Protection - PB
“Ellison,” Simon called, without the usual bellow. “My office, please.” It was the ‘please’ that did it. Jim had been feeling a certain melancholia all day, and now he knew that whatever was wrong, he was about to discover the source. Simon sounded almost pained, and that could only mean something unpleasant. Since the bad feeling had been plaguing him today was something he generally associated as his sentinel version of ‘spidey sense’ about danger to his guide, he had the idea that this would be a very disconcerting meeting between him and his captain. Had something happened to Blair?
The younger detective wasn’t working on anything hazardous at the moment. In fact, he was supposed to just be taking his final practice runs at the shooting range today in preparation for his test. Simon had had him doing nothing but paperwork until he passed, so he could have plenty of time for target practice. That’s why Jim had all but ignored the tingly feeling that had him on edge all morning. Now, Simon was calling him gently, but firmly, to his office for a talk. No, this was decidedly not good. No sense wasting more time. He’d go in there and receive whatever news he was going to get, and then he’d go check on his partner and assess the damage.
The detective strode purposefully into his captain’s office and stood in front of the desk at parade rest stance, feet slightly apart, hands behind back, right wrist locked into the grip of his left palm. He was the picture of military efficiency. “Yes, sir,” he began, politely, shoring himself for any bad news. “You wanted to see me?” He didn’t have any idea how bad it was until he saw his superior’s eyes. Were those tears welling up just above the lower lids? Yes, and now that he knew to listen, the heart rate was off the charts. He vaguely thought about telling the older man to see his doctor about possible blood pressure issues, but stopped short when he heard what the voice behind the pounding blood and heart sounds was saying to him.
“Jim, we just got word about a car bomb going off outside the police firing range.” The captain sighed deeply, but forged ahead with his story. He had to get this out even if it killed him. “It was Sandburg’s car, Jim.” He let that sink in; his voice was eluding him just this second anyway. “Apparently, there was one person inside, driving, at the time. Taggart is there now, and he says it looks like an obviously professional job.” He paused one more time, and then brought it on home. “The body’s been taken to the morgue for identification. There’s not a lot left to work with, but they’re doing their best.” Oh, how he hated to say that, and the look on his detective’s face made him hate it even more.
Jim wasn’t able to find his voice at first, although shrieking at the top of his lungs did seem like an inviting option at the moment. However, he knew he needed to keep it together. He said the only thing his primitive brain would allow past his lips. “I need to see the body, sir.”
Simon stiffened in his chair. He’d expected this, but damned if he wasn’t going to put up a fight about it. From what he’d heard, this wasn’t something Jim needed to see. “No, Detective,” he replied, using a softer version of his command tone. “That will not be possible.”
Jim’s back became straighter, and his hands came to his sides as he went from parade rest to attention in an instant. All that former military training wasn’t for naught. “Actually, Sir, I believe it is.” He put up a hand to forestall his captain’s objection. “Even though Naomi is his mother, I’m listed as his next of kin and emergency notification contact. I’ll be the one to identify any … remains.” The last word was all but choked out. “Besides, my senses will tell me if it really is Sandburg.” That sentence all but screamed the sentinel’s undying hope that it was anyone else. Somehow, he felt certain that his sense of danger would have been more than just an uneasy twitch if the situation had been this bleak. Yes, he had felt some problem with his guide, but not something of this magnitude – not the younger man’s death. That he wouldn’t have been able to ignore in favor of his paperwork all morning. No, surely he would have felt something at the moment of the explosion if he’d lost his guide.
Ever since their spirits had merged at the fountain, there had been a connection that had allowed him to sense his partner more acutely. It couldn’t have failed him so miserably the one time he needed it most. He had to see that body and confirm that he was right. For some inexplicable reason, someone other than Blair had been behind the wheel of the old Volvo. He wouldn’t give up on that idea until he knew for certain he was wrong.
~~o)0O0(o~~
Blair Sandburg was livid. He couldn’t remember being this angry since his friend “Sweet Roy” had been killed and he’d been unable to get Jim and Simon to stop focusing on the fighter’s kid brother. No, he hadn’t been this angry even then. He could never be as angry at Ellison as he was at the people currently holding him against his will – and to top it all off, they were the ‘good guys!’ He couldn’t even hate them with the vehemence they deserved because everything they were doing was to save his life.
The two US Marshals had taken him that morning just outside the firing range, where he had been practicing his aim. He had his final weapons practicum in a week, and he was not going to screw that up. It was the only thing standing between him and a permanent place at his sentinel’s side. He had been training diligently, and it was paying off in his shooting scores. He was as ready as he’d ever be, and now this had to happen.
The marshals, McBain and Hatfield, had stopped the young rookie detective coming out of the building where he had been practicing and told him to come with them. Ryan McBain, a tall, lanky, affable agent in his late thirties, with brown hair, receding slightly on either side of his widow’s peak had produced his identification and introduced his partner to Sandburg. Greg Hatfield, about 5’10” tall, with a muscular build and a head of red, full hair, graying slightly at the temples, was somewhere in his fifties, Blair assumed, but clearly kept himself in tip-top shape.
The two men explained that they had received credible information about a threat to Sandburg’s life, and they needed his cooperation at once. They requested his outer flannel shirt and his holster with weapon. They also took his wallet with identification and badge (he hated giving that up, but they said they needed it, and they had proper credentials, which he examined very carefully), and his keys. Apparently, they were playing a shell game, wherein one of their agents, made up to look like Blair, would continue running the young guide’s errands and pretending to be him for the rest of the day. Of course, the agent wouldn’t be able to pass for Blair around the station or with friends, so Sandburg was instructed to call Jim, and tell him that he couldn’t come in today. Only he never got the chance.
After the doppelganger agent was suitably attired in Blair’s outer clothing layers, and given the man’s identifying possessions, he was supposed to drive away in Sandburg’s automobile to begin being seen about town. The plan was for a hit man (an under cover agent who had been contracted to kill Blair by an unknown party), to pretend to shoot the former anthropologist (really the look-a-like agent), in a very public venue, so that the person who hired the ‘hit’ would read about it in the paper and see it on the news. Then the ‘hit man’ was to meet with the person who had contracted him to receive his payment. The transaction had so far been done through phone and email only, so the agents were waiting for the meeting to find out who wanted Blair dead. However, it didn’t quite work out that way.
As soon as the Blair-agent twisted the key in the car’s ignition, an explosion rocked the automobile. It was very precisely designed to take out the vehicle and not anything around it, very economical, very professional -- unfortunately, not very according to plan. McBain and Hatfield, along with several other agents who seemed to appear from the woodwork as soon as the explosion went off, spirited Blair away before he had a chance to even ask a question. He was asking plenty now, but not getting the responses he wanted.
“Why the hell can’t I let my partner at least know I’m okay?” Blair raged at the new member of their little party. Special Agent in Charge, Henry Allenby, had arrived shortly after Blair, McBain, and Hatfield at the FBI safe house procured to keep Sandburg unharmed and out of sight until the person responsible could be apprehended. The 6’1” tall, balding man in his late fifties was clearly the one making the decisions, and Blair needed to get it through this man’s thick skull that he had to inform Jim that it was all a big mistake; that his guide was not dead. He had seen first-hand the sentinel’s reaction to Danny Choi’s death, and had been told in graphic detail how the detective had reacted at the Rainier fountain after Alex Barnes had tried to teach Blair her version of underwater breathing techniques. That Sandburg was still drawing air into his lungs was a testament to just how much his death would affect Jim; the sentinel had literally crossed over into the after-life to bring him back. There was simply no way Blair was going to let these people allow his best friend to believe him blown up by a car bomb! Yet that seemed to be exactly their game plan.
“Mr. Sandburg,” Allenby began patiently, as if speaking to a child, not someone with more education than all three agents in the room, combined. “We simply can not allow anyone to know that the bomber failed to kill you. For all we know, your partner could be the one who contracted the killing in the first place.” He put up his hand, forestalling the argument he saw about to erupt from Blair’s mouth. “Of course, we know that’s unlikely, given Detective Ellison’s exemplary military and police force service records, but there was that incident with your dissertation not so long ago.” He smiled with all the concern of a plastic doll made to look like a politician. Blair wanted to belt him. “Perhaps he was more upset about being the subject of all that unwarranted publicity than he led you to believe. We simply can’t be certain.”
“Maybe you can’t, but I damned sure can!” Blair yelled, slicing the air with waving hands. “And I will not just sit around here and do nothing while my best friend thinks I’m a charcoal briquette.” He gave a terse nod of his head to emphasize his point while simultaneously crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant posture that brooked no argument.
Allenby leaned into Blair’s personal space and spoke with the determination of one whose orders were always carried out. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he began, certain of his own impending triumph. “However, you are not in charge of this operation, and we will not have you undermining its success because of personal attachments.” The irritating man smiled ingratiatingly and proceeded with finality. “If you decline to cooperate with us in this, we will simply remove you from this safe house, and deposit you in a holding cell – purely for your own protection, you understand.”
Blair stood aghast. “I … I can’t believe you could do that! I happen to be a law enforcement officer, you stupid dickhead!” Allenby continued to smile, unfazed by the outburst. He was used to objections of this nature from those held in protective custody. Cops were the worst; they all thought they knew best about how to handle their own cases. Because of that, they often made ridiculous errors in judgment that got them or members of their protection detail killed. He wasn’t about to let this little snot-nosed rookie with a questionable history of behavior regarding the truth send any of his people home in a body bag. He was the agent in charge of a joint FBI/US Marshall task force designed to take down people who contracted for killings. They had already arrested a dozen people who wanted loved ones or enemies murdered for a price. He had yet to lose a single man on his team, and he wasn’t going to start now.
“I know exactly who and what you are, Mr. Sandburg, and I’m telling you I have the authority to do what I said.” He spread his hands in a gesture that clearly stated, ‘I have spoken, and my word is law.’ “Now, the decision is up to you. Do you wish to stay here and abide by the rules, or be put in a nice holding cell and abide by the rules? Either way, the rules will be upheld.”
Blair was stunned into silence, a rarity to be sure. He knew he had only one option – allow them to think he would play by their ‘rules,’ and get a message to Jim somehow, as soon as the opportunity presented itself. If he had to, he’d escape from custody and endanger his own life to make sure his sentinel got that message. “Okay, okay, I’ll play by your precious ‘rules,’ but if anything happens to Jim because of this,” his voice became ominous enough to actually give Allenby a shiver. “I will take my revenge for my friend.”
Allenby could have sworn, but would have denied to his dying day, that the man before him momentarily took on the guise of a wolf, complete with snarl. The agent blinked once, and the image was gone. He must have eaten something that didn’t agree with him. Either that, or this job was beginning to take its toll, and he needed a vacation in the worst way. Then he cast a glance at McBain and Hatfield, and was stunned to see that their faces had gone ghost white, as though they, too, had seen something neither could believe. However, Sandburg had acquiesced, and that was all that mattered for now. With a dismissive wave, Allenby instructed McBain to show the young rookie detective to his room. Hopefully, all of this would be over soon, and they could apprehend the suspect and be rid of this young man and his water-logged city. Unfortunately, the best laid plans of mice and men ….
~~o)0O0(o~~
Ellison was losing it fast. The body in the morgue was Blair’s size and had been carrying the new badge and gun that belonged to him. There was nothing to identify as far as the face, body, or fingerprints were concerned. All the beautiful curls were a memory. They would be lucky to get a match on the dental records. There simply wasn’t much left after the concentrated blast had hit. Any hopes of using his senses had left Jim when he walked into the room with the body. Everything fritzed out on him. He couldn’t access a single enhanced sense. He was totally normal – totally useless.
“Damn it, Simon, what good are these senses if they dessert me when I need them most?!” Jim hissed in the stairwell, where he and the captain had gone when Ellison stormed out of the morgue. Before the older man could answer, he continued. “If I can’t use them to prove that Blair’s alive, then they mean nothing to me. They might as well have never existed.”
Banks emphatically did not want to state the obvious, but felt he had to do it. “Jim,” he began, soothingly. “You know I don’t want to say this – hell, I don’t even want to think it, but …”
Jim cut him off. “Don’t!” he replied, a little too forcefully. “Just don’t say it.” The detective dropped to his knees and curled forward with his head in his hands. “He can’t be dead -- he just can’t. No god I’ve ever believed in and no god he’s ever lectured me about could be this cruel.” He looked up at Simon, loss showing in his eyes as clearly as the tears welling up and threatening to fall. “No god with any compassion could have taken him from me and left me alive to suffer without him.” The threat became real, and the tears did fall, cascading in torrents down the detective’s cheeks. Jim lowered his head back into his hands and sobbed.
Simon knelt down next to his officer and friend, early arthritis in his knees protesting the motion to no avail. He could think of nothing to say that would ease the pain he saw, so he simply embraced the man next to him and cried with him. He cried for the loss of a young man who had come to be like a second son to him, and he cried in fear that he might soon lose another dear friend very soon to the grief from that loss. He knew he would do his best, for Blair’s memory, to keep Jim Ellison from tumbling into the abyss of despair that would claim his life. He also knew he would probably fail. Ellison had suffered way too many losses in his relatively young life, and Banks was intelligent enough to know this was by far the worst of them.
~~o)0O0(o~~
The memorial service was held the next day. They couldn’t have a burial or cremation, yet, because the body had not been released, but Jim wanted all of Blair’s friends to be able to say good-bye. No one knew how long the body would have to be kept for evidence, and the sentinel wanted his guide to have a proper tribute.
Jim had taken great pains to make the service a celebration of Blair’s life, but everyone who cared enough to show up also cared too much to be in a celebratory mood. It turned into quite a somber and grief-filled affair. Major crime was well represented, with all members who were not on active duty attending. Most of Sandburg’s new friends at the academy had made time to come; the entire class had been given a day off to attend or mourn in their own way for their fallen comrade. Jim was proud of that; it wasn’t standard practice, but several of Blair’s instructors had become fond of him, and they requested that the administration give their young student the honor. It had brought renewed tears to the older cop’s eyes when his captain had informed him of their decision.
Naomi was still unreachable at some sort of retreat in the Himalayas with the new man in her life, and for that, Jim was perversely glad. He couldn’t yet stand the idea of telling her he had let her son die a second time. However, even though she could not attend the service, Jim tried to include as many elements as he could remember of her spiritual leanings. He wanted to be able to tell her he had at least done that.
The big cop had felt a little strange going to the Jewish Temple Beth Israel on Decker Street to request a rabbi to officiate part of the ceremony, but not as strange as he felt upon entering the Wiccan shop to speak to someone about a Wicca/Pagan blessing he wanted given. Visiting a local Native American shaman almost felt like going home to the Chopec, and he knew Blair would be pleased that he had arranged a blessing for a fallen shaman to be part of the funeral rites. He couldn’t believe he had managed it all in one day, including the bank draft to pay Blair’s dues at the synagogue (who knew you had to be paid up on your dues to receive religious rites? Fortunately, they were based on income, and Blair’s had never been much). All in all, Jim felt he had done the best he could to give his dearest friend the send-off the younger man deserved; he had definitely covered all the religious bases. Of course, he mused, if a man like Blair Sandburg didn’t already deserve to go to whatever passed for Heaven in the after life, then no one did.
~~o)0O0(o~~
For his part, Blair was watching the proceedings from a surveillance van parked just down the street from the event. The feds had wired cameras and microphones at several strategic locations throughout the funeral home (including the floral arrangement atop the empty coffin, right next to the 8x10 picture of Blair in his fishing duds, holding a 12 pound beauty of a fish and smiling like he had won the lottery). This allowed Blair to see and hear everything the mourners came up and said to him as they bid him farewell. All his friends had been so earnest in their statements to the picture of what they thought was their dead friend. It was breaking the young man’s heart to see all the genuine grief laid bare, and all for him. He was going to have a long heart-to-heart with each man and woman who had attended just as soon as he was able to see them again.
That wasn’t all he was going to do, though. He decided that one of his first tasks when he was resurrected was to be planning and paying in advance for his own funeral. No way was he going to make Jim go through this again if he should die before the sentinel. Ellison had done a beautiful job, but it had probably cost a pretty penny, and Blair knew he didn’t need anything so elaborate – just a couple of words from a rabbi, and a time for friends to offer little testimonies of remembrance if they wanted was all he needed. Jim had really outdone himself, and Blair had made certain the detective would be reimbursed out of the FBI’s pockets for this little production. After all, it was their fault Jim had gone to all the trouble. Had he known his partner was alive, Ellison would have simply decided to wait for the ceremony until the body could be released. It wasn’t until after the service, when Jim came up to the coffin and spoke to the picture, privately, that Blair knew how much this was costing the sentinel in terms other than money.
“Well, Chief,” Jim began with tear-filled eyes. “I hope you liked what I put together here.” He took a deep breath and persevered. “You know I’m not as comfortable expressing my feelings as you are, but there’s something I have to tell you … something I should have told you while you were alive to hear it, but I was just too chickenshit.” The defeated man sighed heavily and reached out a hand to touch the photograph, as if somehow, in doing so, he could make contact with the man pictured in it. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. Can you believe that? Oh, I fought it with everything in me. I just knew you weren’t right for me, not to mention that you’re straighter than the proverbial arrow. But I was wrong; you were exactly right for me, and I’d like to think if I’d had the courage to try, I could have convinced you of that undeniable truth, too.” He chuckled mirthlessly to himself. “But the great army ranger and police bad-ass didn’t have the guts to say three simple words … I love you. So now I get to say them to a picture instead of the real thing.”
Jim nodded as if finally agreeing to something a voice only he could hear was saying. “So I’ve decided to join you, my friend. Simon wants to stay with me at the loft tonight, like he did last night. I think he knows what’s on my mind, but I’m gonna get rid of him somehow, and then I’m going to come to be with you. When I get there, I’m gonna gather the strength and courage to say what I needed to say to you before – those three precious words – and I just hope you’ll be happy to hear them. An eternity with you is the most wonderful thing I can think of, so I really hope you can love me too.” Then the tears that had begun as a trickle started to fall in earnest. “Please, love me back, Blair! Please!” he whispered, but to Blair’s ears, it sounded like a shout.
In the van, Blair, listening with rapt attention, was crying along with his friend, fingertips caressing the video screen which held Jim’s anguished face. He turned to McBain, who was sitting at the back door of the van to make sure their ‘victim’ didn’t screw everything up by deciding to crash his own funeral. “You still think that man had something to do with trying to murder me?!” The marshal had the grace to look ashamed.
“No, I personally don’t,” he raised a hand to prevent Blair’s obvious intent to request to go see the grieving cop. “However, we have protocols.” When he saw Sandburg’s eyes flash, he capitulated slightly. “I’ll tell SAC Allenby about this as soon as we get back to the house. I promise I’ll try and get him to authorize some kind of message to your partner before nightfall, okay?”
Knowing he would get nowhere but a holding cell by arguing with this man, Blair agreed. “Fine, but you heard what he said. He’s gonna try and kill himself tonight if you don’t do something to stop it.” The guide looked down at his hands then back to his ‘captor.’ “And if that happens, even God won’t be able to save you from me because, I promise you, I will follow him into death, but not before I send you and Allenby there first,” he growled, again unconsciously showing McBain the face of his spirit guide.
McBain gasped, but said nothing, wondering what was causing these hallucinations of his. Twice now, he had thought this man’s visage had become that of a silver wolf – a mightily pissed off silver wolf, at that – and he was relatively certain his partner and Allenby had glimpsed it, too, the last time, but no way was he going to ask them. He did not need a mandatory psych eval on his record, no sir.
Blair watched the man accept his answer with a strange gasp and no small amount of fear on his countenance. He didn’t understand the fear, certainly Blair Sandburg was not that threatening, even as furious as he now was. However, he couldn’t afford the time to ponder that right now. Blair had no intention of sitting around waiting for Allenby to hand down his verdict on the situation. No, this guide was breaking free as soon as he got back to that safe house. He would make sure his sentinel was okay, or die trying.
~~o)0O0(o~~
Simon Banks did not like this situation, not one little bit. Jim was being obstinate about his captain leaving him alone for the night. It was too soon, and the older man knew it. He was terrified that his friend and colleague would do something stupid and self-destructive. He and the other detectives and friends of Jim Ellison had watched and worried over the sentinel all day. Simon had insisted on staying at the loft the night before, even though he didn’t think Jim would really do anything before he had seen that the memorial service was done the way he wanted it. Now that he had accomplished that task, Ellison was free from obligation, and Banks was afraid that that might mean Jim would end his life to be with his partner.
Jim had told Simon years ago about the true nature of his feelings for his guide, and the captain had not been at all surprised by it. He’d known for years about the cop’s bisexuality. What did surprise Simon, however, was that his best detective didn’t seem to be able to figure out the clues telling him that Sandburg felt the same way. The captain would have thought any idiot could grasp the concept, but Ellison insisted that his partner and best friend did not return his affections. Oh, he knew Blair loved him, but made the moronic assumption that the love was fraternal in nature. What a crock! A detective and a sentinel, and the man couldn’t see beyond his nose and his own insecurities.
Unfortunately, the time to put that theory to the test had come and gone. Now Jim Ellison was a love-bereft shell of a man, and he was trying to make Simon leave him alone for the night – in an empty loft, with pieces of his life with Sandburg all over the place. And Simon hadn’t a clue how to go about getting the detective to let him stay. This was bad. As he was seriously considering pulling rank and ordering his subordinate to allow him to remain in the loft, he heard a soft tapping at the door. Someone could have knocked the big man over with a feather when he opened it.
“Oh my God,” Simon breathed, barely able to believe what he was seeing. “Oh my dear, God!” the near-whisper rose to a bellow, ending with the captain throwing his arms around the smaller man’s waist and lifting him off the floor. He did one pirouette with the startled recipient of the hug in his arms, and then set him down, ever so gently (so as not to break him), on the floor. Jim chose that moment to step out of the bathroom to see what the commotion was all about. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him – Blair being swung around in the air by Simon Banks … his Blair … his supposedly dead Blair. In that moment he didn’t care whether the man was a ghost or not; he was going to hug the stuffing out of him.
Jim covered the few steps between himself and Blair in an instant and enveloped the younger man in the bear hug to end all bear hugs. He didn’t pick his smaller partner up, only held him tightly and began sobbing relentlessly into the long, chestnut curls that Blair, thankfully, hadn’t had to cut for his academy stint. (Simon had fudged a little and told the administration that they sometimes used Sandburg for undercover work, and he needed the long hair to blend. What was one more lie after all he’d told to get Blair into the academy in the first place?) The sentinel inhaled deeply, senses suddenly back online and confirming that this was, indeed, his guide, alive and well. The two men stood, holding each other and swaying as if dancing to some rhythm to which only they were privy, while Simon quietly closed and locked the door.
Banks was, reluctantly, the first to break the contented silence of the loft. “Um, Blair, son, I hate to bring this up now -- and believe me, I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth -- but how are you alive?” The question sounded as silly to him as he was sure it did to the other two occupants of the room, but it needed asking, and he wasn’t sure how he could have phrased it differently in his current state of astonishment.
Blair eased himself out of Jim’s arms-- no small task as the sentinel seemed determined to meld their bodies together. He mentally shook himself and answered his captain’s question. “It’s okay, Simon. I need to tell you both what’s been happening.” He proceeded to do so, and after a few minutes of Q&A by the two cops, he had caught them up on his little two day adventure, including the part about eluding his protectors to come see them.
“As soon as they realize I’m missing, they’re gonna know right where to look. They’ll probably take me back, maybe even throw me in a holding cell for being such a bad boy,” Blair grinned impishly as he spoke. Then he sobered. “But I had to do it.” He looked pointedly at Jim. “They had a camera and microphone in the flowers on the casket, and I was in a van listening and looking to see if anyone was there who didn’t belong. I heard everything that was said.” His gaze seared into the sentinel’s soul. “I knew I needed to get here tonight to tell you I was okay.” Blair reached out a hand to caress Jim’s cheek, but made it a brief contact, mindful of Simon’s presence and not wanting to give away too much. “Actually, I need to tell you a lot of things.” He smiled warmly and tried to put into his eyes what he couldn’t say aloud due to their lack of privacy.
Sensing Blair’s reticence and the obvious reason for it, Jim grinned and said, “Simon knows how I feel about you, Chief. He has for a long time.” As the younger man’s wide eyes shifted from Jim to Simon, the captain nodded and smiled encouragingly.
“Wow,” Blair breathed. “Well, I guess I can tell you then.” He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and continued. “I love you, too, Jim. I think I have from the beginning, but I didn’t really understand it until I thought Lash had gotten you. All I saw was the two of you falling through that window, and I heard you dropping through the floor. Then there were gunshots, and I didn’t know which of you had the gun.” He closed his eyes and shuddered at the painful memory that still haunted his dreams from time to time. Then he reached out and took Jim’s hand in his. “At first, I thought you were dead, and I realized that, if you were, I just wanted Lash to come back and finish me off so I could be with you.”
Blair squeezed the hand he held and gave its owner a knowing look. “I guess you kinda understand that feeling, huh?” He smiled, wishing he could chastise his sentinel for even thinking about taking his own life, but knowing he couldn’t because he would have done the same had circumstances been reversed. A glance in Simon’s direction only showed the captain looking smug, as though he’d known all along. Blair wondered idly if he had; he’d have to ask about that later.
“Yeah, Chief, I understand perfectly,” Jim answered, having the grace to look abashed.
“Promise me one thing, Jim, and I’ll make the same promise to you,” Blair began, waiting for Jim’s nod of acquiescence prior to continuing. “I won’t ask you to promise not to follow me if I die before you because I can’t make that promise, myself.” Ignoring Simon’s alarmed intake of breath, Blair kept his eyes glued to Jim’s. “But promise me that you’ll make damned good and sure I really am dead before you do it, okay? ‘Cause I really don’t need the whole Romeo and Juliet scene that was gonna go down here if you had been able to get rid of Simon tonight.” He chuckled lightly to cut the seriousness of his words and inject a humorous note into the symphony of pain in his chest caused by the thought of exactly what could have happened in that instance. Jim saw the chuckle for what it was and joined his partner in it.
“Okay, Chief. I guess I’ve learned my lesson on this one,” he said, and drew his guide into his arms again for another soul-healing embrace. Then the sentinel proceeded to kiss his guide for all he was worth, not caring if Simon saw them – not caring if the whole damned world saw them – only caring about the taste and feel of this man he now loved as he had loved no other. Blair soaked up the affection like a sponge, returning measure for measure as good as he got. Suddenly, Jim’s body stiffened and he withdrew his lips from Blair’s with a groan of displeasure. He cocked his head, listening to noises only audible to enhanced senses. “Looks like your new friends have arrived, Sandburg, and they are not happy.”
“Well, shit,” Blair said, echoing the sentiments of his partner and captain.
“Sir, would you mind opening the door. They’re talking about just breaking it in instead of knocking.” At Simon’s aghast expression, he explained. “They seem to think they might need the element of surprise on their side, but I don’t need to replace the door frame.” He grinned slyly. Simon opened the door to five very surprised agents of the FBI and US Marshal’s office, feeling a smugness that only someone who had been in their position before and was happy to give a little back could experience.
~~o)0O0(o~~
“You stupid little shit! What were you thinking?” Allenby bellowed as he entered the loft. He took two giant steps toward Blair and reached out to grab him. That was a mistake. Jim caught the agent in mid-grab and nearly lifted him off of his feet with both hands on the collar of Allenby’s shirt.
“Don’t ever touch my partner,” Ellison growled menacingly. As had previously happened with Blair, Allenby was treated to an introduction to Jim’s animal spirit as well. The panther’s angry countenance only superimposed itself over the sentinel’s face for a moment, but it was enough to change the agent’s perspective for life. In all his years staring down criminals, Allenby had never been so close to wetting his pants before. There wasn’t enough money in the world for him to risk grabbing that young man again. Suddenly he felt that his protection squad had nothing on this man-beast when it came to keeping Sandburg safe. They had well and truly screwed to pooch on this assignment; they should have let Ellison in on the charade and the protection detail from the beginning. They probably would have had their man by now – not necessarily alive, mind you, but they’d have gotten him.
McBain and the other agents tensed for a moment with weapons drawn. None of them were sure whether or not they’d have to use them. At the moment James Ellison looked like he couldn’t be taken down with all the firepower currently available to them. Then Sandburg’s low, melodic voice began wafting through the room. “Jim, man, it’s okay.” Hands grasped Ellison’s shoulders from behind. None of those agents would have dared touch the man with Allenby’s collar in a death grip, but Blair was unafraid. “Let him go, Jim,” the voice, more commanding now, persisted, and the sentinel complied, astonishing the agents, but leaving the police captain unfazed; he had seen that too many times. Simon knew who was in charge in Jim and Blair’s relationship. Apparently the feds were getting with that program as well.
“Thank you, Mr. Sandburg,” Allenby said, decidedly not moving toward the younger man. “I apologize for my rash behavior,” he continued, motioning for three of the agents to stay outside and McBain to remain with him and close the door to the loft. “We were very worried when we found you were missing,” he allowed a bit of irritation to enter his voice, but decided not to do that again when Jim growled-- actually growled-- at him for it. “We’re extremely concerned about your safety, you understand,” he tried to put as much sincerity as he could muster in that statement. Ellison seemed appeased, but not completely forgiving. Allenby suddenly realized that no one who had seen this man with Sandburg would try to kill the younger man without taking the detective out first. It had to be someone who didn’t know the two of them well, or not at all. He also realized he really should have listened to the kid about Ellison, but hindsight was 20/20, as they say.
“Anyway, we’ve had some new developments,” Allenby began. Blair seemed to perk up at that, but said nothing, giving the agent a chance to speak his peace, although from the way the young man fidgeted, the self-imposed silence seemed to be taking its toll. “Your Captain, Taggart,” he said, throwing Simon a pointed glance. “Came up with a lead earlier today just after the memorial service. He made a probable ID on the bomber, but we had his team under surveillance, so we got there first.” Simon was clearly offended.
“Now wait just a minute here,” the captain huffed. “What do you mean you’ve had our people under surveillance? And why the hell wouldn’t Taggart tell me he had information like that?” He stalked over to Allenby, demanding an answer.
“Relax, Captain Banks,” Allenby appeased, hoping this one wasn’t as ferocious as Ellison. “It’s standard procedure in a case like this. We wanted to be able to intercept any suspects before your people got to them, so we followed your investigation closely, as we made our own inquiries. Sometimes, as in this case, the locals have insight into suspects we don’t know about.” Simon still didn’t look happy, but he allowed the agent to finish. “And your man, Taggart, didn’t tell you because he wanted to be sure before he got anyone’s hopes up on this case.” At that, Simon mellowed a bit, thinking of Joel working so hard to find a shred of evidence as to who murdered a young man who had come to mean so much to the former bomb squad captain, but afraid to tell anyone, lest he might dash their hopes of finding justice. Simon looked into Blair’s gentle eyes and saw thoughts that mirrored his own. Blair really did love the big teddy bear of a man.
“All right, so what did you get from the suspect?” Simon inquired before Jim’s palpable impatience to hear the answer translated into more FBI shirt-collar grabbing.
“Oh, he’s definitely our perp,” Allenby replied smugly. “Apparently whoever contracted to have Mr. Sandburg murdered thought two would be better than one. He hired our undercover agent and this local bomb builder. Unfortunately, this guy did his transaction the same way we did, over the phone and emails.” Then Allenby outlined the plan for the group. “This guy is ready to cooperate with us in exchange for a deal on sentencing. He says he’ll get in touch with the guy who contracted him and tell him he wants a meet in person. That’s what our agent was going to do, so this bomber will simply step into his shoes. We’re going to have him make the call tomorrow, and the whole thing should be resolved very quickly. Then Mr. Sandburg can get back to his life.” He seemed too self-satisfied for Jim’s taste.
“And what if this nice little plan of yours goes straight to hell?” Jim inquired with no small amount of sarcasm. “I don’t suppose you have a back-up strategy in case of a snafu.”
“We are the FBI, Detective Ellison,” Allenby began. Ignoring Jim’s derisive snort, he concluded. “We know how to improvise when the situation requires it.”
“Yeah, Waco, Ruby Ridge … the whole damned country’s seen how well you people improvise …” Jim began, but was cut off by Allenby’s shout.
“Now you wait just a damned minute, here!” The agent meant to yell more, but Jim began moving toward him, prompting Blair to step in front of the detective, his hands grabbing Jim by the biceps on both arms, while Simon simultaneously roared.
“Enough!” Everyone turned toward the captain. “Everybody just calm the hell down!” Simon exclaimed, turning the volume down a little from his previous outburst. “Jim, sit down, and shut up.” Jim complied, silently seething at being chastised like a child. “Sandburg, you sit next to him, and hold him down, if necessary; I leave it to your discretion.”
“Yes, Sir,” Blair grinned and did as he was told, wondering how the hell he could hold the other man down if needed. Then he decided kissing him senseless might be a good enough distraction and secretly hoped Jim lost control, forcing a kiss-fest – for the welfare of all concerned of course. Blair would do his job with reckless abandon if need be. He suppressed a giggle at the thought.
“Now you,” Simon turned to Allenby, poking him in the chest with an index finger and a lot of attitude. “You need to get with the program and understand what you’ve done here. This man,” indicating Jim with the same pointing finger that had hit Allenby’s chest, “Has been through absolute hell the past two days, and you’ve had no small part in putting him there. Blair told us what you said about Jim being a possible suspect, and how he tried to convince you otherwise.”
The agent interrupted. “I know we made a tactical error there, Captain. I’m not blind, but we really couldn’t take any chances with your man’s life.”
Simon continued, unfazed, having grown accustomed to being interrupted by Sandburg, himself, on more than one occasion. “Be that as it may, you still have to realize that Jim has been under a tremendous amount of stress and is still very worried about his partner’s safety and security.” He let his point sink in then hit Allenby with his demand, for it was not a polite request even if it was being phrased as one for the sake of expediency. “I think it would be best if you involved my people in the investigation.”
Allenby knew it was coming. He also knew there was no recourse but to acquiesce, short of locking all three of them up. If he declined, Banks and Ellison would simply inform their colleagues, who would do a surveillance sweep to find the bugs, and then proceed to investigate on their own. That scenario left Allenby’s task force out of the loop. He couldn’t afford a bunch of vigilante, loose-cannon cops going around half-cocked, stepping all over his operation. No, he would include them. Sandburg had been right about Ellison and Banks; maybe the captain was right about this. Anyway, better to work with the locals than against them.
~~o)0O0(o~~
Hoping to minimize Sandburg’s exposure to any other hit men who might have been contracted by the clearly overzealous killer, it was decided that instead of taking Blair to major crime, major crime would come to him. Allenby grudgingly allowed the younger man to remain in the loft, not at the safe house, primarily because Jim wanted it that way, and the agent didn’t want to risk the possible loss of life trying to remove Blair from the detective’s custody. He also thought, ‘Yeah, let somebody try to get to the kid with that guy guarding him. Good freakin’ luck to ya! By the way, what funeral home do you want your body sent to?’ Oh yeah, getting between Ellison and Sandburg would be an exercise in extreme futility.
So, without an explanation as to why, the most trusted members of major crime (Taggart, Rafe, Brown, and Connor), were requested to come to the loft immediately. Fearing for Jim’s safety, they all arrived within one hour of being summoned. Taggart was first on the scene, and when he saw Blair, he hugged the younger man silly, ruffled his curls, and promptly began to bawl like a child. He politely excused himself to the bathroom to pull it together then returned with a huge smile and another bone-crushing hug for Blair, closely followed by one for Jim. He had been so worried the detective wouldn’t survive the loss of the man any idiot could see he loved more than life.
Closely following Taggart’s arrival was Megan Connor’s. She let out a loud whoop upon seeing ‘Sandy’ and held him in her arms until Blair thought his ribs were cracking. She only let go after he said as much. Embarrassed at her own emotional upheaval, she wiped the tears from her eyes and proceeded to give Jim a much gentler hug. While she held him she whispered in his ear, “Well, Jimbo, you’ve got him back. What are you going to do about it?” When he drew away from her with a clearly perplexed expression, she explained, sentinel soft. “Not many people get a second chance to tell someone they’re in love with them. Don’t waste yours.” He smiled and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“Thanks, Connor, but I beat you to the punch.” At her confused look, he continued. “I already told him … and it’s mutual.” He beamed at the Aussie inspector.
“Well, I coulda told ya that!” she harassed. He didn’t even mind enough to retort, just shook his head and chuckled. She walked off toward the kitchen grumbling about how men were chronically stupid, and American men were the worst of the lot.
Rafe and Brown arrived together as Megan was getting herself a coffee in the kitchen. To say that they were stunned would be an understatement, but they were determined to be dignified about it. No crying or yelping for them. However, they did manage a group hug with the two of them, Blair, and Jim in the mix. There was only so much dignity one could stand after all. If this wasn’t a time for hugs, no time was. Unfortunately, too soon it was time to get down to business, and Simon let Allenby take the lead with the explanations, nearly having to peel Taggart off the ceiling when the former bomb squad captain heard about the feds spying on him and poaching his suspect.
Joel had worked himself silly trying to get Blair’s ‘killer,’ and these jokers had just swooped in and sucked him up like a vacuum, and then proceeded to make a deal with him. This guy came within a hair’s breadth of killing their Blair, and the feds just handed him the keys to the kingdom. Any member of major crime could have told them – hell, most of the police force could have told them – all they had to do was let Ellison in the room with the perp for two lousy minutes, and the guy would have pleaded guilty to the top count on the indictment and participated in this little ‘sting’ operation to flush out the guy who paid for the hit (and the suspect wouldn’t have had a mark on him). If these feds were an example of his tax dollars at work, Joel Taggart knew he was payin’ way too much.
~~o)0O0(o~~
Naomi Sandburg couldn’t believe her luck. She had been frantic when she had received a message that Jim Ellison had called for her and said she needed to contact him at once. Of course, she hadn’t been able to get through to him yet, to return the call. Blair Sandburg’s mother was no fool; she knew if Jim was calling urgently, and not her son, that something must be preventing Blair from doing the calling, himself. It could only be bad news, and she’d had enough of that lately. She hadn’t even had a chance to tell her son about his grandfather’s death. It was going to be quite a shock to the young man, although no more so than the two million dollar estate the elder Sandburg had left to his only grandson. Naomi had informed her father’s lawyer, and old family friend, that she wanted to be the one to break the news, so he had abided by her wishes and not informed the heir about his new fortune.
Jacob Sandburg had cut his daughter out of his will when she became pregnant. However, he didn’t do the same for her progeny. Although the old man had never actually met Blair, he had kept every picture Naomi ever sent (including all of the boy’s school photos), each article Blair published or had a hand in, and every news clipping that had ever featured the young man (going all the way back to winning his first regional science fair prize at the tender age of eight). Jacob had been inordinately proud of his only grandchild and had left his entire estate, minus a few charitable contributions and the appropriate bequests to servants and his solicitor, to the young man he loved and respected from afar. He had never met Blair because he had always feared the boy’s rejection due to Jacob’s treatment of Naomi – now he would never have the chance – but at least his grandson would never want for anything. Jacob could and had ensured that.
Now Naomi was occupying one of the last two available seats on a plane headed for Cascade, thanks to some quick thinking and even quicker wrangling by her brand new husband Gerald Dawkins. They had met in Paris, he a businessman on holiday, and she a floating free spirit wanting to try her hand at studying painting. The red-headed sprite had soon tired of her artistic pursuits and decided to spend her every waking moment with the man of her dreams. Dawkins was charming and gracious, and he swept her off her feet in a whirlwind courtship, ending in a proposal of marriage at a retreat in the Himalayas only days before. It was far from her first offer of matrimony, but it was the first she’d ever accepted, and the two were married by the Buddhist priest conducting the retreat.
Of course, she would keep her maiden name; she’d been Naomi Sandburg far too long to change that now. As soon as she was certain her son was okay, they’d plan a lovely reception which Blair and all his friends could attend. With any luck, all the love in the air would get her offspring and one particular friend to wake up and smell the sage burning, so to speak. If ever two people belonged together, it was Jim and Blair. She knew it; why the hell didn’t they? Well, she’d just have to work on it when she got to Cascade. For now, though, she was suffering through what felt like the longest flight of her life, not knowing whether her baby boy was all right or not. Gerald tried to soothe her nerves with gentle assurances that everything would be fine, that this was probably just a false alarm, but still she fretted. Her husband had no idea the trouble that son of hers could get into.
~~o)0O0(o~~
The weasel with the car bomb had made the call to his contractor’s cell phone and arranged the meet for the next day. They would get together at a bench in a secluded section of Cascade Municipal Park. The bench was almost completely hidden in a copse of trees, the perfect spot for lovers … or people up to no good. There the final payment would be made for the ‘job,’ and the unsuspecting payer would be caught in a dragnet consisting of the FBI, US Marshal’s service, and Cascade PD’s finest. This guy was not getting away.
Blair was feeling on top of the world about the whole thing. He and Jim hadn’t had a moment alone since declaring their feelings for one another. The loft had been a madhouse of activity from all the law enforcement personnel either planning strategy or protecting their ‘victim.’ However, now that they had a plan in place for the meet the next day, Blair and Jim had a night to themselves.
Their closest law enforcement company was Rafe and Brown, both of whom were sitting in a car with a view of the only available entrance to 852 Prospect. The other entrances had been completely obstructed courtesy of the Cascade PD and several stacks of fully loaded boxes blocking the alley exit and the service entry in the back. That meant any prospective attackers had only one way in or out because the fire escape was blocked by the same boxes as the alley exit (it was only temporary, and what the fire marshal didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him). That gave Jim and Blair their first opportunity to really express their feelings about the new aspects of their relationship, and express them they did.
After all the agents and Major Crime detectives cleared out, with Rafe and Brown letting Jim know they were downstairs if needed, Blair walked over to his brand new lover at the door to their home and pulled him into an embrace. Both men groaned at the relief of that one, simple act. Jim broke the silence first.
“Wow,” he sighed. “Our first moment alone,” Ellison said salaciously.
“Noticed that, did you?” Blair asked playfully, with no small amount of flirtation.
“Oh, yes I did,” the flirtation was returned. Jim was wrapped around his smaller partner from the hug they still shared. He pivoted his hips forward, making contact with Blair’s erection. “I also noticed that you seem to be very happy about that. Or would I be mistaken?” He smiled sweetly.
Blair took a deep breath before answering. “No, you’re definitely not mistaken.” After another deep inhalation, he exhaled the following words in that single breath, “I’m harder for you than I have ever been for anyone.” His body was tired of this teasing game, and he’d bet money Jim’s was as well; it was time to end it. The only way to do that was to go on the offensive, and he didn’t think he’d get much resistance.
“Um, oh,” was Jim’s incredibly articulate comeback. Yep, Blair was right – no resistance.
“So you have two choices. One, you can tell me you’re not interested, and I can go fill up the tub with iced water ‘cause a simple cold shower ain’t gonna do it for this guy,” he declared, palming his own crotch through his jeans for effect. “Or you can tell me you love me and want me forever, and then fuck me till the Earth moves and the angels sing.” Blair grinned with complete innocence, and Jim nearly choked on nothing but air.
James Ellison did the only thing he could possibly do when confronted with such a choice. He cleared his throat, held up his right hand, with the forefinger and middle finger extended upward while the rest remained fisted, and replied to the query. “Number two, please.” Blair gave him a very satisfied smile, and Jim knew Blair Sandburg had him by the heartstrings and everything else for as long as he lived; that was not a bad way to be. As Blair silently moved to take Jim by the hand and started leading the older man upstairs, Jim remembered his line. “By the way, I love you and I want you forever.”
Blair never missed a step as he spared a gaze for his partner and replied, “I love you and I want you forever, too, Jim.”
They reached the top of the stairs and stripped at the foot of the bed, slowly revealing their bodies to each other without speaking again. Jim had to comment, “My God, but you’re beautiful.” At Blair’s snort, he clarified. “Look, I’m not saying you’re feminine or anything; I think Brad Pitt’s beautiful, too.”
“Brad Pitt is beautiful,” Blair interrupted quickly.
“So are you,” Jim interrupted back, even more quickly. At that, Blair stopped and looked deeply into Jim’s eyes. He smiled shyly and shrugged, a gesture that made him appear almost childlike, if not for his very adult naked form.
“You really think I’m beautiful,” he inquired softly. Jim would have teased him about needing the affirmation, but something in the younger man’s eyes led Jim to think he really did need for this to be said seriously.
“Yes, I really do,” Jim stated simply, with as much sincerity as he could possibly apply. Blair’s somewhat shy but very toothy smile was all the assurance Ellison needed to know he’d made the right call.
“So have you ever, um, been with another guy?” Blair asked with some trepidation.
“Yeah, a few, mostly in the Army, but some since then, you?” he threw the question back. Feeling stupid about having this conversation standing naked at the foot of the bed and not even touching, Blair stepped closer and put his hands on Jim’s shoulders as he answered.
“Yeah, a few in college, but none since I’ve been working with you – I didn’t think it would go over well.” He smiled sheepishly. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” Blair chuckled.
Jim reached around and smacked his lover’s bottom. “No, you shouldn’t have,” he replied with mock indignation. “So, uh … how do you want to ah …” he faltered a bit. Blair decided a strategic interruption might be appreciated.
“Why don’t we just lie down on the bed, and let the logistics take care of themselves,” Blair suggested. Jim nodded gratefully; he really didn’t want to stop and have a ‘how do you want to do this – do you top or do I’ conversation right this second. Letting things evolve naturally worked for him. He knew there was a reason he had fallen hopelessly in love with a brainiac like his partner.
“Sounds good to me, Chief,” he replied, and then he kissed his lover deeply. The sentinel was nothing if not a good kisser, but Blair turned it into an art. His tongue painted a masterpiece inside the canvas of Jim’s mouth, while his lips added texture to the strokes. If not for the little moans Blair was making stimulating the sentinel’s hearing, he would have zoned on the tactile sensation of his mouth. When their lips reluctantly parted both men gazed into each other’s eyes with a passion few people will ever know in a lifetime. They nodded at each other, needing no words for this mutual decision, and walked to their respective sides of the bed to get under the covers.
Blair immediately started the game again by pinning Jim underneath him, wrists above the sentinel’s head on the pillow. “Leave ‘em there,” he commanded squeezing his hand around Jim’s captive wrists. “This is my show for the moment; I’ll let you know when you can use those hands again.” Jim nodded his acquiescence, not entirely certain of his capacity for speech. The guide was definitely in the dominant position, straddling his sentinel’s abdomen, feeling the rigid cock against his ass. He wriggled to assess how his captive was faring. A full body jerk with nearly enough force to knock Blair off and a low groan were the only answers he needed.
Jim was somewhere between heaven and hell – heaven to be lying in his bed under this man who was the epitome of sexual arousal, and hell because said epitome seemed intent on torturing him with a lot of teasing and no follow-through. The cop found himself wondering if you could actually die from sustaining an erection for too long without release. Then Blair started moving and everything got a whole lot better – and worse.
Blair was looking at his prize and wondering what was causing the intensity on that thoughtful visage. He couldn’t imagine what was so engrossing, but it didn’t matter. In a few minutes, James Ellison wouldn’t be able to form a coherent thought. Blair smiled wickedly, and then went to work.
Sandburg began to make love to his sentinel with his lips. He kissed along Jim’s jawbone and trailed a path of heat down to the throat below it. From the throat to the chest, Blair interspersed little cat-like licks with his kisses. At the chest, he took a short respite to simply enjoy what was now his to savor; he looked at the expanse of well-toned and conditioned muscle and just sighed. Then he repositioned himself to finished his tantalizing journey and reach his destination. He was now astride Jim’s thighs, leaning forward to reach the nipples on that delicious chest.
First, the left nipple was targeted. Jim moaned as Blair placed little licks, kisses and small nips on the hardened nub. Then, not wanting to give too much attention to one and not the other, he did the same to the right nipple. After that, the guide began kissing and tonguing his way down the washboard abs toward his ultimate goal, the turgid flesh emerging proudly erect from Jim’s groin.
When the goal was attained, Jim yelped from the contact he’d nearly been dying for since the seduction began. Blair’s mouth was so hot when it engulfed the rigid shaft, and the immediate suction it began was almost enough to make Jim scream. It didn’t take long for alternating sucking and licking to make the sentinel come with a shout in spite of their fear of being too loud and causing the neighbors to call in a disturbance at their address (that would bring the entire Cascade PD and several FBI agents down on them). Fortunately, no one heard or cared enough to call.
After recovering and taking notice of the fact that he was hardening again already, Jim decided it was time to reciprocate, but he wanted to talk to his partner first.
“Hey Slugger,” Jim began breathlessly. “You really know how to knock ‘em outta the park, don’tcha?” Blair laughed outright at the rhetorical question. “Looks like you’ve taken care of my problem, and I always pay my debts,” he continued while reaching down to feel his partner’s erection. When the sentinel realized there was no hardness anymore, only a limp cock beginning to get stiff, he got the wrong idea. “What’s going on?” he asked, sounding hurt. “I thought we were both …,”
“Oh yeah, man we were … we are,” Blair interrupted swiftly. He smiled brightly and chuckled. “Jim, I came when you did; this,” he began, pointing to his cock, “is me getting hard again, which I believe is something we have in common,” he finished, looking at Jim’s renewed erection and quirking an eyebrow upward.
“Okay,” Jim replied, smiling in obvious delight about what that meant. “Well, I guess I do owe you then. How about an oral exam?” Jim queried, rolling over on his lover and stroking a hand through the hair at the younger man’s temples. Blair stared up at him, awed by the tenderness of the gesture. He would have to re-evaluate his previous assumptions about what Jim would be like as a lover; this was going to be fun!
“Actually, Jim, I’d really like another kind of test if that’s okay,” he said saucily. Blair licked his lips enticingly and Jim fell into the trap.
“What kind of test would that be?” Jim asked, so entranced by the lip movement in front of him that he wasn’t even concentrating on what he was saying, or the fact that he was playing right into Blair’s teasing word game.
“A prostate exam,” Blair quipped, and then watched as Jim made the connection. He giggled at the larger man’s discomfiture.
“Are you sure, Chief?” Jim asked very seriously. He wanted to be certain Blair knew what he was getting into, and he didn’t want to hurt the younger man, physically or otherwise.
“It’s okay, Jim,” Blair reassured, sensing the change in demeanor and knowing the cause of it. “I haven’t done this often, but I have done it a few times with guys I really trusted. You’re not gonna hurt me, and I know what I’m getting into. Does that take care of your doubts?” he inquired with a grin.
“Yeah,” Jim cuffed him on the head as he answered. Blair knew this ex-Army ranger entirely too well. “I was just worried about you.” Ellison sighed.
“I know, and it’s one of the things I love about you,” Blair soothed, bringing his hand up and tracing a finger along Jim’s jaw line. When he reached the lips, Blair closed his eyes and let out a sigh, rubbing along the outline of those lips and memorizing their texture and shape. Jim relished in his partner’s digital exploration of his mouth, just as he had enjoyed the earlier exploration Blair had done with his tongue. Blair broke the silence this time with a much needed question. “Do you have any supplies?”
Jim took a moment to snap out of his reverie and enjoyment at Blair’s finger play. He then processed the request and rolled over to retrieve the necessary equipment from the bedside table. One tube of lubricant and one condom packet are presented to Blair in lieu of a verbal response.
“Ah, excellent,” Blair took the proffered implements and ripped open the packet with the rubber. He put the prophylactic on Jim and handed the cop the tube. “Get me ready for you, Jim,” Blair said, his voice dripping with arousal. Jim did as requested with a small groan at his lover’s vocal responses. He stretched Blair’s opening with his fingers, eliciting several moans and panting breaths, and he turned the smaller man away from him for the actual penetration. Then Jim entered the tight channel with his cock just barely sheathed. Blair gasped, but Jim was fairly certain it wasn’t from pain. To be sure, he asked anyway.
“Are you okay, Baby?” Jim inquired breathlessly. “If I hurt you, you gotta tell me.” He didn’t move any further in until after he received an answer.
“Oh, God, Jim!” he cried out. “Not hurt,” he panted, “I’m great, Jim, just great!” At that, Jim began impaling his cock more deeply into Blair’s body. “Oh yeah! Oh, yes! Ah, God, please don’t stop, Jim!” the younger man called out between pants.
When Jim was completely sheathed in the deliciously hot, tight channel, he began a routine of thrusting forward and pulling back. This resulted in the stroking of Blair’s prostate gland with the tip of Jim’s cock, producing a litany of phrases from the young guide that were barely discernable as English, let alone worthy of a man with a graduate degree and a boatload of post-grad work. It was driving Jim mad with desire, and he was pumping harder to compensate. He needed to come badly, but he needed Blair to come first. James Ellison was nothing if not considerate of his lovers.
Jim reached a hand around to Blair’s front and grasped the younger man’s cock in his hand. He began stroking firmly and squeezing in a rhythmic counterpoint to his own thrusts from behind. Blair began gasping loudly, his head thrashing back and forth, nearly knocking Jim on the chin. As he came violently, his internal muscles clenched around Jim’s cock and pulled his the orgasm out of the sentinel with a shout muffled by Sandburg’s hair.
Jim was the first to recover enough to think about cleanliness, so it was he who reached over on the bedside table for some tissues to wipe away the majority of the evidence of their coupling; the rest would just have to wait until he could do the laundry. Right now, they needed sleep, and they could just lie snuggled close together to avoid the wet spot. As he was wiping, Jim noticed his lover was beginning to show signs of life. His theory was confirmed when Blair spoke.
“Oh, man, Jim, that was incredible,” he sighed. Jim dropped the soiled tissues into the trash can and rolled back over to face his lover. Blair reached out a hand and caressed Jim’s face. “I love you.” He dropped the hand and stared up into the older man’s eyes.
“So did the Earth move and the angels sing for you?” Jim asked, remembering their earlier conversation that evening. Blair must have recalled it as well because he chuckled knowingly.
“Oh yeah, man!” he exclaimed. “There was definitely moving and singing on my end. You?”
“I had an earthquake that measured a ten on the Richter scale and the choir was backed up by a symphony orchestra,” Jim replied.
“Damn, I’m good!” Blair responded and got a curl tugged on by his lover. Blair just giggled and let out a huge yawn. Jim was just about whipped himself, so he made the brilliant suggested that they both get a little sleep in preparation for the ‘big day’ tomorrow. After mutual declarations of love and a brief goodnight kiss, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
~~o)0O0(o~~
Jim was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. No matter how good their plan was, he wouldn’t be satisfied until the man who tried to kill his guide was dead … or behind bars, that is; he had to keep reminding himself of that. The cop in him knew that he shouldn’t really be in on the take-down with that kind of attitude, but he’d be damned if he was going to let the feds or anyone else keep him out of it. If anything unexpected happened, his sentinel abilities might just be the edge they’d need to put things back on track. As it turned out, Jim’s senses weren’t required. Everything went off without a hitch, and the person who had contracted the murder was arrested for his crimes.
~~o)0O0(o~~
As Naomi and Gerald deplaned, he walked his new bride through baggage claim and out to the taxi waiting lane to see her off. Naomi knew her new husband didn’t want to let her go to the loft alone, not having any idea what she would find there, but he’d received a call during their all night flight that summoned him to a very important business meeting. The free spirit had known what she was getting into by marrying a high-powered executive with his own company, so she had encouraged him to go. Gerald assured her that he would get his business dealings finished quickly and join her as soon as possible. He kissed the beautiful red-head passionately before putting her in the taxi and going to secure their hotel room prior to his meeting.
Blair’s mother arrived at the loft about a half hour after leaving Cascade airport. Her son was there to meet her, still guarded by several FBI agents who had no intention of leaving until after the culprit had been apprehended. The meet between their bomber and his employer was to take place later that morning, and no one wanted Blair left until all was settled. Jim and the other officers from major crime were waiting with Allenby and his team at the site for their prey to appear.
Blair was so glad to see his mother and find that she hadn’t been told of his death. This way he could break the news to her gently and tell her that the danger was already on its way to being completely eliminated. He still didn’t know why someone would want to kill him, but hoped he would discover the motive soon.
For her part, Naomi had a lot to tell her son as well. However, Blair began first, telling her about his current predicament and listening to her lecture once again about how dangerous it was for him to be working with the police, where he attracted the kind of enemies who hired hit men. Then she informed the young man about the death of his grandfather and the inheritance he was about to receive. Blair was a bit miffed that the old man’s attorney had not gotten in touch with him, but Naomi quickly let him know that it had been her doing, not the lawyer’s.
Blair elected not to tell his mother about his new relationship with his roommate so as not to dwarf her announcement about her own wedding. The young man had been surprised by the news, but was pleased that his mom had finally found someone with whom she could share her life. After about two hours of catching up, Jim came home and gave his partner the good news about the successful bust and delivered the bad news he had for Naomi.
~~o)0O0(o~~
Gerald Dawkins, whose business was on its last legs, had been having a nice little fling with Naomi Sandburg when she received the bad news about her father. Figuring that if the boy died, the inheritance would revert to the next of kin, Blair’s mother, Gerald decided to make his fling a little more permanent. If he could get his hands on that two million, he wouldn’t have to worry about how to save his company; he could just kill his wife and get the lot of it. It was a great plan; he just hired the wrong hit man, and his perfect murder plot went all to hell.
Blair didn’t know what he was more enraged about, the fact that this guy tried to kill him for nothing but money, or that he broke the heart of a beautiful and gentle woman in the process. The young guide had a permanent soft spot when it came to his mother, and he was incensed that this man could have hurt her so badly, not to mention that he intended to kill her before he was done. How could anyone be that cruel to a woman who was so wonderful? Blair wanted to kill for the first time in his life. He had never wanted to take a life for no other reason than vengeance, but he’d do it gladly right now.
“Oh, Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Naomi cried, her voice breaking on every word. She had never felt so ashamed, not even when she leaked Blair’s dissertation. This man she had trusted had tried to kill her beautiful son. A pacifist almost since birth, she had never entertained the idea of doing violence to another human being, preferring instead to just ‘let it go’ whenever she was wronged. However, she would happily have picked up a gun and put a big hole right in the center of Gerald Dawkins’ forehead, given the opportunity. Or maybe killing him with her bare hands would be more satisfying. She could get Jim to hold him down for her -- there was no doubt about that -- and Simon Banks would probably be willing to help in the cover up. If only the stupid FBI weren’t involved, this would all be so easy.
“Mom, don’t even go there,” Blair began, and Naomi wondered if he’d been reading her thoughts. Her son was very intuitive, after all. “None of this was your fault,” he continued, disabusing her of the notion that he was using heretofore untapped telepathic abilities. “You just fell for the wrong guy. God knows, I’ve fallen for wrong women before.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Blair lifted his hands to cup his mother’s tear-stained face in his palms. “I’m just so sorry he hurt you like this.” He stroked his mother’s cheeks with his thumbs. “You, of all people, deserve to be happy; you bring such joy to everyone around you.” He smiled gently at her. “I love you more than anything … you know that, right?” Naomi nodded, not trusting her voice just yet. “And I gotta tell you, something really good came out of all this.” At her quizzical expression, he continued, deciding that this would be an ideal time to tell her his own romantic news. It would help take her mind off the betrayal she had suffered. “Jim told me he’s in love with me, and I told him I felt the same way about him.”
“Thank God and the Goddess!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her son. Then she rose from her seat on Blair’s bed and floated in a whirl of apricot silk that was the dress she wore, into the living room to catapult herself into Jim’s embrace. “Oh, Jim,” she gushed. “I’m so happy for you both!” Jim smiled indulgently at her, knowing what she meant because he had been listening in, just in case his guide needed back-up to convince Naomi this wasn’t her fault. “So when’s the wedding?” she asked, laughing as her future son-in-law’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
Jim and Blair soon joined her, and the loft was filled with the sounds of joy again, as it should always be.
The End
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Acknowledgements: Thanks to Mary for the beta and encouragement to offer this story for the Moonridge auction, and to Patt and Lisa for including it in the e-zine. Thank you to Corinne for the lovely artwork. Also, this is for Alyjude, who continues to inspire me. Last, but not least, thanks to Chelle for her generous bid on this story for the Moonridge animals.