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Claim It!

By: JLRemora2



This story is fictional. The events, characters, and locations are fictional, any resemblance to real life people and places is purely coincidental. I have taken certain liberties at some points in the story concerning the technology in use, otherwise, all other 'tools' are factual.

*****

"Hi, Babe! How was your day?" Don asked his wife in greeting, removing his heavy winter coat as he entered the living room.

Donna looked up at her husband, glistening tears welling out of her red eyes, her cheeks already streaked with trails of wetness.

"Honey! What's wrong?" asked Don, sudden concern evident in his tone, moving to her while carrying his jacket and lunch box.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" screamed Donna.

Don was stopped in his tracks, a step away from reaching his wife, by her angry screech.

Don looked at Donna in surprise, confusion filling his face at her reaction.

"What's wrong, babe?" asked Don. "What's going on? Why are you angry?" His voice full of worry for his wife.

Without replying, Donna sniffled a couple of times, wiping her eyes and her nose with a wad of tissue, before getting up from the couch, and walking into the kitchen.

"Donna! What's wrong?" Don said, his voice quickly growing in volume by the inanity of Donna's behavior.

Don followed his wife into the kitchen, where he found her standing by the sink, motionless, gazing out the window.

"Honey. Please tell me what's wrong. I'm sure whatever it is we can..." began Don, in a calm and placating tone.

"No! We can't! We can't put this behind us. No, we can't make it work! No, I'm not going to be the dutiful wife, dumb to the reality and pretend nothing has happened!" Donna said, interrupting Don, as she rattled off her heated words.

Don looked at his wife in dismay. Don suddenly felt as if Donna had grown two heads. One head was the nice one, the one he had grown to know and love, and the other was a new one, full of hate and spite, and spitting fire. He'd heard Donna's words, but they made no sense to Don, however, it was obvious Donna thought Don had done something horrid.

"What did I do? Or didn't do? Did I forget something? Your birthday? Our anniversary? Your mother's birthday? What? What is it I've done that has you so upset?" 

"Oh, fuck you! You asshole! Don't play dumb. Just admit it. Okay? Just say it! Be a man and own up to it. Isn't that what you tell your employees when they fuck up? Well, now it's your turn. Follow your own advice, Don!" grated out Donna, as she continued to stare out the window.

"What the hell has got into you? As for owning up to it, if I don't know what it is, I certainly can't claim it. Now, can I?"

"Fine!" clipped out Donna, finally turning to face him. "You want to play dumb. Fine. I'm talking about you and Michelle."

Nonplussed at Donna statement, Don didn't immediately respond.

Jumping on his hesitation, Donna exploded. "I knew it! You did fuck her! You goddamn motherfucking asshole. Get the fuck out of my house! NOW!"

Taken aback by his wife's uncharacteristic vehemence, Don could only look at Donna in stupefaction.

"I mean it, Don. You need to leave. Go stay with friends, or in a motel. I don't care. But, you are not staying here."

Don shook his head, still having trouble comprehending what he'd been accused of.

"No, Donna. I'm not leaving. This is my house. I bought it before I even knew you. Your name is not on the mortgage. And, I never fuc-"

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER! You want to play it like that, okay, but two can play that game! Just remember, Don, you started this shit!" yelled Donna, with a righteous fury that immediately set Don's nerves on edge, before she turned away, and stomping quickly out of the kitchen.

Don was beyond stunned. He and Donna were married a little less than five years, dating two years before tying the knot. They'd had numerous minor disagreements, and even a couple of heated arguments, but nothing at the level and intensity just displayed by Donna.

Don Hudson had always been an even tempered man, it was almost a requirement in his trade as a custom home builder. The long-term and constant dealing with the obtusity of his well-off clients regarding the finer points of home building had honed his patience and tamed his temper to the point he was able to maintain a calm demeanor. Most times. This was not one of those times.

As Don reviewed what had just happened with Donna, as blurred thoughts cascaded through his mind, the anger, a bare flicker in the beginning, exponentially grew in the matter of a few blinks of an eye, into a raging inferno.

Don wasn't sure what was going on, only that he'd been accused of something he hadn't done. The fact is, Michelle, a childless divorcee, and a good friend of Donna's, was a person that Don couldn't stand to be around. He didn't know Michelle's story, other than the little he'd been told by Donna, but the little he did know only served to solidify his dislike of her. He was pretty sure the feelings were mutual.

When he met Michelle at his and Donna's wedding it was readily apparent that she didn't care for him. Stupefied by Michelle's instant dislike of him, he, in turn, didn't care for her. They tolerated each other for the sake of Donna, but since the wedding Don doubted he'd said ten words to Michelle. He would certainly never touch Michelle. The mere thought of doing so made Don feel queasy. Donna was well aware of his feelings toward her friend. So it was with some confusion and anger that Don found his wife's accusations ridiculously Incongruous.

Trying to control his near exploding emotions, Don dropped his things atop the kitchen counter, and went to find Donna.

She was in their bedroom, walking to and fro, from the closet to the dresser to the bed, where several suitcases lay open, rapidly filling with hastily tossed in clothing.

He watched her for a moment before taking a deep ragged breath to further gain a hold on his anger. It failed, so in a tight harsh tone he explained, "Donna, I didn't fuck Michelle. You know how I feel about her so I don't know why you would ever think that. Where did you get such a fucked up idea?"

Her lithe body, small, but exactly proportioned to elicit attention from even the most sexually inured man, was a wonder to behold. Don knew that body very well. He knew every sweet crevice, every titillating curve, and every soft plane of skin. The thought that that body was packing to leave, sent a spear of pain into his heart. Yet, his face carried, or he hoped, an indifference to her current actions.

Donna continued to pack the suitcases, acting as if she hadn't heard her husband.

Forcing calm where none existed, Don said, in a more even, carefully controlled tone of voice, "Seriously Donna, what is going on? This... Your behavior- it's so unlike you."

She came to a stop, clothing draped over her arms, "Are you serious?! I told you exactly what is going on!"

She peered at him through slitted eyes, her face set in a hard grim expression, waiting on his reply.

Don shook his head, denying her accusation, backing it up with, "And, I told you that I have never fucked Michelle."

"Then why didn't you say that right away? Why did you hesitate? That's a sign of guilt and a way to buy time to come up with a lie!" yelled out Donna.

Drawing another breath and exhaling slowly, Don calmly replied, "You did not ask me anything. All you said is that you were talking about me and Michelle. And, that did not make sense to me. So yeah, I was caught by surprise. I did not know what you meant. Not until you specifically accused me. So now, I am telling you, that I have never fucked her. I have never spoken to her outside of your presence. And, when I have spoken to her, it has been for the briefest of moments. But, you know all that. So my question is why you do you believe I fucked her? Why, Donna?"

Don had annunciated his words carefully, taking his time, insuring that nothing was misheard or misunderstood. His trying experiences with some of his clients was paying off.

For a moment, Donna's expression became thoughtful, but only for a moment, before returning to the same bitter and hateful expression of before.

"Now you're talking to me like I'm a child! You think you can explain yourself out of this with your, oh so, calm and demeaning sarcasm? Think again, asshole! Just admit it and maybe, just maybe we can get through this. But, first you have to acknowledge and accept what you've done. Until you do that, we have no future as a wife and husband. I won't live with a cheater."

Sarcasm? Don hadn't expected his wife's response, he thought his measured reasoning would disabuse her belief.

His anger arose once more, with a vengeance, and before he could shackle it, it escaped.

"GODAMMIT! DONNA! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? HUH???"

Startled by his unexpected and wall shaking outburst, Donna took a step away from him. She had never seen him so angry. Again, just for a moment, Donna wavered in her resolve, as doubt set in. Then remembering what she'd knew, she steeled herself once more.

"Nothing is wrong with me, except I have a cheating husband who continues to lie about what he's done." With that said, Donna began to pack the suitcases once again.

Don, mustering a deep will, forced himself to a calmness that wanted to stay just out of reach, rather than to react at her statement. Instead, he looked at his wife thoughtfully, he thought he'd known her, but it was now obvious he really didn't know her at all. His thoughts jumbled by what was transpiring and his heart aching from her accusations, he came to realize she'd made up her mind and nothing he said was going to change that. Someone has been whispering things in Donna's ear, he was sure of that. There was no other explanation for her behavior.

Don thought it might be Michelle, but he didn't think she hated him, or hated him enough to destroy his marriage. Then again, he'd never thought Donna would ever behave as she has. So maybe Michelle did have something to do with all that was going on. 

"Well, Donna, at least tell me who filled your head with all that shit about me and Michelle. Can you do that?"

Without stopping her packing, and without looking at him, Donna replied evenly, "Why do you want to know? Are you going to try to shut them up? The cat is out of the bag and even if you do know who they are, you can't change the truth of what they've said."

"No, Donna. But, I do want to know why they've told you a lie. Why this person is so intent on destroying our marriage?"

"They are not destroying our marriage! You are! The only lie here is your continued denial of having sex with Michelle." Drawing a shuddering breath, Donna continued on before Don could respond. "Was I not enough for you? I never denied you sex! Not once! I did everything in bed with you, anytime you wanted it! And, I took care of our home. I did the shopping! I cooked! I cleaned! I dressed to look beautiful. For you! I was even ready to have our children. All the times you worked late, if that is what you were even doing, I stayed home. Alone! Wonderfully secure in the belief that you loved me. That building your business was securing our future. But, it was all just one big lie."

Don didn't care for what Donna had just said, but at least she was talking, even if she still hadn't budged from her notion of his cheating.

"No, Donna, it's not a lie. I love you very much. More than I ever thought was possible. That's why I wouldn't do the horrible thing you're accusing me of. With anyone! It's why I want to know who lied, and find out why they are doing this to us. Also, if you love me as much as you say you do, then why won't you at least give me the benefit of doubt?"

As Don spoke he had slowly eased himself closer to his wife, he was going to hold her, embrace her lovingly, to show her that he did love her, to somehow, with his touch, prove to her that he had never cheated on her. But, Donna picked that moment to turn and face him.

"Get away from me!" shouted Donna. More calmly, she added, "I don't want you touching me."

"Okay! Okay, fine." Don quickly replied, raising his hands, palms out, in an attempt to placate his wife, as he stepped back to the doorway.

Taking a moment to scrutinize her husband's face, trying to gauge his mood, Donna said, "Don, I want to believe you. I really do! But, the evidence- what I know, it won't let me."

"What evidence do you have, Donna? Photo shopped images? Spliced audio? Fake video? Or, is it just hearsay? Let me see this evidence. If not, then let me talk to the liar. I'll prove I haven't cheated on you."

"I don't have it with me. Why do you want to see it, anyway? So you can make up some story?" asked Donna accusingly.

Ignoring his wife's accusatory tone, he explained woodenly, "Nearly every photo shopped image has some tell tale signs of editing. It might even have something in the photo that doesn't belong in there. No one is perfect, and I'm betting whomever edited the photos, like adding me or Michelle into the image, made some mistakes. Finding any of that in the photos would prove they're fake and prove the person a liar." 

"I never said it was photos. How do you know it's photos? Unless you were there and took them!" Donna said in a rising voice.

"I don't know what the evidence is you claim you have or seen, but I guessed it was probably images. Unless you're going by the word of one person, then that's another animal altogether. But, I think you just confirmed it's images." said Don in a heated tone of voice. 

"I know what I saw! Look, forget all that for the moment." said Donna in a pained tone. After a moment, where she took time to get calmer, she continued, "Please, if you love me, you'll own up to what you've done, claim it and I promise you, I will try to work past it. We can even go to counseling. We won't ever be the same as we were before, but maybe we can still be together."

Shaking his head in disgust and sighing deeply, Don replied, "It's already changed, Donna. We will never be as we were. It's not because I've done anything, but because the mutual trust we had is gone. You don't trust me because you believe I've cheated, and I don't trust you because of how you have reacted to somebody's lie about me."

"And honestly, Donna, the mutual respect we once enjoyed is also history. So, yes, things have already changed between us, things that will never return to what we had before. No amount of counseling is going to fix that. So if you leave, it will only serve to cement our new dynamic. And, it isn't a good one, Donna. If you stay and we work together to uncover what is going on, then maybe we will have a chance at a new beginning. But, only if you stay and work this through with me. Once you walk out that door, I won't know what you'll be doing and with whom. Which will just add further problems to our relationship."

Donna glared at her husband. If looks could kill, he would be in his death throes.

"I can't believe this! You sanctimonious bastard! You're accusing me of wanting to have an affair?!" yelled Donna. "I was told you might try to turn the tables! Everything you're saying just proves to me that you cheated! No! I'm not staying under the same roof as you, you fucking asshole! Now get the fuck out, so I can finish packing, and I can get the fuck out!"

"Donna-" began Don.

"Shut the fuck up and leave me alone. You've had your say and I have nothing else to say to you until you come clean." said Donna in a more controlled voice, but one edged with a hard unrelenting tone.

"Okay. If that is the way you want it, Donna. Then finish packing and get the fuck out of MY house!" said Don in a harsh steely voice. A voice usually reserved for those employees who badly fucked up a job. As Don turned to walk away, Donna took one last parting shot.

"You were obviously man enough to fuck my friend, so be a man again and admit that you fucked her! As you're so fond of saying, claim it! But, you won't, because you're not a man, so go fuck yourself!"

He'd had enough! He was fed up with Donna's shit. Without conscious thought, Don whirled toward the bedroom door. Donna saw her husband pivot abruptly, but it was his face that caused her concern. And his voice.

His body trembled with the sustained effort of remaining in control, but his eyes burned with a red hot furiousness, to the point they seemed to glow. He grated out in a low hissing voice, more like a steam pipe ready to explode than a human voice, "Get out! Now! Take what you've packed so far! And get out. Don't return! Give me a list of what you want! I'll send the rest of your shit to where ever you're staying"

For the first time since she'd known Don, Donna was frightened of him. She had never known him to be so cold, so uncaring, so intimidating, so scary. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. All she could do was nod. She stood there, like a deer caught in a car's headlights, unable to move.

"Now! Get out!"

His frigid, almost inhumane tone of voice broke her thrall. Donna quickly snapped the suitcases shut, grabbing as many as she could carry at once. She turned to to see if the doorway was clear, and it was, Don had walked away. She eased out of the bedroom, ready to jump back if need be, but Don was nowhere in sight. She slowly walked down the hallway to the front room, fear making her cautious, but the room was clear. Don wasn't in there, either. The path to the front door was before her.

Donna wasted no time getting to her car and loading up the suitcases she carried. She almost didn't return for the rest of the suitcases, but she needed her clothing, so with much trepidation she reentered what had once been her home. Now, suddenly, it felt as if she no longer belonged there. It was a stranger's home. The warmth, the comfort, and love that previously seemed to infuse all who entered had abruptly changed to a frosty, very disquieting, void. To her surprise, she found the couple of remaining suitcases set near the front door. Don was no where to be seen.

Soon she was driving off, heading to her parent's home, where she would stay until she found a place of her own.

~N~

"Dammit, Boss. You've bitched at the men all week long. They're about ready to quit. I'm not trying to get into your business, but whatever has you so riled up, you need to take care of it. Before the men do quit."

Don was ready to snap at his friend and foreman, Pete Santos, but he realized Pete was right. He had been taking his anger and frustrations out on the men. Not that some of the crew hadn't deserved it, but he had been heavy handed since his wife had left on Monday,

"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry, Pete."

"It's not me you need to apologize to, but if you apologize to those bozo's you'll never hear the end of it." said Pete with a chuckle. In a more serious vein, Pete continued. "Look, we ain't working tomorrow, so they'll have the entire weekend to get over it. You on the other hand, whatever is bothering you, I get the feeling it ain't that simple to fix."

Sighing, Don looked at his foreman. Pete was a short but stocky man, with skin the color of old leather, he was of Hispanic origin, but spoke perfect English. He was also a great foreman. Not to mention, Pete was the guy who gave him his start at the construction company they'd first met, and later helped him start his own company.

"She left me, Pete."

Pete looked at his boss' face, and for a moment he wondered who Don was talking about. "Who? You mean your wife left you? Donna left you?"

"Yes, Donna. She left."

"Madre de Dios! What happened?"

At first, Don told the story hesitantly, almost reluctantly, but as Pete simply stood and listened, nodding occasionally, Don became more at ease in the telling. When he was finished, Don felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his soul. He was still angry, but the anger was no longer threatening to spill over and burn everyone else.


Claim It! Pt. 02



Fictional story, et al. Any misspellings and or grammatical errors are solely mine (I wish they weren't but there you have it).

*****

Don had had a tension filled week. Since he had spoken to Pete about being followed, the idea of being monitored, had slowly eaten away at him. Pete had fairly ordered him to continue on as he had before, to act ignorant of the monitoring. Pete promised as soon as it could be verified, Don would know whether his house and truck were bugged.

Don, busy with running his jobs, had spoken to Pete frequently, strictly about their construction business. Pete gave no indication that anything was amiss and continued to be his usual self each time Don had spoken to him. Which grated on Don's nerves. Don knew part of his unease was due to his impatience, he wanted to know everything yesterday, and to do something about it. Donna wasn't too far from his mind, either, but he felt helpless in that regard.

It was Friday afternoon, Don's crew had just knocked off work, and the last of the men had left, when Pete drove up. Pete drove a raggedly looking older Chevy truck with darkly tinted windows, a couple of dents, some scratches and badly peeling paint, but upon closer inspection, the truck rode on new tires, the engine purred with power, the steering was tight, it could stop on a dime and every dash instrument worked, including the radio.

Don stepped out of his small job trailer to greet Pete, but he hadn't exited the truck. Don saw his partner waving him over.

"What's up?" Don asked, somewhat apprehensive.

"Stow the long face, mi amigo! Get in. I think we might have another job, but I want you to look at it before we bid on it. You can ride with me. Shake a leg, hombre!" cheerfully hollered Pete out the truck window as he shown Don a large note held just below the window's edge. The note read, 'Leave your cell phone in the trailer. Don't ask questions, just do it. Don't react.'

Don eyes widened as he read the note. He had expected something else from Pete, but shrugged his shoulder's and said, "Sure. I just need to lock up."

In the truck, Pete discreetly waved some sort of electronic wand over Don. As Don started to protest, Pete shook his head slightly to negate any response. Once on the road, Pete drove slowly and with utmost care. The route was a new one to Don, but then they usually picked up jobs all over town, so it wasn't unusual.

"There is no job. Is there?" asked Don as he idly stared at the passing scenery.

"Nope. We got some info on the bozos that have been watching you."

At Pete's words, Don perked up. "Really? There's no job?" Not stopping to allow his friend to answer, Don plunged ahead. "Do you know who they are? Why are they doing it?" he asked impatiently.

"Whoa, there, partner. One thing at a time. First, we are going to see the guy who's been on top of that. He'll explain what he's discovered. Two, I don't know anything myself, other than what I've told you. Three, don't expect too much at this time. If the guys watching you are pros then we have to move very cautiously, otherwise, they'll know they've been made and get spooked. Okay?"

"Yeah. I get it. I'm just so frustrated. You know? I've been thinking that whomever is behind this got to Donna somehow, using faked proof. If that's the case, then I have to find Donna and explain it to her. But, I need some sort of evidence to support what I suspect happened. Dammit! This is so fucked up!"

"I hear you, man. I really do. We'll do what we can to get to the bottom of this. I promise you that." replied Pete, feelingly.

They rode another twenty minutes when Pete abruptly pulled in between two buildings and into a dark alley, putting a finger to his lips, he motioned Don to exit the truck. In front of Pete's truck was parked another vehicle, a late model dark blue Dodge Charger. Pete fairly ran to it, waving Don over.

"Get in! Hurry!" hissed Pete as he himself climbed into the car.

Right before Don got in, he looked back and saw two men entering Pete's truck. One man had the same build and complexion as Pete, the other guy could have passed for Don in a police line-up. Wonder momentarily filled Don, but quickly dissipated as understanding set in. Pete had thought of everything, including how to ditch Don's tail.

Once under way and back on the road, Don turned to Pete, saying, "Smooth move."

A grinning Pete, barked a harsh laugh in response.

They drove in relative silence until they arrived at a gated dirt drive that disappeared into a thickly wooded forest. Pete had taken them out to what was basically, wilderness. A lush line of various trees edged the main roadway, with towering hills surrounding the area.

Pete opened the gate and drove in, stopped and relocked the gate before driving further along the narrow road. They drove for a couple of miles before coming to the base of a hill, surrounded by another heavily wooded area. There stood a small house, a shack really, nestled between some large trees and the bottom of a hill. There was nothing obvious indicating anyone lived out here. Yet, Pete drove right up to the trees and stopped, shutting down the engine.

Pete hadn't made a move to exit the car. "Aren't we going to-" began Don.

"No. We stay inside the car until we get a signal. And, it's best we don't talk." broke in Pete before Don could finish his question.

Darkness hadn't quite set in, but already, with the heater off, the approaching night's frost was beginning to seep into the car's interior.

As the minutes passed, night closed in, and soon, it was too dark to see beyond even the sedan's hood.

Don, now shivering from the frigid cold, whispered to Pete, "How much longer? I'm fucking freezing!"

"Hang on a little longer. Hopefully, the wait won't be too much longer." Don heard and sensed Pete rummaging around a bit then he felt Pete pushing something at him.. "Here, mi amigo, a blanket I brought just for you. It's old, but it's wool. It'll help keep you warm."

Don hadn't seen Pete carrying anything when they changed vehicles, but gratefully accepted the blanket, quickly wrapping it around him. The stiff heavy blanket smelled old and musty, but mostly it retained the odor of old oil. His body heat, now further trapped by the added insulation, began to warm him enough to calm his shivering.

"Ah, here he is." said Pete,. 

Don squinted through the fogged windshield but failed to see anyone. "Where?" asked Don curtly, annoyed at being unable to see anything. "Are you sure, I don't see-"

"Shh! Don't talk so loud. Yes, I'm sure. Soon, he'll be waiting for us at the shack. He'll signal us when he's ready. Have patience, my friend, the wait is almost over." replied Pete in a loud whisper. "When we get in there let me do the talking. I know you have questions, but these people don't know you yet, and they are less likely to be cooperative."

"Yeah. Whatever." said Don, curtly. 

Don's patience was at a end. He was cold and hungry, and mostly tired. Right at the moment, Don didn't care about knowing whether his place and his truck were bugged. All he concerned himself with was to go home and sleep. If anyone wanted to watch him sleep and hear him snore, then it was their good fortune, because Don was ready to aid them in their endeavor.

Don sat sullenly, as he waited on Pete's friend to signal them. A few minutes passed, and Don was ready to tell Pete to call it a night, when he saw a quick flash of a dim red light.

"Okay, let's go." ordered Pete.

As the two men approached the shack, a large shadowy figure separated itself from the small building and approached them.

"Stop!" said the figure in a low harsh male voice.

Without replying, Pete came to a sudden stop, while grasping Don's arm and pulling him to a stop, too.

"Wha-" began Don in sore indignation.

"Be quiet. Just do what he says." whispered Pete, harshly.

Don couldn't see beyond the darkness, yet, up close he could vaguely sense the mysterious figure running something up and done their bodies.

"You're both clean." grunted the man.

"Thanks." said Pete simply.

"Enter." invited the unknown man.

Without a word, Pete moved forward toward the building. Don followed along.

The interior of the shack was even darker than being outside. Don sensed another person in the room and for some inexplicable reason that had him feeling far more concern than he had a had so far, and as his concern escalated he felt a sudden urge to bolt,

The sound of the door closing snapped Don out of his growing dread. After all, he was here with Pete and Pete wouldn't let anything happen to him. Would he?

"Each of us is going to place our hand on each of your shoulders. We are going to guide you to another location. Remain calm and do what you are told." explained the harsh voiced man. "Okay, let's move out."

Each of us? How many were there? Don thought as felt a gloved hand land on his shoulder and with a gentle squeeze and a slight push, directed him to start walking.

They walked in the darkness for what seemed like hours, but were only a few minutes. Don's spine had begun tingling from the minute he walked into the shack, and as they walked in complete darkness, with each second that passed, the tingling began to feel like an electric shock. To offset this feeling, Don began to count his steps and note the turns they took.

"Relax. We're almost there." whispered the person guiding him. The voice was not the same voice as Don had heard previously, it was soft rather than harsh, and the person spoke with a slight lilt and not with a grunt.

Shortly, Don and Pete were lead into another room. Also, without lighting. But, this room felt different to both of them. For one thing, it was no longer freezing cold, although it was still cool. Also, there was a slight dampness to the air. And, the noise of their footfalls sounded strangely echoed.

"I'm going to turn on a light. Shade your eyes." gruffly said a man's voice.

The hand that had been on Don's shoulder suddenly dropped off, and a moment later a light came on.

Don was surprised to see they were in what appeared to be a cavern. The light emanated from a battery powered fluorescent camp lamp sitting on a small wooden table. There were three people dressed in black uniforms, wearing black caps with night vision devices strapped to their heads. Don half expected them to be armed, but he didn't see any sign of weapons, for which he felt relief. This entire thing was beginning to feel like a bad movie.

The largest of the three, spoke up as he removed his goggles. "Santos." he said in greeting with a nod in Pete's direction. It was the man with the now familiar gruffness. He was a truly massive figure of a man. Larger than any man Don recalled ever seeing. He was almost monolithic.

"Hughes." acknowledged Pete, in a flat voice.

The other two also removed their goggles. Don was surprised to see that one wasn't a man at all. It was a tall woman whose face seemed crooked somehow. She could have been beautiful, but Don couldn't tell, because her face was also heavily scarred. The woman's eyes noted Don's curious glance but her gaze remained unwavering and her expression, stoic. 

Don broke off his examination of the woman's face when he realized she'd seen him looking at her. With his face heating in embarrassment, Don focused his attention on Pete.

"Mendoza. Rhodes." continued Pete with his acknowledgments, giving each a nod. Don saw that the other man was dark skinned, darker than Pete, and assumed he was Mendoza. Meaning Rhodes was the woman's name.

The air seemed filled with barely held tension, when all at once, the two men and Pete, unexpectedly grinned and began laughing. The woman remained quiet and unmoved.

"The years ain't been kind to you, Top. You're uglier than my wife's fat hairy ass." roared Hughes with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, Top. How ya been?" Drawled Mendoza in a southern accent.

"Sergeant Major." Rhodes acknowledged simply, in the same soft lilting voice Don had heard before.

"I'm glad you numb-nuts still remember me, it means between all of you, there are still a few brains cells left. That will certainly come in handy for what's coming up." cracked Pete in a voice Don hadn't heard him use before, but was reminiscent of his Army days.

Each one of the three, either guffawed, laughed, or smiled, at Pete's repartee.

"Okay, now that the warm fuzzes are over with, what have you all discovered?" demanded Pete. "By the way, this is the 'client', Donald Hudson. Don, this your team. Hughes, Mendoza, and Rhodes. They'll have your back through out all this."

Each nodded their heads in turn, as their name was mentioned. Don returned their nods.

Hughes stepped closer, rubbing his chin, explaining, "Well, Top, once we got the word from- "he quickly glanced at Don before saying, -from our mutual contact, with what you needed, we got busy."

Hughes stepped toward the table, moved the lamp to the side, and told Rhodes, "Bring the case here."

Opening the aluminum colored metal briefcase, Hughes started reading from a screen.

"Hudson's house is wired like a microwave tower. Both visual and audio monitoring are employed, using hardwired systems and short range transmission systems. The hardwired systems are using the house's main phone line on a second, and unregistered, number. The wireless transmission is broadcasting roughly two-hundred meters. The only location that fits the broadcast area is a empty house that is for sale. The house is one-hundred forty-five meters northwest of Mister Hudson's home. The address is-" 

"Never mind that. We can return to the details later. What about his truck?" ordered Pete.

After hitting a few keys, Hughes, answered, "Mister Hudson's truck is also wired. Audio only. And the range on that system is about one-hundred meters. All the monitoring systems are low power, hence the short ranges. My guess is whomever is involved, is trying to hide their electronic presence by keeping the energy levels low."

"His phones?" asked Pete.

Hughes hit some more keys. "The land line to Mister Hudson's house is tapped at the pole. His cell phone is hacked and cracked. We uploaded a small sniffer application into it and we should be able to do a trace to whatever device is used for monitoring. We might even be able to get a geographical location."

"Anything else tapped."

"No, that's it." replied Hughes. "We checked thoroughly. If they're using anything else, it's beyond anything we know of."

Pete pondered that a moment before responding.

"Okay. What else do we know?"

Hughes looked at Rhodes, "Take it from here, Wanda."

Wanda Rhodes drew in a slow breath, turned to Pete and began speaking. Don couldn't help but be fascinated by the woman's lilting voice. Thus, his attention was riveted on her and what she would say.

"We spotted two males entering a house- the same house we traced the transmissions to that are coming from Mister Hudson's home. We took video and photos of the two men using a dual function digital teleoptic system. Although our vantage point was at two-thousand plus meters, the still photo resolution was sufficient for identification. One male is identified as Barry Miner, a former SAS operative. The other male is one Malcolm Lewis, a professional contractor". Noticing the frown on Hudson's face, Rhodes added in explanation, "A gun for hire. Both men have respective experience in intelligence gathering, including HUMNIT and SIGNIT."

To Don it seemed, the way Wanda was talking, she would continue with more information, but she abruptly stopped speaking. It had caught him off-guard.

Pete eyed the tall woman for a moment before looking to Hughes and started to say, "I think-"

Don, urged on more by irritation than forethought, interrupted with, "I would like to ask a few-"

"Don! We spoke about this. Let me handle it." sternly admonished Pete.

"-questions." finished Don, ignoring Pete's rebuke.

The other three looked between the two men, as each respectively spoke. Although they were mildly interested in the verbal exchange, their overriding concern was if there was going to be a change in leadership.

Don turned his body toward Pete, to face him fully. Pete glared hotly at Don, but Don's expression remained set; a unreadable mask. However, his eyes burned with a unyielding passion. "Pete. I'm immeasurably grateful for all your help and the help provided by your friends." Don raised a arm to indicate the three silently but attentive, black uniformed people. "But, it's my life, not yours- or theirs- that is hanging in the balance here. I need to have input and make decisions about the things that will affect me. That means I need to have direct communication with the people who have the information."

Swinging his head to look at each of them in turn, Don made brief eye contact with all of the three, before doing the same with his friend, Pete.

Everyone heard, in Don's voice, the honest sincerity and the tenacity of his will. It also felt as if those things formed a solid substance, encasing Don in its impenetrability.

"I was blind-sided once before. I won't let that happen again. To insure that it doesn't, I have to be a active part of this team. Or else..." Don, looking Pete directly in his eyes, said, "I will shake all your hands and thank you for your effort and time- as I wish you farewell."

A tension filled silence echoed off the the small cavern's walls as Don finished uttering the last word.

Pete broke eye contact first, shaking his head. "Damn, amigo! You sure know how to give a speech. Maybe, I should be taking lessons from you." Although, Santos' words were otherwise humorous, he spoke with a stiffness that belied their superficial meaning.

"Pete, from what I've seen and heard, there is history between the four of you. I get that. I even think it's a good thing. Between you all, I suspect, there is a level of trust and loyalty that money can't buy. I understand. But, I also hear something else. I hear decisions will be made, actions taken, on my behalf to be sure, but with little or no say so from me. It's not in me to live my life like that when I can take some control. Dammit, Pete! I kicked out Donna because of something similar. What makes you think I'm going to be, or do, otherwise, now?"

Pete's intense glare softened a little as Don's words registered in his brain. With a more thoughtful expression, Pete said, "Okay, Don. I see your point. I respect that and your position. But, it really isn't up to me. It's a condition required by the team leader in order to get his team involved. It'll be up to the team leader to accept the sort of change you want."

"Okay. Who's the team leader?" asked Don in a voice with no less yield than before.

"I am, Mister Hudson." answered Hughes with his, seemingly trademarked, harsh voice. "To be straight up, I don't know you from Adam. I've read your history. I know you served, and that's fine and dandy, but the only one- other than my team- that I trust, is Santos here. I don't know how you'll react under a given set of circumstances. Whether you'll listen to reason or act out of passion. Even with Santos' high regard for you, I still wouldn't take his word alone, without knowing that you won't fuck up the mission or worse, endanger my team. By the way, our being here is a favor to Santos, not to you."

As Hughes began speaking, Don turned to look at the large man. Don listened with a sharp focus, weighing each word carefully as it fell on his ears.

Hughes looked at his team and at Santos, before continuing.

"I'd rather walk, leaving the mission before I operate outside of the conditions I've set down. If you don't like it, then-" Hughes shrugged his wide massive shoulders. "We'll gather our gear, load our asses, and fade into history. The choice is yours, Mister Hudson. We operate through Santos, or we go."




Claim It! Pt. 02



"Then you wal-" started Don, heatedly, before Pete hastily cut him off.

"Don! Listen! Don't say it. These people are trying to help you, but only if they can do it their way." Pete had raised his voice to keep Don from interrupting. "There is a lot more going on than you think, Don. It's not just about Donna. Listen to what else they have to say before you make a irreversible decision. Don, don't be a fuck up."

Don felt his anger rise even higher at Pete's plea, but managed to quell it before it reached his tongue.

Don nodded, simply saying, "Okay, Pete." as he eyed Hughes critically. 

Relief evident on his face, Pete told Hughes to continue with the rest of the report.

"Mendoza, you're up." barked Hughes without taking his eyes off Hudson. 'This one is going to be trouble', thought Hughes. 'We'll have to keep a close eye on him to be sure he doesn't fuck anything up.'

In his reserved manner and heavy southern drawl, Mendoza looked at Hughes a moment before turning to face Don.

"The two vehicles that have followed you, Mister Hudson, are unregistered. The plates are stolen and although they match the make and model of the vehicles they're on, they're definitely not the vehicles the plates were originally issued to. Also, the drivers aren't the same two men who entered the house. We identified the drivers, but they're no more than low-level private investigators hired to follow you. There are no other vehicles involved in following you. Just those two."

"Based on what is presently known, we have surmised the reason they're following you is two reasons. One, to receive whatever you say in or near your truck. Two, to intercept and nab you, at a moment's notice." finished Mendoza quietly.

Disquieted by what he had just heard, Don stepped back to lean against a nearby cavern wall as everyone eyed him.

"How the fuck do you all know this? How are you all so sure?" asked a disbelieving Don.

Mendoza stepped back, clearly differing to the large man, Hughes, to explain.

"Mister Hudson, we use many methods. Some are NSA level. I won't disclose the specifics of our secrets, but we wouldn't declare any data as solid unless we had first corroborated it via other means. Rest assured, what Mendoza has stated is indeed fact. You will be taken against your will. We just don't know when. Yet.""

Don glanced over at Pete, but his friend and business partner was looking down.

"Seriously? Just like that, they'll grab me?" asked a shaken Don. "Why? What do I have to do with Donna's inheritance that someone would kidnap me?"

Hughes spoke up, "Many reasons, Mister Hudson. In this case, we think that taking you temporarily out of the picture will insure whatever is in the works will be completed without a hitch. We don't think they mean to harm or kill you. Only to stop you from interfering with their plan."

"How can I interfere? I don't know what the fuck is going on?!" shouted Don in frustration and worry.

"Easy, sir." said Hughes. In a softer voice, reducing his harshness to a whisper of its former roughness, Hughes further said, "The visit with your wife's friend, Michelle Lambry, might have given- whomever is in charge- a cause for concern. They might have had bugs in her place too, and heard what was discussed." Seeing Don's look of surprise, Hughes explained.

"Santos told us everything you told him. We checked Miss Lambrey's... Michelle's place, as well. We didn't locate any bugs, but they might have already removed them before we arrived. We have to operate as if they know you know something, even if you don't. We do have an idea of what is going to go down, but until we can gather more intelligence we are largely operating in the dark."

It was almost too much for Don. He never expected to be involved in such cloak and dagger. It was a side of reality that, although, he'd heard about, it had never experienced until now. So far, he really hated what he was going through.

With a sigh of resignation, if not outright acceptance, as to his circumstances, Don asked in a tired voice, "When will you know more?"

"That's difficult to say. Opportunities arise in a fickle manner, but based on past missions, I'd say about one more week and we should have a better idea of what is going on." replied Hughes. "As to when we'll have a complete picture, again..." said Hughes with another one of his mountain shaking shrugs.

"But, Mister Hudson, although your objections have been noted, we will continue operating as I've already explained. If that's still a problem then we stop at this point. What'll it be?"

Shaking his head, Don looked at Pete, who nodded approval in return.

"I guess I have no choice, Mister Hughes. I'll have to deal with it, whether I like it or not."

Nodding acknowledgment of Don's disgruntlement, Hughes replied, "We'll inform Santos as the information comes in. Mister Hudson, continue with your activity as you have been- feigning ignorance. Rhodes will return you both to the entry point. Good night, Mister Hudson." With that, the light on the table went out as Mendoza flipped the off switch.

~N~

Monday morning dawned cloudy and bitterly cold. For Mendoza and Rhodes, the climate was just another factor to take into account. Something they'd been doing for a number of years. Not that they didn't feel the frigid cold, for they did, it's simply that they didn't allow it to interfere with their mission. Presently, part of that mission was monitoring any incoming and outgoing transmissions at the house the two men, Miner and Lewis, used as a base. The van the team had procured for the mission was parked two streets over from Hudson's house, but the engine was off and the small heater that sat atop the roof of the van barely kept the temperature above the freezing point.

The men had left several times over the last few days, and no one else had entered the ordinarily empty house. That particular bit of information didn't imply there weren't others in the house, in fact, the team operated under the assumption that there were other personnel in the house. 

"Do we have a signal?" inquired Mendoza of Rhodes.

"Yes. The signal strength is weak but steady. We're recording." replied Rhodes as she adjusted the tuner on the electronic/magnetic signal monitoring equipment, through the laptop's software.

"Is there anything being broadcast in the open?" asked Mendoza, innocently. A derisive snort was his only reply. "I had to ask." returned Mendoza.

"How much longer until we get a point of reception?"

"Maybe around the same time you get lucky with 'No Way in Hell' Elana." quipped Rhodes, deadpan.

"Oh, then we should have something real soon." retorted Mendoza, with a slight chuckle.

Rhodes rolled her eyes briefly as she sat, carefully watching the laptop's screen.

There was a peculiar sound outside just the van, an unexpected sound that had Mendoza meta-morphing from a languid idleness to a blur of violent motion, with his empty hands suddenly sprouting a H&K MP7. Rhodes rolled out of the chair, dropping to the floor, in one smooth motion, while she drew a S&W 500. Both weapons were silenced as well as they could be. From a nearby cabinet, both operatives removed then donned protective eye wear and breathing gear.

They took a glance at each other, their looks passed across with many questions and answers. Their course of action thus decided, they acted. With long practice and hard won experience they moved as the professional team they were. The strange sound heard might have been caused by an innocent event, but the team had had too many close calls to take anything for granted.

On the floor of the van they crept noiselessly forward, toward the doors. The door windows were up, but heavily fogged, as was the windshield. There were no other windows in the van. Between the two seats, mounted in the floor, behind the engine cowl, was a small hatch. Egress to the outside could be accomplished without being easily seen. By silent consent, Mendoza would use the exit to reconnoiter the immediate area around the van, while Rhodes would provide a defensive position in case anyone tried to enter through the windows.

No sooner had Mendoza lowered most of his body, when he spasmed and lay still. Rhodes had heard a couple of barely audible 'meaty thunks' right before Mendoza stopped moving. Rhodes couldn't tell if Mendoza was severely wounded or dead, and she couldn't take time to discover the difference. Rhodes used her throat mike to sub-vocalize a message to Hughes.

"Under attack. Unknown enemy. Mike Mike is down. Romeo Romeo pinned in van."

She didn't get a reply, but she didn't expect one. She didn't expect rescue, either. Rhodes' only intent was to inform her superior of the situation. She expected to die. Not that she wanted to die, but she knew the score. What she could do and intended to do, was to take out the assholes that had shot Mendoza. For that, she was ready.

A shadow quickly crossed the driver's side window, but moved off before Rhodes could react. A second later, the passenger side window shattered and a jacketed arm quickly snaked in to release the lock, and just as quickly removed itself. Rhodes took quick aim, just short of the metal door frame and slightly lower, and pulled the trigger. The heavy fifty-caliber round tore through the van's sheet metal side like it were tissue paper, leaving a long gouge before exiting the van.

Rhodes heard a brief grunt and the sound of a falling body hitting pavement.

A short curse sounded just outside the driver's side of the van. Then Rhodes heard the familiar sound of a weapon being cocked, and immediately lay flat upon the floor of the van, facing the left side of the van. It was no protection, it only offered the chance that the shooter would begin shooting high before bringing his weapon to cover the lower part of the van. If so, Rhodes would get a chance to center a shot based on the pattern and location of the rounds poking holes in the side of the van. If she were lucky, she'd kill the shooter, if not, she at least hoped to wound them. She didn't expect to live, but she was going to give it her best to make sure she didn't go alone.

As expected, but still suddenly, the shooting began. Surprisingly, the weapon the shooter was using was not silenced. Interesting, thought Rhodes, even as the bullets flew to the side and just above her head. With a practiced air, Rhodes quickly analyzed the probable location of the shooter and took careful aim. Just as she squeezed the trigger one of the shooter's rounds caught her in the shoulder. It hit bone, which knocked her back against the small chair at the monitoring console, however, even as the darkness closed in, she managed to aim and fire one last round. 

~N~

The man had just sat down at his wood desk in his home study, when his throw away phone rang. The desk's oak and mahogany sheen was something the man truly enjoyed, it was one of the few secret pleasures he allowed himself. Also, the desk was something he had worked hard and long to acquire. The acquisition of the desk was a huge victory in itself, but it was still but one victory of many yet to come. The ringing of the phone heralded another victory, adding to the man's sense of conquest, as those on the other end of the ringing phone, worked to insure each and every win.

He answered the phone but didn't speak. The man never spoke over this phone.

"We have two dead. We are compromised. The mission is a scrub. No further contact will be initiated." said the cold artificial voice. Yet, through the emotionless tones, the man thought he detected anguish. The connection terminated.

The man lowered the phone mindlessly, his thoughts a jumble of incoherency, his dreamed of conquests, now, just pieces of a crumbling reality.

~N~

Pete had phoned Don to join him at his job site, using difficult job issues as an excuse. Don should be arriving shortly.

Since Don's and Pete's meeting with the team that was helping Don, their relationship had grown distant and somewhat strained. Pete didn't blame Don for wanting to have a hands on role, but Hughes had made it clear from the beginning how it was going to be. They both assumed Don would go along with the plan. With a sigh, Pete stretched his arms over his head, while curving his back. He heard the accustomed sound of popping of his vertebrae and relaxed.

Now, Pete had to mend the broken fence that was his and Don's relationship. To restore the friendship that they'd had for so long. Pete just didn't know what he would say to start fixing things. He wasn't sure there was anything that could be said that would allow the two of them to regain what had been lost. But, he had to try, hence the impromptu meeting with Don.

Pete was lost in these thoughts when his cell phone rang. Without giving it much thought, Pete answered, thinking it was Don calling to tell him he was delayed. But, it wasn't Don's voice who spoke.

"We have a problem. Bring Hudson and yourself to the previous location. Wait until you're signaled."

Pete heard Hughes' voice, but the message hadn't yet penetrated his brain, because of the surprise that had filled his mind upon hearing Hughes. Hughes had never contacted him directly before, contact had always been through a mutually trusted third party. 'Something bad has gone down,' thought Pete. 'It must have for Hughes to break well established procedure.' That put Pete on a hair trigger alert.

After Don arrived and they were on the road, Pete reiterated what Hughes had told him. The two men rode in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. They did the vehicle exchange as before and drove to the previous meeting location. Pete parked in much the same spot as before and they sat to wait for the signal.

"Don, what happened here last Friday, between us- What Hughes wanted, it wasn't something that I planned. That's just the way he is. He's very protective of his team." Stopping to allow Don to say something, when it was apparent Don preferred to remain silent he continued a moment later. "You really need his help. He's the best with this sort of business. Even if you dislike how he's tried to do it, don't allow that to blind you to the necessity of keeping Hughes working on your behalf. You really need him in your corner. Even if it means hating me for it."

The silence stretched out into several seconds until Don sighed in the darkness of the car's front seats.

"I don't hate you, Pete. I don't hate anyone. I just want my life to be normal. You know? This...This stuff that is happening to me. To Donna. To everyone that has been dragged in to it, it's not my life. It's not a life that I want, either. I want Donna back, but I think that's not going to happen. She's been gone for two weeks. It seems like an eternity. More importantly, even if she returns and I take her back, nothing will be the same. It won't ever be like it was. I don't know if I can deal with that drastic a change. I just don't know."

Pete had heard the pain and doubt in Don's voice as he spoke.

"I know, amigo. Believe me, I know. But, you won't know what kind of life you could have with Donna until you try. It might be something you won't like, but it might be something way better than what you had before. You gotta try before you can find out." 

Don was about to retort when he and Pete saw the dim red light.

The same method of greeting and leading them to the cavern welcomed them on entering the shack. However, the voice that spoke was not Hughes and the person that guided Don was not Rhodes.

However, before they entered the cavern, they saw the light shining out of the cavern's main entrance. Which doesn't bode well, said Pete to himself.

Hughes sat at the same small table, and the same lamp now hung from a metal stand near the table. The stand was a new addition, as was the long wooden bench set against the cavern wall. Hughes' face was a study in stone. His eyes looked both dead and deadly. Even Don, who didn't know the man, sensed something was terribly wrong.

"Sit. Both of you" commanded Hughes in a voice filled with promise of pain and death. He pointed at the bench, motioning with his hand for them to sit.

Both men walked over to the bench and sat, without offering protest or indignation at their treatment. They both knew something bad had occurred. How it involved them, and they felt that it did involve them, remained to be seen.

Hughes stood, his height and size seemed larger than the last time Don had seen him, in fact, Hughes looked down right menacing.

"I want to know which one of you sorry ass-fucks sang like a goddamn parrot?" growled Hughes.

Pete stared at Hughes, trying to understand what he meant with his question. "I don't know what you are asking, Gerald. If you quit fucking around and spit it out then I might be able to answer" replied Pete, calmly, if a bit cool.

Don stared at Hughes then at Pete, as much at a loss as Pete, at Hughes question. Upon hearing the name Gerald, Don wondered if Pete was trying to egg Hughes on.

Eyes closed to near slits, Hughes glared at the two men. "Are you going to tell me you don't know?" demanded Gerald Hughes.

Pete's eyes never wavered, never blinked as he returned Hughes' stare with a searching one. "What happened, LT?" asked Pete softly.

"You really don't- I mean- Oh, fuck it!" exclaimed Hughes in frustration. "Mendoza and Rhodes got hit."

A low hiss passed between Pete's teeth. "How bad?"

Hughes rubbed a monstrous hand over his equally large face. "Mendoza is gone. Rhodes- She might live, but she's so messed up- she might not be back."

At the mention of Rhodes' possible future, Don felt a pang of sadness. He certainly didn't wish ill upon Mendoza, but he didn't know the man, and any feeling he had for him was purely out of respect. With Rhodes, for some reason, Don had a different feeling, one that had yet to be defined. He didn't know Rhodes any better than he had known Mendoza, still, something pulled at his heart strings. That both bothered Don and exhilarated him. Which left him in a confused mental state.

Pete, stood and began to pace. "I'm sorry, Gerald. You have my condolences. I know how much your team is like family to you." Pete stopped pacing and approached Hughes. Looking him in the eye, Pete averred, "I didn't breath a word to anyone."

Hughes stared at Pete a moment, before relaxing his stance. "How about him?" Indicating Don with his chin.

"Don! Come here." ordered Pete.

Don stood and warily walked over to the two men.

"Yeah?"

Pete pursued his lips before asking Don, "Did you mention Hughes' plan to anyone? Or did you mention the presence of Hughes and his team?"

"What? Shit no! Why would I? Who do I have to tell anyway? Besides you?" exclaimed a baffled Don to Pete.

Hughes and Pete exchanged a meaningful glance. "Don, did you happen to say anything, maybe under your breath, while you were in the truck or in your house?" asked Hughes in his usual gruff voice.

"About you and the plan? Fuck no! As it was, I spent most of the weekend on several job sites, doing punch lists. Meaning, the only thing I spoke about was work. Why? You think the people who attacked Mendoza and Rhodes got something from me?" asked Don, his voice getting loud.

"Easy, there, boss man. Hughes is just trying to narrow the possibilities." explained Pete, in an attempt to calm his partner.

"Fuck that!" said Hughes. "I suspect everyone! No one's innocent! I will find out who pulled off the shit and when I'm done with them- They'll wish their parents had never met."

"Okay, man. I hear you, but why didn't you just ask, instead of going all Gestapo on us?" asked Pete of Hughes.

"Gestapo?! I ain't yet begun to go ape shit!" roared Hughes. "Someone killed one of my team and nearly did the same to another. I'm going to do whatever it takes to discover who was behind the hit, and then you'll see all sorts of shit come out of me."




Claim It! Pt. 02



"Fuck! Dude! You've got to chill. I'm sorry about what happened to Mendoza and Rhodes, but losing it isn't going to help find who ordered the attack on them. Pull yourself together!" declared Don, in a voice Pete had never really heard before. Hughes, momentarily dumbfounded by Don's crisp assertiveness, snapped his mouth shut.

"Don, it's better you don't-" Pete started to say before Don spit out, "Enough, Pete! First, you both run roughshod over my request to be directly involved with the investigation. Secondly, I let you. Third, I get accused of leaking information about the investigation. Enough is enough!"

Turning to Hughes, Don said, "I expected more from you than threats and chest pounding. Get your head out of your ass and in gear. Do what I think you do best- Find out who fucked with you. Then discover why they did it."

Eying both men with a look of disgust, Don, in a voice grating with deep anger and far harsher than Hughes' own stentorian boom, growled out, "Do! Not! Fuck! With! Me! Do you both understand what I am saying?"

Pete and Hughes' sensed the dark change in Don, and it made them both uneasy.

"Now, wait a goddamn minute, you little prick! This is my-" started off Hughes, before Don cut him off.

"NO! YOU WAIT A GODDAMN MINUTE!" rumbled Don, in a voice that was colder than liquid helium. "If whomever took out your people is ready to start shooting, then what do you think of Mendoza's assessment regarding their intentions toward me?"

Both Pete and Hughes appeared startled at Don's question.

"Son of a bitch! It hadn't even occurred to me!" readily admitted Pete in astonishment.

Hughes swung his head from side to side, his eyes scanning the cavern, as if he were looking for something. "Fuck!" is all the huge man said before dropping heavily into the chair. 

That's when Don noticed four others, dressed in black from head to toe, standing with weapons ready. He hadn't seen them enter the small cavern, much less realized they carried weapons. Don recognized the rifles as ADCOR A-556 Elites. The only reason he knew about the assault rifles was because of some cable show he'd once seen. The four seemed tense. Don sized them up, as he would a problem on one of his construction jobs.

Hughes observed Don's shark like grin, saw where he was looking and without a word, waved the four men off.

"Okay, Hudson, you've made your point. The attack on my people has affected my judgment. It shouldn't have, but it has." grudgingly admitted Gerald Hughes. "Now, I'm going to do what I should already have done. Pete, I'll be in touch. Mister Hudson..." Whatever Hughes was about to say trailed off, instead, he looked at Don carefully, before giving him a short nod. The large man stood and walked through a offset tunnel, one Don hadn't noticed previously.



Claim It! Pt. 03



Wanda Rhodes awoke abruptly. She'd always woken being fully aware, this time it was no different, but she wished she hadn't. Her upper torso hurt with unbelievable pain. She tried to move her head, but she couldn't, either she was too weak, or she was restrained. It didn't make a difference one way or another, it sucked either way.

Her field of view was limited to seeing the ceiling and part of two walls. The design and colors of what she could see were typical of a hospital. So, she was in a hospital. As much as Wanda hated the places, she hated being dead even more. 

She heard a slight beeping noise to her right, which she assumed was the medical monitor.

One question had popped into her mind when she awoke and it was now clamoring for attention; How long had she been in the hospital? Assuming it was a hospital.

No sooner had Wanda focused on the question, she heard the noise of a door being swept open. A face and upper torso came into view.

"Oh, my! Awake, are we? Don't try to talk, Ms. Rhodes. May I call you Wanda?" Waiting a moment, for courtesies sake, the nurse nodded at the silent Wanda. "Thank you, Wanda. I'm Janet, and I'm your nurse."

Turning from Rhodes the nurse looked to the monitor. Cheerily, Janet the nurse, said, "Everything looks good. You're going to be fine, Wanda."

Rhodes opened her mouth to speak, but made no sound. Swallowing was nearly impossible with a mouth as dry as the Sahara, but somehow, Wanda made enough saliva to slightly coat her throat.

"How long...How long have I been...here?" croaked Rhodes.

"I'm sorry. Here, sip this." said the nurse as she hurriedly filled a Styrofoam cup with water, from the plastic pitcher set atop the bedside hospital table, adding a straw. Janet held the cup as a parched Wanda sipped gently and slowly.

"Is that better? Would you care for more water?" asked Janet in a kind voice.

"No. That's... enough... for now." said Wanda, hoarsely. "How... long have I... been here? In... the hospital?"

"You were brought in eight days ago. My, but, you were a mess. I'm glad you've recovered so well." explained Janet.

"Why can't I move...my head?" asked Rhodes, more curious than concerned.

"Your torso and neck have been restrained. Your injuries were severe enough to warrant restricting movement. But, don't worry, Wanda, you're doing fine. In a couple of weeks, you'll be up and around." explained a smiling Janet, in a reassuring tone. "Until then, relax and let us do the work for you."

After the nurse left, Wanda muzzily contemplated her situation. She was surprised to be alive, and in fact, since she hadn't expected to live she hadn't considered the what after scenario that she now faced. Despite the glowing assurances of the nurse, Wanda was certain her future was more uncertain than her chance of surviving the attack.

Rhodes thoughts looped endlessly without coming to a conclusion, or a comforting stopping point. Instead, the IV fed drugs finally kicked in and she slipped away into the depths of a unconsciousness filled with a engulfing bleakness.

~N~

Three weeks passed before Pete heard back from Hughes. During the interim Pete and Don had managed to reach a less tense relationship, although it was still distant from what they'd enjoyed previously. So it was a disquieting conversation when Pete asked Don how things were with Donna, as they stood around Pete's work desk, going over some building plans.

"I don't know. Nothing has changed and frankly, I don't really give a shit, Pete. She started this shit. Now, I'm simply existing day to day." Giving Pete a expectant gaze, Don added, "And before you ask- No. I haven't called her. She hasn't called me, either. I don't know where she is and again, I don't care." finished Don, firmly.

"I'm really sorry to hear that. I hoped you two would have worked things out by now." replied Pete slowly, carefully choosing his words.

"It is what it is." quipped Don, his interest in the conversation waning as he turned his attention back to the drawings. "Listen, what about if we use a wooden pier and beam support system, abutting the concrete slab. Perhaps, tying in the two together with bolted steel brackets? That way we wouldn't have to break up the concrete and pour another footer."

"Hmm- that might work. But, we'd have to get app-" began Pete, as his cell phone began ringing.

"Pete here." A few moments of silence filled the trailer as Pete listened to what was being said. "Okay. We'll be there." said Pete. After disconnecting the call, Pete looked at Don with a uncharacteristically serious expression.

"Hughes?" asked Don, needlessly. Since Pete's sudden change in demeanor fairly screamed who the caller was. 

"Yeah."

"We going now?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong, Pete?"

"I don't know. Something in Hughes voice...It's put me on edge." said Pete with worry evident in his voice.

Taking a moment to ponder Pete's reaction, Don quietly said, "Well, I guess we better go find out what's going on."

~N~

"I asked you both to meet with me because we have a critical situation. This involves you and your wife Mister Hudson. Indirectly this is what precipitated the attack on my people, and has directly caused the present issue we now face."

Breathing deeply, Hughes' eyed the two men searchingly before continuing. "We found your wife, Mister Hudson. She's staying with Mark McCullah. Apparently, he's one of her first cousins and is also in-line to inherit some heavy green. She's been with him since the night she left."

Don didn't know the name Mark McCullah, Donna had never mentioned that particular relative. So that bit of news came somewhat of unexpectedly. Noticing that Hudson took the news better than expected, Hughes continued with his report.

"McCullah is also the source of your supposed infidelity." finished Hughes grimly.

"What? Her own cousin set it up? What the fuck?" yelled Don in surprised shock.

"Apparently so, Mister Hudson." re-affirmed Hughes.

"Goddamn! Why? What the hell does he stand to gain by splitting us up?" asked Don angrily.

"We don't know. Not yet. We're still working on it. But, and I promise you this, Mister Hudson, we will discover the basis for everything. Then, we'll take action." calmly said Hughes. Something in Hughes' voice made Don look at the huge man. He was smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile at all.

Pete cleared his throat and asked, "What's the critical issue you mentioned, Gerald?"

"The attack on Mendoza and Rhodes, it was designed to scare us away. Also, the attack was probably a probe. Whomever employed the contractors, hadn't intended to kill anyone. Evidence at the- scene, and inside the house, suggests the two operators went beyond their orders. Not that it makes any difference as to the end result, but what surprised them and got them killed was the effectiveness of Rhodes' reaction to their attack."

Hughes stood and began pacing as he continued explained. "Because Rhodes took out the two operators, it's possible they'll engage in a clean up operation. Everyone involved is a target." Facing Don, Hughes' face wore a strange expression, Don couldn't place. "Mister Hudson, it's my thinking they'll go after you exclusively, as part of the clean up operation."

Don's eyes nearly bugged out at Hughes' words. "No way! Why come after me? What the fuck did I do to them?"

Shrugging, Hughes said, "You're involved through your wife. Ordinarily when a op goes bad, a team cuts its losses and pulls out and the mission is a scrub. In this case, something else is going on, and whomever is behind everything thats' happened can't- or won't, pull out." 

"Fuck." said Don, stretching out the vowel.

"Exactly, Mister Hudson." agreed Hughes. "The word is, the initial contractor, having lost two of his guys, has closed up shop and moved on. But, a new contractor is being brought in, even as we speak." 

Stopping his pacing and looking directly at Don, Hughes spoke slowly and carefully. "Apparently, someone wants something so badly, they are more than willing to kill for it. The next one up on that kill list is you, Don."

Don, reeling from the logic of Hughes' argument, couldn't yet articulate, so he nodded his acknowledgment.

Appraising Don's reaction, Hughes, turning to Pete, asked, "Can Mister Hudson shoot? In self defense?"

Pete glanced at Don before replying. "Well, normally, I'd say yes. Considering the overall situation, Don might shoot, but I also think he'll hesitate before pulling the trigger. Why do you ask?"

Hughes resumed pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. "I don't have enough numbers to give our Mister Hudson twenty-four seven security. With what you've just told me, I'm hesitant to place Mister Hudson's life in his own hands. However, there is another option. And, if Mister Hudson agrees it will actually solve two problems."

Both Hughes and Pete swung their heads to look at Don. After a couple of moments in expectant silence, Don spoke up. 

"Hey! Don't look at me like that. I can't agree to whatever it is until I know what it is." Don Hudson replied defensively.

"Very well, I'll explain, Mister Hudson. But, not a word from you until I've finished. Agreed?" asked Hughes in a no nonsense tone.

"Yeah, okay."

Hughes raised one eyebrow and waited.

Don felt like he was in front of his old elementary school principle; same raised eyebrow, same patient look, waiting for Don to do the right thing.

"Fine! Yes! I agree!"

A slight smile escaped Hughes' lips, before he nodded and sat down.

"As you know, Ms. Rhodes was shot. She's mended quite nicely, however, at this point, she is useless for field work. Yet, she's still effective, but only if she doesn't have to contend with the rigors of field duty." 

Even as Hughes spoke he eyed Don carefully, watching for a reaction. "She is soon to be released from the hospital. Unfortunately, since she hasn't a place to stay, at least, in this area, she'll be forced to travel to her home area. I'd like to keep her close, for several reasons. One being, with Mendoza gone, she is the only other intelligence asset I have available. The second reason being, is that- well, let's face it, Mister Hudson, despite your armed expertise while serving, that was some years ago, and unless you have practiced continuously, your reactions and ability are not what they used to be. Even injured Ms. Rhodes is still highly capable and can easily protect your person, Mister Hudson. However, to do her job effectively, she'll need to stay with you." finished Hughes with calm aplomb.

And there it was. His reaction.

"HELL NO!! FUCK NO! And stay out of this Pete, because it ain't going to happen. And furthermore..."

~N~

"Well, that's all there is." said Don as he entered the kitchen, finished giving a tour of his home. A home that he would now be sharing with a uninvited guest.

Rhodes had been whispering into a digital recorder as Don shown her around, and she now produced the recorder.

"Thank you, Muster Hudson. Since we've removed all the surveillance devices from your home and truck, you are more secure. What I'd like to do now is point out other security problems that need to be remedied immediately."

Don raised his hand to stop her. "First, would you like some coffee? Second, lets' wait until tomorrow before getting serious about security. Third, which of the three empty bedrooms would you like to have?"

Even as he spoke, Don had started making coffee.

"I'm sorry, Mister Hudson, but I'm not here on a social call. And, I really think we should discuss the security issues now. That way we can start determining the optimal solutions." answered Rhodes with a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Taking a deep breath to calm his awakening temper, Don replied, "I understand. I really do. But, it's late and I'm tired. And, I'm sure you are too. We will discuss the security issues tomorrow. Tonight- If you don't want any coffee, that's fine, but I do. So what'll it be?"

Rhodes had met all sorts of people in her thirty-four years of life, some were more obstinate than others, but this guy, he's a former soldier -she'd seen his service jacket, so he should know the importance and urgency of the matter, yet, he acted like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Mister Hudson-" began Rhodes.

"Call me Don. I can't stand being called Mister Hudson. It makes me sound old." interrupted Don.

With a sigh of impatience, Rhodes continued. "Mister Hudson... I'm here to protect you. That means that certain things need to be done so I can do my job the best I know how. One of those things is securing your residence, at least to the limit it can be secured. So if you don't mind, lets discuss these issues. Tonight. Alright?"

Don looked at Rhodes, her unwavering stare of hazel colored eyes sparkled with determination and stubbornness. Don could almost feel her displeasure as a palpable thing. Almost. Still, it wouldn't hurt to stay on her good side. Anyone who could shoot it out with two professional hitmen, kill them and survive, was a person who deserved some level of consideration.

"Very well, Ms. Rhodes. If discussing security makes you happy, then lets discuss. And

really, call me Don." quipped Don.

If Don's sarcasm affected Rhodes, she never gave a sign of it, as her face and eyes remained inscrutable.

They discussed, or better said, argued, about the security measures throughout most of the night, until even Rhodes felt weariness seep into her mind. Not to mention the exponentially increasing frustration of arguing with a man who refused to listen to reason.

"Mister Hudson, I find your unwillingness alarming. Don't you care about staying alive? Because if you don't, I will leave instead of retiring. I'm not going to waste my time and the team's resources on a man who couldn't care less. The choice is yours, Mister Hudson."

Don was far past weary, he was dead on his feet and his mind felt like mush, but for a reason he didn't fathom, his opposition to Rhodes' insistence for improving security was motivated by pettiness.

Yet, despite the haze of fatigue, he could tell Rhodes was dead serious about leaving.

"Dammit, Rhodes! I'm not going to feel like a prisoner in my own home. Because then it's not a home! It's a prison! Also, so far all I've been handed from you all, even from my so called good friend, Pete, is nothing but demands. So, if you want to go, then go! I don't give a shit! You're just like so many other women! Just like my wife! It's her way or else. Well, do you see her here? Do you? So get the fuck out! Because, from now on it's my way or the highway! Got it?"

Although, he hadn't raised his voice, it was filled with a bitter harshness, there was obvious vehemence attached to each word. Rhodes was used to such stark talk, but not from a civilian. She recalled he'd been in the military, but that had been years in the past and for most former soldiers, the tough hard as nails bullshit attitude went out the window once they were out. Maybe they'd misjudged Hudson, cutting him short, but that wasn't Rhodes decision to make. But, she had expected him to cave.

"Mister Hudson-" Rhodes began sternly.

"NO! We are done here, Ms. Rhodes. No more discussions! Leave or stay. I don't care." said Don in a rough voice, as he arose from the kitchen chair. "I'm going to bed. When you leave, lock up behind you."

~N~

When it happened, it happened unexpectedly. And it happened quickly.

Don had been going from job to job, checking on the work progress of each job, and insuring enough material was on hand to complete the jobs. He was just finishing going over the daily work log of the last job, when he heard the sound of a vehicle pull up outside the job trailer. He pulled aside the shade and glanced out the office window. He saw two figures exit a small car. They both held something in their hand, and they looked like pistols. He couldn't make out the two people very well, as a moonless night had fallen while he checked the log. For a second he thought they were Hughes' men, but something he couldn't place his finger on, didn't seem right about them.

The two shadowy figures moved quickly and confidently toward the front door. Don had locked the front door, but trailer doors are made of light weight sheet aluminum and their door locks aren't much better. It wouldn't take long for the intruders to force their way through.

Don felt his senses heighten with fear, and with something else. It was excitement. He was surprised at himself. Why the threat to his life would excite him so was a mystery, but it couldn't be denied. Don hadn't carried a weapon since his military days, but after Rhodes had left that night, last week, he'd come to realize that she was right about one thing, he did need to protect himself. So he'd purchased a sanitized weapon -a weapon that had no serial number and that had never been used in the commission of a crime. Thanks to one of his workers, he'd had no trouble locating someone who could procure him such a weapon. It wasn't cheap. He'd used petty cash from the company to buy it. He didn't want to leave a paper trail, especially if he was yet being watched. In fact, his man had been the go between, and had brought the weapon to him.

It was a Glock 41. Don had used Glocks and Berretas while in the military, but hadn't fired a weapon since then, All he knew was that the Glock 41 had been test fired before being brought to him. The rest was up to him. But, between work, the state of his marriage, and his concern at being watched, Don hadn't had a chance to visit the range. Now, it would be a moot point. Either he could hit the barn door or he couldn't.

Don turned off the light to his office as soon as the two figures were outside of the viewing range of the window. He was assuming they were at the front door. Perhaps they intended to pick the lock, which was not a mean feat, rather than to break it. It could be that his murder would be set this up as a robbery gone deadly. Don shrugged at the thought, because either way, dead was dead.

Don studied his situation, looking at the trailer with a new perspective, and he had an idea. The light switch, just outside his office door, in the small hallway, actually didn't energize the hallway light, due to some confusion when the wiring was installed, it turned on the overhead light in what - Don had dubbed- the break room, which was on the other end of the trailer.

Once the two people -or assassins- were inside the main area, he would flick the light on and the two individuals would be silhouetted. Don would then do what was necessary. Whatever it took to survive. He would do his level best to insure that. As he had, once before.

Don heard a sharp metallic sound and then the squeak of the door being opened. Don had already positioned himself to the side of the door, just inside the office, and an arm's length from the light switch.

He sensed rather than heard the two moving around. The trailer was dark due to the all window shades being drawn, so it was nearly pitch black. As he waited for his opportunity Don thought back to his life with Donna. He loved her, and missed her, it was his own stubbornness and sense of manly pride that kept him from calling her. He instantly vowed he would call Donna tonight, and try to find some way to work through what had happened to them. If he lived through the next few minutes.

There! Don knew the two killers were now both standing in the main room. He reached out and flicked the switch on. The fluorescent light glared brightly, its shine doing exactly what Don had wanted. In that instant several things happened at once.

One of the men, for now Don could see by their physiques they were men dressed in black clothing, whirled toward the light and began shooting. The other man instantly dropped to the ground and began to roll to the side. And, Don pulled the trigger.




Claim It! Pt. 03



The rolling man let out a heavy grunt and lay still, while the other, fired again into the light, which caused it to go out in a burst of explosive sparks. Don shot, again as the fluorescent light went out.

Don waited breathlessly, afraid to breath, waiting to hear another body fall. But, there was only silence. Don's retinas were temporarily blinded by; first, the fluorescent light and secondly, by his own pistol flash. So he listened. Seconds ticked by, then a minute. Don counted the passing time under his breath, the focus on the count steadying his mind and nerves. His eyes slowly cleared and the shooting pulsating images of light flares eventually subsided. Now, there was nothing but darkness with vague shapes ebbing and shifting in the inky blackness.

'At least two minutes have passed', thought Don, 'so where's the other one? Why hasn't he made a move?'

Getting impatient and with his fear mounting, Don moved to the side slowly, carefully, silently, and warily stepped out of the office. His back sliding along one wall of the hall, he felt his way toward the main room. His senses painfully alert, Don listened for any sound which might give the killer away.

Then as unexpectedly as these things happen, a disquieting thought filled Don's mind, 'Shit!', I'm not sure the other one is dead. I might be facing two men, rather than one! Fuck!'

Yet, nothing stirred, as far as Don could tell.

Don had stopped moving as soon he felt the hall wall end at the corner and drop off into the larger main room.

His nerves crackled with tension while his mind whirled thoughts around at astonishing speeds, and although Don had once more stopped breathing, to help him focus his hearing, all he heard and felt was the high pitched thrumming of his body and the rapid thumping of his heart.

He waited a few more minutes until his nerves fairly screamed with fright and impatience.

'Fuck it!' Thought Don. 'If they're alive I'd be dead already. Walk to the light switch and turn on the damn light!'

And that's just what he did.

The sight that greeted Don in the light made him gasp loudly in surprise and horror.

The first man he'd shot lay amidst a large pool of blood, which had already soaked into the cheap indoor/outdoor carpeting and begun to congeal. Some blood streaked a nearby wall in a narrow splatter, while several smaller spots of red sprinkled the same area, including the floor.

A narrow furrow creased the man's neck, and a small but ugly bulging hole was evident at the base of the neck, in the hollow above the collar bone. Blood covered the exposed skin on his face and neck, changing the black of the shirt to a deep purple that seemed to glisten evilly in the cold glow of the fluorescence lighting.

The other man sat splayed against the wall that separated the break room from the main room. He too, was dead. There wasn't as much blood, in fact the little blood sprayed on the wall was no more than a few speckles, but the mass of pink shinny bits of brain matter stuck to the wall was slightly dripping with red.

Don would have been alright except his eyes moved to look at the man's head. Most of the top was gone, leaving a red angry cavern, oozing blood and other unidentified bits of bio-matter, which had somehow spilled over the ragged edge of skull bone, running down into the man's longish hair, what was left of it.

Don's stomach erupted, vomit spewed out, splashing heavily onto the dead man's body. Don heaved again and what was left in his stomach added it self to what lay of the man's bits and pieces.

As his knees sagged, Don nearly fell into the bloody vile smelling mess. Barely catching himself, Don thankfully staggered into the break room; any place was better than where the two bodies lay.

A new fear filled Don now. He'd just shot two men! Certainly, it was in self defense, but the weapon he'd used was illegal. No doubt the cops would arrest him and ask a bunch of questions later, more focused on the pistol than what prompted him to kill the two men. Don was no fool, he knew he couldn't leave the trailer as it was. Don was not going to jail. Not for defending himself, even if it had been with an illegal weapon.

With a weary sigh, Don knew what he had to do.

"Pete? I have a problem on the job site..."

~N~

Pete eyed Don for the umpteenth time as he disconnected the call. The younger man was tough, Pete had to give him that. He'd put paid to two of Europe's most wanted killers; Serbian assassins that had somehow escaped capture during the last round up of dissidents. Now, here they were. Dead by their own stupidity. Or bad luck.

Pete still wasn't sure about Don's ability to remain cool under fire, although the evidence before him was a pretty strong indication his friend could kill if he had to.

"Okay, Don, someone is on the way to clean up this mess." Sighing in both relief for his friend and exasperation at his friend, Pete added, "I'm not going to say I told you so, but I wish you'd reconsider having Rhodes as at least back up. In case..." Pete swung his arm around the room. "Something like this were to happen again. Next time you might not get so lucky."

"Pete, it wasn't luck. I was scared, sure. But also, there was something else. It was exciting. I was alive in a way I can't explain. My mind was firing on every cylinder, and my senses were sharper than ever before. I'm not proud that I shot and killed two men, but it wasn't luck that got them dead."

Pete nodded. He knew exactly what Don was talking about. He'd been there more times than he cared to remember. Although it had been a number of years, the flush of excitement still tingled his nerves each time he thought of the past.

"Sure, Don. I hear you. But, it was luck they didn't have back up ready to swarm you. That you killed these bad guys might not be based on luck, but you also can't depend on things always going your way, even with the best planning. These dead guys can testify to that." explained Pete grimly.

"You're right, Pete. I see that. But, man, that woman wants to take over my life, only instead of frilly curtains and pink wall colors, she wants video coverage of all sides and passive defenses. I mean...what the fuck? You know?"

Pete chuckled, mirthlessly, yet some genuine amusement slipped past the grim sound.

"And, that's bad, how?"

"Oh, fuck you, you old bastard!" cried Don, a slight smile belying the expletives.

"So what are you going to do? Go around like the pope, in a bullet proof glass box? Because, I'm pretty sure whomever is behind this attempt is going to try again, only next time, well..."

"I know! I know! Fuck! I don't know. I never thought it would come to this. I mean...come on, shit like this happens to the other guy, who lives on the other side of the world, in bumfuck Egypt. Not to me, here, in the good old US of A!"

"Don- Look man, you've got to swallow that pride of yours, shelve the anger, and see if Rhodes is still around. You might have to sweet talk her, meaning that she might hold out for armored vests, but she just might agree to help you out." 

Don was silent a moment. Pete hoped Don was considering his words.

"Is she really my only option?"

"At this point, yeah, she is." 

"Is she still around? Rhodes, I mean?" asked Don contemplatively.

"I don't know, amigo, but I can ask." answered Santos carefully, making sure nothing triumphant tinged his voice. "if you want me to, that is."

Nodding, Don said, "Yeah. Do that. If you don't mind, that is."

~N~

A large box van and two trucks arrived and several nondescript people issued forth and began the dreadful job of clean up. They were nondescript because they were covered from head to toe in white overalls, white booties and white gloves, even their faces were masked by a white facial cover and they all wore dark goggles.

Two of them approached Don and directed him to stand atop a large black plastic sheet that had been laid on the break room floor. They then motioned for him to remove all his clothing, including his boots, and leave them on the plastic. Don objected, stridently, but then Pete, disconnecting from another phone call, explained the purpose.

"You've got burned cordite on your clothing, you need to change out of them. There can't be evidence of anything out of the ordinary having happened here. We don't want the cops involved. Your clothing won't be returned, but once your personal items have been sanitized, you'll get them back. Next, you'll get a wash, sort of, that'll remove any signs of cordite and blood on your skin and hair."

Don grudgingly complied.

After that, the two same people- or two others that looked like the other two people- rubbed some kind of gel-like liquid into his hair and over his body, especially across his arms, hands, and over his face. Then, without warning, one of the two stuck a needle into his arm, at the crook of his elbow, while the other held his arm in a vise like grip. His blood was drawn out, slowly filling the large syringe. He was then handed a package of clothing. The clothing was the same attire as worn by the others in white, and even included the dark goggles.

"What the fuck? Why-" began Don.

"Just put it on. It's all for your benefit." said Pete.

"But-"

"Goddammit, Don! Quit acting the fucking brat, and for once just do what you're told." hissed Pete in anger.

Don's eyes widen in surprise. Pete had never been so angry with him. Rather than respond, Don grabbed the proffered clothing and dressed quickly.

"Put on the goggles!" snapped Pete.

Don angrily jerked the goggles into place on his face. And he saw more clearly then he could remember.

"Wow! These are- Man! What are these goggles?"

"Visual aids. Now, just sit tight until they finish with the place, then follow them out and get aboard the van. In the back." explained Pete in a tightly controlled voice.

"Sure, Pete. What about my truck and-" started Don before being cut off by Pete.

"Everything is taking care of. Just do what I've told you. And don't go getting smart and try to do something else. Your life is not the only one in the balance. You fuck this up and they'll be shit to pay. And the check you'll have to write, you won't be able to cash. So..."

"I get it, Pete. I won't go all Geronimo. What happens later?"

"We'll have to see. For now, your dead."

"WHAT? What do you mean, I'm dead?"

"Look, Don, this is the only other way to protect you. Let who ever is behind this, think they killed you.. That way they'll maybe, just maybe, let their guard down. And when that happens, well, we'll be ready."

"Seriously? You think they'll think I'm dead? Without a body? And, what about the two guys I killed? Won't their employers start wondering about them when they don't check in?"

"Yes, they will think your dead. As far as those two goons- Lets just say the word will go out that they pissed off the wrong people. Other Serbians." Pete said in grim satisfaction.

"What about the business? My jobs? What about Donna? Come on, Pete? Really? What happened to having Rhodes as security?" complained Don.

"Plans have changed. Look, Don, if the bad guys really do kill you, what then? I'll tell you. The world goes on. Only it'll be without you. Get it, amigo? This way, one day soon, you'll get to return. Miraculously. From the dead. Like Jesus."

"Whatever, man. I still don't like it. Once again, I'm left out of the planning. I'm just like a piece of shit floating in the toilet waiting to get flushed."

Pete grunted, whether in agreement or just acknowledgment, Don couldn't tell. The two men didn't speak the rest of the time the clean up was in progress. About four o'clock in the morning, the two dead guys were placed into body bags and zipped up. Then one of the white suited workers, about the same size as Don lay down in a body bag and it too was zipped up.

The clean up crew had worked silently, not one person in white had spoken, and that had filled Don with an eerie feeling. They were like ants, working furiously, directed by some hidden queen ant.

The trailer was clean, the old carpet had been taken up, the plywood floors had been scrubbed and something applied to the bare wood where the blood has stained it, and similar looking carpeting had been installed. It was not new carpet, it looked used and slightly worn. The walls had been scrubbed down as well. Someone had started spraying a mist over some of the things in the trailer, especially the recently cleaned walls. As he watched, Don slowly realized that it was dust in a can. It made him chuckle, although silently.

Even the shot up light had been replaced with a used light fixture. And, it too got a heavy spray of dust.

When they were ready to leave, Don saw that there literally was no evidence that anything deadly had occurred in the trailer. It looked normal.

Two men carried each body bag, and Don was directed, silently, to help carry the body bag with the live body.

The vehicle the two would be killers had arrived in had already been carried away, inside a larger box van.

Don was amazed at what the white suited people had accomplished in such a short time. If only he could get his work crews to work half as fast and as good...

Right before Don exited the trailer, carrying his share of the burden, he saw one single white dressed individual, carefully placing several drops of blood from the syringe he held.



Claim It! Pt. 04



"Hudson, you got lucky. Spur of the moment action is fine, but it won't save you in the long run. Eventually, sooner rather than later, the bad guys are going to get you. I'm not going to argue the point anymore with you. You'll stay here, until we're done with this fucked up mission. More importantly, you aren't going to endanger my teams because your feelings are hurt and want to leave. If you try to leave I'll shoot you myself, and save the bad guys the effort. Do we understand each other?" asked Hughes hotly.

Don was fuming. He'd been cooped up since the night of his attempted murder, three days ago. He'd been transported to a farmhouse lost in the middle of bumfuck woods. Don doubted anyone had lived there since before the American Civil War. The interior of the two story house had been repaired well enough to make it livable. Barely. The barn was large enough to hold the four vehicles that were hidden within its confines.

There was a reasonably stocked kitchen and plenty of reading material, but what it didn't have and what Don wanted most, was freedom.

"I hear you, Hughes." replied Don, his voice strained by the effort of keeping his temper under control.

"Goddammit, Hudson, I don't give a fuck about your ears! I asked if you understood! Are we going to have to restrain you? Is that what you want?" roared Hughes, angry at Don's peevishness.

"Fuck it! Alright, I understand!" shouted Dom back at Hughes.

After shaking his head and glaring furiously at Don, Hughes stalked off.

Rhodes was in the adjoining room, and unwillingly overheard the exchange between her boss and Hudson. She wasn't prone to getting involved in other people's business, unless, of course, she was on a mission, but something needed to be done before things escalated to the point of no return.

"Hello, Mister Hudson. Might I talk with you?" asked Wanda as she stood in the doorway of Don's room.

Surprised at her presence, for a second Don could only stare at Rhodes. "Why not, Ms. Rhodes? Everyone else seems to want to talk at me. Maybe you will talk 'with' me. Come on in. Have a sit." angrily answered Don.

Nodding her head, Wanda took one step into Don's room. "I'll get right to the point. I couldn't help overhear you and Mister Hughes."

"Okay. And? Or is this a but moment?" asked Don sarcastically.

"Please, Mister Hudson. I'm not here to argue with you." said Wanda in her soft lilting voice.

Sighing Don stepped to one of the chairs at the table in his room. "I'm sorry. Look- Please sit. It'll be more comfortable as we talk." Don pulled out one of the chairs, patting its backrest, inviting her to sit.

Wanda moved somewhat stiffly to the chair, yet, somehow managed to make her motion seem dainty. Don found it fascinating that Rhodes could move so femininely, and be such a cold blooded killer.

Rhodes stood a slim five foot ten inches and probably weighed in around one-hundred and twenty pounds. She had a longish neck, almost delicate, and a narrow face. Her eyes were bluish-gray and seemed both soft and icy in their appearance. She wore her auburn hair short, in a nineteen-fifties dutch boy style, which framed her face in a pixie-like manner. Her present attire, which consisted of skin hugging cream colored capris, and a semi-tight powder blue blouse, added to the effect. Her footwear were black loafers. She wore no makeup and no jewelry. Her hands were slim, long of finger with short unpainted nails, and appeared delicate. Don hadn't really noticed the size of Rhodes' breasts, until now. As Wanda sat down, her blouse pulled even tighter across her chest, and for a moment, Don saw that her breasts were small and pert. At their sight, Don felt a familiar stirring within his neither regions. Glancing away, Don looked back at her face. Up close, Don saw that her head was definitely misshapen; it was the left side of her face. Her cheek bone was more prominent than the other and the eye was a bit higher, however, the disfigurement was slight, and it wasn't really all that obvious. In fact, her hair, her clothing, and her slight disfigurement gave her a certain air, like a cross between Marlene Dietrich and Doris Day.

"I've some coffee made, if you'd like some." offered Don, pointing to a small carafe.

"Yes, that would be- nice. Thank you." 

After getting them both a cup of coffee, Don sat, took a sip, and began, "Okay, it's your dime."

Don noticed Rhodes hadn't reached for her coffee.

Looking him squarely in the eye, Rhodes said, "A lot of people are now involved. Everyone of those people is basically working on your behalf. Hughes- We didn't expect the escalation we've encountered. Not for something as simple as a wife leaving her husband." She saw him flinch at her words and quickly spoke, "I'm sorry, but it's the truth. Still, we knew from the beginning there was more to the situation than was immediately obvious. It's why Hughes set up the surveillance on those surveilling you."

Wanda saw a flicker of anger and something else, perhaps emotional pain, cross his face for a second, before he settled to a more neutral expression.

"I know all that! What's your fucking point?" asked Don with some exasperation.

"My point? My point is-" Then something shifted inside Wanda Rhodes. She was going to try to be the peacemaker, but of a sudden she realized that approach wouldn't work. Instead, she decided to bring him to the reality of the situation. "The team has lost a good man and I've lost a good friend. Hughes is now paying out of pocket for the extra bodies we need. As for your friend, Pete Santos- not only has he spent a large sum of money to initially bring the team in, but he also now owes a large favor to Hughes. It was the only way Hughes would get involved, because he really didn't want any part of it. Yes, you've had a bad time of it, but you're attitude- your behavior, is making it even more difficult than it needs to be, Mister Hudson. We are trying to get to the bottom of this, while protecting you. You're not making this any easier with your constant and childish demands of trying to get your way."

Somewhat floored at Rhodes' words, Don didn't immediately respond. He was angry at what she'd just said, but also, he was beginning to doubt his own perspective. Had he been such an asshole? Some part of him knew he had, but he wasn't ready to admit it fully to himself. Not just yet.

"What the...? I didn't do shi-" sputtered Don in rising anger.

Rhodes went on as if she hadn't heard him.

"Let me put it to you another way. I had my doubts concerning your cooperation, and as you refused sound advise and the offer of protection, you proved yourself in a way that doesn't help your case. But, I tried to do my job, despite your constant interference. However, I do thank you. When you made it abundantly clear that you didn't want my help in keeping you alive, I was able to walk away with a clear conscious." Giving him a cold steady look, Rhodes said, "In my opinion, you're a ignorant, arrogant, insensitive fool, and I sorely regret we took this job. You don't deserve the sacrifices made by Mendoza, Santos, Hughes and myself. Now, unfortunately, we are in too deep to walk away, and the murder of Mendoza has made this a personal matter. Despite your wife being tied to the case, you yourself have become superfluous to the goal of the mission. The fact is, Mister Hudson, we don't need you as anything more than as bait. And, it's your faked death that will draw them out." The way Rhodes said the last sentence had Don thinking that to Rhodes, his real death would have been a better alternative, with far less work.

Don stared at Rhodes, some part of him, the part not sheathed in anger, felt wonder at her delivery. Her soft lilt of a voice hadn't rising in volume, yet, she had been clear and loud enough to be heard easily. Her words were without any particular inflection, they'd been spoken in a cool detached way, much like a lab technician might refer to a rat in a cage.

Don, outside of the always present anger, wasn't sure how to feel with what Rhodes' had just told him. He squashed a knee-jerk emotional reaction, instead letting her words be absorbed, and rather than think on them, he allowed each word to meander through his mind freely. Don began to gain a different sense- a differing interpretation- one that was at odds with an entrenched part of his anger. Put more aptly, it was at odds with the actual cause of his anger. Then a epiphany hit.

While Don had pondered his response those few seconds, he had looked away from Rhodes. Now, he raised his head and locked eyes with her.

"Finally! Someone has explained what's going on, and with a bit of honesty tossed in. Thanks, Rhodes." said Don with a sardonic smile.

Wanda raised one shapely eye brow in question.

"It's my life that's been going down the shitter. First, my wife accuses me of infidelity and leaves to live with another man. And, I don't know why. Or, I didn't. Then, I'm followed by two goons and Pete brings you all in. Hughes has a game plan, but he won't let me even sit along the sideline. Instead, as it turns out, I'm the fucking football. Next, the shit goes from bad to worse. Mendoza gets killed and you get shot up." At his last words, Don sees Rhodes frown slightly, before her expression quickly returns to it's normal stoicalness. 

"Then, you come along, demanding I do this and that to improve security. That night, you really didn't discuss anything with me, what you did when we were supposed to be discussing those things, was to repeat the same demands over and over." said Don heatedly. He stopped to draw a calming breath, before continuing. "Then, someone tries to kill me." A toothy but mirthless grin stretches Don's face as he recalls the two would be killers and of the nervy excitement he felt as it went down. "Now, here I am, hidden away, sitting on my ass, pretending to be dead. And, until now, I wasn't certain to what was going on and what my role is. Until you explained its fishing out the bad guys and I'm the bait. So, thanks."

Upon finishing his speech, Don immediately lifted his coffee cup and took a careful sip, it had cooled down enough not to sear his tongue, so he gulped a large portion and set the cup back down.

Rhodes was looking at him as if he were some unknown creature.

"How long has she been sleeping with him?" asked Don calmly.

A quizzical expression crossed Wanda's face. "Who?"

"Oh, come on. I know you're not dense and neither am I. Donna doesn't have a blood relative named- What was it? Mark McClansky? So how long has she been sleeping with him?"

Surprise widened Rhodes' eyes. "How did you- Who told you?"

"No one told me, but you just confirmed it."

Her surprise increased, as well as a growing anger at her carelessness. She saw Don was waiting for an answer to his question.

"You'll have to speak to Hughes about that."

Sighing, Don said, "We both know how that will go. So, I'm asking you. How long?"

For the first time in years, Wanda felt trapped. Even the recent ambush didn't have her feeling so cornered.

"I really think you should-"

"No, goddammit! Just tell me. I think I already know, but if you'll confirm it, then I'll drop any further questions concerning my slut of a wife. Okay?"

Wanda didn't like deceiving anyone. In fact, she had argued against withholding any information from Hudson, but Hughes and Santos thought it best not to tell him. But, she also followed orders, even when she didn't agree with those orders. So she hadn't breathed a word of it. Now here was Hudson, already aware that his wife had cheated on him, and wanting to know the time table. Fuck it!

"As best as we can tell, her relationship with McClansky has been ongoing for about twelve weeks."

Don nodded to himself. "That's about what I figured. That's around the time she left me. I guess this guy McClansky is the one who faked the evidence that was used to break up my marriage." Don said musingly.

Wanda sat there, unmoving, carefully watching Hudson's reaction to the news.

"So how does McClansky fit into what's going on? Is he the guy behind all the other shit?"

Wanda slowly stood before replying. "We aren't certain, but at the very least he's part of it. And now Mister Hudson, I must be going."

Don sat silently, as he watched Rhodes walk out of his room, leaving her coffee cold and untouched.

~N~

"He knew! He's probably known since she left him. But, not the who or the why. And we should have told him. From the very beginning. Sir." explained Rhodes in a clipped voice as she briskly entered the main planning room.

"What? Who knew what?" Asked a bemused Hughes, looking up from his laptop screen.

"Hudson! He knew his wife cheated on him. We fucked up by not tell him everything." said a slightly exasperated Rhodes.

"Oh, that! I did what I thought was best." replied Hughes in a somewhat annoyed tone.

"Well, sir. I think we really fucked up by not giving him full disclosure. He's like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. He's lost trust in his wife, trust in his friend and now any chance of trust in us. We've cornered him and he's going to treat us like we've treated him. He is going to go dark. I bet my life on that. Soon, he's going to disappear and none of us will find him." said Rhodes in a concerned tone.

"You think he's capable of that?" asked Hughes, surprised at Rhodes' assessment.

"Sir! He's killed two trained assassins. From what I gather, he had no trouble. Before what odds would you have given him to survive a hit?"

"Damn! I get your point. Okay, assuming he does get away from us, what do you think his next move will be? Presume his access to resources is limited."

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Rhodes began her analyses.

"He'll move quickly. He won't go to ground and regroup. His best chance at accomplishing his objective is to move quickly, and my guess he realizes this. Next, he'll target McClansky. Hudson will grab him and interrogate him."

"He won't go for the wife?" Hughes was rubbing the back of his hand under his chin. A habit he did when he was musing over things.

"No, sir. Not to talk to her anyway." answered Wanda.

"What do you mean? You think he might kill her?! His own wife?"

"It's dependent on his emotional and mental state at that time. But, yes, he might just kill her- If he's in a rage. From his psych evaluation administered at separation from military service, it's obvious Hudson isn't one to brook with his wife's infidelity, since such an action is, in his belief, considered to be treacherous disloyalty."

"Damn! Are you sure of this?" asked Hughes, perturbation evident on his face.

"No, of course not. But, all the indicators point to that sort of mind set."

"What about McCullah? What do you think Hudson will do with him?"

"Once he's finished interrogating McCullah, and assuming Hudson gets what he wants, then he might kill McCullah, or worse- indiscriminately torture him for pleasure." said Rhodes calmly, her voice lifting on the last syllables. "If McCullah is a braggart, then it isn't a matter of if, but of when, Hudson will kill him."

Hughes brooded a few seconds over Rhodes' analyses. "What of us? Will Hudson perceive us in the same light, as disloyal and treacherous?"

Thinking a moment, Rhodes looked up at Hughes, meeting his eyes. "I think- In my opinion, because of our close association with Santos, he'll overlook what he sees as deception on our part, but if we continue to treat him as we have, then his thinking might very well change."

Hughes looked away, remaining silent.

"Boss, bring him up to speed. Spill your guts, and let him make those decisions solely involving him. You probably won't like his decisions, but you'll like even less what he decides if you don't include him in this operation."

"He's not part of the team. He's an outsider. Santos was once one of us, so we cut him some slack, but this guy, Hudson, he ain't part of shit. And you want me to place my trust in his character?" asked Hughes incredulously.

"No, Lieutenant Hughes, I'm saying to inform Mister Hudson of the situation. Let him decide on the action he wants to pursue that doesn't involve us. If we don't allow him some latitude, he's going to escape, then act as he sees fit. At least if you include him in the planning, you might have a chance to direct him. Because, you won't be able to stop him. For a civilian, he's very adaptive."

"Maybe I should just put a bullet in his head. That'll take care of the problem. After all, he's already dead." laughed Hughes harshly.

Rhodes stood with her usual stoic expression, knowing it was just her boss' way of coming to terms with the situation. If he had been serious about killing Hudson, he never would have said a thing.

After a few moments, Hughes said, "Okay. Shit. It isn't what I had planned, but maybe we can use his 'freedom' to our advantage. By the way, how long?"

Rhodes raised a finely manicured eye brow in question.

Sighing, Hughes rephrased his question. "How long have you had feelings for our Hudson?"

Rhodes was caught off guard, and her face instantly flamed red in embarrassment. "What? I- Never!" snapped Rhodes.

"Easy there, First Sergeant." Hughes said in a soothing tone. "I didn't mean to pry, but it seems to be affecting your judgment. Not badly, but a little." He finished with a genuine smile.

"Might I sit, sir?" asked Rhodes. She was yet blushing, although it was beginning to fade.

"Plant it." said Hughes as one beefy finger pointed to a nearby chair.

Sitting, Rhodes began speaking, "It's true, sir. I do have- Feelings for Mister Hudson. I don't know why. He's the most arrogant and stubborn of men I've ever met. I should dislike him, but I don't. But, rest assured, sir, I would never act on my feelings."

"Does he know? I mean does Hudson know how you feel about him?"

After a brief hesitation, Rhodes quietly said, "I don't think so, sir. I don't believe I've given any indication of my feelings about him to him. I've tried to stay neutral in my association with Don- I mean, Mister Hudson. Also, he's never indicated or reacted he knows or suspects how I feel."

"Okay, Rhodes. Good enough." said Hughes to his subordinate. After a moment's pause, the Lieutenant added, "Now, I want you to escape with him."

A look of total shock passed quickly across Wanda's face, it was gone an instant later, still, Hughes caught her expression and began laughing. "I'm sorry, Rhodes. I don't mean to laugh, but it's a rare thing to see you lose control, of anything, but especially this."

"If you say so. Sir." acknowledged First Sergeant Rhodes in a tightly controlled voice.

Assuming a serene expression, Hughes went on to explain, "I'm serious, Wanda. I want you to get buddy buddy with Hudson. Team up with him. Help him. But, most of all protect him." He held up a hand to forestall her argument. "I know you aren't ready for field work, and I suspect Hudson is aware of this, that'll play out in your favor. One other thing, and I can't force you to use this particular option, although I do want you to consider it- Let him know how you feel about him. No man is so dense that he can't somehow feel when a woman has an interest in him, and I think Hudson suspects how you feel, but doubts his suspicions."

Rhodes' eyes widened alarmingly at her superiors suggestion, or was it an order; either way she was suitably stunned by the idea. As her thoughts flew in all sorts of different directions, her hand involuntarily rose to touch her face. It was the place where her slight deformity was most prominent.

After a moment's introspection, Wanda Rhodes' eyes became cold and her face drained of color, while her hand snapped down.

"Why would I want to do that, Lieutenant?" Rhodes asked in a low grating voice.




Claim It! Pt. 04



Without blinking an eye, or changing his expression, Hughes gently said, "For now, it's your old friend Ger talking, not the military officer. So what I'm going to say is as a friend." Taking a breath to give him time to marshal his thoughts, "I know how hard it was for you to lose Mack, but unfortunately, that sort of shit happens. He just couldn't deal with what you are. And, I think you catching him in bed with the neighbor was planned. It was the easiest way he knew how to tell you. I'm not saying I agree with his method, but it did work. Although, I doubt he'd foreseen how you'd react. Man, that was a mess. I heard when he finished physical therapy, he was able to walk again. Sort of." said Hughes with a slight grin.

"You were lucky that time. Afterwards, Mack knew he'd fucked up with how he went about it, so he didn't press charges. But, the DA still wanted your ass. It was all we could do to make him drop the charges. That was what- Eight years ago. In that time you haven't been the same. Oh, sure, you do the job just as well as ever, but you don't have that same spark that motivated you; that kept you going even under the worst of conditions. I'm not the only one that's noticed it, either."

"Are you saying I'm not fit for duty? Sir." asked Wanda in a chilly voice.

"Not at all. Well, physically, you aren't. Not yet. And you were lucky in that regard, too. But, it's not just about your physical readiness. I know what the psych evaluations say, you're top notch, ready and willing, and etcetera, but Wanda we both know something- a part of you, is missing. And, has been since Mack. You weren't so bad before Mendoza died. And yes, I know, he was just a friend, but his death hit you harder than you've shown or admitted. Right now I don't care about the why of it, I just want you one-hundred percent. In every way."

Yes, sir."

"Listen up. I happen to know that Hudson has an interest in you. How far and how deep that interest goes, I don't know. But, I do think he fancies you a bit. So, my idea serves two purposes, one is to be sure Hudson is protected, and two, maybe after all this is over, you and Hudson, well..."

"Sir! I hadn't realized that among your vast number of skill sets, it included match making." quipped Rhodes sarcastically.

Shaking his head, Hughes scowled, growling out, "Just make sure you escape with him. Dismissed, First Sergeant!"

As Rhodes stood and snapped to attention, then angrily stomped out, Hughes couldn't help but grin. Hudson didn't know it yet, but if he thought his life was rough now, wait until Rhodes becomes a part of it. Hughes even felt sorry for the guy. Though just a little.

~N~

The man and the woman walked down one of the deserted main street sidewalks of the town called Kincaid. They'd walked nearly all night and it was now close to dawn. They'd covered at least twenty miles before reaching the town. It wasn't a very large town, and neither of the two was surprised by this fact. They almost expected and even hoped for it.

"Why the fuck did you come anyway? I told you I didn't any help, and your boss is going to be looking for you, so it'll make it even more difficult to get lost with you tagging along." complained Don as he trudged wearily along.

"Fuck you! I didn't come to help you. Think about it, shit for brains, where else should I have gone? What other direction should I have chosen? You saw the map. This is the only place that's near enough to make it by foot. So don't flatter yourself, Hudson. Believe me, you ain't worth it." gasped Rhodes. Her shoulder was aching terribly, each breath a searing pain, which caused her to gasp.

"What about your boss? Hughes. Won't he be looking for you?"

"No. I was already assigned sick leave, and I'd told him I'd be leaving early oh-dark-thirty. So no one is going to be looking for me for at least a week." grunted Wanda.

With the strain in her voice apparent, he stopped walking, looked over to his unwanted companion and in the dim light noticed the grimace on her face. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing! Keep moving. We need to be off the streets and hidden some place before daylight."

Don looked closer; she was obviously in a lot of pain. Knowing the little he knew of Rhodes, Don knew she had to be pretty bad off for her to show any indication of pain. 

"You aren't going to make it much longer. We need to find some place to roost, now." said Don in a no nonsense tone. He wasn't inviting any discussion.

"No. Don't. We need-" started Rhodes before being cut off by Don.

"Shut up, Rhodes. Or so help me, I'll leave you right here!" said Don harshly.

She was ready to blast him with a hot retort, but she stopped herself, knowing he was right, she wasn't going to last much longer. 'Damn it!' she thought, 'I'm tougher than this.' Another voice inside her head, suddenly answered. 'Yeah. You think you are, but you're getting older, taking longer to heal. Not to mention, oh, but I'll mention it, your biological clock has been ticking away the days, weeks, months and years. In a couple of more years, you can kiss goodbye any chance of ever having little soldiers. That is, if you can have them at all, after all the fucked up shit you've done to your body.'

'Face it, Rhodes, your former husband knew that you wouldn't make a good mommy, -hell, you didn't make a good wife- so he dumped you by fucking someone else. But, you took care of him and his cheating ways. You got him good. You crippled him. Man, did you fuck him over but good. Why didn't you do the same to the slut he was with? Well, Rhodes? Can't answer that can you, not without being honest with yourself. And, we both know that's not going to happen.'

'SHUTUP! SHUTUP! Just shut the fuck up!' silently screamed Wanda.

There was no reply, not that she expected one, still, her conscious was her balance and soon enough, it would return, with a vengeance. More so, because of her weakened condition. Damn this pain!

Before long, although Wanda was beginning to drift in and out of conscious awareness, she had flashes of crystal clear cognizance where she knew Hudson had found them a place to stay. Then, the blackness descended and the pain went away.

~N~

"Wake up! Come on, Rhodes. Wake up! We've got to get going."

Wanda heard the voice, but it seemed distant and without much presence, plus, she felt herself drifting comfortably, without a care in the world, as serene as any place she'd ever experienced. So why did she need to wake up? Instead, she sunk deeper into her warm comforting cocoon, shutting off the voice.

An immeasurable amount of time passed until Rhodes was rudely awakened by a splashing cascade of frigid water that immediately set her teeth to chattering. And, incidentally and abruptly awakening her to full, and a angry, consciousness.

"What the fuck?! HUDSON! YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I'LL KILL YOU!" screamed Rhodes as she tried in vain to remove herself from the spray of water falling and running down on her body, and that's when she noticed she was naked!

"YOU FUCKING PERVERT! I'M GOING-" started Rhodes.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" roared a steely voice. The undertones the voice carried made Wanda shut her mouth abruptly, but she continued to struggle against a unrelenting vice like grip that held her arms pinned and keeping her under the shower.

"Stop struggling! You're going to re-injure your shoulder." said Don in a calmer manner.

"Okay. I will. I am. Now, let go." said Rhodes through clenched teeth, all thoughts of the frigid water gone as she fought to keep her temper in check.

"I need to tell you something before I do," began Don. Something about his voice made a unbidden thought spring immediately into Wanda's mind, 'Did he rape me? Is that what he's going to tell me?'

"When I let go, I'm going to step out of the shower. We are in a very confined space, and I know you can't use but close moves with your elbows, knees and head. If you try anything like that, I will hit you. I will knock you out and leave you here. When you come to, I will be long gone. Do you understand?"

Wanda felt a sense of relief, yet, resentment built up at his words. She would bide her time, but she was going to pay Hudson back for those words. Rhodes nodded her understanding.

"No. I need to hear you say you understand. I'm not fucking with you and you need to understand that part. I will hurt you. I will leave you." Don said in a calm but toneless voice.

Wanda felt her anger rise like hot air on a freezing winter day, "Yes! I understand!" snapped Wanda, adding mentally, 'One day I'll make you pay! You motherfucker!'

She felt his hands release her arms and then heard the shower curtain slide to one side, she felt his body's warmth leave and then heard the curtain slide closed. 

"Use the shower. I don't know when we'll get the chance to clean up again." said Don's disembodied voice.

Wanda heard the bathroom door close.

After showering, which didn't take but a few minutes, Wanda discovered some clean clothing folded neatly on the shelf, next to a large towel. There were a pair of jeans, a bra, a pair of panties, socks, a black t-shirt, a blue long sleeve shirt, a pair of running shoes, and a short brown jacket. All brand new. And all in her size. Rhodes was pleasantly surprised, but it didn't do anything to blunt the anger she felt at Hudson. 

In a couple of minutes Rhodes was dressed and exiting the bath. Wanda was ready for Don's bullshit. Not that she would do anything to him right that moment, but when the mission was done, she was going to pay him a unexpected visit.

Don sat perched on the edge of the bed, his face a study in contemplation; his brows were knit close together, his mouth was a thin tight line, and his facial muscles were taut and harshly outlined.

He looked up as Rhodes entered the small room.

His eyes never changed, they remained calm but emotionless, like a snake's gaze. "Are you ready to move out?"

Even his voice seemed devoid of emotion. Wanda blinked in surprise at this unexpected side of Hudson.

"What did you do with the clothing I was wearing?" asked Wanda, ignoring his question.

"They're gone. Burned and trashed. Now, are you ready to go?"

"What gave you the right to take my clothing and burn them?" demanded Rhodes in angry frustration.

Without bothering to reply, Don grabbed a large military style rucksack that had been sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. It was brand new and bulged with whatever it contained. That too came as a surprise to Rhodes. 'How long have I been out?' she wondered. 'No use asking the pervert, he would probably tell me to go fuck myself.'. For some reason, she couldn't explain, that thought made her smile inwardly.

Without looking at Rhodes, Hudson walked outside and headed to a small white truck parked at the other end of the roadside motel. Wanda had no choice but to follow him out. It was midmorning. The day was bright and without a cloud in the sky. The temperature was just above freezing, but it felt good to Wanda.

The truck had seen better days; its paint was peeling and showing gray primer, it was covered in road dust, and the windows were nearly opaque by the film of brown colored dust that covered every window. Despite herself, Rhodes was impressed with Hudson's scrounging ability.

He entered the truck and waited for Rhodes to do the same. Once both were belted in, he drove off down the two-lane highway.

"You've been out for three days. You've cost me seventy-two hours. I'm hoping Hughes won't be able to track us. But, you needed the rest and the time to heal. Your shoulder is still messed up. The long walk drained you." said Don by way of explanation as he adjusted the truck's heat controls.

"Why did you wait for me? Why didn't you leave me behind?" asked Wanda, curiosity evident in her voice.

"I thought about it. At one point I did walk out of the room, ready to drive off. Why I stayed...? Honestly, I don't know. Perhaps, because you seemed helpless, and vulnerable." said Don matter-of-factly.

"Oh. The big strong man has to protect the little weak girl. Well, fuck you!" Wanda couldn't help herself. Almost every word out of the asshole pissed her off.

"Can it, Rhodes. You asked, I answered. Since you don't like my answers, then don't ask anymore questions."

Hudson moved slightly, as he did so, Rhodes noticed a bulge in the side of his jacket. Instantly she knew Don was carrying a pistol.

They drove along several minutes in tense silence before Wanda's curiosity reared its ugly head.

"How did you get the truck?" With the pistol in mind, she added, "And whatever else?"

Don threw a quick look at Rhodes, returning his eyes to the road without replying.

Hudson's glance sent a shiver down Wanda's spine. It was clearly a 'Don't ask stupid questions' look, but there was something else with it. Like a warning. Something had changed in Don while she'd slept, and it didn't seem like a good thing.

They drove in silence for a few hours until Don pulled into a major chain convenience store selling gas. Stopping in front of one of the gas pumps, Don quickly exited the truck and walked into the store. He hadn't said a word to Rhodes, which had her feeling both relieved and concerned.

Rhodes exited the vehicle and entered the store, spotting Hudson near the coffee island. 

"I'm going to use the restroom. I'll be right out. Are you going to wait for me?"

"Yeah."

His answer, instead of comforting her, rang warning bells. "Seriously. We're in the middle of nowhere. You leave me here and I'm stuck. I can't call Hughes because I'm supposed to be- Well, not here. Whether I like it or not, I'm forced to tag along. At least, until we reach a place I can operate on my own. So will you wait?"

Don looked at Rhodes, and not for the first time, noticed how attractive she was, despite her head's odd shape. As he continued to gaze upon her face, something stirred deep within his soul.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll wait for you, if you agree to tell me what happened to your face." he said coolly.

Wanda's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would you want to know that?"

"I'm curious."

Rhodes studied his face a moment, and saw nothing but a calm nonchalance.

"Do we have a deal?" asked Don, his voice steady and even, as if he were asking about the weather.

"I don't have much of a choice. Do I?" snapped Rhodes angrily.

"We all have choices. You could have chosen to stay with Hughes, or go to your home. Instead, you chose to join me, against my wishes. By the same token you can choose to remain here, hoping for a ride. Or, agree to my condition and ride out of here, now."

After a moment's pause to think on Hudson's words, Rhodes said, "Fine! I'll tell you, but only when we're on the road."

"Okay. Fair enough. I'll see you in a few." agreed Don as he turned and moved toward the checkout counter.

After gassing up, and getting on to the highway, Don asked, "What's your story?"

Wanda turned to Don, giving him an scathing look. If he noticed and was bothered by her expression, he didn't give any sign as he continued to wait expectantly.

"I was caught in a explosion. It messed up my face. End of story." said Rhodes quickly.

Without looking at her, Don said, "Not good enough. Details, please."

Rhodes stared hatefully at Hudson for a second before turning her head toward the passenger window.

At just above a whisper, Rhodes began to talk. "I was nineteen, it was the second year of Operation Enduring Freedom, I was fresh out of AIT and assigned to a logistical support unit which was tasked to maintain supply to the boots in Afghanistan. Essentially, I drove a deuce and a half all over Afghanistan. They sent us out one day on a short run, without any gunfighters, and we were ambushed by the Taliban. One of the Haji's launched a RPG and hit my truck. In the explosion I was thrown clear, my co-driver wasn't so lucky. Trapped in the cab, he burned to death. I came to in the US Army hospital in Frankfurt."

Rhodes was silent for so long, Don assumed she was done speaking, but after another minute passed, she spoke up again.

"My face was messed up. Broken cheek bones. Dislocated jaw. Fractured orbital. Fractured skull. And, a broken nose. Much of my facial skin had been burnt. I was never a beauty, but I had looked okay. After the attack, even I scared myself looking in the mirror. It took three years to rebuild my face. They used bone grafts and skin grafts. Even plastic prosthesis to help reshape my face. In the end, what you see now, was the best they could do."

Mentally shaking herself to dispel the painful memory, Rhodes turned to glare at Hudson. "Happy now, asshole?"

Don gave her a amused grin at her reference to him, but remained silent.

"What's changed you? A few days ago you were just this normal guy, lost in a sea of confusion. Now- I don't know. What happened to you in the last few days? Where did you get the truck and the pistol you have?" asked Wanda in bewilderment.

The slight smile Don wore, dropped off his face like someone snapping a switch.

"Well, lets see. I was accused of cheating by my loving wife, then Pete and his cronies take over my life, then two assholes come to kill me, and then I discover my wife is nothing but a slut. A mercenary slut at that! So if that isn't enough reason to change, then I don't know what is." explained Don in a harsh voice.

"And the rest? The truck, the weapon?" prompted Rhodes.

"I have resources. I used those resources to get a truck and arm myself. Aside from the pistol, it's all legit. The pistol is unregistered and has never been used. Anything else?"

Despite her dislike of Hudson, Wanda had to admit that he was resourceful, and even as she allowed herself that unwelcome thought, something else intruded her mind. She felt a sort of kinship with him.

"No. I think that covers it." said Rhodes mildly. "Except, where are we going?"

Don looked at her and suddenly she was filled with dread, for his face was alien in its stone like expression.

"To get answers."

~N~

"HE DID WHAT?! WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP HIM?" roared Pete at Hughes.

"Calm down, Top. I'll explain." said Hughes in a placating tone.

Fuming, Santos closed his mouth tightly and waved a hand at Hughes to continue.

"He was going to try escaping no matter what I told him or did. I don't have the man power to watch him twenty-four seven. Even if I did, I wouldn't do it any way. I'm not a jailer. So I let him escape without interference."

"Of all the fucked up ideas you've ever had, Gerald, this one is the most fucked up of them all." said Santos, in a calmer but admonishing tone. "How are you going to keep track of him? What if he blows the entire op? Damn! Why didn't you call me? I would have figured something out."

"Easy, old man. He didn't go off alone. Rhodes is with him." said Hughes with a sinister grin as wide as the Grand Canyon.

"Oh, shit. Well...fuck! Why didn't you say so earlier?" exclaimed Santos in grudging admiration. "Poor Don."

Both men started laughing hard, which eventually turned to chuckles and the wiping of eyes.

"Damn, Lieutenant, you're one nasty motherfucker." choked out Santos, as he chuckled.

"It's why they pay me the big bucks." replied Hughes off handedly. "Pete, you ready to drop the carpenter's hammer and return to the team? I mean you've got to be tired of all that civilian bullshit. Right?"

Shaking his head, Pete said, "Ten years ago, no, even just five years ago I would have agreed with you." Sighing, Pete continued, "When Stephie died, I needed to some time to come to terms with her death. More importantly I had get over the guilt I felt over being away from her for so long. She was a good woman. She bore her suffering in silence, not once did she ever complain. Even when deployments ran a year or two. When she was diagnosed with colon cancer- I decided that enough was enough. I was done with all the military bullshit. So I spent every waking moment trying to make up for not being there all those years."




Claim It! Pt. 04



Looking at his friends face, Pete asked, "You know what was so terrible about that?"

After a moment, Hughes shook his no.

"By that time, with all the chemo and radiation Stephie was getting, she was too weak and ill to travel. So our time together wasn't the fun and games it should have been. It was supposed to be traveling, seeing new sights, sharing special moments together. Instead, it was her getting sicker and all I could do was hold her hand. In the end, right before she died, she thanked me for being there with her. She thanked me!" Pete said in amazed wonder.

Hughes had seen Santos express all sorts of things, and had even seen him grimace in pain, once, when he was seriously wounded, but his current expression was nothing he'd ever seen on the former Sergeant Major.

It was soul damning grief.

Santos' pain filled eyes brought burning embarrassment to Hughes. 

"She should have cursed the day I was born, Gerald. She should have condemned my soul to eternal damnation for marrying her. She had every fucking right. Instead, she thanked me as she died!"

"That's fucked up, Top, and I'm sorry, man. Stephie was one of a kind. You were and are one lucky bastard to have known her and married her. You're right though, she should have cut your heart out, shot you in the balls and kicked your head in. As we've always known, she was too good for you. She should have married me." Hughes said lightly.

Pete's face grew red with suppressed anger, and then suddenly, he burst out laughing. "Fuck you! If she was too good for me, then she was definitely too good for you!"

"I know she was, Top." Hughes agreed, albeit, sadly. "But, kicking yourself in the balls isn't going to change what coulda, woulda, shoulda been. Get over it and move forward."

Pete smiled at Hughes. "I have been. Stephie and I discussed it several times, and what I'm doing is something we both agreed on. I can't shed the guilt, but I have been doing something with my life. Building something from nothing, has been good for me, and to me. I can't change the past shit, but I can better the future shit, due in part, of my past shit. "

"Seriously? You're going Plato on me?"

"Gerald- I'm happy where I am. With what I'm doing. So, no, I ain't going back to that point in my life where I missed so much life."

Hughes gazed at his friend in bewilderment, it was like Santos had grown a second head and the new head was asking what's to eat.

"Okay, man. If that's what puts juice in your tube, all I can say is- I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Gerald. Now, about Don..."

~N~

The man drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting impatiently for his throw away phone to ring. The new team he'd hired was proving less cooperative than the first team. Yet, it was a price he paid for employing those less scrupulous. They cared little for the law and it came as no real surprise that they had even less concern with their employer. It was frustrating to say the least. He should have already received an update and a confirmation on the death of Donald Hudson. If only the first team hadn't lost perspective, and their stomach for what needed to be done.

The vibration in his coat pocket was an irritant which interrupted his thoughts, but it was also a welcome relief.

The non-altered human voice rasped, "He's not dead. We've discovered evidence indicating he's wounded, but somehow managed to escape. The two men sent to terminate him are missing. They haven't contacted us, so its presumed they're dead." After a moment's pause, the rasp continued. "Whatever the fuck you got us into it's going to cost you! A lot more!" As per instructions, the raspy voice hung up, knowing there wouldn't be a reply.

The news came as a rude shock to the man. Don Hudson not dead? How could that be? How could Hudson have killed two professional assassins?

What if Hudson had caught on? What if he knew who was behind everything? It could turn even more dangerous and undoubtedly, messier. It could also mean the end of his long held dreams. The man's hand trembled as he returned the phone to his coat pocket. He began to worry. And, to fear.

~N~

"My dear, it's but for a fortnight, we shall return with plenty of time to spare." Mark McCullah said in a melodramatica manner. "Donna, honestly, it's just a short trip. We'll be back in time for the reading of the final disposition. And then- Well, we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams! Imagine buying things, going places, doing things we could only dream of before. Isn't that worth everything we've worked toward these past several weeks?"

"Of course! Of course, it is. But, don't you think we should stay close by just in case something happens? I don't want to lose what we've worked for because we weren't here to monitor the situation." said Donna pleadingly. "Please, Mark, lets stay here. Once it's over we can go wherever you want. Together! As we've always wanted to."

McCullah mulled his lover's words for several seconds, as she looked on with hopeful expectation.

"You do have a point. And, under different circumstances, I'd immediately agree with your concern, however, we have a problem that if we stay could put an end to our plans. Because of the possibility that something could crop up, while we're away, your concern has strong merit. Yet, by staying, we could have a larger problem. It's a difficult decision, but I still think we should leave."

Donna looked on with mild surprise at her lover, confused by the mention of a problem already.

"What sort of problem is it, Mark, that forces us to leave?" asked Donna uncertainly.

Sighing deeply, McCullah looked away from Donna and toward the living room window, "It's your husband. He's missing and presumed dead. Although there is a rumor that he isn't dead, that he faked his death. If that's the case, he could be looking for you. If he finds you, he could cause a major problem. It would draw attention, and then things would be exposed."

"He's dead?" asked Donna in a voice filled with surprise and disbelief. "What happened? How did he die"

"I don't know he's dead. No one does. Not for sure. There's evidence he's alive. And if he is, then most likely he'll come looking for you. I don't know if he can find you, since he doesn't know I exist, but he might. And, if he does, well..." McCullah trailed off, leaving Donna's imagination to fill in the blank.

"Oh, my God! How did he die? I mean- If he's dead, how did he die?" asked Donna, the beginning of shock husking her voice.

"Dammit, Donna. He might not be dead!" Mark said loudly in exasperation.

Seeing that Donna was a confused by the news, he quickly explained.

"I heard he pissed off some people, maybe he fucked them over on some job, and they went after him. His business partner, some Mexican guy, called the police when your husband didn't show up for work. They found blood in his office trailer. It's Hudson's blood. But, somehow, the police figured out he might not be dead."

Donna, stood and walked toward the fireplace in the living room of Mark's townhouse.

"He cheated on me, but I don't want anything bad to happen to him. I still love him, as stupid as that sounds. After you had shown me the evidence, I confronted him. At first, he played dumb. Then he denied he'd had sex with Michelle." Donna turned to look at Mark. "Oh, Mark! He did everything you said he'd do. Except, he became really angry. I'd never seen him so furious. I had this thought he would do something to me. Hurt me. I don't know what was going on with him, but the entire thing, It just didn't feel right."

Pausing, Donna looked at Mark questioningly.

"Why would he be so angry at me? Why didn't he admit to his cheating? You said he would cave and admit it. Why didn't he do that? Why, Mark?"

Mark McCullah became anxious at the doubt represented by Donna's questions. He had to act quickly but without making too much of it, he had to move her away from the doubt. He had to play it very carefully.

Hesitatingly, as if unwilling to cause Donna more emotional pain in dredging up an uncomfortable subject, he said, "Sometimes, when people are caught red-handed, they get defensive. We all do it, at one time or another. I know I've done it, even knowing it was a lost cause. That's human nature, and wrong or right, once we get our backs against the wall, we strike out. I think that's the case here. I think, Don, he didn't want to admit what he'd done. Perhaps he was afraid of losing you if he did. Or maybe, he just doesn't like to be wrong. I don't know." Pausing, as if in thought, McCullah began to pace. "Or, maybe his anger was more at himself, for doing what he did and then being discovered. Of course, his anger is misplaced, but as I said, we are human and it is our nature."

"Do you really think so, Mark? I mean, you didn't see him. He was enraged. I even threw his favorite saying at him, 'Claim it'. I thought he would. It just made him even angrier."

At Donna's words, a uncomfortable silence fell between the two people.

"It sounds like it was a bad idea calling him out using his own words against him. I'm sure it did infuriate him. But, cheaters sometimes go on the attack, using anger to first squash and then win the argument. They cause doubt in that way. Just like the doubt you are feeling now. Am I right?"

Donna looked at Mark, but all she saw was a concerned and pitying expression. It made her choke up that he cared so much. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Well, there you have it! If he can cause you to doubt the evidence, he can then take control and manipulate you. More than likely, if he had convinced you that he wasn't cheating, he would have cooled it with your friend Michelle, but only until he was sure you no longer had any suspicions. Then he would have, pardon the expression, begun fucking her again." said McCullah in a strong confident tone of voice.

As he spoke, McCullah saw the anger flare up in Donna's eyes. Good, he had her!

Choosing his words carefully, he said, "And didn't you say, your friend, Michelle-"

Donna interrupted him, hissing venomously, "She's not my friend! Not anymore!"

"Okay, sorry about that. But, you did say Michelle didn't deny it and she even tried to play like she was too busy to talk. Right?" said Mark with the smoothness of a snake slithering over glass.

"Yes! The fucking bitch!" responded Donna with renewed hate.

Knowing she was back on board, McCullah breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"There you have it. If what evidence I've shown you isn't enough then the very attitudes of Don and your friend-" He saw her eyes flash in rising anger and quickly changed his wording. "I mean- Michelle. Their less than forthright attitudes, should convince you they've been having sex. "Taking a breath and seeming to speak against his will, McCullah added, "I hate to say it, but since you're no longer in the picture, so to speak, they are probably continuing their fuck sessions."

"Motherfuckers! Fuck Don! The sorry asshole deserves whatever anyone does to him! I can't believe I felt sorry for him!"

Breathing heavily, her breasts heaving with pent up anger, Donna looked at Mark McCullah and said, "Okay, lets get the fuck out of this town. I don't want to talk to that motherfucker! Or to the skank I thought was my friend. And when we return, I'm putting an end to the marriage! That motherfucker! He's going to pay!"

A malicious smile played across McCullah's face as he turned away from Donna. 'Oh, how perfect the world', he thought.

~N~

The hard jolt woke her. She'd been asleep, dreaming of- She wasn't sure what she'd been dreaming, but whatever the dream it had brought her a warm blanket of comfort. Then she opened her eyes and the feeling quickly evaporated.

Don had gone off the road, the jolt had been caused by a dip in the uneven terrain they now drove over, albeit slowly.

"Where are-" began Rhodes as she tried to stifle a yawn, with no success. "...We?"

Don simply cast an amused glance at her disheveled hair and wide yawn.

"Okay. Why are we off road?" Rhodes tried a different tact.

"You'll know soon enough. By the way, sorry for the rough ride, but cutting a trail in rough terrain isn't easy."

They rode along in a bumpy silence, punctuated by an occasional involuntary moan of discomfort from Rhodes as the truck swayed violently over some particularly uneven ground. Soon, Don slowed the truck until they came to an old cabin. It looked abandoned, but then again, thought Rhodes, 'Looks can be deceiving' as she gave Don a questioning appraisal.

After he had stopped the truck, Don grabbed a large duffel bag off the seat and exited the truck. He didn't once glance at Rhodes, as he quickly walked toward the cabin.

Wanda was out of the truck in a flash, quickly moving to place herself in front of Don, before he entered the cabin.

"What are you doing?" asked Don as he frowned at Rhodes.

"Trying to get some answers. Why are we here? And, what is this place? It looks like no one has been living here since before the turn of the twentieth century."

Sighing, Don moved past Rhodes, or attempted to, since Wanda hastily blocked his path.

"Dammit, Rhodes. Get out of the way!" Don said menacingly.

"Not until you tell me what's going on. Why are we here?"

"To sleep!" said Don.

"Huh? What do you mean? Why not go to a motel? Why here?" asked a confused and suddenly wary Wanda.

"This was my grandfather's place. Although it's primitive, it's secluded enough so we can sleep without worrying about anyone bothering us. Satisfied?." said Hudson sarcastically.

Ignoring his last remark, Wanda asked, "Who else knows about this place?"

Shrugging, Don replied, "I might have told Pete about it. I never got around to telling Donna about it."

Eying him critically for a moment, Rhodes turned to look at the cabin. It really did look abandoned and somewhat decrepit. Without a word she stepped forward, pushing the door open. The door hinges were dry and rusted, and resisted for a second before giving way in a loud screech of disapproval, as Rhodes pushed more forcefully.

"Hey! What are you doing?" asked Don, surprised at Wanda's unexpected action. "Be careful. No one's been here in some time, years probably, and there's no telling what condition the structure is in."

"I hear you, Hudson. I'm not a fool. So, you enter first."

Grunting his disapproval at Rhodes' flippancy, Don pulled a flashlight out of the bag he carried.

"Stay here. I'll call to you after I check things out." said Don as he gingerly stepped into the cabin.

"Whatever." replied Wanda to his back.

The single room cabin wasn't as bad as Don had first thought. The wooden beams and studs seemed solid enough, as did the plank flooring. The interior of the cabin was sparsely furnished, with a home-made table and 2 wooden chairs. There was a large clothing chest at the foot of the twin bed. The bed had no mattress, although a old bare metal semi-rusted box spring leaned against one wall. Casting his gaze around he saw a clear plastic wrapped bundle of at least two sleeping bags. There was also a kerosene lamp hanging from a wall peg. There was a small stack of kindling and a few short pieces of split logs laying next to the fireplace.

Satisfied with his initial appraisal of the cabin's structural condition, he called for Rhodes to enter.

"You can have the bed, and I'll sleep on the floor. Sorry, but we can't have a fire, since the smoke would be seen for miles." explained Don to Rhodes as she strode in.

After a quick glance of the place, Wanda said, "Nah, I'm sleeping on the floor. I don't need a fire. I've slept under worse conditions. I'll be fine."

Shrugging, Don said, "Suit yourself."

Using the sleeping gear Don had purchased, they quickly settled in. Using a red lensed flashlight, Don sorted through the duffel bag.

"Here, it's not gourmet, but it's got plenty of calories." said Don, as he handed Wanda a small MRE package.

"Yuck! Vomit omelette! What do you have?" asked Rhodes in disgust.

"Mmm- Chili Mac. Want to trade?"

"Fuck yeah! Chili Mac is my fav!" exclaimed Rhodes in pleasant surprise.

Dom chuckled softly at Rhodes' child like excitement, as he traded his MRE for hers.

Opening her MRE, Wanda quickly dug in. "What's so funny? And how can you stomach that slimy yellow crap? It's really foul." asked Wanda as she spooned out a large portion of chili.

"I don't mind the taste. I don't think about what I'm eating while on mission. I eat to keep my strength up." explained Don as he ate. "Plus, I have a cast iron stomach." he added between bites.

Nodding, Wanda said, "I knew guys like you back when. So focused on their task, they didn't care what they ate or even if they ate. At least, not until they accomplished their mission."

Don continued to eat, listening to Wanda's words, while thinking about other things.

After a few moments of mutual silence, Rhodes said, "Don...?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your mission? Why are we here? What did you mean by 'to get answers'?"

The silence grew into a uncomfortable pause, and Rhodes was about to ask her questions again, when Hudson spoke.

"I want to know who lied to my wife and why."

Staring at Don for a moment, Wanda replied, "I think you already know the why of it."

"You think it's for the inheritance? That Donna is so mercenary she would fake a marriage for the sole purpose of inheriting money?" said Don disbelievingly.

"Stranger things have happened. And, spouses have been known to kill each other off for a lot less than five million dollars." said Wanda in a quiet voice.

"I know! But, Donna? Shes' acted like the loving wife for five years! How can anyone do that and not mean it?" asked Don just as quietly.

Shrugging, Rhodes said, "I don't know."

Turning his head to her, Hudson asked, "Could you do something like that? Pretend to marry and love someone for money? Would you?"

Wanda was caught by surprise at the unexpected questions. Could she do something like that? Probably. Would she do it? Probably not. No, on second thought, she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't masquerade as a loving wife no matter how much money was involved.

"No, I couldn't."

After a few seconds, Don lay down, saying, "Okay. Goodnight, Rhodes."

Troubled by Hudson's reaction, Wanda asked, "Are you still going to-"

Another, but sterner, 'good night' interrupted Wanda's question, but she got the hint, and lay down, as well.

~N~

They'd been driving since before the morning sun. It had been a cold night in the cabin with no heat. Neither had slept well, although they'd both slept through the night. Don drove as Rhodes tried to catch a few winks in the warm cab of the truck.

"Do you want me to drop you off some where? Because, the next stop is McCullah's place."

Wanda opened her eyes, turning to look at Hudson. "You have his location?"

Don nodded.

"How did you get his address?"

"Does it matter? I also know that he's preparing to leave town. He'll either be gone by tonight or first thing tomorrow. So what do you want to do?"

Rhodes looked at Hudson. She looked at him as if for the first time. "You're full of surprises, Mister Hudson. But, do tell, how did you come by your information?"

"I doesn't matter. Now, what do you want to do? Drop off, or finish the ride?"

Wanda ignored his questions, asking one in return. "Don... Don, what are you planning to do? I mean, to McCullah?"

"Get some answers." he said coldly.

Rhodes looked away, lost in her thoughts, when Don intruded, "Don't worry. I'm not going to kill the guy. I'm just going to ask him some questions. If he answers truthfully, then nothing happens. If he tries to play me- Well, someone might get hurt." explained Hudson grimly.

Rhodes looked at Don, studying his face, his posture, his body, trying to read him, to see if he was being truthful. Nothing came to her, but she knew Don, rather, she'd read and knew his military psychological evaluation. "Okay. I'm in. Now, what's the plan?" asked Rhodes with barely concealed relish.




Claim It! Pt. 05



This is the conclusion to this short story, although I will continue with the main plot line in other stories at some time in the future. I hope you've enjoyed it. And yes, for those of you who care, I'm working on "Why".

*****

"Are you ready? Everything packed that you want to take?" asked Mark as he rushed by Donna, grabbing some last minute items from the bathroom closet.

"I think so. If not, I'll buy what I need when we get to Kazakhstan. How about you? Ready?"

McCullah was busy stuffing the last items into his travel bag even as he spoke. "Yeah, I'm there. Now, we have about an hour to kill before the cab arrives."

Donna gave Mark a look of displeasure as she exclaimed, "What?! You made me rush for nothing!"

A slow smile crept up on Mark's face. "No, my dear. Not for nothing. It's so we could have some time for us, before we set off on our grand adventure." With that he reached for Donna, grabbing her by the shoulders, drawing her to him and pressing his lips to hers.

"Mmph... Wait... mmm...Mark! Stop!" said Donna as she pulled back from him. Donna had to forcefully will herself to draw away from him. Mark's kisses were knee weakening and brain numbing, and all she wanted was to enjoy his loving. But, some things take precedence, like her anger at Mark for not telling her there was no rush.

"Wait a minute, buster! You think you can stick that dick of yours into me and make it all better? If so, you have another think coming!" began Donna heatedly.

Laughing, Mark said "Of course I can. "

"Oh, you- You ass!" said Donna, her slight smile softening her words.

"You know you want me. You know you have to have me. And we have time. I did it all for you, my dear." explained Mark with the same bold debonair that had won Donna over from the very beginning.

"Well, if you did it all for me, then let me do something for you." said Donna in a sultry voice.

"Now, you're talking!"

Mark reached for Donna again, and this time she came into his arms willingly and expectantly. His hands began to caress her shoulders, then he used his fingers to gently and slowly, move down along her spine, slightly tickling her skin.

"Mm, that feels so nice." murmured Donna.

Donna had wrapped her arms around Mark's neck and clung tightly as his fingers and hands moved over her body. She could feel his penis grow larger, as it rubbed up against her thigh. That sensation made her pussy wet, and even hornier.

"Come on baby, lets' get comfortable." suggested Mark in a low sexy growl. "Lets' go to the bedroom."

"Mm...Yes. Lets' go to the bedroom and give this big fella some room." said Donna demurely, as she rubbed his cock through his pants. 

Entangled in a embrace they stumbled into the bedroom, where Mark lifted up Donna into his arms and threw her on the king-sized bed. She squealed with laughter and surprise at her lover's unexpected but definitely very male behavior.

"What's got into you, Mark? All of a sudden you're so- so- domineering. I've never seen this physical side of you. Not that I'm complaining. I like it!" said Donna, mild curiosity tinging her voice .

"You're my woman! That's what's got into me! I never imagined this day would ever happen! Could ever happen! As soon as you're divorced, we'll marry and with the money we'll get...Well, we're going to enjoy a life style few people get to experience. With you by my side, how can I not be feeling euphoric? Enough talk! Me want pussy!" explained Mark to a pleased Donna.

Mark jumped onto the bed, next to Donna and began to run his hands over her breasts, her flat belly, her thighs and in between her legs, where her rapidly moistening vagina fairly jumped at his touch. "Oh, that feels so good. Get your clothes off! Hurry! I'm ready, baby. Give it to me! Just fuck me!" gasped Dona in sexual exaltation.

Mark not only removed his clothes in record time, but he removed Donna's, as well. Well, more like tore and yanked her clothing off.

Naked, they intertwined, their hands wildly roved over each other's bodies, their kisses hard bruising and wet, with mixed saliva smearing across their lips and cheeks. He sucked at her sensitive nipples, making them stiff and even more sensitive, until she moaned from the oral pleasure. "Fuck! Stop teasing me, Mark! Fuck me! NOW!"

His cock was as hard as it had ever been, his lust surging ever higher and stronger each time he touched Donna's body, especially her very slick cunt. He reached down to her neither regions, felt around until he found her very wet pussy and slowly inserted his middle finger. Donna moaned as his finger slid in, and whimpered as he slowly moved his finger in and out of her. He used his thumb to slowly caress her tight little butt hole. Mark hadn't had her ass yet, not for the lack of trying, she'd always balked at anal sex, but he now felt this was perfect timing to complete his mastery of Donna Hudson.

Donna had never felt so sexually free, her body had entirely immersed itself into the throes of the lust and passion she was feeling. A slight sense of guilt and regret passed through her heart as Don unexpectedly entered her thoughts. It was but a brief and almost overlooked thought, but as quickly as it came it disappeared, to be forgotten as Mark pulled out his finger and rammed his thick rigid dick into her slopping wet pussy.

A loud scream of near unbearable pleasure burst forth from Donna as Mark began to slide his cock faster and faster, in and out of Donna's tight, hot, pulsating love canal. Donna lifted her legs, wrapping them around Mark's waist, drawing his relentless hammering penis, deeper into her velvety smooth vagina.

In seconds the two lovers were so caught up in their overwhelming physical passions that the world shrank to a space that barely accommodated their bodies. For several minutes, their grunts and moans of pleasure and the squeaking protests of the bed were the only sounds to be heard, until...

A loud hand clap of applause penetrated their sexually saturated brains, and both Donna and Mark stopped their love making to look toward the sound.

"DON! What are you doing here? How did you-" yelled Donna in shock edged by terror.

"What the fuck?! Get the fuck out of my house!" shouted McCullah in anger, and fear.

Don looked at the two of them, the fear and shock of seeing him etching their faces grotesquely. He swung his gaze between his cheat slut of a wife and the man who set up the deception. He locked his eyes on to Mark McCullah's, his gaze remaining steady and deadly.

"No. I'm not going anywhere. And neither are both of you. We have a few things to discuss." replied Don in a voice stripped of all emotion.

"I'm calling the cops! I know who you are, Hudson! You're a wanted man!" said McCullah with a smirk. Mark was quickly regaining his mental balance, and he was going to bring down this wimp, Hudson.

"Obviously, you don't realize the seriousness of the situation, Mister McCullah, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to impress upon you the depth of my sincerity."

Neither Donna nor Mark had noticed what Hudson carried in his hand until he raised his arm.

"You're going to shoot me? Kill me?" asked McCullah in detached disbelief.

"Kill you, no. Shoot you, yes."

Donna had just started to scream in abject terror when Hudson pulled the trigger. The suppressed pistol made a weird sounding sharp pop. The solid 9mm round cleanly entered the left thigh of McCullah and exited just as cleanly.

"I don't think any major arteries were hit, still, you best get Donna to apply first aid. That is, if you can get her to stop screaming so she can hear you." said Don calmly.

"You shot me!" screamed McCullah.

"I know."

McCullah looked at his upper leg, saw the blood beginning to ooze from the small hole in front, then the reality of the situation and the burning pain hit simultaneously.

"You're crazy!" Grasping his thigh at the wound, Mark began yelling inarticulately.

"What happened?" asked Rhodes as she walked into the bedroom a minute later.

"He didn't take me seriously." answered Hudson nonchalantly.

Wanda looked at the screaming man a moment before asking, just as unconcerned, "So you shot him?"

Don shrugged in reply. "Did you find anything to prove McCullah's involvement in all the shit?"

Wanda lifted a laptop she held. "This is all I found. The evidence might be on here, but it requires a hard drive password and probably an OS password. I can crack both, but it'll take more time than we have."

"Okay." Don walked over to the McCullah, who now lay on the floor. "McCullah! Stop your whimpering. I have a question for you."

McCullah's bulging eyes, when they weren't intermittently squeezed shut, brought back some unpleasant memories to Don, which angered him.

Mark McCullah was lost in the pain and the wretched reality of being shot. He was now utterly terrified, a emotion and position he'd never imagined he'd experience. And, he was rapidly going into traumatic shock.

As luck would have it, Don's anger motivated him to slap McCullah across the face, brutally. Subsequently, Hudson's emotionally fueled physical reaction brought Mark McCullah out of the dangerous stupor. And fortunately, for both men, saving Mark McCullah's life.

"Wha-" moaned McCullah.

"Listen up, you piece of shit. What're the passwords to your laptop. And McCullah, if you don't cooperate, your usefulness comes to an end, and then you come to an end. Understand?"

Grimacing in pain, McCullah nodded. Hudson wasn't what he'd expected. According to their best intelligence, Hudson should have been a emotional wreck by now, not some rampaging demon from hell. The rumors were true then, Hudson had shot and killed two professional hit men. From what McCullah's addled brain could tell, Hudson would kill him, and without hesitation. Right there and then, Mark McCullah knew his life hung by a thread. Without further thought as to the consequences and the loss of millions of dollars, McCullah told him the passwords.

Soon, Rhodes was searching through the folders and files on the laptop. After several minutes, in which Don managed to calm Donna and have her patch up McCullah, then restrain them both, under much protest, Rhodes found what Don wanted.

"The stupid son of a bitch didn't delete anything. All of it is here. The original images and the edited images. He even has some kind of manifesto written up. There's a lot more, but what you need is here." Rhodes held out the laptop so Don could see what she was referring to.

"Okay, thanks."

Donna had been watching Don and the woman with him, and heard what they'd exchanged between them.

"What are you talking about, Don? What images? And, who's the woman?"

Don turned from the laptop to face his wife. His expression was thoughtful.

"As I told you when you walked out that night, I hadn't cheated on you. That someone was lying to you. Instead of allowing me the benefit of doubt, you believed someone who played you. McCullah played you for a fool and you ate it up. Donna, I suspect there was some part of you that knew I would never cheat on you, but the rest of you, I think you used the 'evidence', so conveniently supplied by McCullah, as a excuse to fuck around."

"No! I never would have done anything if you and Michelle, that back stabbing bitch, hadn't had sex! I saw the photos of you and her together, kissing and groping each other. In public! What kind of fool do you think I am to allow that to go on and not do something about it? You fucked up, asshole! Not me!" said Donna defiantly.

Rather than reply, Don took the laptop from Rhodes, walking to kneel in front of Donna. In seconds he was scrolling through the images, displaying them to his still trussed up, but soon to be former, wife. 

"Oh, my God! I never knew, Don! I swear! I thought Mark was telling me the truth. Oh, my God! I'm so sorry, Don! I-" cried Donna in emotional anguish.

"Save it for someone who cares. We're done, Donna. I can't stand the sight of you." interrupted Don in a voice filled with cold hatred.

"Please, Don! I'm sorry! I know now I'm the one who fucked up. I love you! I was just mad at what I thought you'd done! We can fix it. I'll be the best-"

"At least, you claim it. But, there is no 'we' and whatever you'll be the best at won't be with me. Give it up, Donna. It's over. Get it? There's nothing for you to go back to. McCullah saw to that. Also, keep your fucking inheritance! You lied about that, too. Man, you're one fucked up evil bitch."

At the mention of his name, McCullah raised his head, looking forlorn, the wounded man asked, "Are you going to kill us?"

The unbridled hatred on Hudson's face made McCullah whimper involuntarily. Before Don could reply, he heard, "No, he's not going to kill you. But, my guess is, before it's all over, you'll end up wishing he'd shown such mercy to you."

Everyone looked at Rhodes, Don with a questioning expression, the other two with somewhat hopeful expressions.

Shrugging, Rhodes said, "There's other things on his laptop that appear to indicate highly illegal activity. Nothing about the hit on me and my- the other guy, but a good many other things, that will land him in prison for a long time."

"Don, I have something else to tell you." added Rhodes, somewhat meekly.

Suddenly suspicious, Don asked a wary, "What?"

"The team is on the way, they should be here in a few minutes. I called them in from the last gas stop. They'll wrap this up, making sure the law is apprised of the situation here. McCullah will pay for his deceit. And, since you shot McCullah, sticking around isn't a good option. So let's go." explained Wanda in a rush of breath.

After giving Rhodes a long hard look, he relaxed, shook his head and grinned, "Why am I not surprised? Okay, lets' roll!"

As they walked out of the bedroom they heard Donna and McCullah fighting over Mark's deception of her and Donna's deception of her husband.

~N~

As Hudson and Rhodes pulled away from McCullah's modest house, they saw two SVUs approaching from the other direction. "Your people?" asked Don.

'Yeah. I guess I was off by a couple of minutes." quipped Wanda.

"Don, if you don't mind me asking, how did you know where McCullah lived, and how did you get the truck, gear and weapons? That's been bothering me. A lot."

Sighing, Don replied, "I was once a member of an element of the USASOC. I still have friends from long ago that are willing to help."

Frowning in concentration, Wanda asked in confusion, "United States Army Special Operations Command? That USASOC?"

"Is there any other kind?" asked a grinning Don.

"Stop it, you asshole. You know what I mean."

Deigning to reply, Don continued to focus on his driving.

"That part wasn't on your records. All that was listed were a couple of postings that were at most, innocuous. How did that happen?"

"You should know better than to ask, Rhodes. You have enough of your own classified shit under your belt. Not everything goes into your personnel jacket."

After a few seconds contemplating his words, Wanda asked, "What is it that you did? I don't mean the details, just the general job. And why didn't you use them instead of us?"

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?" asked a slightly irritated Don.

"Nope. I'm not. You should know that about me by now. So you might as well answer. It'll save us both a lot of time and maybe some pain. On your part." replied Rhodes with a toothy grin. 

"Alright, I'm going to tell you. But, Wanda, this stays between us. You don't go to Hudson, or anyone else, and update them. Understand? If you do..." Don's voice carried an unspoken promise that made Wanda's spine tingle, sending a chill to her toes.

"I promise, Don." said Wanda in a simple manner. "I won't tell anyone."

Shaking his head, and after muttering something unintelligible to himself, Don spoke up, "I was part of a pysops team, what's now termed as a tactical psychological operations team, or TPT. We carried out psychological operations. End of story."

"Fuck me! Are you serious? That shit is uber classified! No wonder it isn't in your records. Damn!" exclaimed a utterly shocked Wanda.

"I don't like to think about it. It's my past. Not my present or my future. So if you don't mind lets' have a change of subject. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure." agreed a still surprised Rhodes. "But one more question. Since you have that sort of resources, why didn't you use them, instead of us?" 

Shrugging, Don said, "I hadn't intended to use you all, either. Remember, Pete brought you all in. But, when you all kept me out of the loop, I decided to create my own loop. Okay? Now, can I have some peace?"

Several minutes passed in silence as the man and woman each became lost in their respective thoughts.

"Don. I have something else to tell you." said Wanda, a slight redness creeping into her face.

Without looking at her, Don asked wearily, "What now?"

"I love you."

Don nearly lost control of the truck as it was his turn to go into a state of shock.

~N~

The phone vibrated, since he was at work, he'd turned off the ring tone. It was an unexpected call and for some reason it set his nerves on edge. With trembling fingers, he carefully removed the phone from his jacket's pocket and pressed the answer button.

"One of the major operatives has been arrested. We don't have any idea how much information the authorities have managed to gain from him. We will try to determine the damage and take appropriate action. For now, all operations have been halted." said the raspy voice in a unhurried tone.

The caller disconnected, leaving the man in a stupefied state.

'No! No! Everything is in jeopardy! All because McCullah couldn't keep his perverted hands off Hudson's wife. What a fucked up mess! Should he shut it all down? Wait until later before starting up again? Should he just give up totally? NO! This was just another bump in the road. Somehow he'd figure something out, as he had before.'

With a trembling hand, the man placed the phone back where he'd removed it from. He seethed with fury and hatred. And, if he were honest with himself, the ever present fear crept in a little closer.

He needed to get away from the office and go somewhere to cool off before someone noticed his mood.

"Missus Johnson. I'll be out of the office until further notice. Please reschedule today's clients for another day and offer my sincerest apologies for their inconvenience. That will be all."



Claim It!



"Donna hasn't returned or called you since she left?" asked Pete.

"No, she hasn't." With a sheepish look, Don said, "I think I scared her that night. I doubt she will contact me. At least directly. And before you ask, I haven't tried contacting her either."

"Okay, well, the whole thing is very unusual, Boss. I'm with you, I think someone is telling her stuff that ain't true. And really, it sounds like someone is trying to get your wife for themselves. What I don't get though, why didn't she believe you? What evidence does Donna think she has that proves you cheated? Have you contacted Donna's friend?"

Don looked around before answering. checking to see where the men were, he didn't want anyone overhearing.

"No, I haven't called anyone. Not my folks. Not any friends. Not anyone. Especially, not Michelle! Since Donna left Monday I go home and stew. And, no one has called me."

Gazing sternly at his foreman, Don slowly said, "Pete, I don't want anyone to know what's going on with me and Donna. Not yet, anyway. Not until I've had time to find out what's going on with her. And find out who told her all that bullshit about me. You feel me, Compadre?"

"Sure. I got your back. But, you really should go talk to this Michelle." Forestalling Don's knee-jerk reply with a upheld hand, Pete continued talking. "I know you don't like her, but she is the first link you have to all this mess. She is also- or was- Donna's friend, so she might know more than you about what is going on."

Don thought about what Pete just said, but the idea of talking to Michelle, about anything, much more about what had happened between him and Donna, was not a pleasant one.

"I don't know, Pete. She might not want to talk to me. Even if she did, how do I know she isn't in cahoots with Donna? Maybe, I'm being setup by both of them.", mused Don, sourly.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Boss. But, you do need to find out what is going on. Since Michelle was mentioned, then that's where I would start. It's up to you. Now, I'm going to put on my other hat. I still hold the majority shares in your company, and until you finish buying me out, I' m still THE boss. So, do what you need to do to get yourself straight. I can't have your moods running off the men, so go home, go get drunk, go do whatever, but don't come back to work until you got a better handle on yourself. I'm sorry I have to do this, but-"

"I hear you, old man. I don't like it, and I hate to admit it, but you're right. So, I'll be back as soon as I get this shit fixed, one way or another. But, no more lectures, okay? I hate that shit."

"Sure, Don. I'll see you when you return to work. Call me. If you need anything, an ear, a place to crash, name it. If I can do anything to help, I will."

"Thanks, Pete. I'll see you later."

"Via con Adios, Amigo."

~N~

Saturday dawned bright and cold. Don hadn't slept well, he hadn't slept well all week, not since before Donna's crazy behavior. It made him sick each time he thought of the night Donna left and as often as he thought why Donna believed he had cheated, nothing came to mind. It had turned into a vicious circle of conflicting thoughts and emotion, with no end in sight. So, Friday evening, as he lay in bed, sleep eluding him, he contemplated what Pete had said. Don really didn't want to have anything to do with Michelle, but perhaps he had no choice. And, Pete was right, it was a starting point.

Feeling the lack of sleep, he arose from the bed groggily as the rising sun's light began to shine through the bedroom window. After showering, he downed a energy bar and some coffee, but his stomach didn't appreciate the disturbance, and nausea quickly set in. Chewing a couple of antacid tablets he emotionally and mentally prepared himself, as best as he could, to confront Michelle. Finding Michelle was no problem, he knew where she lived because he and Donna had visited her place a couple of times.

He would have called and spoken to Michelle, but he didn't want to give her any warning. He simply didn't trust her.

Don arrived at Michelle's apartment building exactly at nine in the morning. He sat in his truck, staring at nothing for a few minutes as he tried to figure out his approach. There was so many ways to open up the conversation, but he also wanted the truth from Michelle. So it came down to being gentlemanly polite or a raging asshole. Don concluded that a middle of the road approach might be best. At least, at first. 

He tiredly exited the truck, making his way ploddingly up the S shaped sidewalk, and to Michelle's apartment door. The moment had arrived. Out of habit, Don looked at his watch, absently noting that it was seven minutes past nine.

Don saw his hand rise of its own accord, reaching out to press the door bell button. No! He wasn't ready! He needed more time to plan what he was going to say! But, it was too late. He heard the chime inside the apartment begin its melodious tones.

After a couple of seconds, the chimes ended their false gaiety of welcome, he could do nothing but wait for Michelle to answer the door, but it was a nerve wracking wait. He was surprised at his nervous state. He'd never been nervous around Michelle, it was just the opposite. Normally, Don was very self confident when he was around Michelle. It came with his job. He had to be sure of himself, exuding self-confidence, put the clients at ease and built trust. So, despite not wanting to be around her and talk to her, he'd never experienced such nervousness and anxiety with her. Then again, the situation and circumstance back when were far different than it was this morning.

What felt like minutes passed as Don waited. And waited.

Impatient, he checked his watch and was astonished to discover that only one minute had passed.

He looked around the parking area, seeking Michelle's car, but failed to see it. Maybe she wasn't home. Maybe she had left earlier. Maybe she no longer lived here. These thoughts and more, passed in a jumbled fashion through Don's mind while his wait stretched into the next minute.

It was with a mixed cauldron of emotion when Don decided Michele was not at home. Looking at his watch once again, he found three minutes had crept by since he rang the door bell. With a loud sigh of frustration blended in with some relief Don turned away from Michelle's door, beginning the short walk back to his truck.

As he was pressing the truck fob to unlock his truck, he heard someone walking by.

"Don? What are you doing here?!" asked a voice, filled with obvious contempt. 

The voice and tone were unmistakable. It was Michelle.

He turned slowly toward the direction of the voice. Michelle was dressed in, a no doubt, chic running outfit. It clung tightly to her contours, displaying her physical charms in all their glory. The light pink color of the outfit, reminded Don of cotton candy. If Michelle wasn't so much a bitch, Don could have easily found her attractive. However, with her opening verbal salvo, all the things Don disliked about Michelle came flooding back, and in the instant, all of his anxiety evaporated like a morning mist in the hot yellow beams of the rising sun.

"I want to know why you told Donna a bunch of lies!" replied Don in a harsh assured voice.

"What are you talking about?I You're the one who told her we slept together!" shot back Michelle with angry vigor.

Surprised at Michelle's reply, Don became instantly suspicious. "What? I never told her anything like that. Donna accused me of sleeping with you. I denied it. Anyway, how did you know that's what I was talking about?"

Michelle, her eyes filling with a tempestuous emotion, spat out, "Because, shit head, she called and accused me of fucking you! And she said- no, she screamed at me, that you told her that! It's a no-brainer, dick wad!"

"Listen, you fucking cunt!" snarled Don. He was fed up with Michelle's arrogance, disrespect, and was suspicious of Michelle's involvement. "I think you and Donna have cooked up something together. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to find out. And when I do, you will fucking regret the day you fucked with me! If she is out getting some strange dick and you're covering up for her. I'm going to-"

"What are you going to do? Hit me? Kill me?" angrily interjected Michelle. "You pathetic excuse for a man! Threatening a woman! How manly!"

"Why you, fucking slu-" began Don.

"I bet Donna left you because she finally figured out you were only with her because of her inheritance!" yelled Michelle, with malicious glee, interrupting Don again.

"Why is it every word out of your mouth is a lie? Do you enjoy making up shit? No wonder you can't keep a man, because you can't keep your lies straight!"

"Look whose calling the kettle black! You can't even keep a wife! But then, you're no better than a gigolo. What? Were you waiting for the day you didn't have to work at that little shitty company of yours. Oh, wait, it's not even yours!" laughed Michelle evilly.

"There you go again, spouting more shit. Maybe, you need a boyfriend who's a plumber to take care of all that shit coming out of you. That is, if you even like men." growled out Don. It was obvious he was getting nowhere, and it probably wasn't going to get any better. Don knew it was past time to leave.

Michelle smirked at his inference, saying, "I like men just fine. Except you."

"Whatever. Just remember what I said. I will get some payback." promised Don as he turned to board his truck.

"Payback! That's funny, asshole! You'll never see a dime now! She's done with you! I've told her and told her that's all you really wanted. Good riddance, fuck face!"

Don already half in the truck, stopped and turned his head to glare at Michelle. "What did you say you told Donna?"

"I know you heard me the first time, but I also know you're dense, so, you know, I told her that what you really wanted was all that glitters." answered Michelle with a look of smug satisfaction.

"Michelle, can't you ever give a straight answer? What are you talking about?" retorted Don, in angry frustration.

'Her inheritance, shit for brains. Come on, don't play stupid. I know that Donna told you about it. That's why you married her." answered Michelle, with a angry frown on her face.

Don stared intently at Michelle for a long moment, surprisingly, causing her to become nervous.

"If you're telling the truth, and I doubt that, then I don't know about any inheritance. I married Donna because I love her." replied Don, somewhat defensively. But, his expression changed from outright anger and disgust to confusion. "Donna never mentioned anything about an inheritance to me." finished Don, in a low voice, talking more to himself than to Michelle. 

"Come off it! She told me you knew about everything. How you agreed and all that." said Michelle with disdain.

Don frowning in confusion, shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "I don't know what you're talking about. What is everything? Other than agreeing to be her husband what else is there I agreed to?"

Michelle, about to further berate Don, stopped and studied his face. More so, she sensed him. She wasn't psyche, but sometimes she was able to tell when someone was lying. It struck her that Don truly was confused and truthful.

"Oh, fuck. Don, I didn't know! I thought- I thought you knew. Oh, damn! I guess I fucked up" exclaimed Michelle in self-reproach.

Don looked at Michelle questioningly. "What the fuck are you talking about? Didn't know what? What is going on?! Tell me, you stupid bitch! I'm so fucking tired of your fucking arro-" started Don, his voice rising in anger with each sentence.

"Don! Okay! I get it. I'm a stupid cunt. I'm a fucked up bitch and whatever other derogatory remark you can come up with. I hear you. The truth is, I believed Donna when she told me you knew. It's why-" She stopped talking to look around, before lowering her voice and saying, "Don, lets' take the rest of this conversation inside. There are too many ears out here."

Astonished at Michelle's abrupt reversal and unexpected change in attitude, Don could only nod in reply.

~N~

Thirty minutes and a couple of cups of coffee later, a highly aggrieved Don Hudson, sat, feeling dismay and disbelief, at Michelle's kitchen table.

"Don. I'm sorry. I apologize for my behavior toward you all these years. I really thought you knew about Donna's inheritance and the stipulations that went along with it. It's what she told me. That you knew. That you had agreed to marry her because of what you would get in return." cried a sorrowful Michelle. "I thought you were just another money hungry asshole. Please forgive me."

Don looked at Michelle, saw the remorse on her face, but all he could feel was a deeply set pulsating anger. He literally had no compassion left in him.

Ignoring her emotional outburst, Don said coldly, "So- let me get this straight. Donna- her siblings and cousins, had to marry someone by the time she was twenty-five and stay married for five years, so she could inherit five-million dollars that her grandfather had bequeathed to all his grandchildren. It couldn't be a marriage of convenience, it had to be a real marriage. For love and all that. Although, having children was not a stipulation. But, she had to live with the husband in the same household for those five years. At which point, she could divorce her husband, but he would be entitled to one-million dollars regardless of the divorce. Do I have that correct?'

Wiping her wet reddened eyes, Michelle nodded. "Yes, except that their grandfather set up the trust funds with a lot less than five-million. With interest and investing they've grown, so, that's the value of each of the trust funds as of two months ago. Donna checked. It's what the investment people told her."

Continuing as if he hadn't heard her, Don said, "And, you thought I married Donna with the knowledge that I was going to get one-million dollars, just for marrying her? Because of that, you've treated me like shit for the last five years? Is that right?"

"Yes. And I'm so sorry. I take back all I said about you, and to you. Donna said she had-" lamented a regretful Michelle.

"What did Donna say to you when you last spoke to her?" interrupted Don in annoyance. He wanted to know what Michelle knew about Donna leaving him. If nothing else, than to confirm the same shit Donna had accused him of. He didn't want to hear anymore of Michelle's abject apologies.

"Oh...Well, she called last Tuesday morning. I guess it was around ten, or maybe a little after. She immediately went into a tirade about me and you. She caught me by surprise. I was at work and I had my boss in my office so I couldn't immediately reply to Donna's accusations. I asked her to hold, After I finished speaking to my boss, I returned to her call, but she'd hung up. I called her back and it rang several times before going to voice mail. I kept trying throughout the day, until right before five, when I called it went straight to voice mail. I've called her several times since and left her messages, but she's never returned my calls. Now, here we are." explained Michelle with a mixed note of sadness and anger.

Don looked at Michelle, trying to determine if she was lying, but as best as he could tell, Michelle was speaking the truth. "Okay. What exactly did Donna say when she called?"

Michelle looked away in embarrassment, before replying. "She said a lot of things, but the one thing she screamed the loudest about, was that she knew you and I had fucked. I was flabbergasted when I heard that. She insisted that you had told her that."

"She accused me of that too, right to my face. I denied it. But, she was convinced I was lying. She also said she had evidence. I don't know how she could have, since I know very well you and I have never had sex!" said Don with brutal emphasis.

Both of them sat in a uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, before Don broke it. "Okay, Michelle. I believe you. I figured you might know more, but apparently you don't. And, that leaves me back at square one. "

Michelle nodded in acknowledgment, but maintained her silence.

Don stared at nothing, his mind trying to find another avenue to investigate, when he thought to ask another question.

"I wonder, what would happen if Donna and I split before the five years were up? Do you know?"

Michelle looked up and faced Don. "I don't know, I never- Oh, wait! I remember! If any of the grandchildren, like Donna, failed to complete five years of marriage, they wouldn't get anything. I don't know about the spouses. They might not get anything either. Why do you ask?"

Ignoring her question, Don asked another question. "What happens to the money when it doesn't end up going to the grandchild?" Seeing the confused look on Michelle's face, Don explained, "Like what happens to the money that Donna is supposed to get if we don't make five years as a married couple?"

Michelle's eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh! I don't know. Donna never told me that sort of thing. Donna might not have known. If she did, she never told me."

Don nodded slowly at her answer. Looking her straight in the eye, Don asked Michelle, "Who else in Donna's family do you know of that is having marital problems? That might lose their inheritance."

Michelle sat straight up in surprise at Don's question. "Oh, my God! You think- I mean... I don't know if any others are having problems. If they were, they would no doubt keep it a secret from the rest of the family. Or else, face losing five million dollars. So, I wouldn't know. No one would."

"I see. Okay. Then, if Donna would end up losing so much money, why leave me before the five years is completed? That doesn't make sense."

Michelle looked at Don with a frown.

"I don't know, Don." Noticing his look of skepticism, Michelle quickly added. "Honestly, I don't know." Michelle looked away from Don and to the floor intently, as if the tile pattern held the answer. "it could be- Well, you guys have your fifth anniversary coming up in a couple of months, right?"

Don nodded.

Michelle looked back up. "I'm thinking that Donna won't do anything that will jeopardize her getting the money. I'm guessing that she'll wait until after your anniversary, when she gets the money, then file- for divorce- or whatever.

Don nodded again, deep in thought at Michelle's words. After a few seconds of silence, Don stood up, "This has been very enlightening, but I think I'll be going now. Thanks, Michelle."

Michelle remained sitting, ruefully looking at Don. "Wait. Please. I want to know- have you spoken to Donna since she left?"

Don looked at Michelle, trying to figure out if there was some underlying motive to her question. "No, I haven't." he replied slowly.

"What? Haven't you called her?" asked a surprised Michelle. "She might be waiting for you to call. Women aren't like men, Don, we expect men to chase after us, even if we sometimes say otherwise." 

"I don't know anything about that. What I do know, she accused me of something I didn't do and then when she didn't get what she wanted, she walked out. If she wants to contact me, then I will talk to her. But, if she truly thinks I cheated on her, what's to stop her from getting payback? Donna might have already fucked some asshole. And, if she did, she might just want to share, and what makes you think I'll want her back after that? So no, I won't contact her." 

"I'm sorry, Don. I take part of the blame for that. If I hadn't been convinced you were only in it for- What I mean, I have been unfair to you all this time. I-"

"Save it, Michelle! It's done. It's over. I'm not going to say you've swept away the ill feelings you caused me with your fucked up attitude, but I will say that it's no longer as prominent as it was before our talk. But, it's never going to go away." Stemming whatever Michelle was about to say, Don added, "It is what it is, Michelle."




Claim It!



He didn't wait for a reply, as he quickly exited Michelle's apartment and headed to his truck.

"I know, but I wish it wasn't." said Michelle, to no one in particular as she watched Don drive off.

~N~

It was the following Wednesday that Don spotted something peculiar. He was being tailed. It wasn't just one vehicle, it was at least two, perhaps more. It was purely by accident that he noticed one of the vehicles, a white van. Before long, the van would drop off and a dark blue sedan would take its place. The drivers never pressed to get too close to his truck, and even put a car or two, between them, at times. But, they always used the same lane he was driving in. A few times, the two vehicles were not to be seen. At that point there might have been another vehicle involved, but if so, Don failed to spot it.

Don had visited three job sites that morning, and after each visit he saw one of the two vehicles following him. He sped up, took turns that weren't part of the route he needed to travel, and even pulled in to a convenience store a couple of times. No matter what he did, one of those two vehicles was always there, behind him. Never too close, and never too far. If someone was having him tailed, what else might they have done. And, why?

As the day wore on, Don decided to head to Pete's job. He drove across town, arriving just before quitting time. Pete was alone in the foreman's trailer, leaning over the table as he studied a set of plans.

"Don! What are you doing here? I thought you were on one of the other jobs." asked Pete in mild surprise. 

"Hi, Pete. I was, but I have to talk to you about a problem we're having on one of the jobs.", explained Don in a easy, but false, manner.

"Okay, sure. What's up?" replied Pete as he straightened up, rubbing his back. "Damn! I'm getting too old for this."

Don gave the obligatory chuckle, saying, "You've been too old for a long time, but your problem isn't age, it's how ugly you got."

"Eres un pendejo, comarada." quipped Pete, with a slight smile. "What's the problem?"

Don looked around the trailer's interior and for some undefined reason had an urge to speak to Pete outside the trailer.

"Let's go outside. You've stunk up the trailer with your cigar smoke again, Pete. You know how that fucks with my sinuses."

"You wuss!" A second later, Pete agreed. "Okay. I'll grab my coat."

Once they'd exited the trailer, Don causally looked around and across the street, but saw no sign of his followers.

"Let's walk a bit, Pete. It's too damn cold to just stand around." suggested Don.

That comment both alerted Pete and caused him to frown in slight confusion. Don had never complained about either it being too cold or too hot. "Yeah, sure. Lets' go to the construction site, I have to check some things in the structure so I can apply a few changes."

They walked to the structure, as Pete explained to Don what they'd been doing and what yet needed to be done. The unfinished structure was a custom home, that when completed would have four levels with over seven-thousand square feet of living area.

"Okay. What's going on, Boss?" Pete was filled with curiosity and concern, and it shown on his face.

Taking a deep breath, Don explained about being followed. When he was done, Pete let out a low whistle.

"Are you certain you are being followed?"

"Yes, dammit! I'm sure. I told you I spotted the same two vehicles more than once. The car even followed me here, but I didn't see it when we came out of the trailer." exclaimed Don in exasperation.

"Damn, Boss, you sure know how to live a exciting life."

"I need help, Pete!" burst out Don, desperation edging his voice. "I don't know anything about cloak and dagger stuff. But, I remember you once told me you were... A what? A SEAL?: 

"Fuck, no! I was never a SEAL. They're Navy and I was Army. Although, those guys are outstanding at what they do, they couldn't cut the mustard in the environment we operated in. Let's just say, we were the red-headed step children, and the powers that were, gave us the shit no one else would even sniff at. Anyhow, how does my once being in the military, help you? Remember, that was a long time ago, and now, I'm a simple home builder."

"I honestly don't know, Pete. I guess I thought you might have a better handle on this. I was in the Army too, but, I was just a simple grunt. This- This sort of shit is way out of my expertise. And, it's starting to give me the willies."

Pete studied Don for a long moment before asking, "You have your cell phone on you?"

Perplexed by the question, Don automatically started patting his pockets before remembering he had left his phone charging in the truck. "No. Why? Do you need it?"

Pete shook his head in the negative then asked, "Do you think this has something to do with Donna?" First thing earlier this week, on Monday morning, Don had filled Pete in about what Michelle had told him.

"I don't know. Not for sure. But, I think it's a definite maybe."

Pete glanced fondly at the structure he and his crew were building, as he gave thought to Don's plight. "You know building homes has been a solace to me. It's allowed me to create- to build, instead of destroy. It isn't so much about the money, although that's nice, there's something about creating something where nothing existed before, that soothes a man's soul and gives purpose to his existence. In one way, it's much like having a child. Some one to carry on- to validate a man's existence. And, I never told you, but you are the son Stephie and I never had, before she passed away."

Don, embarrassed by Pete's unexpected sentiment, didn't know where Pete was going with his speech, but he knew enough not to say anything, so he waited patiently for Pete to finish.

"Okay, Boss. I'll help you. I'll take care of it from here." said Pete, with unexpected firmness.

Surprised by Pete's sudden declaration, Don blurted out, "Thanks, Pete, but I figured to be involved with this. Maybe call the cops."

"You are involved, it's why I'm getting involved.", explained Pete as if to a obtuse child. "Look, Don, the fact that you're being followed indicates many things. And, they are not good things. And, calling the cops is not a good idea. They don't do shit before hand, coming into play only after the shit has gone down."

Don tried to understand what Pete was saying, but his mind remained blank. "What do you mean by not good things?"

With a sigh, Pete started explaining. "First and foremost, whomever is behind having you followed has some deep pockets. Private investigators are not cheap. Especially, when P.I.s ' use multiple vehicles and are on your tail all day. If they are private investigators. Secondly, because you are being tailed, any action you take is going to be known by whomever is pulling the strings. Thirdly, your home and even your truck might be wired for real time transmission and recording of audio, and maybe visual. And, they might have hacked your phone. So they can listen in on your calls and read your texts. Again, they will know what you are planning on doing. There is more, but based on those three things, you doing anything out of the ordinary is going to alert them to they've been made. When they realize that, it's probable they'll close up shop and cover their tracks. That will kill any chance of discovering who they are and who is behind them. Do you understand where I'm coming from?"

Don's mind was in a whirlwind at Pete's explanation, with disbelief at the forefront. "You have got to be kidding me! This is not some spy novel or movie, Pete. This is my life! I mean, why would anyone do this to me?"

With a deep sadness filling his eyes, along with another emotion Don couldn't fathom, Pete said, "People do a lot worse for a lot less reasons than for money."

" I know that! By why me?"

Pete took a wistful glance at the unfinished house before turning back to Don, saying, "I suspect it has something to do with Donna's inheritance. Actually, I'm positive it has a lot to do with it. Since you are married to her you have become a legitimate target."

Pete's explanation made sense and jived with his own burgeoning thoughts on it. "Okay, I get that. But, why? What makes me a target? The one-million dollars I'm supposed to get?"

Pete smiled mirthlessly, as his soft brown eyes became diamond hard. "That's what we are going to find out. Without the cops."

Don had never seen that particular expression on Pete's face. However, during his six years in the Army, Don had seen a few guys wearing the same expression. On faces of soldier's who had been deep in the shit- who had faced the enemy and come out the only survivors.

With a slight shudder at the memories that played out in his mind, Don slowly nodded at Pete, in complete understanding.

~N~

The throw away phone rang with a irritating tone, the meaning of its nearly muted ringing intruding and mentally blocking out the surrounding sounds. The man, who held the phone, looked at it with indecision, and for a brief moment considered not answering. The moment passed and he pressed the green button to answer the call. He didn't offer a greeting, in fact, he said not a word as he brought the phone to his ear.

"Surveillance is still in effect on subject twenty-two. Security has not been compromised. Mission is still a go", matter-of-factly stated the digitally altered voice on the other end, before disconnecting.

The man sat unmoving in his plush office chair, his hand continuing to hold the phone to his ear as he mentally repeated the words he had just heard. Satisfied as to their meaning and intent, he slowly lowered the phone from his head, placing it back into the drawer of his desk, and locking it.

As he heard the slight click of the lock engaging, the nominal sounds of the business office were once again apparent, lending a surreal aspect to an otherwise mundane day. With a small shake of his head as if to dispel the feeling, the man refocused his attention to the spreadsheet displayed on the screen in front of him.