Don't forget to call and give me your new number."

"I won't. Look, your ride's here." Reyna gestured toward a large, black luxury SUV which was pulled up next to the ambulance.

Hannah hugged her for another moment before dashing toward the car and driving away. Reyna sighed, luxuriating for a moment in the comfort of having good friends close at hand before turning back to the ambulance where Bruce was being strapped into a stretcher.

He still had not fully regained consciousness, although Reyna could sense him making the effort. She kept trying to sooth him back into a peaceful slumber, hoping that she could make it to the hospital in their hometown where Janice would be waiting with their best trauma team. But, as the ambulance set off for its four-hundred kilometer sprint to the northwest, he startled fully awake. He looked at her without recognition, his eyes anxiously scanning around the ambulance's interior.

She knelt over him and kissed his forehead before whispering, "You're safe, my love. You saved us."

The panicked expression in his eyes only worsened and he began struggling mightily against the straps crossing his body. She released the belt over his chest, whispering a prayer to the Gods of expert driving that the ambulance's driver, who was deftly weaving around highway traffic at twice the posted speed limit, knew his craft.

As soon as Bruce's arms were free, his hands went to the leads covering his body and the IV in his hand. He managed to remove the latter and made good progress on the former before Reyna whispered, "Don't," in his ear.

His hands stilled, but he still had not met her gaze. He sank back onto the stretcher unmoving and allowed Reyna to reattach the leads, start a new IV and bandage the flow of blood from where the former IV had been ripped from his skin. As she finished, she looked back to his face to find tears welling at the corners of his tightly closed eyes.

"I know it hurts, babe. Just try to rest. We'll be at the hospital soon. They'll be able to make you more comfortable."

A raspy, whispered, "Why?" was his only reply.

"I don't understand."

"Why didn't you just let me die?"

Her tears flowed freely, falling in ugly drops onto his bandaged chest. She took a deep breath before saying, "I saw the pouch you had around your waist, babe. I know you didn't think you'd make it back to us. But you did... you made it and everyone is safe. You did it, babe. You won."

"I can't..." he began before turning toward the window, his tears flowing as heavily as hers.

"You don't have to do anything. I'll take care of you."

"I can't... feel like this... anymore."

"Like what?" Reyna asked worriedly.

"Every time I close my eyes... I see the face of everyone I ever killed, everyone I ever betrayed. And now there are more... so many more. I wasn't supposed to make it, Reyna. I thought at long last I had earned peace."

Reyna held back her sob, drying her tears angrily before she managed to stammer, "There's no one back here but you and I. I told the EMT I could take care of you. If what you truly want is this release, as you call it, then I will help you."

She reached up and collected a syringe from a drawer. She then quietly fumbled around in a tray beneath the readout until she found the vial of morphine she knew would be there to treat critical break-through pain. She filled the syringe from the vial before replacing the latter and connecting the former to his IV.

She whispered, "Thank you for saving us, and I'm so sorry we weren't enough for you." She sighed wearily, the entirety of her will focused on keeping her soul-mate's last moment in this cruel world from being dominated by the woman who loved him crying over her failure.

Just before she depressed the plunger, he looked back in her direction. Quickly assessing the situation, he gripped her hand and hissed, "What are you doing?"

"Just what I said, I'm giving you what you seek. This morphine will stop your heart without pain. You'll just fall asleep and then your pain will be over."

"I can't let you carry that guilt, honey. Not to mention you'd go to jail..."

"You're all that matters right now."

"But... Alton."

"What do you care?" she snapped, the sobs coming in force now.

"You're not playing fair," he grunted.

"Fuck you!" she shouted angrily. "Either you love us and would do anything to ensure that we're ALL happy together, or you're a selfish prick who wants to give up. You'd better decide quickly, sir," she finished, her eyes going to the syringe.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you; you miserable, self-centered piece of shit. All of you. That includes the parts that killed people during your hollow years wandering in the jungles of South America in a misguided search for balancing the scales of karma, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It also includes killing God knows how many people saving Hannah and I."

"Seventeen," Bruce supplied.

"I honestly couldn't give less of a shit. They were evil assholes and I'm glad they're dead. And, until about five minutes ago, I was convinced you were the physical embodiment of heroism. Now, I don't know what to think."

Bruce sighed and said, "I only ever wanted you to be happy."

"Bullshit. If you valued my happiness, you'd let me fucking love you instead of apologizing for being the best man I've ever met. At least... most of the time. Love isn't being perfect, and it isn't never making mistakes. And it certainly fucking isn't about hating yourself because you saved the woman you love from the clutches of an actual evil man like Victor Zlodey."

He looked at her despondently and murmured, "I know what you're trying to do, Reyna. But you weren't there. You don't know what I did."

She shook her head and said, "And why did you kill those people?"

"You don't get it," Bruce murmured, meeting her eyes for the first time. "It's not that I killed them. It's that I savaged them, I tortured them. And I didn't feel an ounce of remorse. I still don't. Because they took you. I would have burned the world if that's what it took to save you."

"Because you love me. Victor and his men are the true evildoers."

"How many did they torture and kill?"

She took his face in her hands and regarded him intently for several moments before finally seeing a shadow of an inkling of a hint of the man with whom she had fallen in love. She smiled wanly and said, "I don't know, babe. But it doesn't matter. As a wise man once said, many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. And I believe that a man who would hunt down a woman and child intending to kill them... three times; then kidnap said woman and force her to live for a week like a rat in a hole with no food or water and only a bucket to piss and shit in; then tell her she'll join his harem, willingly or otherwise; he is the villain. And the man who would sacrifice everything, including the love of two people who truly love him, to oppose that villain; that man is the true hero. And fuck anyone who disagrees with me. Including you."

His eyes, which had been flat when she started speaking, had grown steadily darker as she recounted her trials and tribulations since their parting. But when she finished speaking, her voice nearly shouting, they regained a small measure of the warmth she remembered.

"I love you, babe. No matter what name you go by. And I know you love Alton and I as much as any man can love anything. We're so very lucky that all this happened and you came into our lives because you're the best thing that ever happened to us. Please don't tell me I went through all of that just for us to lose you."

"Reyna," he whispered hoarsely. "You..."

She saw the love in his eyes for an instant before it was replaced by the specter of regret. She snapped, "Don't you fucking dare say I don't deserve you. Don't I deserve to be happy. Don't all three of us deserve that?"

The warmth returned to his eyes and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "How is it you know me better than I know myself?"

"Because I love you; you stupid jerk," she sobbed, jerking the syringe from the IV and hurling it on the floor of the ambulance.

He fumbled to grip her hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently before whispering, "And I love you. More than life itself."

Reyna carefully climbed onto the stretcher beside him and molded herself against him before murmuring, "You don't have to choose between the two, my love."

Forty-Two

Bruce

"Bruce!" Alton squealed as the door to the hospital room creaked open.

"Not so loud, honey," Reyna warned, keeping a firm grip on her son's hand, lest he leap onto Bruce's bed.

"Hey buddy," Bruce croaked as he slowly came awake.

Nathaniel, from his spot behind Reyna, grumbled, "Looks like you forgot to duck."

"Nathaniel," Reyna hissed, her eyes flicking toward Alton. "Ix nay on the getting ot shay."

"Right. Anyway, too bad about the business with you getting run over by a grain harvester."

"That's hardly an improvement," Reyna muttered with a smile. She knelt down and said, "You can go see Bruce, honey. Just be careful. He was hurt very badly."

"Will he be ok?" Alton asked with wide eyes.

"That depends," Bruce interjected thoughtfully. "Do you happen to know anyone who can convince the nurses here to give me some real food to eat?"

Alton looked up at Reyna for a second before deftly yanking his hand free and rushing out into the hall. She took a moment to react before belatedly following after him. The pair returned a few moments later with company, Alton dragging a chuckling Janice by the hand.

Alton tugged Janice over to the bed, pointed at Bruce and sternly said, "He's hungry!"

Janice smiled brightly and said, "I thought you were just brought lunch an hour ago. I believe you ordered spaghetti and a salad."

"Does anyone actually eat that appalling gruel? I mean, really. The pasta was cold and the salad was warm. How is that even possible? And has anyone in this building ever even heard of salt?"

"I think he's getting better," Janice said to Reyna.

"When will he be released?"

"The docs are dragging their feet. I think they honestly can't believe they didn't have to open him back up after you and whats-her-face operated on him in a bedroom. At this point, they're just waiting to see if he gets sick."

"Then just release me," Bruce complained. "If I get an infection, I'll come back."

"Really? Like you came back for treatment for the burns you got when you saved them from the burning car?"

"Our car was on fire?" Alton gasped.

"A bit," Bruce allowed. "But I was fine."

Reyna leaned close to Janice and said, "If you can get the doctor to agree to release him, I'll make sure he comes back if there are any complications. Besides, you guys have loaded him up with enough antibiotics to wipe out polio in an entire county."

"Tell you what... lets hang tight for a couple of hours. The on-call hospitalist is pulling a double and he'll be damn near a zombie right before shift change. I'll spring this on him then and see if I can get him to agree to reason." She turned to Bruce and said, "Hang in there a bit longer, and I'll promise not to notice if young master Alton brings in a bit of contraband."

"What's cunt rebrand?" Alton asked inquiringly. His confusion only grew when everyone else in the room devolved into a fit of hysterics.

Nathaniel was the first to recover and said, "Come on, young man. We'll discuss it in the car."

"Where are we going Pop Pop Means?"

"Shopping. Come on."

The pair left, followed shortly by Janice, leaving Reyna and a now smiling Bruce alone.

He said, "I think he got bigger."

"He missed you, babe. Nathaniel said he couldn't stop talking about you after..."

"After I abandoned him?"

Reyna glared at him and said, "We talked about that bullshit."

Bruce shrugged and said, "Just because I've let go the destructive self-loathing over my behavior in recent weeks doesn't mean that I don't have regrets. I walked away from him without a word, honey."

"You knew you might be going to your death."

He shook his head and said, "I intended to go to my death."

"Because you thought you would not be worthy of love after you did what you knew you must do. But you are worthy. And you are loved." She paused for a moment before grimacing and adding, "Even if your woman is a disloyal cur."

"I'm on to you, Reyna," Bruce interjected knowingly. "Every time I get maudlin, you bring up the fact that you contacted Ingrid. You're trying to balance the scales, but it won't work. Justified or not, killing a dozen and a half people trumps everything else. In any case, you did it because you genuinely believed you were acting in my best interests."

"Just as you did when you..."

"I know," he acquiesced. "We're both overflowing with altruism. Perhaps we should just agree to table the whole..."

"I heard back from Ingrid," Reyna blurted out. She then hastened to add, "I didn't reply. But she sounded... um... eager, I guess that's the word, to hear what I had to say."

In a moment, Bruce felt the memories of lives past overwhelm his senses. With each came the old familiar sensation of regret and self-loathing. How could his former family ever forgive him? How could they do anything other than view his behavior as entirely selfish? He had been a wretched father, and a worse husband. He had placed his family in grave danger. Then, rather than atoning for his actions, he had run away. The fact that he had funneled a king's ransom to Ingrid under the guise of life insurance payments did not enter into his calculus. Children, and wives, needed money. But not as much as they needed someone who was there to kiss a skinned knee; or rub their feet and listen attentively to a litany of complaints after a particularly trying day; or attend the school play, or go out for ice cream and bagels five hours after dark; or trudge through the neighborhood selling overpriced junk masquerading as a fundraiser, or just someone to take the reins when their partner was at their wits end. In short, someone who loved them.

Being with Reyna, and Alton, had brought into sharp focus all the ways he had failed in his former life. Each time he got that special smile of thanks from either of them after doing something relatively mundane, he felt the twin emotions of happiness and remorse. The latter because he had no memories of that smile on the faces of his former family. The former because he was now more addicted to receiving that smile than he was to taking his next breath. It was, in truth, the primary thing that had brought him back from the abyss: seeing Reyna's relieved expression when he had finally allowed a bit of the barrier he was trying to keep between them slip.

He gripped Reyna's hand and said, "Respond to her. Tell her... whatever you think she needs to know."

Reyna smiled wanly and said, "I'll draft something and show it to you."

"No need, because this isn't for me. It's for them. The damage I've done can't be undone. But if they can get closure, or peace, or just the satisfaction of hitting me with a shovel until they get over their mad."

"I would never allow anyone to hurt you," she said softly before kissing his forehead.

"Let us hope we're out of the business of protecting each other from bodily harm for a while."

Reyna sat on the bed beside him and glanced at the clock before groaning in frustration.

"Something vexes thee?" Bruce asked with a grin.

"I want to get you home, babe. I want our... selves to be together."

"That isn't what you were going to say."

"I don't want to push."

He quirked an eyebrow before saying, "It takes a lot to scare me, honey. Speak plainly."

"You know what I was going to say," she replied timidly.

"I do indeed," he agreed. He pulled her onto the bed against him, sighing with contentment at the rightness of her body against his. "I don't know how to do family, honey. I drifted apart from my folks after high school. They insisted I make my own way in the world. I only went to college because of a scholarship for shooting."

"You can compete in that?"

"Air rifle," Bruce explained. "Very competitive. Those folks are scary good. I was merely serviceable. I got the full ride because I was nationally ranked on pistol when I was in high school. You didn't think I'd shoot directly over your shoulder..."

"Twice," she interjected sharply.

"Twice," he conceded, "if I hadn't been shooting since I was in primary school... did you?"

"I honestly never thought about it."

"That was my in with the enforcement squads in central America. I offered to work for them because I was a good shot and I just kept, I don't know, failing up?"

"Well, I'm certainly grateful for your level of skill."

"That's all done now. I told Nathaniel to go by the house and collect all the guns. I don't need them anymore. Besides, I couldn't bear the thought of Alton getting a hold of one."

"Which brings us back to family."

"And home," he added gently.

"Whither thou goest, my love."

"That was my line. Having agreed upon that, I'm not sure the cabin makes the most sense. It's quite small."

"And rustic... and secluded."

"I could keep it as a retreat. Use one of those house sharing apps to rent it to shooting enthusiasts. Not many places that can boast a competition grade pistol range with neighbors who don't make a fuss."

"I never even noticed."

"It was out by the... you know what? It doesn't matter. Where do you want to live? The apartment?"

"For now. But that's temporary. I want Alton to grow up around kids his own age."

"Let me see what I can come up with. I know a few people in town who know a bit about real estate."

"So that's it? You're willing to move in with me?"

"I'm willing to do everything with you," he replied with a salacious wink.

"What about..." she paused for long enough that Bruce began to squirm before adding, "It can wait."

He kissed the top of her head and said, "You've got me hopped up on pain meds here, Reyna. Never a better time to interrogate me."

"Children," she responded simply.

"I think Alton's great; you know that."

"But what about..."

"My former family? No way to tell... we'll just have to see what Ingrid says but I'd like to do anything I can for them, assuming you're ok with it. I mean, we might have to fly to..."

"Our children," she burst out before clamping her hand over her mouth with wide eyes.

"We don't have any... wait," he wheezed as a look of wonder took over his face. "Are you..."

"Oh my God!" she gasped. "How can two people so fundamentally in tune with each other have a conversation this disjointed. No, I'm not pregnant!" she finished nearly shouting. She then lowered her voice to a whisper and said, "But... what if I were?"

"Oh," he replied, deflating. The full weight of her words then landed on him like a ton of bricks and he added, "Oh!"

"Never mind," she whispered dejectedly.

He pulled her closer, resisting her efforts to climb from the bed, adding softly, "Reyna?"

"It's fine."

He sighed and said, "I'm sorry my love. You took me by surprise, is all. I never thought I'd have this conversation again. I'm snipped for goodness sakes."

"But that's reversible, is it not?"

"It is." He chuckled and added, "I asked for full castration in the clinic in Lima where I got it done. They said they stopped doing that a few years back."

"I'm not trying to pressure you, babe."

"You're not. It would be reckless for us to be in a relationship without discussing such things. And a woman asking a man to help her make a baby is literally the highest honor one can receive."

She grinned playfully and said, "Well, technically I didn't ask you to impregnate me. I just asked if you wanted to."

"I see," he replied slowly.

She cuddled closer and said, "I'm fucking with you, babe. Truth be told, I can think of almost nothing which would make me happier than us making a baby sister, or brother, for Alton. But if that's not what you want, I don't want to pressure you into anything. You and he make me the happiest..."

"Reyna?"

"I'm serious, Bruce. You two are all the men I ever..."

"Shut up," he finished.

Her mouth snapped closed, and she regarded him with such unguarded vulnerability, such love, that he nearly wept at the sight. He stammered, "I'd love to. All of it. Go get Janice, maybe they can unsnip me now, since I'm already basically prepped and anesthetized."

She leaned up to kiss him and whispered, "We can be patient, my love. Let's get you healed up and home before we loose the surgeon on you. Besides, you can't have sex for two weeks after that surgery and I have no intention of waiting that long."

Forty-Three

Reyna

"Yes," Reyna hissed as Bruce's cock filled her for the first time in what felt like an eon, even though it had only been a bit less than twenty-four hours by normal human reckoning. "Fuck... I've missed this."

"I've missed you," he groaned as he bottomed out.

Reyna's body was nearly overwhelmed by the sensations assaulting her senses. The exquisite feeling of fullness from his perfect cock filling her core; the kisses he peppered along her neck; the way her sensitive nipples tingled as they dragged through his chest hair; the way his hands gripped her ass, tantalizingly teasing the bundle of nerves between her cheeks; the pelting of the shower's warm water on her back. The combination had her on the brink of coming apart in moments.

"More," she gasped.

"You're going to kill us both," came the whispered reply.

He lifted her up from where she had been awkwardly standing on one leg to give him easier access, lifting her in his arms and pressing her against the cool tile of the hotel shower. She wrapped her legs around his waist, less concerned with her own safety than she was desperate for more... deeper. His surging thrusts, already intensely satisfying, transcended to undeniably mind blowing.

Her world exploded as her release detonated deep in her core. A guttural moan escaped her lips, filling the tiny, steam-filled bathroom. Bruce gently shushed in her ear, reminding her of her earlier whispered promise to be quiet in deference to the three-year-old sleeping on the other side of the paper-thin wall. But she could no more contain her response to her feeling of bliss than she could have ignored Bruce's arousal when she felt it brush against her leg as they began what was supposed to have been an innocent shared shower.

It had been two weeks since he had been released from the hospital, and they had been behaving like a pair of horny teenagers ever since. The slimmest excuse sent them scrambling for a bedroom, or shower, or seldom used supply closet at the pre-school. Their appetites were insatiable, and she hoped that feeling never faded. She was impossibly in love with Bruce: mind, body and soul. But she was also ravenously in lust with him and she intended to do everything in her power to ensure that neither feeling ever faded for either of them.

Her head dropped back against the tile as her pleasure receded and she panted wantonly in an effort to catch her breath. When she looked down at him, she found the love in his warm grey eyes that had become the drug she needed to survive.

"I love you," he whispered warmly.

"I love you so fucking much," she replied before capturing his lips.

Her tongue invaded his mouth hungrily, which spurned him to begin moving his still throbbingly hard cock within her core once more. She gripped his shoulders tightly, savoring their connection. He groaned as she clenched her inner walls around him.

"Are you close?" she panted.

He snickered and said, "I'm not sure its possible for two people to get closer, my love."

She flicked his earlobe with her tongue and said, "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he grunted, thrusting deep within her core.

"I want you to cum on me."

"Where?" he asked without an ounce of hesitation or questioning.

"Everywhere," came her stammering reply.

She loosened the hold of her legs around his waist and he set her on her feet. She dropped to her knees, both hands sliding down her slippery body to the junction of her thighs. She masturbated libidinously at the sight of her lover stroking himself.

"Give it to me, my love. Give me everything."

He barely managed to whisper her name before a loud groan escaped his lips. Reyna opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out lewdly just in time to catch the first eruption of his seed. She savored the warm saltiness of his essence as his manhood continued to spurt, painting her glistening skin from her cheeks to her nipples. The entire time, her one true love gazed down at her with a wonderment that left no doubt in her mind that he would remember this forever.

As his pleasure crested and then began to recede, she demonstrably scooped up a dollop of his seed from her cleavage and lapped it from her fingers before swallowing it down. He reached for her urgently, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply, indifferent to the taste of his essence still on her lips. She sighed into his embrace, feeling more content than she had ever thought possible.

When they parted, she grinned and asked coquettishly, "Spank bank all topped off?"

"Oh yeah," he whispered hoarsely.

"Good," she said softly before kissing him briefly. "Now, I think we should finish getting cleaned up so we can find out if we've got a permanently scarred little boy out there."

"This was hardly the first time that you got a little vocal, honey. He's just happy you're happy."

"I am far more than happy, my love."

***

"Are we there yet?" Alton asked, for the seventh time since leaving the hotel eighteen minutes prior, from his booster seat in the back of the rented SUV.

"Just be patient, honey," Reyna said softly as she reached for Bruce's hand and gently pried it from the steering wheel.

She had seen a wide range of emotions from him in their months together: irritation, annoyance, worry, concern, affection, adoration, love. But she had never seen terror, even when he faced down armed gunmen. Yet, sitting in the parking lot of an unimpressive looking chain restaurant in the Pacific northwest just before the lunch rush started, he looked nearly incapacitated by fear.

"It's going to be fine, babe," Reyna whispered gently. "I talked again to Ingrid yesterday. Everyone knows the score. There won't be any surprises."

"You and Alton should go back to the hotel," he managed to say through his clenched jaw.

"No. We love you and we're going to be here for you."

"Fine," he huffed with the enthusiasm of a man headed for the gallows. "Let's get this over with."

He jolted out of the car as though shocked and started for the restaurant before stopping and hurrying back to the car to help Alton from his seat. He then resumed the walk with Reyna on one side and Alton gaily skipping along on the other.

They had not yet even reached the door when Reyna heard a soft, "Michael?" from behind her.

She turned to find an attractive willowy woman with white hair who looked to be in her early forties staring at Bruce with wide eyes.

He replied, "Hello Ingrid."

"Jesus," she breathed. "Your face."

"I'd like you to meet my... um... partner. Reyna. And her son, Alton."

Reyna smiled warmly and said, "So nice to meet you in person, finally."

"Mom?" a stocky young man with brown hair and Ingrid's piercing blue eyes asked worriedly. "Is that him?"

"I think so," Ingrid answered slowly, her eyes never leaving Bruce's face.

Bruce glanced skyward and said, "Why don't we get inside before the rain starts?"

Reyna noticed a fourth member of their party, a corpulent man in his late forties with a friendly face. He kept close to Ingrid and the quiet young woman Reyna assumed was Karen. The group proceeded inside and were quickly seated at an out of the way table. The two sides eyed each other warily, no one willing to break the awkward silence.

Almost as though a starter's pistol only audible to mothers had been fired, Ingrid and Reyna spoke at once. The latter looked to Ingrid's companion and said, "I don't think we've been introduced," while the former, who was still staring in wonder at Bruce, said, "Is that really you, Michael?"

"I'm Todd," the man to Ingrid's right said jovially, standing and reaching across the table to shake hands with Bruce and herself.

"I'm Alton," her son yelped, having exhausted his patience with being ignored. Karen turned to him and extended her hand before introducing herself softly. Alton shook her hand demonstrably before saying, "Are you my sister?"

"I... um... don't know," Karen stammered.

All eyes turned to Bruce, who sighed mightily before saying, "I'm so sorry for what I put you all through. I made so many mistakes when I was too foolish to understand that my actions had consequences. Once I realized the depth of my miscalculation, I thought it was too late to do anything but walk away. I told myself I was doing it for your benefit. I did what I could from afar to help you. But that doesn't excuse what I did. I expect nothing from any of you. I'm here to answer whatever questions you may have and give you whatever you need to move on."

Silence descended after he finished speaking. Reyna's hand found his beneath the table. She tried to focus all of her strength on that shared connection. Alton, to his immense credit, contented himself with covering the children's menu with crayon depictions of dinosaurs.

"What... happened... to you?" Ingrid finally asked.

"After I... faked my death... I went to work for various anti-drug task forces in central and south America."

"Why?"

"In the beginning, I told myself that I was finally doing some good for the world. Helping clean up our streets, or some such nonsense. By the time I realized the people I was fighting for were just as bad as the people I was fighting against, I was in too deep. Eventually, I managed to walk away. I returned to the states and settled in a town you've never heard of in Florida."

"Why there?" Ken asked.

"Because it was convenient. I was still adrift, purposeless. I had enough money that I could send your mom her monthly disbursement without needing to get a job. I just... existed."

"That money was from life insurance," Ingrid stammered.

"There was no policy," Bruce corrected her. "I arranged it through a contact in the banking sector who owed me a favor."

"So you've just been sending us five thousand dollars a month out of your own pocket for a decade and a half?"

"Well... yeah."

Todd's eyes rolled back in his head for nearly a full second before he said, "That's nearly a million dollars."

"Jesus," Ingrid repeated.

"It was the least I could do after abandoning you," Bruce offered. "All of you."

"Bullshit," Ingrid snapped.

"Mom!" Karen yelped.

Ingrid sighed and said, "Sorry, honey. It's just... I always feared that I'd driven your father to do something foolish."

"You told us he left because you overreacted to some silly maintenance thing with our old house, and then he got himself killed in Mexico before you could track him down to apologize," Ken explained.

Bruce looked at Ingrid in horror and said, "No. None of this was your fault. Any of you."

"Yes, it was," Ingrid insisted. "I was furious with you, Michael. And I overreacted. I forced you into a corner from which there was no reasonable escape. So, you found another way out. At first, I never questioned it. I told myself I'd gotten just what I wanted. It wasn't until I met Todd and he left me because I was trying to manipulate him the same way I did with you that I realized what I'd done." She reached out and took her partner's hand. "I got help in time to get him back. But that doesn't change the fact that I drove you away, or the fact that our children grew up without their father."

Bruce shook his head and said, "I could never have been the father they needed then, Ingrid." He look to Todd and said, "How long have you two been together?"

"Eleven years this April."

Bruce looked at his two children questioningly and said, "Has he been there for you?"

"Todd's the best," Ken enthused. "He's taking Karen and I to New England next weekend to tour colleges. Mom wants us to stay close to home, but he knows a guy on the faculty at MIT and thinks he might be able to get me into the robotics program."

"What's a MIT?" Alton piped up.

Reyna leaned over and whispered, "A very prestigious college. You have to be extremely smart to go there."

"I'm smart!" Alton insisted firmly.

"I'm glad you guys have him," Bruce said after the chuckles died down. "I regret most of all not being there for you two."

Karen softly spoke, "You said before you couldn't have been the father we needed. What did you mean?"

"I was broken, empty. Even after I returned to this country. I just wandered around my property aimlessly."

"So what changed?" Todd asked congenially.

Bruce gestured to Reyna and Alton and said, "These two. They saved me."

"How'd you two meet?"

Reyna chuckled and said, "That... is a very long story."

Epilogue

"Mommy!" a young voice yelped at a volume which likely meant at least a dozen of their closest neighbors were about to poke their heads out of their front doors like so many prairie dogs. "Michele has a spitty diaper!"

A burst of laughter went up from the semi-circle of lawn chairs arranged across the Lewiston's back yard.

"I got it," Bruce barked good naturedly before hefting himself to his feet and heading toward the house, scooping up his one-year old daughter on the way.

"Spitty?" Ingrid murmured with a quirked eyebrow.

"I have never claimed to be a saint," Reyna replied good naturedly. "As I told Bruce long ago, I had to retire the swear jar because interest rates had gone up too much. After enough times of he or I crassly observing that our daughter had produced yet another gastrointestinal hate-crime in her britches, Alton started aping us. My brilliant husband redirected him."

"I'd love to hear your other metaphorical equivalencies."

"There are too many to list, but I have suggested that Bruce start keeping track of them so he can include them in his books."

"How's Dad's book career coming along?" Karen asked quietly.

"He still maintains that, as far as you two are concerned," Reyna started, indicating Karen and her brother, Ken, "he is still doing research."

"I've read all three he published," Karen replied shyly, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "They're quite enjoyable."

Ingrid guffawed and said, "If your father knew you read his books, sex scenes and all, I think he might faint dead away."

"So I definitely shouldn't bring Wyatt down to visit and expect for us to sleep in the same room?"

"I'd think not," Ingrid replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, I think he'd be reasonable about it," Reyna interjected. "I might have to have a few sidebars with him, but he'd come around."

"Maybe he could wrap his mind around Karen and Wyatt together," Ken offered. "After all, they've been together for nearly two years, and they share an apartment. But you're neglecting the other part, dear sister."

"And... what's that?"

"The part where Dad takes him for a walk, and you never see your boy toy again."

"Kenneth," Ingrid snapped. "Your father would never hurt that boy."

"Didn't say he'd hurt him," Ken agreed. "Now, scare the ever-loving shit out of him. Literally. That's an entirely different matter. He'd just need to give him that look once, and Wyatt would run, not walk, to the urologist to get himself fixed."

Todd's bark of laughter echoed off the nearby houses before he said, "No one ever needs to see that look more than once. I remember when I tried to be firm about him ending those phony life-insurance payments. You know, considering the whole not dead thing. He just gave me the faintest whiff of that look, and I suddenly realized the steaks needed turning."

"Regardless," Reyna interjected with a wide smile, "we'd love to meet your Wyatt, Karen. Bring him down whenever you like. We have tons of room."

"And spitty diapers," Alton added cheerfully.

***

Later that evening, after Ingrid and Todd had returned to their hotel and Karen and Ken were catching up with their friends from school over social media while keeping an eye on their siblings, Reyna and Bruce took the opportunity of a bit of alone time to take a stroll around their neighborhood. Gone were the wide-open spaces of his land on the edge of town. Bruce had gifted the property to the police department to use as a shooting range shortly after the conclusion of the 'troubles', as they referred to the last months of Victor Zlodey's life.

They now lived in an upper middle-class neighborhood a few minutes from town. Reyna dropped Alton at kindergarten on her way to work while Bruce stayed home with Michele. They truly had enough money that neither had to work, but that just made her job as the nursing education coordinator at the hospital all the more fulfilling. Their house was full of guests more nights than it was empty. Usually, it was a few of their friends, along with whatever children might be included in the deal. It was a loud, chaotic life. And neither Reyna nor Bruce could imagine anything happier.

"I heard you guys talking about Karen's beau," Bruce murmured as they walked hand-in-hand. "Or did you forget the windows were open?"

"I remembered," Reyna replied playfully. "Perhaps it was intentional on my part, so you didn't go all nineteen-fifties on her, or him, when it comes up."

"I wouldn't..." he began, but she shushed him with a brief kiss.

"I know you wouldn't want to do anything caveman-ish. But I also know you're still getting used to what it means to have a daughter who is also a woman. It is imprinted upon the men of our culture that women, especially young women, must be sheltered and protected. By ensuring you overheard our conversation, I merely sought to give you the chance to consider things dispassionately and at your own pace. Rather than making the mental journey from 'she's a child' to 'she's not only sexually active, but the young man standing nervously next to her is her partner in crime with respect to the aforementioned sex' in an instant, not to mention in front of her. The same is likely true for Ken, but the patriarchy has programed us to consider that awesome, rather than slutty."

Bruce chuckled and said, "Well... in that case, thank you for the assist. They really are great, aren't they?"

"Definitely. And Alton absolutely worships them."

"They're a good influence on him. He's turning into quite the older brother, himself."

Reyna smiled her response and leaned closer to her husband. They returned home in short order and orchestrated the nightly anarchy that was bedtime with children far enough apart in age to have completely dissimilar routines. But, with the cheerful help of the youngster's older siblings, everyone was in bed in a few short hours.

As they prepared for bed, Bruce heard Charlie's plaintive howl from the backyard. He chuckled to himself and moved to let his faithful companion in so he could occupy the bed, relocated from the cabin's front porch and nearly threadbare after countless washings, which had a place of honor in the couple's bedroom. The hound's presence reminded Bruce once again of the night, so many years in his past that it felt like another life, when his then best friend had directed him to save the people who would become his family.

He scratched Charlie's head lovingly and said, "You're a good boy, you know that?" Charlie farted loudly before slumping over in his bed, blissfully, and immediately, asleep. Bruce chuckled and said, "Some things never change."

Reyna emerged from the bathroom and said, "What was that, babe?"

Bruce stood and removed his clothing before crossing to embrace his similarly unclothed, and still devastatingly beautiful, wife. He murmured, "Just thanking Charlie for directing me to the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Again?" she teased, but the smile on her face lit up the darkened room.

She led him to bed and curled up against him, her fingers deftly tracing the outline of the large phoenix tattoo now emblazoned on his chest. He glanced down and whispered, "I still think I should have covered those regretful letters with your likeness. Would have immediately upgraded me from 'apt to scare small children' to 'passable'."

"You know that would have been damned near impossible. Besides, I like how this turned out. It suits you."

"But it's your monument, my love. I might have come back from the dead, but it was you that performed the miracle."

"It was both of us, babe," she murmured as she climbed astride him and took him into her silken embrace with a contented sigh. "I might have brought you back from the dead, as you say. Jesus, you feel good. What are you trying to do, put another baby in me?"

"As many as you'd like, my love. This possibly resurrected man has no intention of spending the life you gave him doing anything but loving. You? The children? Our friends? Bring 'em on. I'll love the lot of 'em."

"My wonderful, loving husband. Who would have ever thought it could happen?"

Bruce groaned in pleasure before whispering, "You did, honey. You saved me. You saved us all."

She shuddered at the feeling of her impending release, luxuriating in yet another moment of perfect happiness to go with the thousands more the wonderful man beneath her, inside her, had already gifted to her. He was at once her rescuer, her protector, her friend, her lover, her partner, her soulmate. Just as she knew she represented all that, and more, to him. He was the one whom she had given up the courage to dream existed for her. And, having at last found him, she had discovered just how paltry those dreams had been when compared to the man who had saved her, and allowed her to save him in return.

She bent down to kiss him, their bodies communicating flawlessly the perfect love they shared. As their lips parted, she replied, "Perhaps, but you gave me my happily ever after."

The End

Thanks so much for taking the time to read Bruce and Reyna's tale. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review.

***

Found Wanting

by Jake Lazarus