Chapter 5:
Anna Stockholm had changed a lot over the last five years, that was a fact. For starters, she was in much better shape, a definite plus of her... extreme training. A second change came in the form of money. In those five years she had managed to get together a board of directors, as she liked to think of them, who were very willing to give her financial aid, especially after she completed a few simple tasks for them. That gave her a third change, she was much more experienced in what she did, and loved to do.
Yet one simple fact about her remained the same; she needed to be with Blake Johnson, and needed to see the other women he had been with dead. Or imprisoned by their need to save him. Simple as that. Yet, as she sat outside the house of yet another woman, she began to fret.
How many had taken her spot over the years? It had taken her a while to find him after all, it went without saying she had been a bit distracted, but that was no excuse. She had neglected her man, and for that she ought to be punished, however he had run away from her, so maybe they were even, and maybe they could be together happily once more. She liked the idea of that. A better, more fun thought was how they could punish each other before being together again. Maybe even with her assistant's help.
How devious.
Glancing at her watch she grimaced. What could he be doing with this impure woman that took so much damn time? If this was a job for her clients, she would be running late by now. Very late. Patience, she told herself, patience. She had already removed one woman from the equation in the past twenty four hours, and after her diversion stopped the poor firemen, there was no way they could've saved her. Anna would have to watch the news later, maybe they would say something about her grand masterpiece made up of fire, ash, and the body of that crack whore Sophia Lovejoy. It was a wonder Blake didn't charge that scarred piece of scum for his services. Housing Center her ass, more like whore house. Well she'd just have to burn that down too, wouldn't she?
After she had her prize. After she had truly completed her mission.
Personal job or not, she was going to use all her resources to get her man back, even if it took calling favors from the big players. Especially because she planned to draw in those players. She shivered with pleasure at the thought of how much destruction she could wreak with their help. They did owe her now, and some of the jobs should be worth quite a bit of... pain. Pain brought out on others that is.
Pain self-inflicted in a way.
Oh so devious!
She lifted her phone to her ear, deciding which favor to call in first and smiled to herself. This was going to be very fun indeed! Three rings later a deep voice picked up, his British accent gave her shivers. Maybe Blake could pull that off... "'Ello? What is the password?" Maybe not.
She nearly laughed. These men, always so serious, password this, security that, it was quite intriguing really. In fact their paranoia played a key role in her overall plan. "Razz Berry Swirl, topped with Cyanide. And before you ask, it's A." A single letter code name with the Brit, her chosen name for the Mobster, and of course the Russians called her Red. It was interesting to keep up with. Then again, there would be more fun to have later!
"Ahh, my lady, what can I do for you today?" His always seductive voice had the tone of business now, and she felt his success heartily. Too bad the seduction would end up missing the mark at the end, but she was only his.
"A favor, good sir." Her voice was equally seductive, though they both knew she would never lay in the same bed as him, it was a manneristic game, and they both enjoyed it. Games were fun, though she decidedly preferred games that dealt with life and the sudden loss of life. Had he been the Russian, the mannerisms would be of little consequence, but he was not, and she was beginning to feel invigorated by these mannerisms. Thrilling, just not so much so as her profession. Sad as that was.
"Anything for you, my lady, how much do we owe you for now? Six jobs? Seven?" She could hear his smile, and she knew that he was counting "receipts" and looking into her file to see how many favors he had paid her with thus far. Why deny the truth to a man who checks facts twice?
"After tonight's request, my answer would be one less, two if you can pull it off in twelve hours." He laughed at this, and obliged amiably, probably taking note of that in the very same file. When her request was made he was silent for a moment, the sound of keystrokes could be heard in the background. The clicks leading towards her new joys. And new toys.
A single bell like chime later, he responded vocally once more. "The package will be at the drop point in ten hours. So it goes that, I, good lady, only owe you five favors now, correct?" His business like tone held its stability as he spoke, and laughing, she responded, matching his tone with practiced ease.
"Until you request my services again, you only owe me five favors, yes." And with his final goodbye, she started the engine and was peeling away from the Sheriff's house as Blake dashed across the yard. Little did she know how close she had been to seeing him again, face to face. Little did she know how bright her license plate shined in the light of the street lamps.
*
Blake stood in the road, his knife in a loose grip as he stared after the red Corvette. He was so close, so close... even after what he'd said to Veronica, he was beginning to wonder if he wouldn't like a chance at revenge. Funny the way you don't want something till it's right in front of you, huh?
He heard her come up behind him, and felt her arm slide around his waist, as she slid her other hand gingerly down his arm, a sensual feeling, almost a caress that ended in her slowly taking the knife from his hand. He felt his muscles go lax as he stood there starting after Anna. Several moments passed with them standing, alone, in the street, a halo of streetlights was a backdrop against the black outlines of night. "Blake... come on, let's get inside. We'll get her next time, alright?" He let his head drop twice, and felt her pull him away from the street.
Back in the house she pulled him into the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed, before speaking, and saying "Take off your shirt, I need to change your bandages." It wasn't an order from the Sheriff, it was a very caring request, one he couldn't refuse. One he shouldn't refuse. One that struck him more deeply than he had imagined possible.
Lifting his arms he slid his shirt off, and letting his OCD rule him for a moment, he folded it and laid it to the side. There really was no point, as he'd never stopped by his "place", if you could call it that, to pick up another set of clothes. His shirt was a pitiful pile of burnt fibers ready to be put out of their misery. Still, it lay in a neatly folded square, dark against the grey comforter.
He watched her walk into the bathroom, disappearing for a moment, before she reappeared carrying a large first aid kit, one, he noticed, that was emblazoned with the Hope County sheriff's department emblem. Stopping to stand beside him, the Sheriff turned nurse laid the kit on the bed beside him, and then proceeded to sit beside him, her body language clearly saying concerned, yet well practiced health provider.
The kit was unyielding in its opinion that she was in fact, a Sheriff.
She slowly removed his bandages from his shoulder, doing so in the most careful of ways, gently pulling them one by one. It was an odd thought to picture the sexy Sheriff as a nurse, and even with his mind as cloudy as it was, he rather enjoyed it. Nimbly, her fingers seemed almost too practiced as she removed the clinging pieces of bandage from his burn, before applying new medications, and just as gently and with the same well practiced motions, she re-bandaged his shoulder. In just those few moments she proved the kit wrong, and revealed a soft side Blake could foresee himself enjoying.
An odd urge came over him as she finished his bandages and began to repack the first-aid kit, something he wasn't used to feeling, and slowly he turned to look at her. Her golden hair glinted in the low light, a few gleaming locks tucked behind her ear. Her skin looked smooth, richly tanned. She looked, for lack of better words, young and beautiful. She seemed to be as concerned as ever, yet she was methodically intent on her task, and he realized for the first time that the look on her face, one that seemed so out of place to him earlier, was... care, almost as if she really cared for him. The urge intensified as he thought of this, and he had no want to fight it. Why should he? After all this time, when a woman truly cared for him? Yes he had lost everything, but how could he have anything again if he never tried?
He acted on that urge, and quite simply let his defenses fall all at once. Turning to face her, he slowly slid his left hand up to cup her chin, and lifting lightly he turned her to look into his eyes for a moment. Their eyes locked on each other, both worn, and simply defenseless against what they saw in one another, he drew her chin up, and slowly, he pressed his lips to hers. Soft and warm, like the easiest of feelings the kiss was the symbol of a barrier breaking between them. He knew it, and he wanted it, he wanted this kiss to mean something... to be the first kiss in a long time that came from feeling, rather than simple sexual need. And it did.
Her arms slowly locked around his neck as their breathing seemed to fall in sync during this passionate, meaningful kiss that soon became an embrace as well, his arms pulling her to him from her lower back, a slow pull, a pull of need, a need of a kind he hadn't felt in a very long time. A need for companionship, a need to simply and utterly be close.
The simplicity of it was enough for them both, a simple admittance of need, and a simple request of companionship answered by the acceptance of embrace. There was no need for sexual release, no use of that stimulating tool we call the tongue, fore there was no need. When she had pulled him as tight as she needed, she didn't press any farther. Nor did he force her into a primal, tight embrace of hardened will for sex. This was almost gentle, yet constant and in a way solid, both refusing to let go, both matching one another's motions, giving and taking until at last they slowly parted, a deep need answered for the first time in years.
He slowly opened his eyes, not sure of when he had closed them, and saw her eyelids open with the same speed. There was a look in her eyes that awakened something within him. Something deep and powerful, and pure. He needed this woman, Veronica Anderson, the stunningly beautiful and brave Sheriff, who cared for real, for more than a late night dance of naked temptation, the woman who sought to help him heal both physically and emotionally. The woman who had tears in her eyes as she stared into his. He needed Veronica in a way he hadn't needed anyone since Serenity. He needed her to simply be with him.
"Blake..." the word was silk, long and smooth, full of meaning, of need, of... something he wouldn't admit to feeling, and wouldn't voice aloud so early on, but it was there, and beckoning to him. Calling with the clarion voice of desire, of happiness, and of hope.
"I know..." his statement was a whisper, a simple one that meant exactly what it said and so, so much more. He could see in her eyes that she understood, and more than that, she felt the same way, almost as if she too had something that had been locked away from her for years at a time. Almost as if she too had a horrible past he had been blind too. Almost as if she could truly understand what drove him.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more and felt her respond, pushing back, as if she was pushing more than just her lips, more than her body against his, as if she was letting raw emotion flow into him. He pushed in return, opening himself to allow all that he was to pass across their joined lips. It was a perfect feeling, one he had long forgotten existed, until she pulled away, a single gem like tear sliding down her cheek.
"Blake..." she spoke, her voice more fragile, more open now, and it told him to let her say what she had to say, and she needed it. He nodded, unwilling to keep her from anything she needed. Ever again. "Don't... don't leave without saying goodbye... promise?" There before him was something the Sheriff had concealed for ages, and as she unearthed it for the cowboy to see, she let him know she too had a soft side, she too was vulnerable, and she too, would let him in. This was an opening, an opportunity, a chance. A chance to be with someone once more, a chance to be whole. A chance he could never let pass him by.
Nothing could have stopped him from it, he promised her then and there. "I promise... I'll never do it again."
*
Veronica woke a few moments before she actually opened her eyes. She was listening, hoping, and praying to hear a sound she didn't hear. But alas, she did not. There was no one else breathing in the room. She felt her hopes drop, right along with her all too open and vulnerable heart. That freakin' jackass! He promised her, promised he wouldn't do this! She ought to get up, and go track his ass down, "arrest" him, and make it so he couldn't fucking leave her like this again! The asshole... Damn him, she couldn't, wouldn't believe she had actually opened herself to him...
The fury died away as she opened her eyes, and let her tears spill over. Here she thought they had a chance... she must've been fooled by that sappy kiss... it was the best kiss she'd ever had... or maybe it was that old story about her past? Or perhaps it was how he ran out after Anna Stockholm, intent to see justice done. Either way, did it truly matter why?
The damage was done.
She pushed off the covers, and realizing that she was still wearing the sweater and wind pants she'd passed out in, she decided not to bother changing. What was the point? She was off today anyway, maybe she'd just go get some country style cooking and then bring back a gallon of double chunk Ice Cream. Screw it. Then she'd get all dressed up and go to the White Picket and show him what he was missing. She rose, walked to the door, and pushed it open unceremoniously. It wasn't like she really gave a damn about her house right then, all she could think about was the lying jerk who'd left her to wake up alone.
Again.
It took her getting all the way to her front door with her keys jingling in her hand before she smelt it. She froze in her tracks, and stared at the door. What the hell was that smell, so familiar yet so... delicious... savory... a little sweet... When was the last time she'd had real food? When was the last time she ate bacon? Or even what smelt to be maple bacon?
Not recently.
Maple Bacon. That was what she smelt, wasn't it? But how could that be? She hadn't cooked in over a month. Shoot she wasn't sure she had even eaten in her house in that long. She hardly remembered what she had stocked in her food stores to begin with, but she only made maple bacon for special occasions. Besides, there was no one here to make such a dish. Unless...
There was.
God she needed to wake the hell up.
She turned on her heel and walked back towards her room, turning into the kitchen instead, she dropped her keys, and her jaw and simply starred. "Yeah, Ash, I'll be there later. Sorry I'm running a little behind." His voice was rough with sleep, and he hadn't noticed her yet as he flipped a pancake off onto a plate stacked high with them... wait, were those chocolate chips melting out of them? The sweet scent caused her mouth to water. "Give Emma a hug for me, alright? Tell the squirt I'll make up for yesterday. And yes, Sophie is okay." He seemed deep into the conversation, his phone, which had sat in his truck during the fire, was pressed to his ear by means of his bare and muscled shoulder. He stirred what looked to be scrambled eggs with his left hand, and added a touch of something that smelt really good. Bell peppers? She had gotten some as a gift from Sam the grocer a day or two back. "I know she wants to see Sophie, the woman is practically her mother, can ya' blame her?" Sophie. Sophia. Okay, so she knew who that was, but who was Emma? That was another mystery to her, maybe she hadn't solved Blake after all. "Yes, Ash, I know what I mean to Emma. You can hound me for it later, but right now, tell her I'll be there today. With her favorite. Oh, and I'm bringing her a surprise." A surprise? What was he talking about? Apparently Ash, whoever that was, was wondering the same thing because he answered a second later. "I'm bringing someone with me. No, I won't tell you who she is, so don't ask. Hey, I can hear the sarcasm in that laugh." She almost laughed. So he was taking her to see Ash and Emma, eh? Guess that meant he didn't feel like any relationships would be jeopardized by that, huh? This would be a rather nice change of pace. "Yes, she knows she's coming, though unless she's been listening since I started cooking, she doesn't know who either of you are yet." He laughed. She let her jaw drop a bit lower. "Yeah I bet she'll love y'all! Well at least she'll love Emma, I don't know about you..." she could hear the joke in his voice and wanted to laugh, but she was still shocked that he knew she was there, and yet didn't react at all. Odd how he did that. That was more than just being a detective. That was combat instinct. "Yeah, yeah, love ya too. See ya soon, bye Ash. Hug my squirtlet." He hung up, deftly putting the phone away as he added yet another pancake to the stack, and yes, those were definitely chocolate chips. Melted, glorious chocolate chips. "Good morning, my dear eavesdropping sweetheart." He said it with a laugh, and turned to look at her, revealing that yes, there were mounds of bacon piled on the back of the stove. What other mysteries could this man surprise her with? "You're beautiful, you know that?" He asked as if it was an afterthought, as if it was natural. Two days ago, it wouldn't have been. She liked the change.
A girl could get used to that.
"So I'm told." She smiled at him, walking up and pecking his lips. "I was afraid you'd left without saying goodbye." She didn't mind admitting it, so she was strong, sexy, and a kickass cop. That didn't mean she couldn't be vulnerable. A little. Only a little.
He kissed her again, sliding eggs into one of her large mixing bowls, which, she noticed, was nearing capacity limits. Ah, and those were in fact her bell peppers. And a bit of Colby jack cheese. "You looked so beautiful as you were sleeping, I didn't want to wake you." She blushed, realizing the Casanova could be really romantic. It was odd reconciling this man with the one who had attempted to leave her alone after a night of romping. Or with the hero who charged into burning buildings. "Hey, do you have a lid for this? I will have to restock your pantry, but it's my day to bring breakfast to the center." She eyed him now, wondering if what he said meant he was there more than he let on. Was it possible she'd been wrong when she thought his only ambition was to get drunk and laid? She laughed, of course it was, and she already knew she was wrong. His ambitions may yet have been a mystery, but she was in no rush to explore them.
She reached into the dishwasher and procured the lid for the eggs and one for the bacon bowl as well. "Chocolate chips?" She asked, observing that most people didn't bring something like that to a buffet breakfast. Allergies, she had a small niece, Ciara who had an allergy to chocolate. Poor kid.
He laughed back, and she knew by his response that he had worked at the center for quite a while, and very regularly. "Yupp, the kiddos love them, as do most of the volunteers. Only Jason and Leslie are allergic to chocolate, Ash is bringing them some of her famous cinnamon rolls to make up for it, she always does on my day, and they haven't complained once." He grinned at her as he pushed the last pancake onto the stack. "Would you like to eat here, or wait to eat with the kids?"
She wasn't prepared for this question at all, did he usually eat with the kids? Was this man, who was oh so tough, always carrying a big knife, hiding behind a black cowboy hat, a tender hearted teddy bear? Was that even possible? "Ummm... what do you usually do?" She knew he was something else, but this? It was almost too much! In a good way, she thought.
"Hmmm... usually I serve the kids, then, if Emma isn't done eating I sit with her. You know, catch up a bit, and see how school is treatin' her, that kind of thing." School? Wait, Emma was in School? What the hell, she had dealt with every other surprise now, why not this? Why not be okay with the ex-detective, playboy, volunteer, as an apparent friend of children. She probably should have got that from his phone call.
"Okay... let's do that." She laughed. "But... who is Emma, exactly?" To her surprise, he laughed, shook his head, and grinning took the food to the living room, leaving her to stare after him, her question unanswered.
"Umm, you can change if you want, it's a bit warm for a sweater, but I need to stop at my place on the way." And with that, he walked out the door, carrying enough food for an army. What the hell, she thought, why not, let's go feed the kids, shall we?
*
He ran into his motel room alone, letting her stay in the truck since he'd only be gone for a minute. It took less than twenty seconds to get a shirt out of his "closet" and a pair of pants from the pile of darks he'd washed last. Black jeans. Nice. Tossing his burnt clothes in the trash, he pulled on his pants, belted on his knife, and reached for his shirt. He never got a chance to put it on.
Three loud cracks accented the morning as glass shattered nearby. "Blake!!" Veronica screamed his name through the opening chorus of the song of chaos, and in that instant, with the glass raining down around him and gun fire blazing past, Blake became something else. Red accented his vision as he turned towards the door and kicked the gun safe open. In a single, smooth motion he drew forth two double action .45's. Another series of three pops filled the air and this time they hit his door, one bullet ripping through it and flying by his head. Even as his golden hair whipped back away from his head and he felt the wave of air brush his face, he kicked it open in the same spot as the bullet hole. "Anna!" He shouted it stepping through the door even as it flapped open, snapping at the hinges, both guns raised. The bright sun gleamed off both pistols, as his golden hair blazed, and the sweat on his chest gleamed.
It only took him a second to take in the scene. Veronica was crouched beside his truck, head down, weaponless, having left her side arm at her house. A move he had suggested, like an idiot. Across the street there sat a red convertible Corvette, in the driver seat sat Anna Stockholm holding an assault rifle that had a red satin bow tied to the sight. She hadn't noticed Veronica, and Blake realized she thought the Sheriff had been inside with him. Great now he could use that to his advantage. Here was a way for him to keep the attention away from Veronica. "Darling, you must know I only want to kill the woman." Anna's voice was infuriatingly smooth and seductive, his hand twitched.
"You're lucky she left her .45 in my glove compartment, you bitch!" He shouted it, not checking to see if Veronica got the message. "Otherwise she'd blast your ass to bits!" He continued to stride towards her, taking a route that, though more circuitous, and leaving himself far more open, took her sight line away from his truck, and kept her attention squarely on him.
"Why use those dirty words, baby?" She seemed to have let his anger roll off her like water off a tarp. "Don't you miss me?" He knew then, just how obsessed she was, and how crazy that could make her. It was only a reiteration, really. He'd already known she was a psycho.
Out of his peripherals he could see the Sheriff, now armed with his custom .45 special, sliding into position to take the shot. He didn't even look towards her. Instead he glared bullets into Anna even as cars darted past. "Anna, last time we met you killed my unborn child, and the mother of said baby. You may also find it interesting to know that I died that day too. Twice." He could see anger flash followed by... was that dread? Guilt? He couldn't tell, now walking towards the passenger front fender of the convertible from a slanted line, both guns still held high. Anna, however, sat her weapon in the passenger seat of her car.
"I never meant to hurt you." She seemed convinced by her own lie and while it was a rather scary fact, he had to admit its solidity. "I love you Blake. Always have, always will." The sincerity of her statement was frightening. He still didn't put his guns down. It would be a cold day in hell first. Neither did Veronica, who stood now, took aim and... Anna slammed the accelerator, speeding by Blake as she did, a grim look of anger thrown into the very same mirror she'd seen Veronica out of. Sirens were drawing nearer as Blake ran back into the motel room, and put on his shirt before packing a duffel bag full of clothes, ammo, and adding his deodorant and body soap to the bag, he turned to see Veronica explaining what happened, to a redheaded cop he recognized as the fake nurse from the night before. Frowning at his door he walked over to it and opened it, staring at the spot reinforced with a steel plate from the year before when an angry boyfriend tried to break in after Blake had woke up with his girl. Whoops. Still if he was lucky...
"Sheriff, have your officer come here." Sure enough, there lodged in the wood, was a bullet, damaged, but whole. Veronica seemed annoyed, until she saw why he'd said that and began to smile. Now he knew his history would serve him well. "The point of origin for all these bullets was roughly forty yards to the north, from the street, a three shot burst assault rifle was the perps chosen weapon. Probably recent purchase, and judging by the bow, a gift. You're also gonna want to be on the lookout for an '14 or '15 convertible Corvette, candy-apple red, she's running on an illegal engine, and I'd bet she has a four speed racing transmission so be ready for a chase." By this point the redhead had let her jaw fall and the Sheriff had a single eyebrow raised in wonderment. "Also, check for skid marks about a mile from here, the road dead ends, and she's been known to drift." With this he rattled off the license plate number, along with the date on the inspection sticker, and then smiling he walked to the truck and tossed in his bag.
It was ten minutes before Veronica made it into the truck, and staring at him asked simply "That how you made the big bucks as a P.I.?" He shook his head and reached in the center console, pulling out an old photograph, he handed it to her. The words, and numbers on the back were burned into his memory, so when she read them aloud he mouthed the words. "Blake, after all his time working with you, you know you can ask for anything if you ever need, yours truly, Lieutenant Luke Davenport of the Dallas PD." She didn't bother reading the phone number aloud before she asked "The Luke Davenport? Homicide Legend?" He only nodded. Luke wasn't a legend to him. Legends never bleed, and he'd seen Luke bleed more than most over the years. Hell, he'd bloodied his nose twice in sparring matches, so no, Luke wasn't a legend to him, but he was the closest thing Blake had ever had to a brother, and it had been years since he'd talked to him. Five and a half to be exact, five and a half too many.
*
Twenty minutes later Emma sat at her usual table watching as Blake strode through the door carrying a huge silver bowl and a giant platter of pancakes. Yupp, her Blakey was here alright and he'd brought the same breakfast as he had every Saturday for the past five years. She smiled, pushing her seat back and getting ready to run to him. But then she stopped. Who was that woman with Blake, she was carrying more food, so she had to be helping him but was she... could she be...
No, she thought, Blake said she died... so who can this woman be? She decided, as a child does, that other things were more important, such as chocolate chip pancakes and their best friend, hers just so happened to be the man now preparing to serve the previously stated pancakes. An adult would have used the word convenient. She, however, chose the word awesome, because both the food, and her dearest friend, were awesome. Makes sense, right?
"Blake!" She shot like a blonde headed cannon ball across the room, nimbly gliding around chairs and other children until she leaped gracefully into Blake's arms. Her thoughts were like a string of words that had no connection whatsoever, but made sense to her, in their own way. Warm, happy, close, smile, laugh, joy, safe. Safe. That was one reason she liked Blake so much, he always made sure she was safe, safe from spiders, safe from bullies, safe from the thing that had lived under her bed till he scared it away when she was seven, safe from everything mean and bad. Safe.
"There's my girl!" His arms tightened around her as he held her, and she could hear Ash laughing in the background, could hear all the kids, and a peculiar silence that made her hurt in her chest a bit. Sophie was gone, or at least wasn't here. It was saddening.
Yet, in its place was another sound, one she hadn't ever heard but that sounded familiar. That woman, she was talking to Blake. "She's beautiful! How could you hide a treasure like this from-" she caught her gaze as Blake brushed her hair away from her eyes and the blonde woman gasped aloud. "Oh my... no... You can't be..." as Emma stared at her, she recognized her at last. It was the pretty officer from the news! She'd always loved seeing her because they were both blonde, and had the same last name!
Note from the Author:
I apologize for missing a week of posting guys, I'll be honest, I injured myself at work and haven't been able to focus either because of pain, or pain pills. For that I am sorry, however, after the "Bi-week" I will be posting regularly again! Thank you for your understanding.
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