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Post by jaglady on Mar 25, 2009 16:38:12 GMT -5
Yes, Mother! (Be another one this evening)
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ladytaz29
Rookie Officer
Caution..Must wear flame retardent materials..
Posts: 377
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Post by ladytaz29 on Mar 25, 2009 17:14:16 GMT -5
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Post by jaglady on Mar 25, 2009 18:43:22 GMT -5
Chapter 11—Precautionary Measures
JAG Headquarter, Falls Church, VA 1905 ZULU
Special Agent Clayton Webb fidgeted in the brown leather chair while Admiral Chegwidden scanned over the Homeland Security documents.
“So why am I just finding out about this, Clay?” he said into the paper, his eyebrows raised, obviously miffed. He then looked up at the CIA agent. “You had to wait until two of my people are dead and another one was attacked? Not to mention that young SP in Ramstein?”
“I’m now just getting this myself” he insisted. “I mean, the CIA considers them to be pretty low on the terrorism food chain. Just a bunch of renegade Navy SEALS, really.”
The Admiral slapped report down on his desk and glared at him. “Renegade Navy SEALS who killed two of my people, Clay! Your boys had information that Logan escaped and might try to cause trouble in Miami!”
Clayton Webb looked sideways in frustration. “Look, Admiral. First of all, they’re not your people! I know the JAG field is close, but don’t forget that Hennessey and English resigned their commissions. Secondly, we get so many bits of information. We can’t go sounding the alarm every time somebody dies. Besides, how many judges and state officials from all over the country are in Miami right now? And how many is this guy really after?”
“Clay, you know damn well these high-maintenance politicians just need to hear about this on the news. What more alarm do you need?” He sighed and gathered his thoughts as he walked from behind his desk. “I spoke with Lieutenant Horatio Caine in Miami this morning.”
“What did he want?”
“He’s in charge of the Miami-Dade PD. I sent three of my best officers down there to work with him on this thing. He’s requesting that his force have access to the Homestead Officers’ Club, just in case there’s a problem at the gala Saturday night.”
Agent Webb shook his head. “Not a good idea, Admiral. You know what a headache that’s gonna create if something happens. There’ll be enough military security there.”
Admiral Chegwidden narrowed his eyes at the brown-haired agent. “Should I remind you that Miami-Dade has been babysitting these politicians for almost a month now with almost no help from the Federal Government? They’ve been very patient if you ask me.”
Special Agent Webb shrugged. “They’re making money. We’ve been giving back to them. Their officers are making overtime. Tell Lieutenant Caine that if we’ve inconvenienced him, we’ll just have the exercise in Las Vegas next year.”
A.J. huffed. “Dammit, Clay! That’s not the point! Give the Miami-Dade PD the courtesy of jurisdiction on Homestead that one night! Can you do that? Look! Harm and Mac are gonna be at that gala. Some of Lieutenant Caine’s people are gonna be there. He tells me there’s evidence that KAF is getting in and out of Homestead somehow, even with the beefed-up security we have there right now.”
Clayton Webb leveled his eyes at the Admiral. “And why didn’t anyone tell me about that?”
Admiral Chegwidden shot him a disgusted look. “You’re the CIA. Why don’t you tell me?”
Special Agent Webb stood up and shook his head. “I can’t guarantee anything at this point.”
The Admiral paced behind his desk again. “Fine. I’ll take it to SecNav. I’ll do whatever I have to. But Lieutenant Caine is gonna be able to take his force in and out of Homestead on Saturday. I’m doing this, Clay. With or without your help!”
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Dade County General Hospital, 1330 hours
Bud Roberts flipped his phone shut. “Just as I thought. CIA’s not cooperating.”
Harm smirked and shook his head as he tapped on the brown door. “I hate politicians” he fumed. “Sergeant Stetler. Okay if we come in?”
Rick Stetler groaned as he sat up in his hospital bed. “Yeah. Come on in, Commander Rabb” he said weakly, cradling his bandaged forehead.
Harm and Bud stepped in. “How’s that head wound, Sergeant? I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Bud Roberts. He’s down here from Virginia helping out while you’re recovering.”
His white Navy hat tucked under his arm, Bud stepped forward and shook hands smartly with the wounded IAB agent. “Sergeant Stetler. Heard you got a nasty bruise.”
Rick still sported a bandage framed by purple bruising above his right eye. He was still groggy from pain killers. “Yeah, well. Had a little accident. I think they’re letting me go home tomorrow. Colonel MacKenzie and Emmie Stockburne came by earlier. Brought me some lunch from the cafeteria. They thought I’d like a break from hospital food.”
Bud stood next to Rick while Harm sat down in a blue chair in the corner. “That was nice of them. Sergeant, we need to know if you’ve spoken to anyone on Homestead recently. Lieutenant Caine says there’s evidence that Arthur Logan has been getting in and out of the base, and he’s worried about security. Besides, did Mac tell you a third JAG was attacked this morning?”
Rick looked across the room at Harm with tired eyes. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“Happened at the Silver Palm. Same M.O. Gerald English survived, though. Ends up he had some Navy SEAL training himself and was able to fight off the guy.”
“Why would Lieutenant Caine be worried? I’m sure the Navy or the Air Force can handle it.”
“Just in case there’s trouble Saturday night. In the Hennessey murder and this morning, both times the attacker posed as somebody who had access. Mr. English said the guy was dressed as one of the waiters. Detective Tripp says somebody messed with the hotel’s surveillance.” Harm raised his eyebrows. “Sergeant, I think you’re underestimating these guys. They know how to get in and out of places. They’re patient, and they’re usually very careful.”
While he listened, Bud spotted an untouched banana walnut muffin sitting on the nightstand. Must have been left over from breakfast, he thought. He quietly picked it up and tore it down the middle.
Rick dipped his head. “I think Lieutenant Caine’s overreacting. You know better than anyone how the Federal Government hates having the local police department nosing around.”
Harm forced a smile. “I know, Sergeant. But considering we’re gonna have so many high-profile guests at the Officers’ Club, if there should be trouble, the Miami-Dade PD will be right there.”
Bud looked thoughtfully at the torn brown muffin and popped a large half into his mouth. It was too large for him to eat, so he let it rest in his mouth while he listened.
Harm shrugged and fingered his Navy hat as he stood up to leave. “Well, we’ll hammer the details out. You just take care of that head wound.”
Rick rolled painfully to his side and reached forward. “Hey, I had a muffin sitting here on the table. Anybody seen it?”
Both Harm and Rick looked up at Bud. His mouth was still wrapped around half of the walnut muffin. His eyes widened at them.
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Emmie Stockburne sat down in Horatio’s extra chair and faced him. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
Her boss leaned forward and put his fingers together. “How are you feeling, Emmie?”
She shrugged. “Really didn’t need to reopen old wounds, Sir, if that’s what you mean.”
“I understand. Emmie, for at least the next few days, I would like for you to stay somewhere safe. I know you weren’t directly involved with the Logan case, but I’m not taking any chances. Your husband was, and we’re not really sure what we’re dealing with just yet. The department is stretched too thin to put an officer on guard detail, but I would appreciate it if you would go somewhere voluntarily until Logan is recaptured or until this conference is over next week.”
She dipped her head. “With all due respect, Sir, I live a guest house on my parents’ estate. The whole property is surrounded, and we have electronic surveillance.”
“Yes, but I know you have the waterway on one side of the property, which leaves you vulnerable. Emmie, we still haven’t found Mr. Logan yet, and he’s proven that if there’s a way to get in somewhere, he’ll do it. Two people are dead, and one was attacked this morning. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I weren’t concerned for your safety.”
She looked to one side in thought. “I guess if you want, someone could stay with me?”
“We could arrange that. Would you like for me to have Mr. Wolfe stay at your place until this is over?”
“As long as he stays in another room, I guess that would be all right.”
Horatio nodded. “I’ll ask him to take you home and stay with you on the property.”
“Thanks, Sir. Should just be for a couple of nights. Saturday and Sunday I’m going to share a ladies’ suite with Colonel MacKenzie in town.” She looked down. “Any idea if the department came up with another escort, or am I on my own for this thing?”
He smiled. “You’ll be happy to know that we have someone lined up.”
“But you’re not gonna tell me who it is, are you?”
“It isn’t me, and it isn’t Rick.”
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Post by earthylady on Mar 27, 2009 8:49:25 GMT -5
Nice chapter JL. Rick doesn't seem to see the seriousness of the case yet. Yay for Ryan being Emmie's bodyguard. Wonder who's in line as Emmie's escort?
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ladytaz29
Rookie Officer
Caution..Must wear flame retardent materials..
Posts: 377
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Post by ladytaz29 on Mar 27, 2009 14:17:12 GMT -5
She will be happy with anybody but Stetler..
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Post by jaglady on Mar 27, 2009 19:09:23 GMT -5
Thanks, everybody. Glad you're enjoying. Figure I better get posting again, especially now that Mirium added a poking smiley! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 12—Casualties of War
Mac stepped into the interrogation room and bent down, hugging her old acquaintance. “Gerry? Thank God. How are you feeling?”
The attorney dipped his head as he tiredly rubbed his jaw. “Hey Sarah. Busy morning. But it’s good to see you again.”
The petite Marine stepped back and smiled sadly at her former colleague. “Sorry we had to see each other like this. You remember Harmon Rabb?”
Gerald English smiled a little sadly. “Yeah. Is he here?”
Mac nodded and sat down in the chair next to him. “A.J. sent us down here to help the Miami-Dade PD on these cases. I guess you heard Logan escaped from Ramstein, and there’s been trouble.”
He dipped his head and looked around him. “Yeah. Definitely been trouble. But it’s like I told Officer Delko. I read the JAG pages. Really tore me up about Audrey.”
“You badgering my vic, Mac?” Delko said to her with his boyish grin as he walked in with a brown case file. The grin went away. “How’s your neck, Mr. English?”
“Better. Thanks.”
Delko sat across the table from Gerry and Mac. “Can you tell us what you remember this morning, Sir? Or do you need a little more time?”
The attorney leaned his chin on his folded hands. “Yeah. I’m okay.” He now lowered his eyes. “I’ll probably give you more details than you need, but, well, my job isn’t that different from yours. The smallest details can crack a case, right?”
The CSI nodded sympathetically. “You’re right, Sir.”
Gerald rubbed his now bruised jaw again. “I woke up at seven this morning. Figured my first lecture wasn’t until noon, so I’d just stay in my room and take it easy. Ordered coffee at 7:15. The Café Arabica, which is the same kind I always drink when I’m traveling. A young man about in his twenties, looked Hispanic, brought up the standard coffee tray. Then at 8:10 this morning I called room service again and ordered breakfast. Nothing special. Figured I’d try their Western omelet and hash browns. I noticed by 8:50 nobody was there with my food yet. In the past few days they’ve had my breakfast there within ten minutes. I called down to the desk, and they were able to tell me that the guy had left with my order at about 8:30.”
Delko raised his eyebrows as he scribbled down notes. “No, that’s interesting. Go on.”
“At nine or so, there’s a knock on my door. It’s a huge blonde-haired guy through the peephole. He was older, but he was in uniform, so I really didn’t think anything of it. He was polite, he fit the part, so I signed the slip charging it to my room and then stepped into the bathroom.” He then closed his eyes and sighed. “I didn’t hear a thing. I just felt something on my neck. The guy snuck up on me and pulled me up against him.” Gerry now made a semicircular motion with his left arm indicating that his head had been pulled against the man’s chest. He then pointed to his jawline. Delko and Mac leaned in toward him for a closer look.
“So you were expecting somebody to come after you, Gerry?” Mac wanted to know.
He pursed his lips. “We knew what a sicko Arthur Logan was. We’d read some profiles on Keep America Free. They’re an anarchist group. I guess you could say he’s the ringleader. No rules apply except theirs. I tell you one thing, though. That guy hates authority. Except his own.”
“And you were able to fight him off?” she asked.
The attorney nodded. “When they assigned me that case, I had to study some Navy SEAL tactics and training. And yeah, I knew about the thumb to the neck. I learned how to counteract it. The big thing about that tactic is the element of surprise. First off, you just don’t expect somebody to do that, and at your gut level, you really don’t know how to react. But there’s another secret to it. Your lungs and voice are paralyzed, but not your legs. Since we were both standing when he grabbed my neck, I swept my right leg around between his feet and kicked him off balance. He fell and tried to grab me again, but I elbowed him really hard in the ribcage. Not sure, but I might have broken his ribs.” He paused and looked at the table. “I know I mentioned that he smelled like cigars. I guess I didn’t think about this until now.” He pointed up and down at himself with both his index fingers. “His uniform really didn’t fit him right. Like I said, he was a huge guy. Muscular. The sleeves and legs of his uniform were tight. I’m sure in a place like the Silver Palm, they’re careful about how their staff looks.”
Delko raised his eyebrows and scribbled more notes. “No. That tells me the guy probably wasn’t an employee there. That and what you mentioned about him being later than usual. I’ll talk to the manager again.”
Mac nodded thoughtfully. “Bill Schwender and Audrey Hennessey were both murdered the same way. We found evidence that Audrey had been sitting in a car seat when she was attacked.”
Gerry shook his head. “That’s really all there is to it. That’s their big secret. The things you learn in our profession, huh Sarah?”
Delko smiled sympathetically. “Mr. English, you could describe the guy who tried to kill you, right?”
“Saw him in the bathroom mirror.”
He stood up with the case file in his hand. “Would you follow me? I’d like to have you work with our computer tech. She might be able to match your description to a mugshot in our database.” He took out his cell phone.
“Mr. English, this is Emmie Stockburne. She’s our computer tech.”
Emmie stood up and shook hands with the attorney. “I understand you’re also a former Marine” she said.
“Former.”
Delko smiled. “Anyway, Emmie can take your description and match it to state and Federal databases of mugshots.”
Emmie and Gerry English sat in front of the computer lab’s monitor. “Okay, Mr. English. We’re gonna start with the basics. I prefer to go top down. What kind of hair did he have?” She listened to the attorney as he detailed the man’s description with his voice and his hands. Finally she backed away from the screen. “This the man you saw, Sir?”
The attorney nodded. From the look in his eyes, Emmie knew that the sketching software had served its purpose yet again. “Okay. This could take seconds, or it could take hours, but I’m running this against county, state federal, and international.”
He shrugged. “So now what?”
She grinned. “How about some field coffee that will take the paint off your stomach?”
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Horatio’s hushed voice over the radio shattered the silence. “Suspect in view. Coming now. On my word, gentlemen.”
The man walked quietly toward his vehicle in the parking lot, the blazing afternoon Florida sun making his pain worse. He hunched over slightly and held his side, almost limping.
“On my word” he whispered again.
Clutching his white plastic grocery bag in one fist, the man attempted to take a deep breath before wincing in pain and inserted his key into the driver’s side lock.
Horatio’s eyes widened. “Go. Go. GO!”
“Miami-Dade Police! Drop it! Put your hands behind your head!”
The man didn’t put up a fight. He didn’t even look up at the wall of guns trained on him. He merely dropped his white grocery bag on the black pavement and cursed under his breath as he put his hands behind his head. A swarm of Miami-Dade uniforms surrounded him within seconds as he continued to stare at his car door.
Frank Tripp snapped a handcuff on his right wrist and rotated his arms down behind his back.
Horatio approached him cautiously, his 9 millimeter drawn.
“Scott Meehan, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Gerald English! Get him out of here!”
Frank followed closely behind him. "Come on, Rambo!"
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Horatio thumbed his sunglasses as he eyed the former Navy SEAL who sat at the table, still holding his side. Two armed officers stood guard outside of the interrogation room. “So, Mr. Meehan. Looks like it wasn't 'Mission accomplished' this morning.”
Scott Meehan looked up at the Lieutenant matter-of-factly and shrugged.
“You’re looking at one count attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder of a federal employee. And because of your ties to KAF, the Federal Government might be able to add treason at a later date. There’s no place to hide here. Gerald English identified you as his attacker this morning.”
“Who’s Gerald English?” he said dryly.
Horatio narrowed his eyes at him. “Let me jog your memory, Mr. Meehan. Mr. English says he elbowed his attacker very hard in the ribcage. Pull up your shirt.”
Without another word, the man locked eyes with Horatio while he slowly and deliberately rolled up his black tee shirt. He now had a telltale bruise the size of a baseball on his right side. “Okay?”
Horatio nodded. “Where’s Logan?”
Scott Meehan rolled his tee shirt back down again and shrugged. “I still don’t know.” He then softened his expression as he stared distantly toward the window.
“You don't know. As in you're not telling us? Or did your commander leave you to die on the battlefield?" The Lieutenant nodded as the pieces flew together in his head now. "I guess Arthur was perfectly happy to let you take the fall. So how’s it feel to be a casualty of war?” Horatio stepped closer to his suspect. “I get the feeling you want to say something else to me.”
“Tell the manager he’ll find his waiter in the second stall of the first floor men’s room. The door’s locked.”
Horatio immediately yanked out his cell phone. “Dead?”
Scott Meehan dipped his eyes. “Yeah” he said quietly. “And I want a lawyer now.”
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ladytaz29
Rookie Officer
Caution..Must wear flame retardent materials..
Posts: 377
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Post by ladytaz29 on Mar 28, 2009 11:21:20 GMT -5
Talk about lack of remorse..
Wunnerful as usual JL
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Post by jaglady on Mar 28, 2009 15:51:29 GMT -5
Thanks, LadyTaz. Hope those tornado warnings stay far, far away from you.
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Post by earthylady on Mar 29, 2009 8:49:10 GMT -5
Meehan is really cold blooded. Great chapter JL.
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Post by jaglady on Mar 29, 2009 9:59:27 GMT -5
Thanks to everyone for your kind comments and reviews (forgive me if I keep repeating myself). I like to say that good things are worth the wait. So here you go. Some good old-fashioned Ryan/Emmie fluff. Enjoy! --------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 13—Her Bodyguard
“Come on in, Ryan. My spare room is off to the left. You can just put your stuff in there.”
Emmie held her front door open as Ryan bumped through with his black shoulder bag. He peered around at the bungalow that was one of the Stockburnes’ guest houses. “Thanks. So this is your place?”
She nodded. “For the time being. I really didn’t plan to stay here this long, but as you can see, it’s really all I need. Lot cheaper than living in the city. Besides, I can use the swimming pool and the hot tub anytime, unless my folks have something going on.”
As he put down his shoulder bag on the navy blue Berber carpet, Ryan scanned the small spare room. Emmie had furnished it simply with an old full-size bed and a scratched dresser that didn’t match. She stood behind him and leaned against the doorway with her arms folded. “It’s not much, but everybody seems to think an officer’s wife is loaded. Got the dresser at a yard sale and traded an old washer and dryer for the guest bed. Garage sales have been my best friend.”
Ryan shrugged to her. “Hey. This is perfect.”
Emmie stepped into the living area. “This is where a lot of my money went, actually.” She pointed to her computer equipment along one wall of the living room. An old brown card table held two monitors, computer consoles, a laptop, and a nest of black and gray wires. “Some ladies like to go shopping. I like to play with computers” she said with a grin. “Well, have you thought about what you want for dinner?”
“Tell you the truth, I’m not really hungry right now. You eat something if you want.”
Emmie sat down on her old brown couch and sighed. “I’m not that hungry either. Sit down anywhere, Ryan. I’m pretty laid back at home.” She smiled. “Of course my folks didn’t handle it too well when I told them why you were going to be on the property.”
Ryan carefully sat down on the couch next to her and opened his holster. “Did you tell them I was here to protect you?”
“Well, yeah. Nobody really knew about this thing. My parents freaked. They wanted to go and hire a security detail, but it’s like Horatio said. Just a precaution.”
Ryan took his 9 millimeter out of his holster, cleared, inspected, and loaded it again before reholstering it. “So what else do you do in your off time?”
Emmie shrugged. “Really? Read. Play around on the internet. Play with my cat. I still keep contact with a lot of my old FBI friends. In other words, just a normal, boring life, but I like it that way.” She then suddenly cradled her arched neck with both hands and grimaced.
“You okay?” Ryan wanted to know.
“Yeah. Just working on that console all day. My neck and my back are killing me. I go through tons of Motrin.”
Ryan then stood up and walked back into her guest room. “I’ll be right back.” She could then hear rustling and clinking as he rummaged around in his black shoulder bag. He came back out with a bottle of rose wine in his grip. “Here, Emmie. This might help.”
Emmie stiffened up and her eyes widened. She shook her head slowly. “Oh my God.”
He stopped and looked at her in shock. “What is it?”
She now closed her eyes and folded her arms protectively. “Hey Ryan? I’m really sorry. This was a bad idea. Maybe you better just go. Please?”
Ryan glanced at the wine bottle and gave her a bewildered look. “What. Is it the wine? I thought you might just like a drink or something” he said innocently.
“Please just go, Ryan. This isn’t gonna work. Please?”
“Emmie?”
Not sure what else to do, he set the bottle on her kitchen counter. “You want me to get rid of it?” Without another word, he uncorked the bottle and emptied its contents down the kitchen sink. He then walked out to her warily. “There. Okay? I got rid of it.”
Emmie bowed her head and turned away from him. “I’m sorry if I led you on, Ryan. Could you please just leave? I’ll be all right by myself.” Her voice trembled.
Ryan slowly and quietly sat down on the couch next to her. That fear in her voice was hard to miss. “You didn’t lead me on, Emmie. But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I’ll get my stuff.” He stood up quietly. Emmie kept her head turned to the wall, never moving. Ryan stopped and studied her back for a moment.
“You don’t really want me to go, do you? You can tell me the truth, you know.”
Her head still bowed, she kept her back turned to him. He carefully sat down next to her on the couch. She took a deep breath. He reached out for her hand. She still never moved.
“Emmie? I don’t know what you thought. Horatio asked me to come here to guard you, and that's what I'm doing. The wine was just a gift. Did you think that I--?”
She never looked at him. “When you came out with a bottle of wine, I didn’t know what to think.”
Ryan studied her. “No. I’m not like that. What I was gonna do was offer to massage your neck, and give you a glass of wine to help you unwind a little. I knew you had a rough week.” It bothered him to see the tough Marine crumble at such a misunderstanding. He felt put out that she would misjudge him, but he could see that she was already upset. Besides, he cared about her. “I’m sorry, Emmie. Will you at least give me your hand?”
Cautiously her hand and her eyes wandered toward him. He tenderly picked up her fingers and caressed them. She sensed that it was a tender, understanding caress. He finally wrapped both his hands around her fingers. “See? Better?”
Her eyes finally met his. “Thanks, Ryan.”
“You still want that neck rub?”
Slowly Emmie sensed that she could trust him alone with her in the house. She smiled shyly. “Yeah. That would be really nice.”
Ryan kneeled down on the floor next to the couch. “Okay. Lie on your stomach on the couch.”
Emmie lay flat on her stomach and rested her forehead on her folded hands. “I’m sorry I made you dump out the wine” she said into the cushion.
“Well, I didn’t dump it all out. I actually brought two bottles. You can still have some if you want.”
She turned her face to him. “Maybe just a little. I’m kind of a cheap drunk. I don’t handle alcohol very well.”
He quietly uncorked the other wine bottle and poured more rose into a small orange juice glass. “Here you go. Try this. It’s just a little bit. You can always have more if you want.”
She cautiously took the glass from his hand and took a sip. The wine warmed and soothed her immediately. “It’s nice. Thanks, Ryan.”
He smiled. “Now put your head down. Close your eyes, and think about something that relaxes you.”
Emmie quickly became lightheaded from what little wine she had had. The fear was leaving her, now that she knew Ryan could be trusted. As her senses floated, she rested her forehead on her hands and closed her eyes.
“Breathe deep” he said to her softly.
With both hands Ryan reached up and began to knead the back of her neck and her head gently and tenderly with a semicircular motion. He went from slowly working her neck and head with his fingers to gently using the heels of his hands on her upper back. She moaned and breathed deeply, never moving.
Within minutes he noticed that she was breathing very heavily. He looked at her.
“Emmie?”
She was sound asleep. He gently tapped her arm. She wasn’t waking up. Gently he eased her head sideways so that she faced him. For what seemed a long time he sat cross-legged on the carpet and watched the sleeping computer tech. He had earned her trust. He thought briefly about the fear in her eyes when she saw the wine bottle in his hand. “What could’ve happened to you?” he said quietly.
There were no other sounds but Emmie’s deep breathing. Ryan then stood up and looked around, studying the quiet guest bungalow. He couldn’t help but notice that, along the far wall, Emmie prominently displayed numerous awards--unit citations, photos, plaques, and honors, all framed in gold or brown, looking back at him. His hands in his pockets, he watched her.
“I don’t know where you came from, Emmie. I don’t really care who you used to be. I don’t know what all those awards are.” He wandered back over to her as she still slept. “You’re too smart to fall for a guy like Stetler, so you can’t be all bad.”
Ryan stepped into her bedroom and came out with her flowing burgundy bedspread. Carefully he draped it over her. She still never moved. He then changed into his tee shirt and shorts before he placed the guest room pillows and blanket on the living room floor next to the sofa. “I guess you really needed that.”
Ryan looked at his charge one more time as he patted his 9 millimeter. He couldn’t help it. He gently reached up and kissed her cheek. She still never moved. “I’ll protect you, Emmie” he said softly as he turned out the light and lay down on the floor. "Night."
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