Storiesonline.net
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                                 Mayhem
                                by colt45

Copyright© 2008 by colt45


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Description: Dan survived ten years of the war as a U.N. Special Forces officer and retired with his wife to Tampa to start a charter boat business. His wife was killed soon after and for the next five years his life has been nothing but work, war buddies and memories he wishes he could run away from. Into his life comes Antigua Delmar, the latest in a seemingly endless line of teen pop stars, destroying his numb but comfortable existence and setting into motion events that will someday change the world.

Codes: MF cons het ScFi humor
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Chapter 1



The biggest drawback to living in Tampa is the freaking heat. It was 10:00 in the morning and it was already 35 degrees C with the humidity pushing its way up past 90 percent. Still, it beats the shit out of Indianapolis, or anywhere else up north for that matter. Beats the jungles of South and Central America where I spent the better part of ten years, that's for damn sure! There I had the heat, the humidity and someone trying to kill me on a daily basis. I'll take just the heat and humidity, thank you very much!

I suppose I could have lived on one of the Great Lakes up north but I prefer the ocean even if it is just the Gulf. I've found running a charter out of the Bay suits me just fine. Keeps the beans on the table and the beer in the fridge. What more could anyone ask for?

Anyway you get used to the heat but it still makes you feel old when you haven't slept for 48 hours or so. Sure, I know they say the AI's (Artificial Intelligence) can con the boats better and safer than us mere humans, but it's my ass and my passengers' asses on the line so I stay up anyway. Call me a throwback if you want, I don't mind. I've sure been called a lot worse. You don't stay alive in the jungle by being careless and I see no reason for being stupid now.

So there I was, bone tired, stubble on my chin from where the depilatory was wearing off, sitting on the covered deck of my 15-meter cruiser, firing up a Mexican Marlboro and minding my own business. Okay, I was minding the business of the cleaning crew working their magic on my 50-meter charter yacht sitting across the pier from me.

Not that I have to. After five years I've found the best way for them to get the job done is for me to stay out of their way. Not that I would ever tell my cleaning contractor who he should put on my crews but it seems like most of them ended up coming from Honduras, Guatemala or Venezuela. They seem to like working on my boat and that's fine with me. I wasn't even born yet when the lazy bastards up here in the States started to complain about the brownies moving up here and taking all their jobs. Like those lazy shits would do them anyway. My little brown-skinned brothers and sisters may have learned a lot up here but thank God they didn't learn the NorAm work ethic! I may be prejudiced but I'd probably never hire anyone but a brownie if I had my choice. Damn, do they work hard! Of course, now I hear them complaining about the Chinese coming in to take their jobs. Go figure.

Anyway, there I was relaxing or employing "distance supervision" if you prefer, when I look up and see this vision staring at me over the railing. If she stood over 160 centimeters and weighed more than fifty kilos then I'm a poofy-boy, which I'm not. Bright blonde hair pulled back behind her head in a ponytail, long slim legs and hands on her hips sporting a mildly disgusted frown on her face. I knew that look and if it had been on my wife, or my mother for that matter, I would have known there would be hell to pay soon, and you can bet who would be writing the check. I guess I am a throwback because I love old 2D vids, especially the animated ones, and seeing her there brought only one thing to mind immediately.

"What can I do for you, Tinker Bell?"

"Isn't that illegal?" Her sun shades were perched on the top of her head so I could see her eyes narrow and her nose wrinkle up, very cutely I might add. Now I was pretty sure what she was talking about but one can never tell. There were a number of things around me that might not be construed as precisely legal. The Scotch was legal; you can still get a drink in the States, wonder of all wonders, although I might have forgotten to pay the import tax on this particular bottle when I brought it in with me, along with the other fifty or so cases that came with it. The 2-millimeter needle gun resting in the small of my back was very legal. As ex-U.N. SpecFor I was authorized to carry pretty much anything I could hold anywhere the hell I wanted to. Now the cigarette was illegal as hell, but she didn't look like a TEA-cop (Tobacco Enforcement Agency) so I wasn't going to get broken up about it. If she was packing anything except for a nice pair of tits under that tail-tied top and skimpy shorts I sure couldn't see it. I never did figure it was any of their fucking business what I smoked anyway; marijuana was okay, tobacco wasn't. Screw 'em.

"You have to be more specific, Tink," I answered.

"That thing," she said, nodding her head at my cigarette. "And who are you calling, Tink? What's a Tink?"

"Tinker Bell, Peter's fairy friend."

"Peter? Fairy?" her nose scrunched up again just as cute as the first time. She muttered to herself, listened with her head slightly cocked and suddenly comprehension shown on her face. "Oh, Peter Pan! I remember seeing that one when I was young. I liked it. You think I look like Tinkerbelle?"

"Dead on," I nodded. "Yes this is illegal, no I'm not worried that you see it and other than brightening up my day, what is it you want?"

"I'm looking for a Captain Mayhem," she said grinning.

"Well, this is both our lucky days, it seems. I'm who you're looking for."

"Are you sure?" she sounded a little reluctant to believe me. "Captain Mayhem, the charterboat owner?"

"'Fraid so, Tink," I smiled. "Impressive, eh?"

"Impressive, no," she actually giggled. "May I come aboard? I said that correctly? Come aboard?"

"Well enough," I admitted. "Spread your wings and flit on over here." The walk-through was just a meter or so from where she stood but she leaned over, placed her hands on the rail and vaulted over it and onto the deck. She walked over to me and stuck her hand out. Either the scotch or the butt had to go so I flicked the cig over the side. I didn't have to worry much about water pollution; the paper and the filter were hydro-degradable and would dissolve in less than a minute into perfectly harmless constituents. Very eco-friendly and if you happen to be a smuggler you can just dump it over the side and the evidence is gone, poof!

"I want to hire your boat for a trip the weekend after next, Friday to Sunday," she said as I took her hand. It was cool and smooth and my hand felt like a paw around it. It felt like I was handling fine china although given that vault and a general feeling I was sure this was no delicate little flower.

Now I could have been a smart-ass and asked if she wanted it for her sweet-sixteen party and how the hell was Daddy going to pay the 20K New Dollars per day I charge, but I didn't. There was something more to this little honey than met the eye and besides I may seem a bit rough around the edges but I've always made it my policy to treat people as I would like to be treated until they show me otherwise. If she thought she could afford the charter then maybe she could.

"Let me check the schedule," I answered releasing her hand. "Sara," I said to nobody in particular, "are we available then?"

"Yes, Daniel," a low, throaty contralto answered seemingly out of thin air. It was my wife's voice; she had given it to our AI only months before she was killed. She jokingly told me she wanted me to know who was boss even when I was out at sea and she couldn't be there. After she was gone I couldn't bear to change it. Sure it hurt like hell hearing it especially for the first few months but it soothed me, made me feel like she was still there somehow looking after me like she did for our seventeen years of marriage.

"You are scheduled until that Thursday, but available for the time period requested," she continued. I know some people get huffy when I anthropomorphize an AI and call her a she but screw 'em. Sara is smarter than a lot of humans I know and more real to me than most others.

"Thank you, Sara." I looked back at Tinker Bell. "Looks like we're available, Tink. What did you have in mind?"

"I have a new comp (that's compilation; we used to call them albums) that's going to be released next quarter and Mom and I thought it would be good if we could get some of the big muckity-muck distributors together for a little jaunt. Actually I don't think it's really necessary, but it couldn't hurt and besides it sounds like fun."

"So, you're a singer, vid artist?" I asked. I didn't recognize her, but then what do I know about today's music? Music like anything else goes in cycles and today's music was mostly soft, soothing and delicate. Nice if you're riding in an elevator, but otherwise it gets old, after maybe two seconds.

"Antigua Delmar," she said and cocked her head as if wondering when the light was going to blink on over my head. Unfortunately I wasn't going to be able to give her the satisfaction; I'd never heard of her that I could remember. Still, if she thought it was a name I should know then it probably was. I could ask my daughter; she'd probably know, if she were talking to me that is.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Delmar,"

"You have no idea who I am," she stated. Now from somebody else that would have sounded pretty pompous, or maybe patronizing, like I was a half-civilized troglodyte living under a rock, but from her it didn't. It was just a statement of fact. She did seem somewhat amused by it, though.

"Sorry, I haven't a clue," I admitted. No sense in lying about something stupid like that. "I take it you're somewhat popular and I'm displaying my incredible ignorance by not knowing it."

"Yep, but then I'm guessing you're one of those old time rock and rollers," she grinned. "Most cavemen are." Great! A freaking mind-reader.

"Got me in one, Tink. So anyway, you serious about a charter?" She nodded. "You have a business agent you want me to send the contract to?"

"We can do it now, if that's okay."

"Sure, if you can..." I stopped myself. This little elf may look sixteen but that didn't mean she was. She made it sound like she could sign her own contracts and if that was the case then me and my big mouth could easily piss her off. Under most circumstances I consider it bad form to piss off a client. " ... if you can wait until I open up the office."

"Good catch," she grinned again. "Yes, I'm old enough to settle it right now. I may look fifteen but I'm actually twenty-one, almost twenty-two if truth be known. I'd like you to keep that a bit quiet, if you would. My demographics are the twelve to seventeens and they wouldn't be happy listening to an old lady."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"That's all right," she interrupted. "It happens all the time. I know I look young, but that's all part of the shtick. Most people, especially the old farts, try to pat me on the head and tell me to find my mommy." She flashed me a big toothy grin and chomped her teeth together a couple of times. "I wouldn't try it, though. I bite." I had to chuckle at that. I think I could really like this little munchkin.

"I'll remember that," I answered dryly. "My office is just down the road about a klick. If you have a few minutes I'd like to wash some of the grime off. Smelling like an old barnacle may sound nautical and romantic, but it's not very professional. Won't take me more than five minutes or so."

"Go ahead, take your time," she answered with a wave. "Is this your boat? I understood you could sleep thirty; this doesn't seem big enough."

"It's my boat, but not my charter. The Gulf Dream is the charter. It's across the pier there and yes, she can handle thirty if that's what you want. If you'd like we can have a look at her before we head down to the office."

"Ow, pretty." I have to admit the Dream is a pretty sight. "Maybe later if it's all right with you. But go ahead, I'll wait right here." I slapped some dipli on the whiskers, sprayed the body wash, a minute under the water, a clean shirt and pants and I'm ready to go. She was waiting for me when I got back up on deck, just sitting in my chair watching the cleaning crew carry the trash off the Dream. I will say, I'm not normally attracted to the young fluff, something about a girly being the same age as my daughter just doesn't sit right, but I will say she had some killer legs!

"Right, I'm ready," I said. "I assume you have a car. If you want you can follow me; it's not far." I could have followed her lead and vaulted the rail but I took the easy way and walked over the gangplank as she followed. My bike was parked just a couple of meters away so I just strolled over and mounted.

"This is yours?" I swear she almost squealed. I get that a lot, hell it one of the reasons I keep the old brute. "This is so kold! What is it?"

"A 2010 Harley-Davidson Road King Classic," I answered proudly. I really was proud of that old bike, forty-four years old, just like me, and still ready to kick ass, same as me. I'd picked it up for a song when I was in school and spent a couple of years restoring it. Of course it wasn't stock. Shit, back then they still used gasoline! Now it ran on CA (Condensed Alcohol) and the electronics are all new, but it looks stock, sounds like it too. Kathy used to joke that it was my pussy lure when I was trolling for strange and I suppose it would have been good for that except I'd never even looked at another pussy the whole time we were married. Still, I did like the reaction it got. Nothing like a hog or a puppy to make a woman coo and giggle and while I like dogs I like my bike better; it doesn't shit on the deck.

"Icy! Can I get a ride?" Now I like having a nice set of seat covers hanging on the back of my bike as well as anyone, but Tinker Bell is probably worth some serious jack and I'm betting whoever her handler was would have some severe problems with me taking her for a spin in the open as it were. But then again she's an adult and if she wanted a short ride it certainly wouldn't bother me any.

"Sure, if you want," I shrugged and opened one of the bags to pull out two cranium covers. I may like to act the macho-man but I'm not a complete idiot; when I ride it's with a brain-guard. Of course it's not like I used those old fiberglass or steel behemoths of yesteryear. My bike may be a classic but that doesn't mean my safety gear has to be from the Stone Age. I like the modern reactive gear just fine, thank you. It's a light-weight plastic mesh that inflates when struck. Most of the time you don't even know it's there, but it'll do the job if needed. She didn't argue a bit when I handed it to her, just pulled the shades down over her eyes, slapped it on and fastened the strap under her chin.

"Wait till I get ready," I said throwing my leg over and thumbing the start pad. 2010 was the first year Harley started using the biometrics instead of the original key-starter but this was an updated version, for anyone else except me the bike would be nothing but a pile of iron and rubber. When I touched it...

VAROOOOM!

There ain't nothing like 350 kgs of throbbing iron moving and humming between your legs! Okay, maybe there is one thing better, but this is pretty damn close. Tinker Bell didn't wait for me to tell her anything as she hopped on the back, put her feet up on the passenger runners and grabbed me like she expected us to take off.

"Ready?" I asked as I pushed it down into gear. I tried to keep this as close to original specs as possible, including the loud pipes but she didn't have any trouble hearing me since these two helmets were mated with their own intercom.

"God, this is so kold!" she squealed and I almost winced since it was coming directly into my mastoid implant. Luckily the internal compensator toned it down to just below the painful level. Nodding I lifted the kickstand and let out the clutch. That's right, real clutch (look it up: it's right there next to rotary telephones in the obsolete technology section of the encyclopedia, ) real gears and it takes real practice to use them together.

We started moving smooth as a baby's butt and by the time we passed the end of the pier and glided around the huge, and I do mean huge, black limo parked there I was becoming a little afraid Tink was going to orgasm and fall off the back. Not that it could happen, she had her fingernails through my shirt and I swear three centimeters deep into my sides. Uncomfortable yes, but there are worse things than having a pretty girl leaving claw-marks on your body ― much worse.

"I take it you haven't ridden much," I said as I pulled out onto Apollo Beach Boulevard heading towards the intersection with North Tamiami Trail and eased it up to 35 kph.

"Never!" she gushed. "Well, a couple of times on a scooter, but Mom just about killed me when she found out."

"Am I going to have to watch my back from now on? I don't need someone gunning for me because I gave their money train a thrill ride."

"I'll never tell." I could almost hear her grin.

"You won't need to," I answered nodding to the rear-view mirror. That big black limo had pulled out behind us and was tailing at a discreet distance.

"He won't say anything; at least he'd better not!" I just shrugged. It wasn't very far as I'd promised and soon we were pulling into the parking lot of the building where I rent a small office to handle the business crap that needs to be done. The lot was empty so I pulled into a space next to my office door. Thumbing the kill-switch the 1.6 liter engine rumbled to a stop and Tink jumped off. I swear she was vibrating when I dismounted and took my headpiece off.

"God, that was great!" Her blue eyes actually sparkled as she handed hers to me and I dropped them in one of the bags. "When are you going to take me on a real ride?"

"Business before pleasure," I chuckled thumbing the lock and pushing the door open. Being the gentleman I held the door open for her as she skipped into the office.

The lights came on as we entered; I knew nobody would be there today. It was Sunday and Crystal wouldn't come in till sometime late Monday morning to clean up anything needed from the weekend. Sally sometimes helped out in the office also, but she had been out on this last trip with me and probably felt just as wasted as I did. Besides, she would be getting ready to watch Bob, her husband, play this afternoon if the Bucs were out of town today, if not she'll be heading to the stadium. Football never did interest me all that much so I never knew what their schedule was. Didn't matter; I could handle this and if I fucked it up too badly Crystal would fix it tomorrow.

"Sara?" I said to the air.

"Yes, Daniel," came that beautiful contralto. Damn, I miss that woman even after five years.

"Standard contract, fill in the dates and the options as Ms. Delmar and I discuss them."

"Yes, Daniel." Tink was looking around curiously and raised her eyebrows when she saw the monster cage, okay, the playpen, over in the corner by Crystal's station. She didn't ask so I didn't say anything. Crystal brings her two-year old and newborn to work most of the time which is just fine with me so long as the rugrats don't reprogram the system or anything like that. Hopefully since the oldest is only two, I won't have to worry about that for a couple of years. Anyway, they don't bother me when I'm in here, which isn't that often but she gets to bond with her kids and I get one very happy employee. Win-win as far as I'm concerned. Yes, since you ask, Crystal is a fucking knock-out but she's about as happily married as a woman can get which suits me just fine. I like having pretty women working around me but I strictly adhere to the "You don't make your bed where you make your bread (slang for money, you babies!)."

Anyway I know both Bob and Norm ― that's Crystal's guy ― and happen to like both of them a lot. I would never do anything to hurt either one of them and it has nothing to do with the fact that Bob about doubles my mass and can bend steel rebar into pretzels without breaking a sweat. Come to think about it he just might be able to take me in a fair fight. Luckily it would never come to that since I never fight fair. As for Norm, well Norm is one of the sweetest, most gentle beings I have ever met. Hell, if I was gay I might try to fuck him myself. Both of my girls think the world revolves around their guys and as far as I'm concerned that's just as it should be. God love them both! I get a happy crew and for some reason they both think their boss would walk on water if it weren't for the nail holes in the bottoms of his feet.

Beats the hell out of me where they get that, they must be crazy since I know for a fact both of them are a hell of a lot smarter than I am. Of course that's damning with faint praise; Specfor didn't recruit me for my brains, just my ability to kill, destroy and survive.

I motioned for Tink to have a seat in front of the wall screen where I could project the list of options she might be interested in. She grimaced a little when I lit up a smoke but didn't say anything. Fuck it, my office my rules, the only thing I hoped was the deodorizer would clear the air before Crystal came in or she'd have a fit and give me a ration of shit. I never smoked around her kids but that didn't stop her from trying to reform me. Lots of luck on that! What is it about women that when they feel comfortable around you, somehow they assume they have the right to run your life? Kathy did it, Crystal does it and come to think about it so does Sally. Oh well, nothing's perfect.

I started the canned presentation for Tink and let her make the decisions. I mentioned options but to tell the truth there weren't that many. I run top-end luxury charters that include pretty much everything including food, booze and entertainment. The choices came down to mostly how much and what kind of each. Did they want human servers, if so how many? Everything could be automated but I find those who can afford my prices like having real humans doing the grunt work. Suits me; it all pays well. The only thing I don't provide is the sex partners; those my clients have to bring themselves. I have nothing against pros but I'm no pimp and I don't get into that part of the deal. My clients can bring anyone they like out with me and do about anything they want just so long as it's consensual. And no rough stuff. You want to pay a woman to use her body that's between you and her but you take a swing at her on my boat and you'd better hope your medical is paid up. It didn't happen often but I have had clients who thought their money could buy anything and came back with a broken wing because he thought his pretty bit of arm fluff would look better with a black eye. I make sure what few rules I have are well known and I never give a second warning, or a second chance for that matter.

This part turned out to be easy. Some clients will sit there dithering back and forth over minutia until it about drives me crazy which is why I usually let Crystal take care of it; she's much more the diplomat than I am. Why someone would want to sit there and worry about a two-thousand ND difference when they're plunking down forty to sixty grand minimum is beyond me. I try to live by the rule you don't sweat the small stuff and believe me, this is the small stuff.

Tink wasn't like that at all. She just plunked down in the chair, crossed those killer legs ― did I mention she has killer legs? ― and started gabbing with Sara as the program ran. I know some people ― okay, a lot of people ― aren't comfortable talking to an AI. Tink wasn't one of those. She just sat there and talked like they were old friends. Myself, I'm ambivalent about AIs. I know they're supposed to be nothing but really sophisticated programs with variable logic that simulated thought, but I'm not so sure that I don't qualify under that definition. All I know is I find it easier to believe Sara is self-aware to some extent than I do believing in some nebulous god-thing out there somewhere; Sara I've talked to, the god-thing I haven't. I don't want to get started on the whole religion bag; talking about it to someone is about as useful as trying to teach a pig to sing: it's a waste of time and it annoys the pig.

Anyway in no time at all Tink was done, a contract signed and we were ready to leave. I'll tell you what, that little girl is no air-headed bit of fluff; she knew exactly what she wanted and made decisions without a second's hesitation. Just my own opinion, mind you, but I think you can estimate the real intelligence of a person by watching them make decisions. Others say making snap decisions indicates you're lazy, or not able to comprehend the full ramifications of the decision. Bullshit! In my experience ― and I've seen plenty of both kinds ― the dithering un-deciders make just as many mistakes as the ones who know what the hell they want; it just takes them a lot longer.

"So now what?" she said jumping up from the chair.

"Now?" I muttered as I signed my own X at the bottom of the sheet. Remember, I'd been up for over two days and the only thing I was looking forward to right then was my rack, a shower and a tumbler of scotch; not necessarily in that order. Maybe later I'd hook up with the Lost Boys at Bennie's, fry a few brain cells and maybe, just maybe see if Sue was interested in some company for the night. Sue was the big-titted waitress who worked most evenings at Bennie's and at times she was interested in sharing a little sheet time with me. I haven't looked for, or wanted, any serious relationship since Kathy died but I didn't mind a little female company every now and then. Sue already had five or six exes trailing behind her so she wasn't interested in anything more than a little mutual pleasure every now and then herself which suited me just fine. I blame it on the lack of sleep but I'd be damned if I could figure what my little fairy princess was talking about.

"A ride," she prompted. "You promised me a ride on your bike."

"I did?" I did? Okay, maybe I did, sort of. "Oh, that's right, I did. Not today, Sunshine. I told you I've been up for the past couple of days and there's no way I'm taking anyone out for a ride when I'm this wasted. Ain't safe. Maybe later on this week if you really want to."

"I thought you bikers were big tough guys who didn't worry about that stuff," she pouted. That's right, she actually pouted! Well, actually it was a fake pout. Don't ask me how I could tell but I could.

"You must be thinking of the olden days," I chuckled. "Back when men were men and sheep were nervous. Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart. I may be old but I'm not as old as I want to get yet. Riding around dead tired is a good way to get just that: dead, and while you'd make a pretty honor guard for the trip to Valhalla there's no damn way I'm taking you there. You want a ride then that's fine with me, I haven't turned down a pretty girl on the back of my bike yet, but it'll have to be when I've had a few hours sleep."

"Okay old man. When?"

As I was to find out about my little Tinker Bell, she was persistent as crotch-rot in the jungle; she never took no for an answer and when she clamped down on something she was more pit-bull than fairy. You had a better chance of dissuading the tide from coming in than you did keeping her from what she wanted. Actually I kind of admire that in a person, even if it did come wrapped up in a package prettier than a Christmas present. Okay, especially if it came in a hot little package.

"Fine," I sighed. "Sara, please give Tinker Bell my ident', give me a call and we'll set up a time."

"Wednesday, 1600 hours," she answered decisively. I think I'll have to stop putting that modifier in for her, everything she did I think she did decisively.

"Ah, well," I mumbled.

"You are free for that evening, Daniel," Sara interjected. I know I'm considered crazy and not overly bright to boot but I know when to declare victory and retreat.

"Fine, fine, 1600 Wednesday," I chuckled.

"Where?" she came back immediately, I'll bet she never even contemplated I wouldn't fold like a deck of cards.

"Just show up at the boat where you found me. I would suggest you wear some long pants and boots if you have any."

"Icy! I'll see you then!" With a flutter of motion that I swear had to produce fairy dust in the air she was out the door and gone.

"What the hell was that all about?" I mused.

"You have a date, Daniel. Wednesday at 1600 hours," came Sara's disembodied voice.

"I don't date," I responded automatically.

"Of course not, Daniel."

Edited by Morgan



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Chapter 2



Other than as a pleasant memory I pretty much forgot the whole thing. I went back to the Katherine, crashed and later got up and went to Bennie's for something to eat and see if any of the boys would show up. A couple did and we sat around jawing for a while. I told them about Tinker Bell and we all had a good laugh about the whole thing. I don't know if Sue was interested that night or not. I didn't ask since I was still dog tired. I called it an early night and went home to crash again. Getting old is a real bitch!

The next few days were pretty much routine: boat maintenance, interviewing suppliers and contractors, workouts and pulling Mike's ass out of jail, again. Mike ― that's Sergeant Michelle Darlington UN-Specfor (retired) to you, buckaroo ― is one of the Lost Boys and as such will have my love and support for the rest of our natural lives, but she can be one mean drunk and without a doubt is one of the biggest pains in my ass I have.

She always was a troublemaker and it hasn't gotten any better since all of us retired. All of us have been in scrapes once or twice since our service days ― high spirits and all that ― but Mike, also known as Nibs, has been in more trouble than all the rest of us combined. I wish she'd find some guy with a horse-cock that could keep her stupefied for more than a day or two. What she really needs is someone to slap her over his knee and wale the tar out of her ass. By the way, I wouldn't recommend trying it since she knows just about every way possible to kill a man and likes the ways that are most painful. Of course if someone did succeed in this highly dubious venture he'd have to contend with the rest of the LBs. To tell the truth I'm not sure which is the most dangerous prospect: six highly trained and heavily armed killers after your ass or just her. It's a toss-up. Dead is dead and all of us will eventually find our way into that long night, but how you get there makes a difference, at least it does to me. Just a word to the wise, don't piss her off. Post-script: she gets pissed off easily when she drinks. Post-post-script: She drinks a lot.

Maybe I'm what they used to call an enabler but I have a difficult time faulting her for her self-medication. I don't think any of us that came back from the war ― doesn't matter if it was the jungle or the sandbox ― made it back completely undamaged; we all have our personal demons we wrestle with every night. I can remember waking up every so often screaming. If I hadn't had Kathy I probably would have slipped into the bottom of a bottle myself. Who am I to say those who ended up there or tranked out on recreational pharmaceuticals don't have the right? Most handle it better than Mike does but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be there for her no matter what she does. She saved my bacon so many times I can't even begin to count; what's that against holding her hair out of her face while she tries to puke her guts out in the gutter or bail her ass out of the brig when she beats the crap out of five more-or-less innocent longshoremen. Everybody has their burdens to bear and I guess she's one of mine. Hopefully I'll never let her down, but damn-it, she can be one hell of an aggravation!

"Daniel," Sara interrupted me while I was reviewing one of the millions of stupid reports our benevolent government demands from the few actually productive people in our great land. I don't know why I bother. Crystal hasn't let a mistake show up in any of our reports or correspondence since that time I caught her purposefully inserting a typo or two in some reports when she first came to work for me. She admitted she did it because she'd had bosses that just wouldn't release a report until they found something wrong; I guess it made them feel they weren't doing their job unless they found something to piss about. I pointed out that my job was finished when I found someone who could do it correctly and that my ego was more than sufficient to withstand the realization that she was much better at this kind of nonsense than I was. She still wants me to look them over before they're submitted, something about the fact that I'm legally responsible for them or some crap like that. Personally I think it's just to share the aggravation of these time-wasters with me; whatever, most of the time I'm a good boy and do it.

"What?" I muttered trying to tear myself away from the fascinating accounting of how many protected transsexuals I hired that quarter, (the number was zero but for the life of me I couldn't figure out why anyone would want to know or care for that matter, I know I didn't.)

"Ms. Delmar will be here in approximately 17 minutes."

"Who?" I asked still befuddled by the seemingly endless categories the government came up with to describe the part-time and contract employees I've had.

"Ms. Delmar," she repeated. "Tinker Bell." Most people think a machine can't sound aggravated at somebody; let me tell you, they can.

"Oh ya, Tink. What about her?"

"You scheduled a ride with her on your motorcycle, Daniel, 1600 hours, today."

"Oh, okay. Well, she probably forgot all about it," I said looking up at the cloudless sky. It would appear if she did show up I wouldn't have the weather to use as an excuse to back out of it.

"She called to confirm, Daniel. She will be here in approximately fifteen minutes." Shit! Well I can't say I'd rather be reading these stupid reports than taking a pretty girl for a ride on the bike so I headed down below and changed into a pair of jeans and boots. I kept the black T I was wearing and passed on the jacket or vest. I looked more "old school" biker-bad like this and besides it was much more comfortable. I was just coming back up on deck when she appeared at the railing.

I almost laughed. She looked like the archetypical "biker chick" you'd see in the old vids. Black, skintight syntho-leather pants, bike boots (the 8 cm spiked heels might have been a bit much but they did make her look sexy as hell) and a syntho-leather jacket. She had her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and was sporting a pair of self-tinting biker glasses. Like I said, she looked like she came right out of central casting and cute as hell to boot!

"Hey, Tink, ready for a ride?"

"Damn right, old man. I was sure you'd have forgotten," she replied with a grin.

"Sara wouldn't let me," I answered truthfully. I was able to avoid any further incriminating questions and soon we were rumbling down the coast road. I noticed her limo didn't follow us this time.

I really enjoy riding but I really enjoy taking a bike virgin out for a ride. There are generally two types. There are those that are scared to death as we scoot along at about a 110 kph just centimeters above the pavement and that's not so much fun. No matter what others may say of me I don't get my jollies hearing people scream in fear. Well, not most of the time anyway.

Then there are those that take to the bike like a fish to water. Tink was definitely one of these. I swear I never actually heard her squeal but I could practically feel her grin behind me the whole time we were riding. The joy she felt on the back of the machine was almost visible as we rode. It was a blast. After a couple of hours the tank was getting low so I turned us back and asked if she was getting hungry.

"What? You're going to feed me? Like a real date?" she teased. "Where ya going to take me?"

"How about the badest, nastiest, low-life biker bar in town?" I laughed.

"Icy!" she cooed. "So am I going to see some real bad-ass bikers for actual?"

"Bad as they come, around here, anyway," I admitted.

"They have chains and knives and everything?" she asked. "Maybe we'll see a fight." She must have been watching some of the old 2D flicks. Where else would she pick up that garbage. I didn't have the heart to tell her if there were any knives they would be vibo-blades and chains were unlikely since most everybody would probably be packing heat. You probably guessed already I was taking her to Bennie's and just about everybody there would be a vet. Coming in there with me she'd be safer than in one of the five-star hash-houses downtown. But why spoil her fun? For some reason most women liked the feeling of danger even if it's only the perception of danger.

"I'm sure you'll cause a riot when we get there," I chuckled. For some reason she seemed to think that was funny.

Pulling into the lot I parked next to a number of other old classics along with a few of the newer, sleeker looking two-wheelers. Bennie's looks like a real dive and I know for a fact Bennie spends a lot of time and money making sure it continues to look like one. It was dark and dingy inside and the smoke, some of it actually real, hovered like a cloud over our heads as we threaded through the mostly empty tables to my favorite booth near the back. It was still early so I didn't expect many people to be in yet but I wasn't all that surprised to find a few of my team sitting there when we finally arrived.

Slightly, Tootles and Nibs were there munching on a big plate of cheese-covered nacho chips as I shepherded Tink into the booth and plopped down beside her. Mike ― that's Nibs if you remember ― was already well on her way to getting hammered but from her sloppy grin I could tell this was one of her "happy" drunks which was a blessing. Slightly, aka "Top" or less frequently Master Sergeant William Marker, was nursing a beer while Tootles or "Weird" (his discharge papers read Sergeant Nathan Willis but I don't think anybody actually called him by his given name) sipped on some flavored water concoction. I don't think I've ever seen him actually drink alcohol, or get high for that matter.

"Hey, guys, this is Tinker Bell," I started the introductions. "Tink, these are some of my old service buddies. That's Top, the quiet one over there is Weird and the pretty lady there drinking herself to death is Mike."

"You say the nicest things, Captain," Mike grinned. I wasn't kidding on either account, Mike really was pretty, but then so is a Coral snake and unfortunately she was drinking herself to death.

"Say, I know you," Mike slurred slightly. "I've seen your face somewhere."

"Antigua Delmar, pleased to meet you," Tink said seriously and offered her hand to Mike. Mike looked surprised for a second and gently took it like she was handling antique china. Tink then shook Top's and Weird's hands. As usual Top had almost no reaction and Weird, well, Weird was Weird.

"No fucking shit! You're the Antigua Delmar?" Mike asked delicately, as usual. "Like, the singer Antigua Delmar?"

"The only one I know of," Tink admitted.

"Wow, that's fucking intense," Mike said trying to focus on my diminutive riding partner. "What are you doing here in this shit-hole?"

"Watch what you say, Mike," I warned. "Bennie hears you and he'll put you in time-out again." Mike has been banned-for-life from Bennie's more times that I can count. He gets pissed off at her for doing something stupid, usually for causing damage ― to other customers more often than not ― and tells her to never show her face again. She'd had her latest banishment lifted just before she busted up the longshoremen ― luckily somewhere else ― and was still on probation.

"I'm being good, Boss," she protested.

"I take it you know who Tink is?" I had to ask.

"And you didn't, did you?" she shook her head. "Boss, your little girlfriend is more popular than God right now. All over the vids and music stations. You really are an old fart."

"Three number-one hits in the last eighteen months," Weird chimed in staring past us into, nothing. "Two number-one selling comps; highest-grossing entertainer in the domestic market; number three in Europe and number two on the SA (South America) English-speaking charts."

"Wow, you know my stats better than my publicist," Tink laughed. "You a fan?"

"I..." Weird shook himself slightly. "I don't think so." Tinker Bell looked really puzzled and I sighed.

"That's just the way he is, Tink. He's Weird," I smiled gently. She looked at me like I had two heads. Maybe she was wondering how I could dis my friend in front of her, or maybe why it didn't seem to bother him. I sighed. "Weird, what time is it?" Weird glanced at his chrono.

"It's 1837.34, Wednesday, June..."

"Show her your watch," I interrupted. He blinked twice and showed her the face of his chronograph. I knew it wouldn't be reading anywhere close to the time he just gave to us. Tink looked at his watch, glanced at her own and then back at his.

"But that doesn't say anything like that," she blurted.

"Tell her how you know what time it is, Weird," I prompted.

"Cap'n, you know how," he sounded almost hurt. "The chrono was calibrated against the universal standard when I bought it at 1343.55, August 4th, 2045. On September 23rd at 1548.23 I checked it against the standard and found it to be 0.34 milliseconds slow for every minute. Given what it now reads and the difference between checking against the standard I simply calculate the difference and adjust the reading giving me the correct time." I glanced over at Tink and was unsurprised to see her gaping at Weird, her jaw practically hitting the table. It was the normal reaction; I'd seen it hundreds of times.

"Ask him why he doesn't reset it," Mike grinned.

"I ... I ... don't know how," Weird frowned.

"But that's just plain..." Tink started and suddenly clamped her mouth shut.

"Weird!" Mike and Top shouted at the same time.

Tink glanced at Weird and started to look like she was going to get upset, so I figured I had to say something.

"It's all right, Tink," I said gently. "Weird doesn't think like the rest of us. His brain isn't wired like ours; maybe not like anyone else's in the whole world for all I know. He knows he's different and it doesn't bother him. Just ask him." She looked over at Weird questioningly.

"It really is okay, Miss Delmar," Weird grinned at her. "The Cap'n's right. I know I'm different. I suppose I could learn to reset my chrono but this way is just as easy for me. Besides, they wouldn't have as much fun if I did it the normal way."

"He's a mutant," Mike said with an exaggerated nod. "But he's our mutant so nobody gets to fuck with him except us." Top just rolled his eyes and sighed. Before anything more could be discussed about Weird's weirdness, Sue came over to the table to take our order. She gave Tink the hairy-eyeball but that wasn't jealousy; she probably thought Tink was underage and going to try to order alcohol. Of course Tink was old enough but she sure didn't look it. She didn't even try though, just ordered a cola.

"Same for me, hon, I'm riding today." I never drink and ride. I also ordered a burger and fries for the both of us; extra fries, Mike has a tendency to be a little communistic with fries on the table. You know, each according to her need.

"Sure thing, sweetie, I'll be right back," Sue said and disappeared.

"Girlfriend?" Tink asked with raised eyebrows.

"Naw, just fuck-buddies," Mike piped in.

"That's enough, Mike," Top said suddenly. "Keep a lid on it or I'll tie you up and send you home."

"You and what army?" Mike blustered.

"Me, and if I can't do it the Captain will." Yeah, like I could have taken Mike on her worst day. Luckily I knew she'd let me break her arm before she'd purposefully hurt me. Mike was the best sniper I have ever seen when sober and almost as deadly in hand-to-hand combat.

"Sorry," Mike mumbled. "I'm such a bitch."

"Yes you are," Weird reached over to pat her arm. "But you're our bitch." She laughed at that and drained her glass.

"So what are you doing with this old wreck?" She turned back to Tink like nothing had happened ― that's our Mike. "Young, rich and a stone-cold fox and he's, well you can see what he is. Not that he doesn't have certain endearing qualities, if you like that type. But still..."

"She's a client, Mike," I said with a grin. "She just wanted a ride on the hog."

"Oh, okay. I can see that. Sorry." She wasn't, but then that's our Mike also.

"It was so kold!" Tink gushed. "I've never been on anything like that!"

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Mike replied wistfully. Mike had lost her license years ago with the admonition that if she ever got behind the wheel of a car or on a bike ever again the State of Florida would do their best to put her away for the rest of her natural life. "So what's it like being a superstar?"

She must have heard that question about a thousand times but Tink was real nice about it. In between bites of her burger she told us about what she did, her schedule and even a few of the funny things fans did to get attention. I was surprised I got to eat as much of my burger as I did but Mike did take most of my fries. Not that I was complaining; she was too damn skinny and really didn't look good. If feeding her off my plate was what it took then I'll order seconds.

"Actually, this is the first time in a long time I've been able to just sit somewhere in public and not have a dozen people come up to me while I eat. It's kind of nice. Must be I'm not as popular as they keep telling me," she laughed.

"Sweetie," Mike said still munching on a fry. "There probably ain't ten meat-bags in this joint who have even heard of you let alone recognize you." She was most likely right; Bennie's clients tend toward the older side. "And anyway ain't nobody going to bother you while you're sitting next to the Boss even if you was nekked and sucking on his..." Top's elbow interrupted her. "Oof, ah, sucking on your straw. Not unless they have a death wish, that is."

Tink looked at me speculatively.

"A wholly underserved reputation," I assured her. "It's been days, maybe even weeks since I actually killed anyone."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said and grinned. "Weeks, huh?"

"At least," I replied. She turned back to her burger but scooted just a tiny bit closer to me, I chuckled.

Soon after that it was time to get her back so we said out goodbyes and hit the road. Her limo was waiting for her at the end of the pier so I let her off next to it. The driver popped out and opened the door for her.

"Thanks," she said. "That was so kold! I had a great time."

"My pleasure," I said with a little salute. She stood up on her tip-toes and gave me a kiss on the cheek and scampered into the back of her ride saying, "See you next week."

So went my first "date" with Antigua Delmar.

Edited by Morgan



-------

Chapter 3



Gossip rags are like cockroaches: there are millions of them everywhere and you just can't kill them. The names change from "Galaxy" to "Nova" to "Star Struck" but they're all the same. I never saw the cameras nor the low-lifes behind them but starting the next day there were pictures of Tink on the back of my bike all over the bloody things.

Apparently I was her sex-slave, or she was my kidnap victim or some other outrageous bullshit. It was annoying. Luckily I don't answer my calls and I never programmed Sara to be nice. I wonder if the creeps even knew they were being so cleanly and exactingly eviscerated by an AI. I doubt it; my guess is most of them would have lost a battle of wits with a sponge. They were persistent however, I'll give them that. When the second one almost got onboard the Katherine I asked Marmaduke and Binky to come down and help keep the pests off the pier.

Marmaduke and Binky, a.k.a Sergeants Samuel and Stanly Kolbe are two more members of the Lost Boys. They're fraternal twins and about as different as two sides of the same coin. They're big boys, about ten centimeters taller than I am but that's where the similarities end. Sam is as dark as Stan is fair and built like a brick, kind of like me. His body doesn't slope down from broad shoulders to a cute narrow waist like the heroes in the vids, no, they go straight down, just like a brick. And let me tell you there isn't a gram of fat on that boy anywhere, just solid muscle. I've seen him out-arm-wrestle Crystal's Bob without breaking a sweat. Remember Bob, the one who bends rebar? I think Sam could straighten it out again. Bob wanted to get him a tryout with the Bucs but Sam wasn't interested. I think he was afraid he would really hurt someone and he was probably right.

Stan is fair as I mentioned; blonde with the narrow hips and handsome as a vid star. He's also, as Mike so delicately puts it, "Queer as a three peso gold piece." Sexual orientation doesn't mean that much to people nowadays and even less to me than most. I couldn't care less who my team members climb in bed with just so long as it's not me and that goes double for Mike. Yeah she's pretty, even beautiful but I'd rather sleep with a live grenade with the pin pulled; it's safer. Anyway, Stan doesn't have Sam's muscle but he's the best at what he does: blowing things up. He just purely loves making little tiny pieces out of big things; it's good to see a man enjoy his work.

The brothers were in between jobs so they came down to help keep the pests off the pier, usually by seeing how far they could throw them into Tampa Bay. I swear I actually saw one of them skip. Sam used the brute force method, Stan had more finesse. They squabbled like a couple of old maids over who got the best distance but I refused to get involved. Besides it wasn't really a contest; brute force has a finesse all its own. Sure the marina has its own security but for the most part they just hung back and watched. I think they were making side bets themselves.

After a few days it all died down. I hadn't been seen with Tinker Bell since that bike ride so the public was probably getting bored with it and besides it must have been getting pretty expensive with all that camera equipment ending up in the bay.

Anyway it was a huge pain in the ass and I was glad when the day for the charter came. I'd been out for two days before that so we needed a quick turnaround to get ready for the Friday-night sailing, but that wasn't a problem for the cleaning crew. They were real pros and we'd done this many times before. Sally was going to help me out for the weekend cruise along with a couple of other girls we often brought on part-time for bigger crowds. She generally didn't like doing that during the season but since the Bucs were out of town and I promised we'd be back in before the game, she agreed.

She helped me greet our guests at the brow and direct them back to the lounge while the rest of the guests were arriving. I told you before I liked having pretty women work for me. Well pretty doesn't quite cover what Sally looks like. Try pure sex with red-hair, creamy white skin and more curves that a country road. I keep telling Bob he doesn't deserve her and he agrees, but then I'm not sure any mundane man deserves Sally. But she loves him like there's no tomorrow. No accounting for taste, right?

As I said before I work the higher end of the trade so I'm fairly used to the rich and their hangers-on coming and going but I don't think I've ever seen that many limos piled up at the end of the pier like I did that day. If that's the kind of money you find in the music business then I am definitely in the wrong line of work! There were the obligatory old rich men with their arm candy ― either trophy wives or weekend rentals ― old rich men with their pretty boys and a few old battleaxes with either arm candy or pretty boys. Quite a mixed bag all around, but no Antigua Delmar as of yet. Not that it mattered all that much to me; her guests could wait with the rest of us and drink expensive hooch (smuggled of course), eat off the buffet and schmooze with each other and try to keep their hands off the girls and their eyes on Sally's ass.

According to the guest roster everyone was aboard except the hostess and it was getting close to the scheduled sailing time when the biggest limo of them all pulled up right onto the pier. I figured it had to be Tinker Bell so when she popped out of the rear of the land yacht I wasn't surprised. The woman that got out after her did surprise.

I told you Antigua Delmar was pretty, more than just a cute kid and Sally is a knock-out and my wife Kathy, the love of my life, was a very handsome woman; none of them even came close to this vision. She appeared to be a little taller that Tink, shoulder length honey-blonde hair, perfectly proportioned body and get this, the most perfect legs I have ever seen in my life! She should have been under glass in the Louvre. I think my heart stopped.

"Breathe, Danny, breathe," Sally chuckled and nudged me with her elbow.

"Huh? I don't know what you mean," I gasped.

"Sure you don't," she smirked. "And next you'll be telling me you didn't even notice her."

"Notice who?" I had her fooled, I'm sure of it. She kept chuckling, annoyingly so, until Tink stepped over the brow and threw her arms up to me.

"My sex slave!" she hollered. I groaned.

"I thought you were my kidnapping victim," I answered as she hugged me.

"You read what you want; I'll read what I want," she said. Turning she introduced the goddess standing behind her. "Captain Chaos, this is Cynthia, my manager and my mother."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," I said. At least I hope that's what came out. It could have been incoherent guttural noises but if it was I didn't want to know. "And that's Mayhem, Daniel Mayhem."

"So you're the one who kidnapped my daughter and ran off with her on that ancient death machine and then forced her into that den of iniquity." Touching her hand was like holding onto spun silk.

"Den of iniquity? Oh, Bennie's. I'll have to remember to tell him you said that; he'll like it." I think she pulled her hand back, I'm not sure I could have let it go by myself. "As for the bike ... Well, she forced me to."

"I'm sure she did," she said laughing. Her laugh was like the tinkling of small silver bells, the sound of water over stone in a meadow brook ... What? Oh, yeah. Okay it does sound corny but I don't think my brain was functioning all that well right then.

"Shall we show the ladies to the lounge and prepare to get underway, Captain?" Sally prompted.

"Um, of course. Miss Delmar?" I offered my arm to Antigua; I didn't trust myself with Cynthia. Together we strolled into the lounge.

When we entered there was a general uproar and I don't think I've seen more kissing and hugging since the last orgy we chartered. Orgies are fine with me, by the way, so long as I'm not obligated to join in; it's one of the reasons everything we have is leather: it's easy to clean. As expected, Tink was the center of attention although where I saw a pretty young woman, I think these sharks saw nothing but dollar signs; but such is business.

I gave my obligatory welcome aboard speech; blah-blah-blah, happy to have you; yada-yada-yada, everything is here for your pleasure except the girls, Brian and me; play nice, have fun, don't fuck with me or you get hurt. Okay, I don't say that last part with exactly those words, but they get my meaning and it was time to shove off.

I forgot to mention Brian, or Cubby as we know him, the last of my Lost Boys, Staff Sergeant Brian McNaught. Brian works a lot of my charters, especially the larger crowds, as extra security. He's not as big as some of the other LBs, not quite so imposing; has a pleasant demeanor, doesn't get excited, reacts appropriately and is as deadly as a pit viper when needed. I've seen Cubby put down a pro wrestler almost twice his size with a simple wrist lock and calmly explain the error of his ways while almost tearing the recalcitrant grappler's arm out of its socket. He's one of reasons Bob has no problems with Sally over-nighting with us, and the other girls feel safer here than at home in Tampa. As with the rest of my team money seems to mean nothing to him but if I asked him to toss a troublemaker over the side the only thing he'd ask was if I wanted him dead before he hit the water. They say the mark of a true friend is not that they would help you when there is trouble but they also help you bury the body afterwards. My team would ask how many bodies and if it would be easier to rent a backhoe.

I finished my speech, shook a few hands and kissed a few cheeks then left the feeding and care of the passengers up to the professionals, i.e., Sally and the girls assisted by Sara, my AI. I made my way up to the bridge to "help" Sara with ship's movement. She doesn't need my help but she's a good girl and tolerates me. I actually have two bridges although I could just as easily con the boat from my cabin. The navigation bridge is totally enclosed and is the second highest deck on the boat. The flying bridge ― the place I usually like to stay ― is the uppermost deck and is mostly open with the exception of a canopy. The view is better and I like the feeling of being outside in the breeze. If the weather's bad I can always go inside.

We had boarded late in the afternoon so by the time we got underway it was pretty close to dinner time but after a quick consultation with Cynthia ― that was nice ― I decided to postpone the meal and leave the buffet open until we exited the bay. I've found the passengers generally enjoyed the transit out of the harbor and seeing the city as we glide by. After that my job becomes pretty much to sit back and look important.

To tell the truth my job is the least important onboard. Navigation and ship handling is so automated these days with the AIs it could be done by the man and a dog routine. You know, where the only living creatures on the bridge are a man and his dog. The man's job is to feed the dog and the dog's job is to bite the man if he tries to touch anything.

Nice work if you can get it.

I usually just stay up there for most of the trip, especially the fully automated ones. Lets the passengers do what they want and not feel embarrassed by me walking in on their fuck-fests. Sara will tell me if there's any trouble and on this cruise I have Sally and Brian to mediate any of the small glitches. Lighting up a smoke I watched Tampa and then Pinellas Park slide down our starboard beam and tried not to think of Cynthia down below.

I truly do love the open sea and even though the Gulf is usually little more than a big pond I still enjoy being out in the open air with the sea all around; it sometimes feels like it's just me and the sea. I wonder what it would have been like if I had taken the appointment to Annapolis instead of the Point. Back then I was just a kid from Indianapolis and didn't know the affinity I'd feel for the open water. I think I would have made a pretty good naval officer if I do say so myself. But then it probably wouldn't have mattered. The Muslims had nukes but no navy to speak of; the wars were down and dirty land fighting and the Navy was stripped of both officers and crew to feed the meat-grinders both in the Middle East and SA. In all likelihood I would have been just another squid handed a rifle and sent out into the jungle or the sandbox to die. The survivability of those "lateral conversions" proved to be about the same as the chances of winning the state lottery: not good.

As strange as it seems probably the only reason I survived was the fact I chose Army and was selected for the UN Special Forces. True, the casualty rates in the SpecFor were even higher than the normal grunts but for some reason my team survived intact, with the exception of one very early on. It was what they called a "statistical anomaly," which is brass-speak for "fucking impossible." Oh, we got more than our fair share of the really nasty little jobs, the kind they don't expect you to return from, but we were always able to come back alive and reasonably whole. I think it was a fluke ― read miracle ― or karma or whatever else you want to read into it but the UN somehow threw together a team that meshed like no other that I'd ever seen. We were tight, still are I guess. After the wars we all retired at the same time and when Kathy and I moved to Tampa to set up a charter business they all came with us. I think they hurt almost as much as I did when she was killed in that bombing. I think she had become their surrogate mother, even to Top who was just a few years younger that we were.

"So this is where you're hiding," someone said from behind me. I must have been zoned out because normally I would never have let anyone sneak up behind me like that ― getting old I guess. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Tinker Bell pulling herself up the ladder and stepping onto the deck.

"Permission to enter the bridge, Sir!" she mimicked with a snappy salute.

"Permission granted, sailor," I growled. "Somebody's been watching old movies again."

"Never stopped," she said plopping herself down in the chair across from me. "I love them. They're fascinating and who knew you could make something that entertaining and without a dick or tit in sight."

"It was a different era I'll admit," I answered. "I think they would consider what's usually made today nothing more than porn with a plot."

"Sometimes they don't even bother with a plot." She added and I could only nod. "So what is it you're doing up here?"

"Running the ship of course," I replied.

"Yeah right," she snorted. "With your feet propped up and smoking that ragweed. You look really busy."

"I work smart, not hard."

"Your AI does all the real work," she pointed out.

"That's working smart," I responded. "All of us in high leadership positions learn to delegate tasks to those most suited for the job."

"Okay, you delegate," she giggled. "So what else do you do?"

"Supervise mostly," I shrugged, "and evaluate the tactical situation."

"What tactical situation?" she scoffed.

"Well, for instance, that fellow following us," I pointed to the charter boat off our port quarter at about 500 meters. "If this were a combat situation I would be wondering who they are and what they're up to. They've been stuck to us like stink on a fart since we left port."

"Okay, I can see that," she said looking at the aforementioned vessel. "But this isn't combat so what are you doing?"

"Wondering who they are and what they're up to," I answered. "Sara, who is that off our port quarter?"

"Charter Vessel Ocean Breeze, Daniel," Sara immediately replied. All vessels had the mandated IFF (Identification, Friend or Foe) screamer installed that allowed anybody to ascertain the name, speed and course of any vessel underway. "Registered to Captain Charles Brennen, Port of Tampa." I knew Chuck, a decent enough guy but he usually trafficked in the lower end trade. It didn't answer my question as to what he was up to.

"Sara, open up the ship-to-ship. Ocean Breeze, this is Gulf Dream, what are your intentions, over."

"Gulf Dream, this is Ocean Breeze, we are steady on, no maneuvering intended, over"

"Brennen, this is Mayhem, you're dogging my wake, what the hell are you up to?"

"It's a free ocean, Mayhem, I'm just out on a charter making a living same as you."

"Fine, how about you back off another half klick or so? I don't want you spoiling the view for my passengers."

"Sorry, no can do. Your passengers are the problem, Mayhem. You got Antigua Delmar on board and I've got a boat load of reporters that want to know what's going on."

"Too bad. They should have wangled an invitation. Since they don't have one how about you back off a bit?"

"I can't do that, Mayhem," he sounded nervous for some reason. It wasn't long before I found out why.

"Shit!" Tinker Bell muttered. I looked over and saw her looking at the Breeze through one of a pair of binoculars I had spread out around the bridge. "Fucking floaters!"

"Language, little lady," I chided. "What do you mean floaters?"

"Remote cameras," she said, she started shaking and I thought she was going to cry. "I can never get away from those fucking things! They follow me wherever I go! Now I'll have to spend the rest of my time inside. God, I hate those things!" I picked up another pair of eyeballs and took a look at the Breeze myself. There was some motion on the rear deck; there were a couple of people with a number of boxes spread out around them. Suddenly a number of dark, plate-shaped objects floated up and started coming our way.

"Settle down, Tink," I chuckled. She had started to head towards the ladder but stopped and looked back at me. "Sara, get me Brian."

"Yes, Cap?" came his voice from mid-air.

"You busy?"

"Not so you'd notice," he replied.

"Get your boom-stick and get to aft-deck, port. Incoming, hostile, not critical."

"Sir!" His voice cut off suddenly.

"What are you up to?" Tink looked at me suspiciously.

"Just a little target practice," I grinned and walked over to the locker on the bulkhead. I pressed my thumb on the lock and it opened, elevating a 6mm standard infantry rifle out for me to grab.

"Oh, shit!" Tink hissed as I lifted it up and looked through the scope checking its true.

"What's the matter, lamb chop? Never seen a rifle before?"

"Not up close and personal," she admitted.

"Welcome to my world," I grunted and looked over the back rail seeing Brian already there at ready arms. A few of the guests must have seen him grab the piece and go outside because five or six of them were standing behind him looking confused.

"Sara, tell our guests standing outside there is nothing to worry about but I'd like them to back away from crewman Brian a few more meters." It took a second or two but the message must have reached them because they did just that.

"Brian," I started, "those objects coming towards us from the vessel port-aft of us are cameras. They intend to bother our guests with them and that annoys me. You take the three to the left and I'm going to take the three to the right. I want them splashed."

"Maybe I should take all of them, Cap. You know you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if you were standing next to it." Even as he spoke he lifted the rifle in one smooth motion, shouldered it and squeezed off three quick shots in succession.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

One of the cameras exploded in mid-air; another flipped end over end and smashed into the sea while the third nosed over and gently dove directly into a wave.

"Show off" I muttered. His crack about the barn hurt. Okay, so I wasn't the best shot in our team, not with a rifle anyway, but I wasn't that bad. I lifted my own piece, sighted the first floater and squeezed off my shot. It started tumbling so I shifted to the next one in line. Again the squeeze and the gentle recoil pushed back into my shoulder as that one disappeared from the scope field. I lined up the last one and ripped off another shot just as the damn thing jigged on me. A complete miss!

"Shit," I hissed and looked down at a grinning Brian giving me that I-told-you-so look. I flipped him the finger and sighted the last floater as it headed back to the Breeze.

"Not so fast, baby," I whispered. I sighted in and as it tried to jig again blew it apart, the pieces coming down about a hundred meters from the Breeze.

"What the hell is going on here, Captain?" I heard behind me and I turned to see a thoroughly pissed off Cynthia Delmar hoisting herself up the ladder and onto my bridge. She'd changed into what they probably call a cocktail dress or maybe a strapless evening gown although to me it looked more like a gown-less evening strap for all it covered. I mean yeah it covered all the unmentionable parts but it was skin-tight, silky and left nothing to the imagination. I think my heart stopped again for just a moment.

"Mom! Oh, my, God! You should have seen it!" Tink screamed. "He shot them right out of the air!"

"Shot what out of the air?" she looked at her daughter questioningly. "What is going on here?"

"Floaters, Mom!" Tink squealed. "There are scuzzies on that boat over there and they sent floaters over to spy on us. He shot them right out of the fucking air!" Scuzzies are the bottom-feeders that follow celebrities around taking vids of them and generally make a complete nuisance of themselves, I think they used to call them paparazzi, scum by any other name...

"Language, Antigua," Cynthia admonished automatically.

"Mayhem, what in the hell do you think you're doing?" Brennen's voice floated in the air above me. Interestingly enough he sounded both pissed off and scared shitless at the same time. I wonder how you do that?

"Who me? I'm just shooting down what look like flying bombs," I responded. "I have to protect my passengers and my boat you know."

"They're cameras, you maniac!" he shouted.

"Well sure, that's what you say. But how do I know?"

"Those things are illegal in the U.S." Cynthia hissed. "Should be everywhere. Damn, they can make your life a living hell!"

"I'm reporting you for this, Mayhem!" Brennen was still shouting.

"For shooting down illegal, privacy-invading cameras?" I asked. There was silence for a moment.

"We aren't in the U.S. right now," he responded but I could tell he didn't feel comfortable.

"Then who are you going to report me to?" I laughed. "Now this is how it's going to work: you're going to back off and stay at least a klick away from me. You're not going to send any more of those things over my way or I'm going to shoot them down as well and if you do, it will probably annoy me enough to get out the big guns and see if that tub of yours really is unsinkable. Do we have an understanding here?"

"You're insane," he whispered back.

"Right in one," I answered amiably. "So let's not poke the crazy combat vet who is obviously paranoid and prone to suffer all kinds of interesting traumatic flashbacks. Does that sound reasonable to you?" He never answered but I could see from the telltales the Breeze was opening on us. My guess was he intended to shadow us for the remainder of the trip if he could; he couldn't but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Fun's over," I said. "Brian, stand down."

"Aye, sir," he replied.

"So, you going to rip me a new one now?" I asked Cynthia as I stowed the piece in the locker. The nice thing about using a weapon with caseless ammo is everything is totally consumed when it's fired. No cleaning; just vacuum it out every now and then.

"Will it do any good?" she smiled. I think my knees wobbled just a bit; her smile was that devastating.

"You're the client," I shrugged trying to look nonplused. "I promise I'll look properly chastised."

"I'm sure you have plenty of practice at that," she smiled even wider. "I'm sure your wife is the recipient of it often enough."

"My wife died a few years ago," I said and turned back to the consol. "Yes, I tried it but she never bought it either."

"I'm sorry," she said hesitatingly.

"Not your fault," I shook my head. "It happens."

"Well, I think I'd better get down and tell everybody what happened. They probably think we were being attacked by pirates," she said fidgeting just a bit. "Antigua, you should come down and mingle with your guests also."

"I will, Mom. In a little bit." Tink answered.

"Okay," Cynthia started towards the ladder, stopped and turned back to me. "Antigua will be singing excerpts from her comp tonight for the group. Would you like to come hear her? That is if you're not needed up here."

"Your daughter and I were just discussing my relative usefulness a few minutes ago," I grinned. "If I wouldn't be intruding, I would love to."

"It's your boat, Captain."

"Yes, but it's your party," I said. "I wouldn't want to interfere."

"We'd love to have you."

"Then to tell the truth I'd like to hear her sing." I glanced over at Tink.

"Then we'll see you there. Till then." She left and the sight was magnificent.

"I think she likes you," Tink said with a grin after she'd left.

"Yeah, right," I snorted. "Beautiful women like your mother are always throwing themselves at me. It's so embarrassing."

"That wouldn't surprise me one bit," she said looking at me with her head slightly tilted, absently tapping one finger lightly against her cheek. "Mom always was attracted to the bad boys. Of course the ones she's been with only look and act like bad boys. She has no idea what a really bad boy you are."

"And you do?"

"Hmm," she hummed. "Daniel Mayhem; graduated West Point 2032 smack dab in the middle of your class; commissioned Second Lieutenant and selected for Ranger training; transferred to the UN Special Forces just before the war started in '36 and spent the next ten years in the America's Theater doing God only knows what. Retired with full pension in '46; moved to Tampa and started a charter business with your wife, Katherine Mayhem. Your wife was killed in the bombing of the Tampa ferry in 2049, I'm so sorry Danny."

"Thanks," I shrugged. After five years it still hurt but by now it was a dull ache and not the stabbing pain it used to be. "Shit happens to good people, Tink. I can't pretend it doesn't still hurt but I've learned to live with it. How the hell did you get even that much about me? I was given the understanding that my public record had been scrubbed when I went the UN. You shouldn't have been able to get even that much."

"It wasn't easy," she admitted. "But being a celebrity has its advantages sometimes. Let's just say I have low friends in high places that like the idea of knowing someone with a popular name. But like I said it wasn't easy. My nameless source almost didn't give me this little bit; it was harder than finding a backbone in a jellyfish, or a politician. The only other thing they would tell me was you were the most highly decorated soldier in the SA operational area and even the decorations were classified above his level. What the hell were you into, Danny Boy?"

"Can't tell you that, Tink," I said shaking my head. "They had me sign a stack of non-disclosure forms taller than you are when I left. Hell, I think one of them said they were going to tape my mouth shut just before they burn my body when I die." I sighed. "Let's just say we were busy and leave it at that. It's over and done with; the past is the past and well left there." Easy to say; not so easy to do. I don't think Mike will ever get over it. That's why we put up with her drinking; even that is better than having her eat the barrel of her gun which would probably be the next step she would take. To be quite honest I don't know why the rest of us don't do it; maybe she's just more human, or sane, than the rest of us. For whatever reason we were able to wall it off and she wasn't.

"I understand," she nodded solemnly although both of us knew she didn't, couldn't. If you weren't there you couldn't know what it was like and I thank the mythical Supreme Being every day that people like Tink didn't have to go through what we did; nobody should.

"So anyway," she said shaking her head like she was clearing it. "Mom likes the bad-boy types. You know, they dress like old cartel drug lords or have fake gang tats over most of their body. They're all pussies and poseurs and would probably shit their pseudo-leather pants if they ever saw a real gun but they put on a good act. She usually likes them a lot younger than you are but I can see she has her eye on you so you'd better be careful. I noticed you were eyeing her ass pretty hard there too."

"Your mother is a very striking woman," I protested. "And I was not staring at her ... bottom." It's true; I was staring at her legs which just happened to be attached to her ass.

"Right," she drew out the word. "So, you going to come down and listen to me sing like a little birdie in a cage?"

"Yep, I'll be there."

"Okay, it's at 2200," she said turning to leave. "And no staring at my ass."

"No promises," I answered as she walked off. She just gave an exaggerated swing of her hips and then spoiled it by giggling before climbing down the ladder.

I stepped into the lounge just before 2200 and did a quick survey. Everything was going just fine like I knew it would be. One of the girls was behind the bar pouring hooch while Sally and another girl brought out trays of snacks and drinks to those sitting down. Sally grinned my way and gave me a little finger wave. Brian was up against the bulkhead with three or four bits of arm-candy orbiting around him. If they were just weekend fluff I had a feeling he was going to get lucky when we got back to Tampa; if any of them were wives they were going to be disappointed.

Brian didn't poach wives; now if it had been Top it would have been a different story. Top didn't give a shit if they had a ring or not, he only cared if they had a slit between their legs. Top always has three or four women on his string at any one time. Not that he cheated on them or anything; he was upfront about the fact he wasn't exclusive and if they didn't like it they could find better places to play. He says he tried the exclusive bit once and it just wasn't him. I rarely hear any complaints so he must be doing something right. Having that many women around at the same time just sounds tiring to me; I really must be getting old.

Anyway Tink was up on the "stage," a little platform that elevates up from the deck, in what had to be one of her costumes. She looked lovely and about fifteen years old. The music must have already been queued up because it started and everyone turned toward her as she started to sing. Damn that girl has some pipes! I can't say the style of music is my cup of rum; too soft and slow, but I had to admit she could sing. Her voice was strong and clear; if it'd been seventy or eighty years ago I could see her as a lead rocker wailing with the best of them.

She sang about six songs and was given rather tepid applause at the end. Very subdued clapping from most of the old farts anyway; the arm-candy and the pretty boys mostly just swooned. Even though it wasn't really my kind of music I thought she deserved better. I have to assume they were too busy calculating their profits to give her the ovation she deserved. It didn't seem to bother her any though as she started working the crowd gathering little cheek kisses and laughing at what were probably stupid jokes.

Right after Tink finished I was surprised by having an arm slipping into mine and I looked down into a set of blue eyes that probably should be declared illegal.

"Did you like it?" Cynthia asked looking up at me with one of her devastating smiles.

"Your girl can sing," I admitted. Damn if she didn't feel good standing next to me. "But I'm not sure your guests appreciated it as much as they should have."

"It's just business to them," she shrugged. "I really don't care if they liked it so long as they buy it, and they will. Actually all the contracts have been signed; this party is just for ego stroking." She shrugged and her breasts did a delightful jiggle under her dress. "It keeps them happy and that's what it's all about. Antigua has another two years, three tops, before someone else will take her place in the hearts of the little empty-headed fluff-balls that buy her music and come to her concerts. We have to grab it while we can."

"That's rather cynical," I said.

"It's the business," she said shrugging again. "Everybody thinks they're going to be on top forever but no one ever is. Our demographics are young girls and they are notoriously fickle."

"That's a shame; Tink is too good to be put in the bargain bin so soon."

"Oh, we'll start repositioning her in another year or so. We just haven't decided which direction to go in yet." She paused for a moment and continued. "Why do you call her Tink? I've heard you say that a couple of times now. What does it mean?"

I chuckled and told her about our first meeting and how the vision of Peter Pan's fairy friend immediately came to mind when I saw her.

"Tinker Bell, eh?" We both looked over at the one in question and followed her as she flitted from group to group like a beautiful butterfly lighting on flowers in a garden. She turned back and looked up at me with those impossibly big eyes. "So my daughter is a fairy, what does that make me?"

"Gloriana, the Queen of the Fairies," I answered without thinking.

"Mmm, I like that," she smiled seductively. Okay, everything she did she did seductively. I'll bet she even took a crap seductively. "It's getting stuffy in here. Why don't you take me out on deck and show me the sea, Captain." She tugged on my arm and like a puppy on a leash I was powerless to anything except follow. Just as we reached the door I noticed Sally looking at us and smirking. I think I'm going to ask Bob to spank that girl next time I see him.

It was a perfect Gulf night; the moon was three-quarters full and it was cloudless where it shone on us. There was weather moving in from the southwest which was just fine for what I wanted later on but for now it was almost picture perfect. She led me over to the railing and stood gazing out over the water. The lights were dimmed on deck and the moonlight shined off her hair turning it a bright silver color rather than its normal honey blonde.

"This is nice," she said. She didn't look up at me but neither did she release my arm.

"Yes it is," I agreed.

"So, there is no Mrs. Mayhem?"

"Ah, no. My wife died a few years ago," I sputtered.

"Girlfriend?" she asked her grip tightening a bit on my arm. "I'm sorry. I know I sound a bit forward but I'm attracted to you if you couldn't tell. Does that bother you?"

"No, no girlfriend," I answered. "And yes, it does bother me, but in a good way. You know very well I'm attracted to you also, but then that's not news. I don't think there's a straight male on this planet who wouldn't be attracted to you."

"Thank you." She glanced over at me furtively then turned to look at me directly. "So, you're attracted to me only because I'm pretty? I don't mean to sound conceited; I know I'm pretty. Believe me, it costs me enough to keep me looking like this."

"I doubt that," I smiled. "As for what attracts me to you ... Well, you are a stunningly beautiful woman but we don't know each other so how could there be much else?"

"Oh I don't know about that," she smiled lazily her fingers walking up my arm sending tingles shooting up through it. "I know more than you think. For example I know you're a veteran, a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed. An officer? Senior NCO?"

"Officer," I admitted.

"It shows," she said as her fingers continued their trip up my arm and started across my chest. "It would also appear you're a little bit crazy. I like that."

"Totally bug-nuts I've been told," the words were catching just a bit in my throat.

"You know women like their men a little crazy; it makes us horny," she said grabbing the front of my shirt and pulling me in closer to her. She was a little taller than Tink, especially with heels but I still had to look down into her eyes. I felt hormones flooding through my body like I hadn't felt since I was a teenager. "Any chance I might be able to see what the Captain's cabin looks like at night?"

"Not unless you want to share it with Sally," I said shaking my head to clear it.

"Sally? The girl inside?" her grip loosened slightly and her smile became just a slight bit firmer. "You and she... ?"

"No," I laughed placing my hands gently on her shoulders. "Sally uses my cabin while we're underway. Probably the other girls will also since we're pretty full this trip. I stay on the flying bridge or rack out on the Nav bridge if the weather's bad. I don't mix business with pleasure, ever. Besides Sally's happily married even if her husband wasn't twice my size."

"No pleasure at all?" Her grip tightened up again as her smile relaxed.

"Not while we're underway," I added. It was a real pain in the ass sometimes having scruples. "Maybe after?"

"Maybe." Her eyes locked onto mine like a hunter-seeker finding its prey. "Maybe you can take me for a ride on that death machine or yours. Antigua can hardly talk about anything else. The next thing you know she'll want to take up skydiving. You are a bad influence, Captain Mayhem."

"God forbid," I muttered. I've made over two-hundred jumps, both low jumps and HALO (High Altitude Low Opening), all but twenty of them in combat situations and I hated every single one of them. I never could see the point in jumping out of a perfectly good aircraft unless it was required for a mission, or the damn thing was on fire. I know, I know, lots of people do it for fun but I think they're the crazy ones. I'm not saying it scared me, not really. I mean the chances of dying from the jump were a hell of a lot less than the being shot at the end of it, but I still didn't like it. Hey, some people don't like spiders; I don't like jumping out of airplanes.

"I'm sure that could be arranged, ah, Miss Delmar?" She wasn't the only one who could fish for information. I was just a little more circumspect.

"Yes it's Miss," she grinned. "I've been married a few times but not now and nothing serious either, yet. And if you don't call me Cynthia I'm going to yank your balls off." To emphasize her point her other hand snaked down and grabbed the boys, loosely, thank heavens! It was a little unnerving especially since I had a hell of a hard-on right then.

"Yes, Cynthia," I gulped. I wasn't surprised she'd been married before. To tell the truth Kathy and I were a bit of an anachronism; we had been married for seventeen years and probably would have been still if she hadn't been killed. Most "marriages" these days are the contract type: they expire after a set numbers of years unless renewed. I don't think I can do that. I'm not sure I'll ever marry again but if I do it's not going to be the contract type. It's going to be the old-fashioned open-ended kind; otherwise you're just planning for failure and why bother?

"Good boy," she laughed letting go of my jewels and patting me on the cheek with that hand. Then that hand went around my neck and tugged me just a little bit closer. "A promise should be sealed with a kiss. Is a kiss permissible?"

"I think that can be allowed," I muttered. I say muttered because before I had even finished she had released the front of my shirt and I had some of the softest lips I can ever remember plastered against mine and her tiny tongue was inside my mouth dueling with mine. All that I can remember is leaning down, putting my arms around her and sort of picking her up and suddenly her gown was hiked up to her waist and her legs were wrapped around my hips. I have no idea how long that went on but when I finally let her down she seemed to wobble unsteadily. I know my legs felt like rubber.

"Wow!" she groaned.

"Wow is right," I hissed. "If we do that again I'm afraid one of us is going to end up pregnant."

She looked up at me and I could see the naked lust writhing just below the surface of her face. If I had to bet I'd say mine probably looked the same.

"Are you sure we can't slip away for awhile?"

"I'm sure," I answered closing my eyes. Be strong, Mayhem, be strong!

"I don't think I've ever had a man turn me down before," she pouted.

"And you haven't now," I replied. "But not right now. When we get back... ?"

"Mmm, we'll see," she grinned. "You of course know I'm going to torture you for the next few days. You need to be punished for making me wait."

"I'm already being tortured," I groaned.

"Good. You deserve it," she laughed. "Well, if you're not going to take me to bed then I suppose I should make an appearance back inside. We'd better do it quick or you are going to be raped and there's nothing you can do about it. Well?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," I muttered. She laughed again, slapped me playfully on the arm and allowed me to lead her back inside.

She was doing her thing and making the rounds just like Tink was when Sally sashayed up next to me and gave me a hip bump.

"That was quick," she whispered. "I thought you would last longer than that. If you need it I think we have some Everlast around here somewhere."

"Shut up, Sally," I hissed through clenched teeth. I am definitely going to have to have a talk with Bob.

Edited by Morgan



-------

Chapter 4



I didn't stay long at the party ― it was their party, not mine ― and hiked back up to the flying bridge. I sat there for a while and burned one while thoughts flew through my head. What had I gotten myself in for? Was it more than a little flirting? (Okay, I knew it was more than just flirting, but how much more?) The only thing I knew for sure was that I didn't want it to stop no matter where it led.

The weather guessers were right about the front coming in, for once. By 0100 it was overcast and dark as the inside of a sack. I could see the Breeze by its running lights and a few deck lights they'd left on and I'm sure they could see us the same way if they were looking. It was almost time to bug out.

The party down below had pretty much petered out and the guests were off to their beds to sleep-off or fuck-off their drunks. Hopefully they had taken advantage of the Detox we made available but if not, well, it was their hangover, not mine. I was getting ready to fire up the ECM unit (Electronic Countermeasures) when I heard someone climbing up the ladder behind me. I turned slightly and saw Tink's head pop up as she clambered onto the bridge.

"Hey there, Captain Chaos," she said cheerfully. She didn't sound intoxicated and I couldn't remember her actually drinking anything while I was down there. "What ya up to? Sally said you were probably up here."

"Hey yourself, Tink. I'd have thought you'd be in bed after all the schmoozing and boozing tonight."

"Not me," she said. "Never mix pleasure with business and believe me this is business. So what are you up to? You actually look busy."

"Smart ass! You aren't too big to be spanked," I huffed.

"Ew, beat me, spank me, make me write bad checks," she giggled. "Now stop changing the subject and tell me what gives or is this secret captain stuff."

"It's secret captain stuff," I admitted. "But I suppose you can watch what I'm going to do since it's mostly your fault anyway. But you have to promise not to tell. Not that anyone would believe you anyway, but even a hint of this might get awkward. I'm going to lose our tail over there."

"Hmm, sounds interesting," she said settling herself in one of the chairs. "But isn't that going to be a bit difficult? Don't they have the same radars and such that we have? Can't they track us no matter how dark it is?"

"No, no and no," I answered. "It's not difficult, just illegal as hell and while I'm sure their radar is decent I'm pretty sure it isn't in the same class as what I have. Sara, stealth mode, honey."

"Yes, Captain Mayhem," she answered and the deck lights dimmed to almost nothing; so did the navigation lights which was illegal but nothing compared to what came next.

Before I let you know what happened let me give you a quick class on the state of radar technology in our enlightened age. The first radars brought into service back around World War Two over a hundred years ago were simply a transmitter/receiver pair hooked to a cathode ray tube (CRT) for visual representation. The transmitter fires out a burst of electromagnetic radiation which bounces off a target if one is in range. This reflected pulse comes back to the receiver where the time difference is measured giving you the distance from the target. The transmitter/receiver rotates giving you the direction of the target depending on where in the rotation the echo is received. The unit then paints a blip on the CRT allowing the operator to determine where the target is. Pretty simple, actually.

Today's radars are actually an advanced version of phased-array radar that was invented back in the 1970's. The transmitter/receiver doesn't rotate, it sends out a continuous signal in all directions while modulating the signal in precise increments. It gives a much more precise picture of the relative location of the target and also allows you to determine the altitude of the target, something the earlier models couldn't. Today's version is pretty sophisticated, even the kind carried onboard a small tub like the Breeze and Tink was right: It should be very difficult to defeat. Of course they didn't have the secret weapon I did, Weird.

Everybody on my team could fight of course, both close in and at distance; infiltrate, disrupt and generally cause a really bad day for the people on the other side. But everyone also had his own specialty. Mike was our long-shot sniper; Stanley's was blowing things up; Brian our medic; Sam had heavy weapons and Top's, in addition to being second in command, was intelligence and interrogation. Mine of course was leadership, decision making and looking cool, calm and collected while shitting my pants as everything went to hell around us.

Weird was our electronics geek. I think I mentioned before he thought differently than the rest of us, he also thought better and faster than the rest of us. He was a certified genius and a real idiot savant without the idiot when it came to electronics. If something pushed, pulled or even glanced at an electron he could get it to sit up and beg for him. He had the kind of mind that should have been under lock and key somewhere about two-hundred meters under MIT during the war if they could have gotten anything out of him, but they couldn't. I know for a fact the military forced him to take tests for the intelligence/research section and he purposely flunked them, twice. You'd think they would have taken the hint when he got every single question wrong the first time but then we are talking about the military. The second time he got exactly a sixty-nine, one point below the bare minimum. That time I think they finally understood he wasn't interested.

Anyway, Weird, played with Sara's programming and the electronics on both the Dream and the Katherine,  adding a few little extras. He promised me nobody would ever find out even if they took it apart piece by piece and I sure hope he's right because if the Feds ever found out what I had I'd not only be under a rock, they'd bury the rock!

One of his little additions was Stealth Mode. When activated it would take the signal from any radar painting us, manipulate it and send it back with a few extra instructions; namely to ignore the fact we exist. For all practical purposes we would cease to exist as far as the radar is concerned. I didn't use it very often and never during the day ― far too obvious ― but right now was the perfect time to let it loose.

As soon as Stealth Mode was activated I slowed us letting the Breeze overtake and pass. After she did I made a one-eighty and swung into its wake heading the other way. What most people don't realize is you can track a darkened ship making way at night by the bio-luminescence in its wake. There are tiny plankton in the sea that react just like a firefly when disturbed and give off a small flash of blue-green light. It's not much but on a dark night you might as well have a big ol' flashing strobe light on your mast. By settling into its wake I was using the fact that it had already disturbed these little tattle-tales and distinguishing our wake from its would be almost impossible. Plus the fact I had assumed that Brennen had hit the rack like any good little charter captain and set his AI to follow us. I doubt it was sophisticated enough to wake him if we disappeared unless he told it to, and why would he? Sara would have but then there aren't many Saras out in the civilian world.

That's another thing the Feds might be a bit peeved about if they found out. Sara may look, sound and act just like any other high-end civilian-grade AI out on the market but she isn't; she's the military-grade combat AI they assigned to our team during the war. What, that's impossible! you say? Okay, then Weird didn't help her "twin" herself and take up residence in a standard AI shell just before she was turned in and deactivated at the same time our unit was. If it's impossible then of course it didn't happen. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

"They're not following us," Tink exclaimed as I brought us back up to twelve knots and started opening the distance with the Breeze.

"Nope, must be asleep," I remarked. Tink was a good kid but there was no freaking way I was going to tell her exactly how I did it. She was smart as a whip and I'm sure she knew something fishy was going on but there is a world of difference between knowing and knowing if you catch my drift. I set in a new course and plopped down in the other chair before lighting up another Mexican Marlboro.

"You're a funny man," she said with a sly grin.

"That's why I kill you last," I finished for her.

"God, you're such an old fart," she laughed. "None of my friends would have any idea where that line came from."

"President Arnold in Commando," I had to add. Governor and later Senator Arnold Schwarzenegger had become president during the 2020's, after the ratification of the twenty-ninth amendment of course. Some say actors make lousy politicians but really how can you tell the difference? As far as I'm concerned he was neither good nor bad; he just was.

"So, how'd it go with Mom?" she asked. "Did you fuck her brains out?"

"Nosey little thing, aren't you?" I took another drag off the butt. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" She looked at me intently. "No, I guess you're not."

"Would it bother you if Cynthia and I got together?" I asked.

"No, not really," she answered. For a moment it looked like she was going to say something else but she didn't. "So, did you like my singing?"

"You have a hell of a set of pipes there, kiddo," I responded.

"But you didn't like it," she stated. It didn't seem to bother her.

"It's not the genre I usually listen to," I admitted.

"I figured as much," she nodded. "That's okay. Different strokes for different folks. What do you like?"

"Sara, Benatar please," I gave as my answer and suddenly we were surrounded by deep bass, pounding drums and wailing guitars. Then came the clear, powerful voice of Pat Benatar in Love is a Battlefield. Tink's head began bobbing and she grinned as she began to sway with the beat. "Sara, visual." Suddenly a life-sized hologram of the tiny leather clad rocker from seventy years in the past popped up on the deck between us.

"Oh, I think I remember this one!" she exclaimed and jumped up to stand before the wailing image. She listened with a single-minded intensity and when it was over ordered me, "Again!" So I played it again and this time Tink joined in with flawless timing and letter perfect.

"Sara, again. This time with music only," I grinned as the thrumming base started up again.

"We are young, 

heartache to heartache we stand

No promises, no demands,"

She nailed it like she'd been singing it all her life. That, my friend, is talent. I may not like the kind of music she normally sings but I'll be the first to admit that kid could wail!

"That was so kold!" she gushed when she finished. I reached over and popped a record crystal from the console.

"Here you go, rocker babe: your first demo for your new comp," I chuckled. I hadn't told Sara to record it, she just did. She knows me better than I do myself sometimes.

"Hmm," Tink answered and her eyes narrowed just a little. "So what else do the old folks listen to as they sit around in their rocking chairs?" I should have smacked her but I didn't. Instead we listened to Stevie Nicks, Annie Burns, Terri Nunn and a number of other female singers from that era. A few were a little more recent but not many and I didn't bother with male singers other than a couple of groups I also like. Hey, is it my fault I'd rather listen to a woman sing than a guy? I don't think so. Before I knew it, it was almost 0300 and Tink was yawning which of course caused me to yawn.

"You'd better get to bed there, kiddo," I said. "You youngsters need your ten to twelve hours of sleep every night."

"Screw you, Methuselah," she yawned again. "I thought you senior citizens went to bed about 2000 and didn't get up until 0800 or so."

"That's what you get for thinking, honey. I'm used to staying up for a few days at a time. Maybe someday it'll catch up to me but that day ain't here yet."

"You don't sleep at all when you're out at sea?" she asked, surprised.

"Not normally," I answered shaking my head. "Just a cat nap here or there if I need one. We're usually out for only a day or two, so it's not so bad. Used to be able to go almost a week at a time, but that was long ago back in my deviant youth."

"You're weird," she grinned as she hopped out of the chair and stretched.

"No I'm not. He's not here."

"Right. Well then you are definitely strange," she snorted.

"I can live with that," I nodded.

+ + +

Cynthia's threat to torture me was no idle one I found out the next day. Her idea of deck wear appeared to be a tiny bikini, sometimes with a semi-transparent wrap, emphasis on the semi, and high-heels. Maybe not the most practical foot wear for wandering around the deck of a ship but what they did for her legs should be illegal, not that they needed any help in that regard. Not that she would have been considered underdressed in that crowd in the least. Most of the other eye-candy didn't even bother with tops at all and some went the full Monty. That wasn't all that unusual; casual nudity wasn't uncommon those days, especially in a semi-private environment, and we saw a lot of it. Nice work if you can get it.

Now, I have nothing against younger women but I like the older ones just fine. There is something about age and experience that has an attraction all its own. Take Cynthia for instance. Some of those young beauties running around in next to nothing or maybe nothing entirely probably thought baring it all is about as sexy as it gets. Let me tell you it just ain't so. Now don't get me wrong, they are sexy as hell but they haven't learned yet that sometimes covering up the good stuff just a bit can make it that much more attractive. Cynthia had that down to a science; in fact I think she had her PhD in it. She didn't flaunt, she enticed; she tantalized, she tormented. Yes as a matter of fact I did spend a little more time down on the deck than I normally do. Why do you ask?

She was the perfect hostess and spent the required amount of time with her guests but she also spent quite a bit of time with me, I'm thankful to say. I'll tell you what: That woman is not only one of the hottest babes I've ever met she had a brain too. Sharp and as focused as a laser scalpel. She was as well-rounded a person in intellectual pursuits as she was in the curves department but when it came to the music business she was up there where Weird is in, well, everything else. The music business was her business and she knew it backwards and forwards, in and out. Now I know what I liked but that was about all; she knows everything about it.

We talked about Tink's visit the night before and damned if she didn't know every single singer or group we talked about. Not only who they were but how well they did, why they did well and more importantly to her, why they finally lost what they had if they did finally lose it. When I told her about the "demo" crystal I'd given Tink she got that same strange look in her eye and muttered the same exact "Hmm." She didn't say anything more about it but she did look thoughtful for a moment or two afterwards.

I am both happy and sad to say nothing happened while we were out there. Sad because I would have liked nothing better than getting my grubby paws on her hot little body. Happy because I can say I have at least a modicum of my self-control remaining. Did I say happy? Okay, not exactly happy but at least it was something. Sally wasn't too happy with me at the end of the cruise but I found out later she'd lost a bet with Brian as to whether or not I'd surrender and fuck the shit out of Cynthia. I'm not sure if she was pissed off that she'd lost the money or from discovering that the desire for pussy doesn't make every man a complete idiot. Brian seemed happy anyway.

It wasn't easy, let me tell you. Cynthia never made any overt moves to seduce me after that first night. Hell, she already knew she had me seduced; it was just a matter of when. However she did make it fairly obvious that she wouldn't struggle overly much if I grabbed her and slammed it to her just about anywhere I wanted. She did graciously agree to allow me to pick her up the next Wednesday for a ride on the "death machine" and dinner at the "hell hole."

It was a date even though I didn't date.

Edited by Morgan



-------

Chapter 5



I guess it was a real date so I picked her up at her place. I would have said house but it wasn't; it was a fucking mansion. Not that I would have expected anything less; I'm sure Tink Inc. brought in enough cash annually to buy most of Tampa once or twice over. Actually it was kind of fun rolling up in my leathers and walking up to a front door that was probably wider than the Katherine. Their driver was out front doing chauffeur stuff to the limo and I'm sure he at least got a chuckle out of it. The butler ― that's right a real, live butler ― who answered the door didn't. He was good, I'll admit, but you could almost see the repressed horror in his eyes when he saw me standing in their front entryway. Made me wish I'd grown my hair long enough to put it in a pony tail like the bad-boy bikers of yesteryear instead of keeping it close-cropped like I do. Image is everything you know.

I seriously considered asking if the bitch was in but I doubt he'd have understood the historical context or the humor. In fact I doubted he had a milligram of humor in his whole body; he seemed like the type that took himself far too seriously. I didn't like him. Instead I simply asked if Cynthia was in and was told to wait while he checked. He actually sniffed at me! Somehow I wasn't surprised that he didn't ask me to come inside and wait.

"Hey there, Captain Chaos!" It wasn't Cynthia, it was Tink that found me lounging on their steps. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had been costumed up trying to cadge a ride but she wasn't. Not unless you expected to do some riding in a pretty pink shimmery thing that revealed everything while still hiding it.

"Hey yourself, Tink. Looking good, kiddo." I wasn't just pushing the bull; she did look good. I almost felt guilty thinking the nasty thoughts I did as I looked her over but I didn't. Yeah, she's about the same age as my daughter but looking ain't touching and thinking isn't either. "Out to break hearts today?"

"Thanks," she said plopping down on the steps next to me. "Got a publicity gig today so I had to put on the battle armor. Taking Mom out for a spin on the pig?"

"That's hog,  you delinquent, and yes I'm going to see if she scares any easier that you do," I chuckled.

"You don't scare me, old man," she laughed, punching me on the arm.

"Well, that does a world of good for my ego."

"I'm pretty sure your ego can take the shock," she snickered.

"Maybe," I admitted. There was a clicking of heels behind us and I turned to see who it was and my jaw almost hit the ground. It was Cynthia, of course, in the same style of riding outfit that Tink had on before. Skin-tight denims, form-fitting knee-length riding boots (the ten centimeter heels were a bit much but I wasn't going to complain!) and hair pulled back in a ponytail; the only difference was a men's shirt tied beneath her obviously braless breasts.

"You're letting flies in, macho man," Tink smirked as she leaned over and pushed up on my chin closing my mouth.

"Is this appropriate?" Cynthia asked giving me a model's stance.

"Depends," I was finally able to grunt. "Are you going riding or just trying to cause a stampede in the male population?"

"Maybe both," she grinned.

"Then it's perfect," I said finally let out my breath.

"Good." Then she frowned at Tink. "Antigua, don't you have an appointment? Shouldn't you be there now?"

"Just leaving, Mom," Tink jumped up and brushed herself off. "Ralph's ready and we'll be there right on time. Bye now. Have fun kids and don't do anything I wouldn't do. Try to have her back sometime next week, killer. She has work to do." Without waiting for an answer she scurried to the waiting limo, jumped in and it moved away with a hum.

"Children," Cynthia muttered. "I swear she sometimes act like the teenager she's supposed to be. Do you have any kids?"

"Two," I said. "A girl and a boy, twenty one and seventeen. They're living with my wife's sister."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Their choice, not mine," I shrugged. "For some reason they blamed me for Kathy's death, especially Barbara; she's the oldest. They didn't want anything to do with me. I decided to give them their space and let them work it out, which was probably a mistake on my part." I sighed, "But it is what it is. Maybe someday they'll get over it and I'll get to know them again. That's what I hope, anyway."

"That's not fair," she protested. "It was an accident."

"It was no accident," I replied with a touch of bitterness. "But I didn't have anything to do with it." That was true and it took me awhile to realize it myself which was why I agreed to the kids' wishes. The terrorist attack had nothing to do with me or Kathy; she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. What I didn't say was that I and the team spent about six months hunting down and killing everyone even remotely associated with that cell of crazies. It turned out to be a cult of fanatic anti-immigrant, religious nuts and the police were highly puzzled when they couldn't find any trace of them even months after the attack. They never will either unless they want to sift through a whole lot of shark shit. I can pretty much guarantee those bodies will never be found.

"Anyway, you ready for a ride?"

"So, this is okay?" she asked letting it drop. I told you she was no dumb blonde.

"I'm going to have to get you a pole if you keep fishing for compliments," I huffed.

"You know perfectly well that you're absolutely perfect. You'd look perfect in a burlap bag."

"An old lady can never have too many compliments," she grinned.

"Old lady!" I barked. "I can spank," I warned her.

"I'll keep that in mind," she answered raising her eyebrows. That was an interesting, and distracting, thought. Instead of replying I led her to the bike and got her outfitted with the headgear. She already had her riding glasses on and they mirrored automatically in the sunlight. I mounted, fired up the beast and she shivered slightly at the rumble. I loved that reaction in women. Some get scared but the others just get hot at the throb of those old Milwaukee pistons. I was hoping Cynthia was one of the latter and I fully expected not to be disappointed.

Without me having to say anything, she threw her leg over and scrunched up against me like she belonged there. Let me tell you, if there is a finer feeling than a gorgeous woman pressed up against your back with nothing between you and her breasts other than two thin layers of fabric I can't think of it. Okay, I can think of something better but it was already tough enough to ride without that thought running around in my brain and my leg sticking straight out to the side. Makes shifting a little more difficult, you understand.

Luckily the mechanics of riding are pretty much automatic once you get used to it and I dropped it into first, let out on the clutch and we were off. We rode for the next four hours with only a couple of stops to stretch our legs. Talking was easy with the integrated intercom and talk we did for practically the whole time we were out but I honestly couldn't tell you exactly what we talked about. Talking with Cynthia was as easy and natural as it had been with Kathy. What we talked about wasn't important; getting to know each other was.

Florida is kind of a boring state to ride in if you know what I mean. Flat as a pancake and vastly overdeveloped even if it was just beginning to recover from the effects of the war on our population. You can't lose over a quarter of your people and not have it leave an impression, that's for sure. When the Jihadists took out New York, Washington, Chicago, Los Angeles and Denver with the nukes they got from Iran they almost succeeded in taking us down just like they planned. Initial casualties were over twenty-five million from the blasts alone then you throw in the equal amount that died within the next few months from radiation poisoning, disease, lack of food and clean water it really did seem like the apocalypse was upon us and I suppose in a sense it was.

Not that I personally saw any of it firsthand. I had been selected for the UN Special Forces two months before all hell broke loose and was sequestered in a secret training base in Panama when The Day hit. It was much rougher on Kathy than it was on me. Luckily she was staying with her parents while I was in training. They were, still are, more than moderately wealthy and living in Indianapolis which remained relatively untouched by the disaster. All in all I was reasonably comfortable in thinking that I had lucked out just so long as Kath and the baby were doing well.

Of course that was before that idiot Chavez, president-for-life of Venezuela, declared war on the "imperialist capitalists" in support of his Arab "brothers" in Iran and the new Islamic Democracy of Arabia made up of the former states of Saudi Arabia and the other kingdoms on the Arabian Peninsula. There I was thinking I was going to do some easy time chasing a bunch of stupid drug lords, sex slavers and smugglers through the jungles of Central America and get tossed ass first into one of the bloodiest conflicts since the American Civil war. Christ, what a mess!

Anyway we all know how many we lost fighting the fanatical Chavezites when they tore their way up through Central America, into Mexico and almost into the States themselves and that doesn't even count how many we lost over in "The Sandbox." I've heard some historians are now calling it World War Three and I suppose that's appropriate. All I know is to us it was The War and it made WWI and WWII look like playground scraps in comparison.

One thing it did was leave Florida, and most everywhere else, overdeveloped and under populated which goes back to how boring it can be to ride through klick after klick of partially abandoned housing developments and empty strip malls. At least the Gulf was pretty as we rode along the coast roads.

It was getting to be well into dinner time when we pulled into Bennie's parking lot. It was already pretty full so I hoped at least a few of the team would be there and grabbed a table or booth we could horn in on. I was torn between wanting to keep Cynthia all to myself and hiding away in some secluded booth out of the way or showing her off to anyone who would look. That she would be noticed wasn't even a question, she'd be about as inconspicuous as a golf-ball sized diamond in a pile of dog shit. But what the hell, either through insanity or lack of taste she was here with me and that's all that counted.

"So this is your biker bar?" she asked wrinkling her nose as she stared at Bennie's dilapidated façade. "It doesn't look like much."

"Oh I assure you it's even worse than it looks," I chuckled. "Well, maybe not really worse than it looks. Bennie spends a lot of money to keep the outside looking this bad. He says it's part of the mystique. Actually it's a nice place; the food is decent and Bennie lets us reprobates hang out which is a lot more than most places do, so it's a little like home away from home."

"So this is your gang's hideout?" she grinned as I placed my hand lightly on her back and steered her towards the front door.

"You've been watching too many old vids with Tink," I said shaking my head. "There aren't any biker gangs anymore, not like there used to be, anyway. It's true most of the people who come here are vets and quite a few do ride bikes but we aren't anything like a gang. I guess the closest you could come to that would be my team but we aren't a gang." What I didn't say was that my team was a hell of a lot more dangerous than any biker gang no matter what time you were talking about.

Shoot, even the Hell's Angels from the sixties and seventies wouldn't have lasted more than a few minutes up against my team. Hell, it would have been like putting a puppy up against a fighting pit bull; Mike alone could have probably done more damage to any of the bad old bikers than any number of cops could have. "There are some wannabes out there; punks too young to have been in the war and thinking they're bad asses but they don't come around here."

"And here I was looking for a real adventure and you're spoiling it by telling me I'm perfectly safe," she pouted.

"I didn't say you were safe," I added with a leer. "Just that nobody here is going to hurt you."

"Hmm," she looked up at me with a cocked eyebrow. "And just how 'unsafe' am I?"

"As unsafe as you want to be," I assured her. "And not one bit more."

"I'll keep that in mind," she answered as I pushed open the front door.

The lights were low as usual and there was the semi-permanent haze of cigarette smoke and the extra Bennie adds to keep up the "ambiance," so it took a second or two for our eyes to adjust. Most of the tables were taken already but I was more interested in the booths in the back anyway. Look back toward "our" normal booth I noticed some familiar faces so I took her hand and towed her over that was to see if they had room for two more. Nibs (Mike), Tootles (Weird), Slightly (Top) and Binky (Stanly) were but not Cubby (Brian) or Marmaduke (Sam). Since Sam wasn't there, it left plenty of room for us. I told you Sam's a big boy; he has a tendency to take up a lot of room.

"Hey, guys. How's it going tonight? Got some room for us?" I asked. "I got someone here who I'd like you to meet."

"Cap'n" "Hey, Boss" "Evening Captain," came the chorus.

"Cynthia, this is my team," and I pointed them out while giving each name. Not their Lost Boys name mind you, just their regular everyday names. We try to avoid giving our handles in public; too much baggage is attached to them. Even after ten years the names associated with the Lost Boys elicit some interesting and often violent responses. There are some that treat us like saviors, (Hell, I've even heard there are some villages in SA that have our effigies in shrines that they pray to every day. Christ, is that embarrassing!) and the flip side is there are others that would cut off their own testicles for the outside chance of taking one of us out. Depends on which side they came from, I suppose. Anyway, for good or bad it's not something we advertise. Most of the vets around here know who we are, especially if they were jungle bunnies from the SA theater, and we don't go out of our way to hide who we are but we do try to be circumspect about it.

"Guys, this is Cynthia Delmar, Tinker Bell's mother."

"No fucking way!" Stanly exclaimed shaking his head. "They said Tink was what, seventeen, maybe eighteen. This lady ain't old enough to have a kid out of diapers yet!"

"I like you," Cynthia said with a big grin. Mike excused herself to make a run on the little girl's room so I had Cynthia slide in next to Stanly and I slid in next to her. "I assure you I am her mother and she's nineteen."

"Twenty-one," I corrected.

"Shush," Cynthia put a finger to her lips. "That's a secret. If her fans knew how old she really was, they'd stop listening to her."

"I find that hard to believe," I said. "The kid has a hell of a set of pipes. Voice like an angel. Not the stuff I generally listen to but whatever she sings is good."

"Antigua is very talented," Cynthia conceded. "But having a good voice is only part of being a teen singer ... a rather small part at that. We're already getting pressure from Kimmie Sue; the little bitch is digging into our demographics like you wouldn't believe." There were blank looks all around the table and Cynthia sighed and proceeded to tell us about the little bit of fluff that appeared well on her way to becoming the next teen idol.

"It's inevitable, I'm afraid," she sighed again. "When you target teenage girls you can only go on for so long. We're already exploring other avenues for Antigua's next step in her career." She gave me a strange look and a little smile that to be honest I didn't understand in the least, but I didn't care; the smile was worth it whatever the reason.

The server stopped by ― not Sue thankfully ― and I ordered my iced tea. I'm riding, remember, and Cynthia did the same. Ordering the food wasn't so simple.

"So, what do they have here that's good?" she asked.

"Everything's good," I said winking at the server as she raised one eyebrow. Bennie would have a shit fit if it got back to him I didn't praise his food even if I'd never do it to his face. "But the burgers are kind of a specialty here. Real beef and just as pink as you want them. If you don't want that he has beef steaks, fish, most any other kind of meat and even vegetarian if you want. You ask and I'll bet he can make it or fake it."

"Real beef?" she asked amazed. Yeah, I know they outlawed beef along with trans-fats, donuts, most fried foods and sugared drinks years ago in their effort to protect us from ourselves but you might have noticed we don't generally pay attention to those kinds of laws around here. The FDA goons were about as welcome as the TEA-cops in Bennies; that's to say, not at all. The last time they even tried a combined raid which was just plain stupid. I mean who the hell is dumb enough to come storming into a joint where the clientèle was packing more heat than you are? Luckily nobody was killed but the sheer number of the goons that ended up in the hospital was impressive.

The locals screamed bloody murder at the Feds about "territorial jurisdiction" and other such bullshit loud enough they took the hint and backed off. The locals like us right where we are doing whatever the hell we want regardless of the fact we may be technically bending a few laws now and then. With this many vets hanging around they can pretty much ignore the area since they know nothing is going to happen unless we want it to happen. There hasn't been any crime in this area; I mean real crime like muggings, murders, rapes, etc, since the vets starting hanging out here.

It didn't take the local riff-raff long to figure out it's difficult to intimidate someone whose just spent the last ten years of his life being shot at by someone a whole lot tougher than they are. Shit, you can't even grab a purse from that little bitty woman walking down the street alone because she just might turn out to be an ex-striker from some Forward Recon force and you suddenly find out you've bitten off a whole lot more than you could chew.

We keep our cage clean and the locals do their best to make sure nobody pokes the sleeping bear. Besides most of the local force is made up of vets now and we stick together no matter what color uniform we happen to be wearing at the moment. I mean what other reason could you think of that Mike isn't in the hoosegow for an extended visit?

Thinking of that I looked over to Top and whispered, "Good night?"

"Fair to middling," he responded stoically. About as good as it gets I guess.

I pulled out my pack of cigs and looked at Cynthia for permission to light one up.

"Beef and tobacco," she snorted. "I really have fallen in with desperados. Go ahead, feel free." She decided to be daring and ordered the burger and I made it two with an extra plate of fries. In fact I ordered two extra; I was hungry and didn't want Mike to get all of them. In fact I was wondering if she'd wandered off and into trouble when she showed up at the same time the food did.

"Had to show some newbies how to play darts," she said with only a slight slur as she hip-checked me into sliding over and giving her room to sit down. She hadn't even completely stopped sliding in when she started munching on the fries, the ones from my plate, not the extra plates.

"How much?" Top snorted. It would have to be somebody new to be stupid enough to challenge Mike to a game of darts. Even dead drunk she could hit the bull's-eye at twice the regulation distance about nine out of ten times. The same eye-hand coordination and focused concentration that made her the best sniper I've ever seen worked just as well in darts.

"Just a couple of teners," she said between munches. "He looked kind of down on his luck so I took it easy on him. He didn't look like a sharpie."

Even being richer than god Cynthia must not have had much real beef lately, or even ever, given the way she tore into that burger like a starved lion into a fat antelope. I gather she must have liked it since I've heard fewer moans of pleasure coming from a trooper getting his first fuck after three months in the jungle. She polished off that burger although I have no idea where she put it but ate only a few of the fries. The rest she unobtrusively slid onto my plate when she saw Mike had pretty much decimated mine. I was eating off the spare plates along with Weird and Stan. When she did Mike again attacked them.

I looked over at her but she just smiled back and never even asked the question I knew she had to be holding in. That's pretty special, you know. How many women do you know that would have that much poise and self confidence to see another pretty woman eating off her date's plate and not only not complain but help feed the interloper? I'm not sure I could have explained why Mike was the way she was but I was glad I didn't have to. By continually loading my plate with extra fries I was actually able to finish almost three-quarters of my own burger before everything was gone, a new record.

"I'm stuffed," Cynthia groaned as we made our way out to the bike. We had said our good-byes after finishing; I wouldn't have minded staying longer but to be honest I was kind of hoping I could find some alone time with Cynthia, if you know what I mean.

"So, where to now, my queen?" I asked trying to be gallant.

"So we're not done yet?" she asked smiling seductively.

"We're only done when you want to be done," I assured her. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"As a matter of fact there is," she answered. "Antigua told me you have another boat, I'd like to see it."

"Okay, if you want to," I shrugged. "I have to warn you though it's not as large as the Dream and I live on it so it's probably a bit of a mess."

"I can deal with that," she said. "I'd like to see where you live."

It was only a five minute ride to the marina and the Katherine. It wasn't bad at all as far as there being a mess. I'm a fairly neat person to begin with and the cleaning crew sends someone over every day to tidy up whatever I leave behind.

"Welcome to my parlor..." I started.

"Said the spider to the fly," she finished as I helped her over the brow. She stopped for a moment and looked around while we were still on deck. "She's beautiful, Daniel. The Katherine, your wife?"

"She was the first boat Kathy and I bought when we moved here," I said. "Before we even started looking for something like the Dream. We never intended to actually live on her, not for long anyway since we had the kids. But they each had their own cabin and didn't seem to mind that they were smaller than they were used to. We were about to start looking for a real place to live after we bought the Dream and got the charter started but then she was ... Well, after that and the kids leaving, I never felt the need; this was more than enough for me."

"Show me what's downstairs, please?"

"Say, 'down below' if you want to sound like a real sailor," I chuckled as I steered her to the ladder going down. I showed her the kitchen/dining/lounge area and the master stateroom then the two smaller staterooms where the kids would stay if they ever decided to come back. There wasn't much else so when we were back in the lounge I asked if she wanted a drink.

"Maybe a glass of wine if you have one," she said. "Do you mind if I freshen up first?"

"Of course not, feel free." I heard the door to the master cabin close so I figured she decided to use the small head off my cabin. I'm not much of a wine drinker but I had a decent if small selection. Not knowing what she might like I just picked one that I had been told was good, popped the seal, poured it into a glass to let it breathe and got myself a glass of Bloody Mary mix. It's just tomato juice with spices but remember I was driving the bike. Now I know some people think I'm nuts for being so finicky about the riding while drinking but as I said before I'd survived too much to get busted up doing something really stupid.

It had been awhile and I was wondering if Cynthia had crawled out a porthole when I heard the door open behind me. I turned around and just about dropped the glass I was holding. There she was standing at the top of the ladder wearing nothing but one of my dress shirts! How did I know she wasn't wearing anything else under it? Well, the tails did come down to about mid-thigh on her but she had it buttoned with one little button somewhere just south of her belly button. Believe me, that shirt was all she was wearing!

"I decided to get a little more comfortable. Is that okay?" she said with a smile that could have seduced a snake out of its skin.

I had to swallow once, maybe twice, before I could speak. "I think I can live with it," I answered hoarsely. She glided over to me and I swear being shot at never set my heart to beating like that sight did.

"I hope you're not disappointed," she said taking the glass of wine out of my numb fingers.

"Maybe just a little," I said regaining my composure just a little.

"Oh," she jerked back a little in surprise.

"I was kind of hoping to help skin you out of those jeans myself," I said and her eyes sort of blazed for a second and she swayed back towards me.

"Maybe another time," her voiced rumbled as she pushed me back gently until one of the big padded chairs caught me behind the knees and I sat down abruptly. Without slowing down, or spilling a drop, she crawled into my lap and pressed her soft lips against mine. I felt her tiny tongue lick my lips and I opened them and we were soon locked in a duel to see who could reach the other's tonsils first. I'm not sure how long we sat there; I was pretty much oblivious to anything except Cynthia's lips and her incredibly soft body.

"Mmm," she purred as she pulled back slightly and took a sip of wine. "I hope I'm not too forward, okay, aggressive, for you. I know some men like the chase more than the catch but to tell the truth I'm just too damned old for those games. I know what I want and I grab it and won't let go."

"You caught me the second you stepped out of that car on the pier," I admitted as I ran my hand over her back. That shirt sure felt better on her than it did on me; looked better too, but that was a given.

"You made me wait for this," she pouted. "I should punish you for that. I was beginning to think you were more interested in Antigua than me."

"Not much chance of that," I chuckled. "Tink is a great kid and almost as pretty as you are but I like my women a little older. Although I'm not sure you qualify. Are you sure you're her mother? What were you? About five when you gave birth?"

"Mmm, that kind of flattery will get you just about anything you want." She reached around and grabbed my hand that was stroking her back and I thought maybe I'd done something wrong until she pushed it into the front gap of the shirt and cupped it around her breast. I gave it a little squeeze and she sighed.

Now, I'm no breast expert. The number I've had the privilege to play with can be numbered on the fingers of both hands but there is one thing I am certain of: I've never held a more perfect one than the one I presently had in my hand. It was soft and firm at the same time; a perfect handful with a smallish nipple that was right then hard as a rock. I took my time exploring her wonderful globe and she shivered sticking her face into the crook of my neck and nibbling on my exposed skin.

"Take me to bed, Danny," she whispered in my ear. "Make love to me."

I may be more than a little crazy and may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. Reluctantly I released her breast and scooped her up into my arms as she cooed against my chest as I carried her down to my cabin and deposited her gently on my bed. My fingers felt like sausages as I tried to unbutton that one little button and I'll admit I may have overreacted just a tiny bit when it didn't come undone right away. Okay, so I ripped a 120 New Dollar shirt getting it open but I can tell you right now I didn't give a flying fuck.

Slowly I opened the shirt and I almost forgot to breathe when she was finally revealed. My God, she was beautiful! No, not beautiful. Beautiful is too common for the vision I had laid out in front of me. She was a small woman but so perfectly proportioned there was no doubt this was no girl but a woman in the full bloom of her beauty. I'm not sure how often you can say perfect before it becomes trite but when it came to Cynthia it was not a superlative; it was a statement of fact. If she had a flaw it had to be on the microscopic level because to me she looked like a porcelain construct of what the epitome of what a woman should be. Smooth, satiny and completely without blemish.

"How long are you going to stand there and stare at me, Danny?" she asked throatily.

"As long as you let me," I rasped. "Maybe forever."

"Look as much as you want, later," she growled as she elevated up on her elbows the shirt sliding down off of her shoulders until she shrugged it off completely. "Right now I want to see you. Get rid of the clothes, slave!"

"Yes, Mistress!" I'd like to say I was suave and debonair as I slowly disrobed but that would be a bald-faced lie. I didn't tear anything getting them off but it was a close thing.

"Oh, Danny," she said breathlessly. "You look really good." That was nice of her. I know I'm no vid star but for a forty-four year old whose body had been pushed over the limit more times than I wanted to think about I'm okay, I guess. I don't know if I'm in what I would consider combat shape but I'm not that far away. I've never had one of those classical shapes like a body builder. Actually I'm built more like a brick and not the shit-house kind. My torso doesn't tuck in at the tummy like the pretty boys, in fact it kind of goes straight down from my shoulders until it hits my hips but I will say one thing: none of it is fat. I'm not inhumanly strong like Sam but I can hold my own.

I couldn't tell you how many times I'd been taken for some grunt instead of an officer by some REMF, (that's Rear Echelon Mother-Fucker). I even got thrown out of an officer's club in Panama once early in the war because I didn't fit the dweeb-in-charge's idea of what an officer should look like. The stupid bastard wouldn't believe either my bars or my UN Id, said he knew they were fake and if I didn't leave he'd call the MPs. I thought it was funny; the Admiral I was supposed to meet to informally coordinate an upcoming mission didn't. I'd always thought Admiral Blosser was a good guy, more interested in getting the job done and minimizing casualties than any chain-of-command bullshit, and had a great sense of humor. Turns out he didn't, or at least it was a highly selective one. Major REMF found that out when he got the call to do some time in the front lines about three days later. I never did hear what happened to him but since the casualty rate for the front line troops at that time was close to 100 percent with a life expectancy of less than four weeks, I can hazard a pretty good guess.

Anyway I didn't spend even a millisecond thinking about that, not with this vision lying on my bed in front of me. I wanted nothing more than to jump on in and start pounding away but I exercised some of that self-control that saved my ass more than once and held back.

I have to admit my heart rate was pushing the upper limit as I knee-walked my way onto the bed but most men never have a chance to even be near a woman like Cynthia, let alone worship her body like she was allowing me so I was determined to make this last as long as possible and savor every second. I guess deep down I couldn't believe someone like her could really be interested in someone like me and somewhere in the back of my mind I was convinced this would be my first and last time. If you think you're doing something for the last time you're a lot more apt to savor it if you get the chance.

Decisions, decisions, what to do first? Start from the top and work my way down, or start from the bottom and work my way up? Both were excellent choices but being a basically lazy person I opted for the choice that was more readily available.

Picking up her feet as she let her head slop back down on the mattress I pressed them together and began worshiping her body from the toes on up. I kissed each perfect digit and then spent some quality time on the rest of each foot. I kissed her soles, her heels, the insteps and the bridge before working my way up to her ankles. I tried to make sure I touched my lips to every centimeter of her skin at least twice and sometimes thrice; never staying too long in one place but always moving, always tasting, caressing, teasing. It was a hell of a good time for me and if the moans coming from were any indication it was for her also.

I didn't stop there though; slowly I worked my way up to her ankles; calves and knees. I spent a bit of extra time on the area behind her knees since I remembered that used to be particularly sensitive for Kathy. Maybe it wasn't just Kathy since Cynthia was rolling around and moaning; grabbing the sheets with her hands and generally making it difficult to concentrate on any one area. She spread her legs wide when I started with her thighs and the aroma wafting up from her center was intoxicating. The sight of her lying there splayed open almost made me forget what I'd planned to do. Her delicate pink pussy stared up at me with just the hint of dew on those completely hairless lips and I had to actually force myself back before I dove in wanting to lap up that oily liquor that I just knew had to taste like champagne. But I didn't; when I reached to just below her gates of heaven I stopped and moved up over her body until I could look down into those beautiful blue crystal eyes.

"Yes, Danny! Fuck me, now!" she said huskily as she reached up, grabbed my shoulders and tried to pull me down on top of her. There was no way this little slip of perfection was going to force me to do something I didn't want to do; well, okay I did want to do it but right then I better things to do. I had entered into the spirit of the tease and I found that making her squirm and shiver with anticipation was almost as much fun as the thought of plunging right on in. Almost as much, I'll admit; but I fully intended to get to that in time so I was able to restrain myself for a moment or two.

I have to admit I grinned at her and bent down like I was planning to mount her but at the last moment gently turned her head and started the kissing, nipping and licking on her ear, neck and shoulder. She actually groaned and started humping her crotch up at me causing her pussy to rub up and down my cock as it lay ready, but still passively, against her lower lips.

"You bastard!" she hissed. "You wonderful bastard!"

I worked my way down from her shoulders to the tops of her breasts and around each succulent globe without actually touching her rock-hard nipples as she whimpered beneath me. It was glorious!

I kissed the undersides of her breasts and continued down stopping only to stick my tongue into her navel. She folded up on me and screamed something incredibly foul but I couldn't for the life of me tell you what it was, my attention was elsewhere. Slowly I worked my way down her body as she flopped back breathing hard until I'd finally reached her glistening portal again. This time I didn't stop myself and I extended my tongue to gently lap at the lips quivering in front of me. It was like I was plugged into the grid; as soon as my tongue touched her pussy lips she screamed, grabbed my ears with both hands (which I was able to discover later hadn't actually come off although there were deep indentions from her nails in my scalp behind them) and clamped her thighs tightly around my head.

It was a damned good thing I'm a trained diver and can hold my breath for three-plus minutes because I swear otherwise I would have suffocated as she alternately screamed, moaned, quivered and shivered around me. Yeah, I know, you're thinking if you have to go that's the only way to go. Damned right it is!

As I was coming near to my limit and wondering if I should, or even if I could, escape from this velvet trap she suddenly relaxed and her legs fell bonelessly to the side and I was able to gasp in a breath of air. Her hands went from grasping claws to tenderly caressing my scalp as I lay there with my face resting on her sweaty thigh.

"Holy shit, Danny. I think I actually saw God there," she said after her breathing had returned to about normal. I had to grin at that; hell I had earned it! "Now please come up here and make love to me, please."

How could you say no to someone who asked so nicely? Well you can't of course. I moved up between her legs and slowly lowered myself onto her as her legs just as slowly wrapped around me. As my cock nudged up against her opening I bent down meeting her lips with mine and as our tongues played together I began my slow, easy penetration.

I don't know what it was; moments earlier I wanted nothing more than to climb on top and nail her to the mattress just as hard as I could, but not now. I still wanted to be inside her more than life itself but now I wanted it slowly, gently; I wanted to feel every centimeter as she gradually accepted my length. It took forever and no time at all. Abruptly I was fully inside her and the head of my cock gently nudged the rubbery firmness of her cervix. She gasped softly, shivered and her tongue began a vigorous assault on mine as I began my unhurried thrusting.

I have no idea why I didn't come immediately upon first touching her but I didn't. For some reason I didn't even feel the need to come. We moved like that for an eternity, connected at both ends, tongues intertwined, my cock deep inside her belly. Somewhere, as if in a distance, I could feel my back begin to ache. She was much shorter than I was and it was difficult to make contact in both places, but shit, I didn't care. Hell, I would have broken my back to taste her sweet lips and while feeling her surround me in her velvet embrace. If this wasn't heaven than I have no desire to find out what it was really like; there couldn't be anything better that this.

Man is an animal though and I am a man with all the instincts to prove it. Soon enough I began to increase my thrusts and I quickly moved from a man loving his woman to an animal breeding his mate. She was feeling the same needs and she began to push up against me as I drove into her; her interior muscles clamping down on me trying to hold me in as I withdrew and opening up for me as I returned. Our lips broke apart in a mutual need for more air and I elevated myself up on my arms; both so I could look down at her and to give me more leverage.

"Cum in me, Danny." she gasped. "Fuck me hard and cum in me." Her eyes were glazed over with lust and I'm sure she was seeing the same in mine. She didn't have to ask me twice and began moaning continuously as I began to really pound into her. This couldn't last long and it didn't. Eight or nine vicious thrusts later and I felt my balls begin to tighten, ready to release their pent up load.

"I'm cuming," I hissed through gritted teeth.

"So am I!" she wailed and she began to violently shudder as I felt the first gush of my semen splash against the mouth of her womb. "Ohgodogodohgod!" she moaned as I continued to release spurt after spurt inside her.

I'm not sure but I think I blacked out for just a second or so because the next thing I knew I was dribbling my last little bit inside her and my arms were shaking enough I was afraid I was going to collapse and crush her. It was a near thing but I didn't. Instead I bucked up, leaned down to give her a gentle kiss and rolled us over until she was lying on top of me. We were still connected; I usually don't go soft right away, with her splayed out on top of me, head resting on my chest and me with my chin on the top of her head. I had no intention of moving, ever.

Unfortunately ever has a tendency to come whether you want it to or not. Sometime later she rolled off me and cuddled up against my side. I wrapped my arms around her luxuriating in the feel of her skin touching mine.

"That was incredible, Danny," she said looking up at me. "Can I stay tonight?"

"You can stay as long as you want," I answered.

"Then this isn't just a one time thing?" she asked pensively.

"I sure as hell hope not," was all I could say.

"Good," she mumbled as she buried her face into my side.

Edited by Morgan



-------

Chapter 6



It was good and as a matter of fact it kept getting better. She stayed for the next three days and might have stayed longer if I hadn't been scheduled for a charter. We didn't fuck all the time; although I'll admit we did enough to keep my raggedy old ass worn out and that hadn't happened for a long time.

She sent for a couple changes of clothes and I expected one of her drivers would drop them off. Instead Tink brought them herself. Maybe she was worried I'd kidnapped her mother but she seemed to be more concerned about my health than Cynthia's. She stayed with us for one afternoon while we took a trip around the bay on the Katherine and I swear she gave me some of the strangest looks when she didn't think I'd notice. I thought about asking what was going on in her tiny little mind but decided to leave it alone. Even though I'd known her for only a short amount of time I knew her enough to know if there was something she wanted to talk about she would.

Anyway, when we weren't engaged in strenuous extracurricular activities Cynthia and I basically just hung out. A lot of talking and a lot of just cuddling which to tell the truth was just as nice as the fucking. Okay, almost as nice as the fucking. The fucking might get old after a while ― maybe a century or two ― but the talking and just being with each other I don't think ever would. She did get some work done, mostly through her AI implant and let me tell you that woman could cut like a razor without once raising her voice or uttering a single swear word. I'm just glad I wasn't on the receiving end.

"I'm glad you could spend the time with me," I said the night before I had to go out on the charter. "I know you have to be pretty busy and I appreciate the time you've been able to give me."

"Everything is already pretty much set up," she answered with a shrug. "We've had the people in place to do this for years and they can either do it on their own by now or find a new place to work." The comp was done and "in the can" as they put it so the next step was to organize a tour to coincide with its release. I told you I didn't know much about the music business but in a short amount of time I learned plenty. Artists these days didn't make much off their actual recordings which isn't surprising since anything recorded can be copied and flashed out on the web faster than thought in no time at all. Recording labels and producers didn't even try to stop it anymore, might as well shovel seawater against the tide. No, they made their money on personal appearances and concerts just like musicians have done for hundreds of years. The recordings played on the vid channels are little more than advertising.

The concert tours they put on were quite a bit different than the ones I'd been used to back when I was young. I would have called it more like a festival with sometimes three or four groups playing for almost the whole day with tickets costing hundreds, sometimes thousands of ND apiece. I was quite frankly amazed that the teenagers who bought their tickets could afford it but Cynthia assured me not only could they but they did. In fact their upcoming tour was already almost completely sold out and it wouldn't even start for another three months which also amazed me since the comp wouldn't even be released officially until just two weeks before the start of the tour.

Cynthia laughed when I mentioned this: They'd been "leaking" bits of songs and even two whole ones since the producers completed the contract the day after our cruise. They seemed to know exactly how to keep the interest simmering at just the right level and when to bring it to a boil. Sometimes I think they spent more time in planning the marketing of Antigua and her tour than the generals did planning a major offensive during the war. Hell, I know for a fact they spent more time at it, and did a hell of a lot better job of it without a doubt! Besides, she said, Antigua was "hot" right now and Tink's name alone could sell tickets for a tour even if she wasn't releasing new material.

I thought it was interesting as hell to watch the team and I even got to see their "tune-up" concert over in UniDiz. Sure most of the artists, Tink included, weren't the type I'd normally go see but this one I enjoyed if for no other reason than I got to see Natalie Bernstead play one more time.

You never heard of Natalie Bernstead? Then obviously you're not a vet. I think Bernstead played for the troops in every theater of the war through the whole ten years of the fighting. If they gave out campaign ribbons to USO entertainers, she would have had more fruit salad than most top sergeants that made it out alive. She played everything from small company-sized venues to huge stadiums with battalion-sized crowds. She played so close to the front you could often hear the sounds of battle off in the distance. The girl had guts and if she'd been a man balls the size of basketballs, big brass ones! I remember an interview she once gave to one of the military vid channels where she was asked why she did it. Make no mistake about it, where she went was dangerous, really dangerous. She even had her transport shot down once, or maybe it was twice.

"I go where they are," she'd said simply. "I wouldn't be worth a shit if you put a gun in my hands. I couldn't hit a bull's ass from a meter away." She never minced words and if you had a problem with her language just don't say it loud enough for that soldier in from the front line for a day or two of R&R before heading back out. He or she just wanted some tunes from someone from back home and maybe a look at a great set of legs and some huge tits. I can assure you they wouldn't be disposed to hear anything bad about the person who put her own life in jeopardy to give it to them. Natalie didn't have the greatest voice, not like Tink's, but she could wail it out and put on a hell of a show. Say something bad about the girl who came all that way to give them a little live music, for some the last they ever heard, maybe most now that I think about it, and you're liable to have your balls removed and fed to you with a fork.

"I can't fight worth a fuck," she continued. "But God damn it, if I can do something for our boys and girls out here than I sure as hell will." If there was a bigger star to our troops I sure haven't heard of him or her. I know for a fact Sam was, and still is, more than half in love with her. He had a big holo of her in his room back on base and carried a small picture of her with him when he was out in the field. There may have been better singers and better looking entertainers but none of them were our Natalie. I think she spent the whole war out in the field with the troops and we appreciated it.

She was one of the acts in the tune-up concert although I couldn't for the life of me understand why. She wasn't a hard rocker and head banger like I tend to gravitate to but she was definitely a lot more edgy than was the style of the day. She didn't fit in with what I would think of as a warm up act for Antigua Delmar but Cynthia just laughed and said it was all part of the strategy, whatever the hell that meant. I was kind of surprised by the fact I liked the concert. That Natalie was great was a given; I even half enjoyed the other two acts before Tink and as for Tink ― well, if she sang the tax code to me I'd enjoy it. Her voice is that good. Actually the "fun" part came between the acts.

Like I said, Natalie was great. For the most part the crowd, mostly younger girls sat on their hands or talked to each other while she was on but you could tell there were more than one or two vets out there. Probably daddies or older brothers or sisters that had been hijacked to take the youngsters but they were there in their ones and twos, on their feet trying to make noise. It was easy to pick us out and Natalie did, almost to the person. I could tell the kids were more than a little ambivalent about her but I did notice that halfway through her act quite a few of them had their heads bobbing to the beat. Maybe there is hope for the younger generation after all.

Anyway, we all ― the team, that is ― had backstage passes and went back there between set changes which meant we got to see "the incident." Okay, if we hadn't been there there wouldn't have been an incident. Okay, okay, if I hadn't been there there wouldn't have been an incident. Fine, does that make you happy? Yes, I caused it. Well, actually I didn't cause it, I just reacted to it. I think it makes a difference anyway.

We were back stage and Natalie was just coming off while the next act was standing near us getting ready. I know, I know, I shouldn't have gotten involved but I couldn't help myself. Like I said we were standing there with Natalie coming our way and Sam quivering and getting ready to piss his pants when I looked over at the next act a couple of meters away. She was the cutest little thing, looked to be younger than Tink, and she looked absolutely scared shitless. Standing with her was this much older looking greaseball and some muscle (bodyguards, two of them) who were giving her a real ration of shit. Anyway for no reason I could discern greaseball hauls off and hits the little cutie with an open palm slap right across the face. She's crying and he lifts his hand to do it again and somehow I found myself next to them with his wrist in my hand. A simple little application to a pressure point and greaseball is on his knees screaming like I'd gutted him instead of merely dislocating his elbow. I didn't even think about the muscle which was probably a mistake but I chalk it up to the fact I had my team there and I knew they'd have my back.

I bent down and calmly said to him, "You aren't hitting anyone anymore today, asshole."

"Let go of me you mother-fucker," he screamed. "That's my wife and I'll do whatever the fuck I want to her." Now I didn't know if this was true and to be honest I didn't care. If she was his wife and wanted to be hit then they could do it in private, not where I could see it.

"Ain't going to happen," I told him. "In fact if I see or even hear of you touching her again it will be the last thing you ever do." I bent down a little closer so just he could hear me. At least I thought it was just him, happens the little cutie also heard me. "Since I don't think you're smart enough to understand my subtle hint let me make it clearer. If you touch her again, I will kill you. I will kill you and your body will never be found." I stood back up and said louder, "Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you!" He must have been a slow learner but I didn't have the time to teach him because about half a second after the "you" came out of his mouth the toe of Mike's boot met with the side of his head and he was down and out. I could tell he wasn't dead so she must have been in a good mood; I blame it on the concert. I looked around to see what kind of trouble I was in; I assumed quite a bit. What I found wasn't exactly like the aftermath of a firefight but close enough.

The muscle was down on the ground. Sam had one while Stanly had the other. There were a number of small metal pieces lying next to them and I could tell it had once been a gun only because of my familiarity with them. It had been disassembled down to its constituent components and the barrel was bent. That had to be Sam's doing. It takes a little effort to bend the mono-molecular chromate barrel of a 5mm service pistol so it had to be Sam. Either that or someone was hiding a vise and rebar bender in his pocket.

Brian squatted down between the twins and the muscle and quietly told them, "Don't be stupid, it's over. Are you going to be nice now?" They nodded and grunted something and the twins were about to let them up when I heard a voice behind me that made me cringe.

"Danny, what is going on here?" It was Cynthia and she was pissed. I don't mean annoyed like I just wrecked your car and burned down your house annoyed, I mean pissed! Luckily I had a savior.

"Miss Delmar!" the cutie cried and ran over to Cynthia grabbing and sobbing on her shoulder. "He hit me again! He hit me again and that man," she pointed at me, "stopped him." Cynthia looked at the red welt starting to pop out on the cuties face, down at the greaseball sleeping peacefully on the floor and then at the muscle who hadn't been let up yet.

"What about them?" she asked me. I was about to answer that I had no idea when someone did it for me.

"The stupid bastard tried to pull a piece on the Major there." It was Natalie Bernstead. She was looking rather amused and turned toward Sam. "Well, you going to let the poor dumb-fuck up or just wrench his fucking arm off?"

"Ah, well," a very flustered Sam muttered as he released the bodyguard who stood up looking rather sheepish himself.

Natalie strode over and stood directly in front of Sam. "Mmm, you're a big one," giving him the look over from toe to top. "That was so fast I almost didn't see it. Ranger? SpecFor?" Natalie was no small woman; she must have stood at least 188 centimeters not counting the heels. She didn't have to look up at him all that much.

"SpecFor, ma'am," he admitted.

"Thought so," she nodded. She glanced back over her shoulder at Cynthia. "Delmar, that piece of shit is lucky the Major here and his boys were feeling good today. He should be dead and if they hadn't got to him before me he would be. By the way, Major," she said looking at me, "nice take down."

"Ah, that's Captain, and thanks."

"Close enough," she shrugged. Then she pointed at the two bodyguards, "And you two: What the fuck do you think you were doing? You should have been busting this asshole's head instead of trying to fucking save his ass!"

The one Stan had let up looked like a schoolboy in front of the principal. "It's our job, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Bullshit!" she said getting right up into his face. "If you two are going to let some piss-ant smack around a little girl, then you'd better either find another line of work or grow some balls quick. Now get the fuck out of my sight. Count yourselves lucky and do some thinking! Now git!" They got without a look backwards. Natalie watched them go and just shook her head.

"Fucking infantry, I'll bet!" she muttered. "Stick their hand in a buzz saw if you ordered them to. Not a single brain between the two of them." She nodded once as they disappeared and then her head popped up like she'd just remembered something.

"Sorry about that, Cyn," she said looking over at Cynthia. "That was your call I guess. I just got carried away."

"Not a problem, Nat," Cynthia answered with a grin. "You handled it just fine. We're good." Natalie nodded her acceptance. Then she turned on the little cutie still huddled up next to Cynthia.

"And you, Samantha Jenson," the little cutie, Samantha, cringed just a bit. "I thought you got rid of that piece of shit. What the fuck are you doing still allowing him around?"

"Well, he's still my husband and manager..." Samantha started.

"Bullshit," Natalie spat. "The first time should have been the last time but we'll talk about this later, after the show. Right now you need to pull up your big-girl panties and make like a songbird. Cynthia, this one's going to need some makeup. That's a nice shiner you're going to have, kid."

"Right. Makeup, stage left," she muttered through her AI. "Mark, need a five-minute, no, make that ten-minute delay on the second act. I don't care what you have to do, make it happen; we'll cut ten later on if we need to. You going to make it honey?" she said to Samantha. Samantha, a little bewildered, nodded.

"She'll make it," Natalie said confidently. "She's a trouper and the show must go on you know. Hey, Captain," she said to me and rolled her eyes at the asshole sill dreaming away on the floor. "Think you can get someone to take out the trash?"

"I can handle that," Cynthia said loudly. I hadn't noticed before but she had six stadium rent-a-cops standing behind her with expressions on their faces running from bewilderment to bemusement. "You and you," she barked. "Get him up and get him out of here. Make sure he's awake before you toss him out. I want him to understand he's not welcome anywhere near us ever again. If he makes a squawk tell him the next call will be to the police and we'll have him up on assault charges."

"What about him?" one of the younger one's said pointing to me. "Do, ah, you want him charged also?" One of the older security guards barked a laugh and grabbed him by the belt in the middle of his back and pushed him forward.

"Try not to sound any dumber than you have to, sonny," he said dragging him over to the fallen man. "He did nothing more than stop this piece of shit from hitting a defenseless woman. You bring that up before a judge and it'd be bounced out of court so fast you wouldn't even know you'd been there. Besides, if you bring a vet ― an officer at that ― in for a chicken-shit charge like that the judge would probably set you in the cage for a few days for criminal stupidity." Then he looked over at Natalie. "Ma'am, I used to be infantry and we ain't all as stupid as those other two bozos are."

"Glad to see it," she grinned. "I'm flexible. I can change my mind."

"Glad to hear it, ma'am." Then he turned to me and gave a sketchy field salute, which is not the extended middle finger by the way, and said, "Captain." I nodded and with each of them holding an arm dragged the asshole away. Nobody would ever be able to prove it me but there is a slight possibility it might have been intentional when they came to a stanchion the older guard moved to one side while the younger one stayed on the other the result being the asshole went head first into the pole. "Oops, my bad," I heard the vet say from a distance. "Sorry about that. Got to be more careful I guess."

"Thanks, Nat," Cynthia said when they were out of sight.

"I didn't do anything," Natalie shrugged. "It was these boys and girls, and of course the Captain here."

"How did you know Danny had been in the military?" she asked as she slipped her arm into mine. "And how did you know he was an officer?" If she had asked me I could have told her immediately. Spend a little time around one and you just know when someone is a vet. It's almost like it's tattooed on our foreheads. But she didn't ask me and besides Ms. Bernstead didn't have any problem answering for herself.

"Honey," Natalie laughed, "I spent ten years with nothing but uniforms surrounding me. I may not be a vet myself but I know what I'm looking at when I see one." She looked at Cynthia hanging on my arm and raised her eyebrows. "So it's like that, is it? Damn, all the good ones get taken before I can get to them."

"You're a vet to all of us, ma'am," Sam said softly. He had a case of the puppy-love bad and it showed. "We know who was there and who wasn't; not that it matters much I guess."

"Thanks, Sergeant. It does matter, to me," Natalie said and then answered Cynthia's question before she could ask. "He's SpecFor, honey, and that's his officer, therefore he's a sergeant. Ain't nothing less in SpecFor."

"You're amazing, Nat," Cynthia laughed.

"Nothing amazing about it, hon. Just the knowledge you get from getting old." She paused for a moment and then I heard, under her breath and to herself, "So many of them and so few came back." She put on a great façade but it was obvious she was sad and troubled. I guess those of us in the field weren't the only ones affected by combat, even after nine years.

"You're not old!" Sam protested. "You're ... you're ... perfect!"

"Hmm ... I like you," she grinned. "You say nice things to an old lady."

"He's had a crush on you for years," Stan broke in grinning at his brother's obvious discomfort.

"Shut up," Sam hissed.

"Carried around a picture of you the whole time we were in the field," Stan continued as if Sam hadn't said anything."

"Shut. Up." Sam hissed again.

"Even had a big holo of you in the barracks," Stan said helpfully. "You know, the one of you in concert with the short red costume. He even broke a guy's arm once when he besmirched your moral character." Sam was almost apoplectic by now. His face was getting to be a red as an apple and I was getting a little worried that maybe Stan's arm, or neck, might be in jeopardy.

"Damn, that old thing?" she laughed and moved over next to Sam. "Shit, that was back before the war when I was skinny and pretty."

"But you're beautiful!" Sam exclaimed. "Even more beautiful now than you were then!" Natalie may have been correct about being skinnier back then. She'd put on a kilo or two over the past twenty years but with her build those few extra kays did nothing but make her look even more feminine.

"Now I know I really like you," she smiled up at him. "Mmm, just like I like them. Big, dumb and full of ... Hey sailor, how about having dinner with me after the show?"

"You mean me?" he squeaked and the red in his face suddenly turned ashen gray.

"I mean you, big boy," she confirmed. "So, how about it?"

"Of course, ah, I'd love to, ah, thanks" he stuttered.

"Good, then it's a date," she said with a smile and slipped her arm around his. I was happy for Sam. He was finally going to realize one of the biggest dreams he ever had in life and if I didn't mistake the gleam in Natalie Bernstead's eye probably a few of his fantasies.

While this was going on someone with a makeup case had come by and was working on Samantha's face. When she was done she looked like there wasn't a mark on her. Natalie walked over and lifted her chin gently with two fingers.

"Looks good, kid. You need something for the pain?" Samantha shook her head; her eyes were wide as saucers. "Good enough. Now get out there and knock 'em dead." When Natalie mentioned the stage Samantha glanced around furtively. I could tell she was still scared and Natalie could also. "Don't worry, kid. We'll have someone babysit you. That fuck-wad won't get within a hundred meters of you even if he finds a way to sneak back in."

"I'll go with her," Stan said uncrossing his arms and walking over beside them.

Cynthia looked up at me questioningly. I could guess what she was thinking. In her business I'm sure she'd seen plenty of guys who wanted to get close to the pretty young stars, most with nasty ulterior motives. I was going to reassure her but again Natalie beat me to it.

"Don't worry about it, Cyn," she said. "If he's part of your boyfriend's team then there's not a fucking chance in hell he'll do anything to piss the captain off. Besides," she added cocking her head to the side as she looked at Stan, "he may be big and beautiful but he's playing for the other team. Nothing to worry about here." The woman's intuitive grasp of people's nature was ― and I'll have to second Cynthia here ― amazing. Samantha looked questioningly at Cynthia and Cynthia nodded. Samantha turned and after a few tentative steps and furtive glance back at her giant shadow pulled herself upright and strode confidently towards the stage.

"She'll be fine," Natalie said confidently as we watched the diminutive form go through some mysterious pre-show equipment checks and finally ascend the stage to the screams coming from thousands of teenage throats. "He seems like a good guy," she commented as Stan lounged just off stage assuming a position that made it appear to the casual observer like he wasn't paying a bit of attention to anything. That was deceiving though. He was in the Hold—Watch—React mode. I didn't have to be close to know his eyes were continuously scanning, taking in everything around them. If anything did happen his reactions would be instantaneous and effective.

"He's my late brother," Sam hissed through gritted teeth, "and a dead man walking."

"Oh, sweetie," she laughed. "I think he did us both a favor. Want to go over and watch the show?"

"I hope he does sneak back in," Mike said from beside us. "Maybe Stan will leave a little piece for me."

"Stand down, Mike," I said to her. "He isn't going to make it back in. In fact unless I miss my guess after his pre-expulsion discussion with our army buddy I doubt he'll even be able to crawl back in let alone sneak."

"Spoil-sport," she said wrinkling her nose. She's cute when she does that; a fact that's kept me from wringing her neck more than once. "One can always hope." I could only grunt in reply.

Natalie, still locked arm in arm with Sam and leading him around like a pet bear, moved over closer to the stage where they could get a better view of little Samantha doing her songbird act to the enthusiastic crowd.

"Well, I've never seen Natalie sink her claws into a man that quickly before," Cynthia mused as we watched the two. "I hope your friend has a strong constitution. I think she means business."

"He's a big boy," I sighed. "I just hope she doesn't hurt him. He really has had a crush on her for as long as I've known him."

"No, I don't think so," Cynthia answered. For some reason her voice sounded a little strange and when I looked down at her she was still smiling up at me but her lips were twitching just a bit. "She isn't like that at all," she continued and turned back to look at the couple. "I've known Natalie for a long time and she's been with a few men in that time but she's always been the one who ended up being hurt, not the other way around." It had to be my imagination but she seemed almost wistful as she watched them.

"Like I said, he's a big boy," I shrugged. "If nothing else right now I'm sure he's thinking he's died and gone to heaven. The rest they can work out for themselves."

The rest of the concert was uneventful. We never did make it back to our seats. Instead we watched it from backstage which was actually a lot of fun. Cynthia had to excuse herself claiming she had to get back to work so Brian, Mike and I hung around generally enjoying ourselves and trying to stay out of the way. Somebody must have told Tink what had happened because she gave me a ration of shit just before taking the stage for letting something exciting happen when she wasn't available. But right afterwards she thanked all of us. She's known Samantha for a few years from previous tours and had never liked her husband.

"Fucking snake sank his fangs into her when she was only seventeen," she growled. "Me and about a million others have been telling her to lose the bastard forever but she thought she was in love. Now maybe she'll do it."

"Watch you language," I admonished and she did give me the one-finger salute. "Ms. Bernstead said she was going to talk to her after the show."

"Ha, if that doesn't straighten her out, nothing will," Tink laughed. "Natalie's a force of nature that I'm not sure anything can stand against. If she can't beat her into finally getting rid of that bastard, no one can."

"That's my cue," she said as the music started to gently increase in volume. "Got to go; some of us around here have to work."

All in all it was a great time. Whether Natalie had to beat her or what I never found out but I did hear Samantha got rid of the asshole. Stan still sees her when she's in the area. She wouldn't even consider anyone for security even when she has a regular bodyguard assigned. She's a good kid and I'm glad she's done well.

I do know for a fact Sam actually fell to his knees and thanked his brother profusely for his small part in getting him together with Natalie. Those two have been together ever since and you couldn't cut them apart with a vibro-knife. Truthfully I'm not convinced Stan had much to do with it, really. Personally I think Natalie's scary intuition kicked in when she met Sam and somehow she knew she'd found her soulmate. All I know is she doesn't tour very much anymore and moved in with Sam. They seem to complete each other and maybe have healed each other just a little bit. Maybe she never wore a uniform or picked up a gun but she was there with the troops through every damned day of the war and I don't care what anyone says, nobody who goes through that comes out untouched.

She hangs with us quite a bit since Sam is there and she is a hell of a lot of fun. She even got Mike to slow down her drinking a little bit; talk about irresistible force and immovable object. Maybe Tink's talk about her being a force of nature wasn't so far off at that.

She's good for him and he's good for her. Really, what else do any of us need?

Edited by Morgan



-------

Chapter 7



The next month and a half was the best of my life since Kathy died. I spent as much time with Cynthia as both her schedule and mine allowed. The closer to the tour the busier she was and the charter business was picking up also so neither one of us got to spend as much time together as we wanted.

Still all in all I couldn't complain. The time we did spend together was fantastic and I don't mean just the sex. Although come to think about it that was pretty fantastic also. She was beautiful, sexy as hell, smarter than anyone had a right to be and ... Well, what else is there to say? It was no secret I was head over heels for her and really enjoying myself for the first time in years.

It was about a week before the official kickoff of Tink's grand tour and Cynthia had asked me about a month before to go with her to a big party put on by the promoters to celebrate it. Unfortunately I'd been booked for a weekend cruise and couldn't find anyone to take it for me so I had to decline.

As fates would have it the booking canceled the afternoon we were scheduled to depart which was the same day as the party. I tried to get in touch with Cynthia but for some reason my calls weren't getting through or she was unavailable. That was a bit strange since her AI should have been able to either put me through or at least tell her I called but for some reason it didn't. But what the hell, I still had the invitation so I thought I'd surprise her and show up.

This was a formal affair so I had to dress up. No bike for Danny boy this time. Yes I have a car; I just don't use it that often. Anyway I drove over to the shindig and had the valet park it somewhere amongst the fleet of limos. I thought I recognized Tink's in the lot but the driver hanging around it wasn't her normal one so maybe I was wrong. Getting in was as easy as showing the card and having my name checked against the guest list and suddenly I was rubbing elbows with the Tampa elite.

The place was huge so I wandered around for a bit until I found what I'd hoped was the main ballroom. I figured Cynthia would be there schmoozing with the guests if she was anywhere. She was there all right, but she wasn't alone.

I saw her from across the room as the crowd parted momentarily. She was draped all over this tall, hunky looking guy; you know the type. The kind that poses for the covers of the cheap romance novels. Broad hairless chest, tight-fitting suit, immaculate full head of hair flowing down over his shoulders. Worse, she was looking up at him. I'd seen that look before. It was the same look she'd given me a thousand times before. Adoration, lust, love; it was all there.

My gut tightened up; no, more than that, it felt like someone had driven a knife directly into my stomach. I swear my heart stopped beating and my lungs just froze. I mean there was nothing; it was like my body and brain had gone into a sort of suspended animation.

I'm not sure how long I stood there but gradually I could feel the paralysis wear off and I could feel my heart start to beat rapidly. Breathing was shallow and quick; my muscles began to clench and unclench, especially in my arms and legs. I could see and feel my focus begin got narrow. Have you ever had this happen to you? It's almost like the outside world becomes fuzzy; sounds muted and it's like a tunnel of complete clarity opens between you and your objective. That's what happened to me. Suddenly everything between me and Cynthia became sharp and bright; I felt like I could see every individual fiber of the clothes the people between us were wearing; taste the scents wafting through the room; see the molecules of air as they gently vibrated.

This is not a good thing, by the way. It's happened to me before, many times before. It means my body is preparing for combat, priming and arming itself like an AI guided missile locking onto its target. Bad things have happened when this occurs; really bad things that usually resulted in copious amounts of blood and bodies. Somehow I was able to check my hand from reaching back to draw my pistol but I couldn't stop my foot from taking that first step towards them.

"Danny, please," I heard a pleading voice from behind me. The sound surprised me and because of my focus the hind brain almost won, my hand actually came to rest on my pistol butt. I don't know how I did it but I was able to stop from pulling my piece but doing so made me disoriented; I wavered slightly and my focus disappeared and all the sounds, smells and sights of the room came crashing in on me again. I turned around. It was Tink.

"I am so sorry," she croaked. I could see tears streaming down her face. I suppose it's a good thing that women's makeup is all waterproof nowadays because it would have left big ugly streaks on her pretty face. It didn't do that but it did look sad.

"I am so sorry, Danny," she repeated. "Please don't hurt her."

"Why?" I whispered hoarsely. "Why?"

She didn't answer but instead grabbed my hand and pulled me through the back of the crowd and out of the room. I was numb and followed like a toy on a pull-string. Once in the hallway she continued dragging me until she found a closed door. Opening it she peeked in and then pulled me in behind her. As soon as I was through the door she closed it and turned to face me. Tears were still coming from her eyes and dripping off of her cheek.

"I wanted to tell you," she started. "But I couldn't. She's still my mother and I just couldn't."

"Why?" was all I could repeat.

"Because that's the way she is," she answered vehemently. "She does that all the time. I don't think she can help herself. She's fucked-up is why. Every man she's ever been with: it's the same thing; She'll fall madly in love, everything is fine for a few months and then suddenly she isn't in love and she's with someone else. I don't know why; she just does it."

"I am so sorry," she said again. "I wanted to warn you but ... God damn it she's my mother! I was hoping ... I was hoping this time..."

"What?" I said probably a little sharper than I should have.

"I was hoping this time would be different," she said looking me straight in the eyes. I'll give her one thing: she's no coward. It may have looked like a mouse standing up to a bear but she didn't shy away. She didn't even avert her eyes. I don't know what she expected but I could tell whatever it was she was prepared to take it like an adult, a mature adult.

"She could at least have told me," I spat out.

"She wouldn't," Tink said becoming rather calm. I think she realized I was past the point of getting physical. "She never has. She just stops taking your calls, won't even acknowledge you're alive. If someone asks about you she'll pretend she's never heard of you. If she sees you again she'll greet you like a stranger. Yeah, she's sick and twisted but I don't know what to do about it. Believe me I wanted to tell you and I really planned to do it when you came back on Monday, but then you showed up."

"I just don't understand," I sighed. The numbness was wearing off to be replaced by a mixture of rage, hurt, and confusion, mostly confusion.

"I don't either," she said. "She's fucked up every relationship she's ever had; some with men almost as good as you. I really thought it was different this time. She was much more calm, in control. I was really hoping she'd finally grown up or maybe realized you were the best thing that could have happened to her and then..." She waved her hand helplessly. "It blew up of all of a sudden."

"Shit," I hissed and rubbed my head. "I need to talk to her."

"That won't do any good," Tink shook her head. "Like I said, she'll just pretend she doesn't even know you. I suppose if you want, you could go out there and make a scene. She deserves it and the scuzzies would love it. Yeah it would probably play hell with the tour, not that I think you give a fuck about that right now, and shit, who knows? The publicity pukes would probably love it. They love getting out names on the vid for anything unless it's about me being knocked up."

"So," she said taking a deep breath, "if you want to do that, go ahead. I won't hold it against you although again I doubt you care a whole lot about that. I would appreciate it if you didn't, but I would understand if you did." Then she just stood there looking at me.

"Fuck," I whispered. The rage was gone and surprisingly enough so was the confusion. What was left was mostly emptiness and the hurt, of course. "Don't worry, Antigua; I won't disturb your party. I'm leaving and I won't be back to bother you again." I turned to leave but she reached out and put her hand on my arm to stop me. I turned back to see what she wanted.

"I was afraid," she said. "I know how dangerous you are, how dangerous your friends are." I was about to interrupt to tell her she didn't need to worry. I don't beat up children or women, even bug-nut crazy ones, but she continued before I could. "But that isn't what scared me. You can be violent and deadly when you need to be, Daniel, but you're one of the most in-control people I've ever met. I wasn't afraid of you doing something, I was afraid I'd lose you."

"What?" I wasn't expecting that.

"I've been doing this crazy shit for six years, Daniel. I've been the star or the rising star since I was fifteen. It's not the kind of business where you make friends. Oh sure, there are a lot of people I know, but no real friends. I enjoy being with you, talking with you. You accept me for who I am, not what I am and that means a lot to me. The thing I was most afraid of was that you wouldn't want to see me ever again."

"Damn," I said closing my eyes. "I don't know. I really don't know. Right now I don't want to see, hear, touch or even think about anything that has the Delmar name associated with it. Maybe later, but not now."

"I understand," she nodded solemnly. "Can I call you when I get back from my tour?"

"I don't know, we'll see. Maybe. Probably."

"Can I send you messages through Sara while I'm on tour?" she asked.

"Don't push it." I warned.

"Can't help it," she said with a shrug. "I'm a pushy bitch."

"And your language doesn't get any better," I chided.

"Bad influences ― what can I say?" She shrugged again but seemed a lot more relaxed.

"We can talk when you get back," I said. "But no promises."

"I can take that," she responded.

"Right now it's the best I can do. See you around, Tinker Bell."

+ + +

I drove around aimlessly for a while trying not to think about what happened but doing it anyway. I'm not sure how it happened but suddenly I found myself in Bennie's parking lot. I debated: go in a face the music or go back to the boat and get stinking drunk. The boat didn't sound like such a grand idea just then: too many recent memories, but getting stinking drunk sure did. Besides if the team was there tonight they wouldn't know what happened. Not that I would expect a ration of shit from them, not for something like this anyway.

Most of the team was there just like I figured they would be with the exception of Sam and Stan. I assumed Sam was with Natalie but was kind of surprised that both of them weren't here until I remembered Natalie still had a couple of gigs she'd committed to before she'd met Sam. I think they were in Ft. Wayne or some other God-forsaken place like that. Stan I just assumed was out running around with one of the multitude of boyfriends he had. Monogamy wasn't a word he could even spell let alone practice. Everybody else was there.

"Cap'n," "How you doing boss?" I could tell right away they knew. Mike could tell what I was thinking.

"Antigua called and told us," she admitted. "What a bitch!"

"Yeah well, that's life ain't it?" I said sliding in beside her. I waved the server over and told her to bring me a scotch, a bottle not a glass.

"Don't worry, boss," she didn't slur at all. I couldn't tell if she'd been drinking or not. She may not have been tight but she was sure wound up. "She'll get hers. The fucking whore will never know what hit her."

"No," I said firmly just as the bottle and a number of shot glasses were plunked down on the table. "Nobody touches her! Nobody does anything to her in any way and that's final. Nothing."

"But boss..." Mike whimpered.

"Nothing, Mike, nothing." I poured my first glass and slugged it down. The whisky burned wonderfully as it slid down my throat and exploded in my stomach.

"But she..."

"Nothing, Mike," I said again pouring another. "In fact I want this to be the last time we talk about this at all. Yeah, she did me dirty but I'm a big boy and can live with it. What I want to do now is forget the whole fucking thing ever happened. I'm going to get stone drunk tonight and when I wake up sometime tomorrow I'm going to take a little time off. I haven't had a vacation in five years so I'm going to take one now."

"Sounds like a good idea," said Top before Mike could open her mouth again and the rest of the team nodded. Except Mike, of course. She pouted and sulked next to me but remarkably kept her mouth shut.

"Where you going?" he continued.

"Down south somewhere," I said downing my third. "Hadn't really thought about it much. Just head out into the Gulf and point her south. Maybe RDJ. (That's Rio di Janeiro. It'd been pretty torn up during the war but I hear it's been making a comeback.) Maybe just island hop. Just someplace to drink and party for a bit."

"Yeah, sound like a good plan," Top nodded. "You've needed some time to unwind for quite a while now."

"And get laid," Mike broke in. "Get yourself enough pussy you'll never remember what you wanted the bitch for in the first place. Ouch!" Somebody must have kicked her under the table. I was on my fourth by then and it seemed kind of funny.

The rest of the night got a bit fuzzy after that.

+ + +

The next thing I remembered was waking up on the rear deck of the Katherine with the early afternoon sun beating down on me. Sure it should have been uncomfortable but to be honest my head and body were hurting so badly the sun was nothing more than a minor annoyance. Fuck! I hadn't even made it to my bed. I sort of opened my eyes (yes it hurt!) and discovered that was probably a good thing since I was lying in a puddle of puke.

As disgusting as that was, the thought of actually moving was even less appealing. Well for a little while it was anyway. Groaning I pushed myself up and stumbled down to the head for a shower. Depositing my filthy clothes in the laundry I had Sara run me a shower alternating from way too hot to way too cold trying to shock my body back into some semblance of life. Afterwards I at least felt clean. I still didn't feel human but I didn't feel dead either ― just wishing I were. Sure I could have taken some pain meds and Detox and felt much better pretty quick but damn it, I earned this hangover and I wasn't about to give it up. I was still wallowing in self-pity and wanted my body to feel the same way my soul did: like shit. At least I felt well enough to walk down to the office and get everything set up for my trip. I had to find someone to take my place for the charters for the next few weeks and other such bullshit.

Stepping onto the pier wouldn't you know I'd met the one person I didn't want to see, ever. She was standing there wringing her hands and looking about as scared as I've ever seen anybody. I tested my emotions for a heartbeat just to see if any of the hate I'd felt before would still be there but that's the great thing about a really good hangover, you just don't give a fuck anymore.

"Go away, Cynthia," I said wearily.

"Danny..." she started tentatively.

"I mean it, Cynthia." I said quickly. "I don't want to hear it. No apologies, no whys, no nothing. Just. Go. Away."

"She's gone!" Cynthia sobbed and then really broke down crying. Maybe I'm really am a prick but right then the sight of her crying actually made me feel a little better.

"Who's gone?" I asked just wishing everything would go away.

"Antigua!"

"She's probably just pissed off at you," I sighed. "She'll get over it soon. I'm sure she'll be back by tonight."

"No, she's gone! I mean somebody took her!"

"How do you figure that?" I asked. Okay, now maybe I cared just a little.

"We got this this morning," she said handing me a sheet of paper.

I took it and squinted as I tried to read it. Now I'd wished I'd taken the damned meds. She was right, it was a ransom note. The standard bullshit about not going to the police or you'll never see her again, blah, blah, blah; a number, a pretty big number, to be transferred to a numbered bank account in China and a deadline. It looked legit; if it was then it looked like Tink had been taken.

"What do the cops say?" I asked.

"Our lawyers said not to call them," she answered still crying. The shysters were probably right for once. If history had proven anything it was the chances of the cops finding and returning a live kidnap victim were about the same as me dating a supermodel: slim to none with Slim having just left town. "They said it wouldn't do any good and they'd kill her just for trying. They said people like this have informers in the department and they'd find out right away if we reported it." Another good assumption. That was two in a row for the lawyers; another sign of the Apocalypse?

This was beginning to look like a bad deal all around, especially for Tinker Bell. Kidnappings for ransom have been around for thousands of years but it wasn't until the late twentieth century that they became big business in South and Central America. In fact it was almost an industry unto itself. By the 1990s kidnappings in old Mexico were so common they were rarely reported as news. Back then at least the kidnappers had some ethical standards. If the family, company or whomever paid the ransom the victim was returned alive about ninety percent of the time. Most of the time if the kidnappers were good enough to make a successful grab the ransom was paid and life went on. People even bought insurance against it.

That changed dramatically in the early 2020s. That was the time almost all narcotics were legalized and brought under the control of the U.S. government. As soon as it was treated along the same line as alcohol, the street price went to practically zero, the government stores sold it cheap, along with drug related crime. Drug addiction was treated the same as alcoholism: as a medical problem and not a legal problem. It didn't eliminate all the residual problems associated with recreational drug use but it brought it down to about par with alcohol. A win for everybody, right? Wrong.

The South/Central American drug cartels were used to earning huge amounts of money smuggling this relatively low volume, high value cargo across into the U.S. Almost instantly eighty percent of their income was cut out from beneath them. These were businessmen: amoral, viscous and brutish, but still businessmen. They did what they could to move to other similar fields: cigarettes, booze, sex slaves and illegal immigrants, but none of them provided the same level of income for the same risk. Hence the explosive expansion of the kidnapping business.

The drug cartels were much more than just drugs. Like most organized crime syndicates they had their fingers in hundreds of illegal operations including kidnapping. Unfortunately their thirst for cash increased to the extent that the ethics of the kidnapping trade ― if one can actually use those two words in the same sentence ― evaporated. By 2030 the number one cause of death for those ages one to thirty years old was kidnapping followed by murder. The percentage of successfully returned victims dropped below twenty percent.

The war brought an abrupt halt to this practice. If was extremely dangerous to attempt a kidnapping when every swinging dick and most of the swinging tits in the country were armed to the teeth. For the most part the cartels went underground and survived by selling weapons, supplies and information to both sides. Besides, it was difficult and counterproductive to look for ransom from a family who had nothing and in those war-ravaged countries nobody had anything. I'd heard hints the practice was making an upswing again as the countries and their people recovered, but now it looked like the cartels were going to try setting up business here in the States.

"What happened?" I asked.

"She was at the party where, ah, I guess you saw me." At least she had the decency to look guilty. "But she left early without say anything to me." No shit! Like I said, she was more than a little miffed at her mom. "That's the last we heard until this morning when this came by courier."

"What about her driver?"

"Well," she looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Harold ― that's our butler and head of the household staff ― said Ralph had quit suddenly so he replaced him with a new driver. The funny thing is we can't find Harold this morning either."

"The butler did it?" I asked astonished. "I'll be damned."

"Well I don't know..." she started but I cut her off.

"Never mind," I said waving my hand. "What do you want from me, Cynthia?"

"I want you to get her back for me, Danny," she pleaded. "The lawyers said if we went to the police she would almost certainly die but even if we pay this she only has a one in ten chance of making it back alive.

"Danny, I know I'm a bitch and a slut and whatever else you want to call me; I deserve it. But I want my daughter back and I don't care what I have to do to get her. I don't care how much or what I have to do."

I didn't make a crack about how she wanted her meal ticket back. Cynthia was a bitch and a slut as far as I'm concerned and definitely one of my least favorite people in the world right then but even as angry as I was at her I knew that wasn't the reason she wanted Tink back. This was her daughter's mother standing in front of me right now, not her manager.

"Okay," I sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Danny," she said hesitantly. "If you get her back I'll come back to you. I really will. I know I can change..."

"Stop it, Cynthia," I interrupted. "Just stop it. I said I'd try, but I'm not doing it for you and certainly not to get you back. Cynthia, what you did to me hurt, it hurt a lot; but that's over and we'll never have it again. You are a beautiful, intelligent and highly desirable woman, but I could never trust you again and without trust there's nothing. So don't worry, you don't have to sell yourself to me to get your daughter back. I'm going to try because she's a friend of mine." I expected Cynthia to look relieved but she actually looked a little ― I don't know ― disappointed, maybe.

"Okay, Danny," she said softly. "What can I do? Do you need money?" I just waved that off. Money was the last thing I needed.

"Look, just give me Harold's name and the name of this new driver if you can. Has the car been found yet?" It hadn't. My guess is whoever took her just considered it a bonus. I'm sure they knew about the GPS tracker attached to the vehicle since all of them had one but I wondered if they knew about the second one that most of the higher end cars had. That would be one of the first places to start. She gave me what she had and I told her to go home.

"Are you sure, Danny?" she asked.

"Go home, Cynthia. We'll call you when we find out anything."

Reluctantly she did. After she left I had Sara call the team for a meeting using the

Red Flash code. I hadn't used the RF since the end of the war. It meant come ASAP with full kit; cocked, locked and ready to rock. Less than one hour later they were all there literally dressed to kill.

"What's up Captain?" Top asked when everybody had arrived.

We were all sitting out on Katherine's deck and to an outsider I'm sure it looked well beyond suspicious. There wasn't a weapon in sight; all the big stuff tucked away in Kevlar bags tossed casually around our feet. I know what you're thinking: there's no way we should have had any of the stuff we did. By law we were each allowed to take our personal issue side arms with us when we were mustered out and everything else was supposed to be returned. Like that happened. I think the only thing we actually turned in was Sam's 40mm auto grenade launcher but its barrel was so shot out it wasn't worth a shit anyway. I noticed he'd found another one somewhere. The thing weighed close to fifteen kilos without the ammo but with its 20-round magazine loaded it was like having your own portable artillery brigade. With that Sam could level a city block all by himself. Hopefully we wouldn't need it but then as far as I'm concerned there is no such thing as overkill.

"Antigua Delmar has been kidnapped," I said to the assembled crowd. "I intend to find her and get her back one way or another. I'm looking for help here but that's all I'm doing: asking. I have no idea what were getting into but it could get nasty. If I'm lucky maybe it's just a couple of dickheads thinking they can make some easy money but I've got the feeling it's not."

I handed the ransom note to Top. He's been out intel officer and the kidnapping trade was just one of the things he'd been into during the war. He studied it for a minute or two before looking up at me.

"Looks like the Fernandez syndicate," he said. "Can't be a hundred percent sure but it looks like their MO." (Modus operandi: that's method of operation, you uneducated bumpkins.)

"How can you tell?" Brian asked. He wasn't really questioning Top's conclusions; he just wanted to know how Top came to it.

"The wording of the note," Top answered. "Kidnapping became so stylized back before the war that each syndicate developed what was almost a form letter for their ransom demands. It became their business card, you might say. It authenticated their correspondence better than a letterhead. In fact they guarded it so jealously they'd track down and kill anyone using their form. If this isn't Fernandez then it's someone who wants us to think it's them.

"I haven't really been paying attention to this for a while," he continued. "But I'd heard rumors this fucking business had been starting up again. Didn't expect to see it here although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The States are where the money is and with a weak federal government and almost ineffectual police..." He just shrugged.

"Fernandez, huh?" I grunted. "I remember that name. If I remember we took out quite a bit of their operation before and during the war. They were bad actors."

"Some of the worst," he agreed.

"Okay, we have a face for the enemy, or at least that's the assumption I'm going to go on." I paused for a moment. "If that's the case then this probably will get nasty. Before we go any further I just want to tell you I'm looking for help but I wouldn't think the less of you if you didn't want to get involved. We aren't soldiers anymore and this isn't your fight. If you want to walk away from it, you have my blessing. For all I know we may be coming up against a small army here."

"Don't be stupid, Boss," Mike said lounging back in her chair. "You go, we follow and I don't give a fuck where it is. I for one have been getting a little bored. A little action sounds like just the ticket. I'm guessing you're not doing this for that Delmar bitch, are you?" I knew exactly which bitch she was referring to. Cynthia was definitely on her shit list and Tink got tarred with the same brush. Guilt by association may not have any legal standing in a court of law but that didn't stop Mike.

"This has nothing to do with her," I said gruffly. "I'm doing this because this is Antigua, Tinker Bell. Her mother asked me to find her but I'm doing this for Tink and nobody else. She's my friend and besides I'm not a big fan of kidnapping and I'm not too happy to think it may be starting up around my own backyard. But like I said: I'm making this my fight; it doesn't have to be yours."

"Cut the crap, Cap'n, we're all in and you know it. Besides she's a cute little thing isn't she?" Stan laughed. He looked around at the other team members, "Hey she isn't my type but that doesn't mean the Captain shouldn't nail her." Mike looked disgusted and threw a tumbler of juice at him. Luckily she missed and it wasn't glass so it just splashed and rolled around on the deck.

"I'm not out to nail anyone," I frowned. "Especially anyone with the last name Delmar. Okay, you're in. Thanks guys. Now the question is how do we find her?" I filled them in on what I knew.

"Weird, do you think you can crack into Mr. Harold's phone records for the past few weeks and maybe the driver's if you can? Also I'm sure they disconnected the limo's tracker but I'm wondering if they found or even know about the second one. If they really are from SA they may not; it's not standard practice down there. We could ask the manufacturer for the tracking code but I'm not sure that would be such a good idea."

"Probably right, Cap," Top mussed. "We have to assume they're dirty and it's a cinch the local cops are."

Weird looked almost hurt by my question, like I'd asked him if he knew how to put his pants on correctly. "Captain," he said, "if you'll give me access to Sara I can find out soon enough."

"You already have access," I told him. "You all do. I set her into combat mode before you got here." I think I mentioned that Sara was my military issue AI from the war. That's not entirely correct; she was the entire team's AI during the war. Each and every one of them had access to her during the war and used her for whatever they needed. Each one of them had the same implant I did and could connect to her through it without any physical interface.

Weird didn't answer me he just started muttering under his breath and I assumed he was already working his magic with Sara through the net. I was confident Weird would be in and out of the required databases in no time without them even knowing he'd been there.

"How else can we find them?" I asked. "If this really is one of the syndicates moving in, then someone around here has to know about it. How do we get that information?"

"I know just the weasel to ask," Top grinned. He looked around and as one the team said, "Javier!" Javier was a little scumbag from somewhere down in SA who always seemed to know what was going on. He claimed to be the last surviving member of some drug ring down south and maybe he was. He was a slimeball, a sneak, a snitch and about as reliable as government assistance but he did seem to know something about every little dirty deal that went on in the Tampa area.

"You know how to find him?" I asked.

"I got a pretty good idea," Top smiled again. "Give me an hour or two and I'll be right back." He got up, automatically checked his piece and left.

There wasn't much the rest of us could do until we had some hard intel so I rustled us up some grub while the rest of them did another weapons check. When I came back up with a platter full of sandwiches and a couple carafes of coffee the amount of weaponry spread out on the deck in various stages of disassembly was impressive. It would have probably caused any non-vet law enforcement officer to shit his or her pants; maybe the vet's also. After all they would really understand what was there. It was pretty obvious that somebody was going to war and that's exactly what it was: war. Nobody fucks with a friend of mine if I have anything to say about it and if somebody was going to find out, the cops were the least of their worries. The cops at least played by their silly rules; I didn't.

As I said before Sam had a 40mm auto grenade launcher which had originally started out as a tank- or APC-(armored personnel carrier) mounted weapon but someone had gotten the bright idea to splice a stock too. That must have been an interesting discussion, I'll bet; the one between the weapons designers and whoever thought it up. Shit, I'll bet there weren't twenty people in our whole fucking army that could handle that monster and I can tell you I ain't one of them. I had the happy occasion of using one once and even using a brick wall as a backstop my shoulder was bruised so badly I couldn't move it for days. Sam shoots it like the rest of us would a shotgun; but then he's not really human.

Mike had her sniper special with her, two of them, actually. Her 12mm big boy with its infra-red scope that could effectively hit a target at 3,000 meters and it's younger brother the 7mm silenced assassin model. The 7mm shot a subsonic, stabilized round and was only good out to 800 meters but you couldn't hear the damn thing go off unless you were right next to it. It took some skill to use it at its maximum range but Mike had more than enough of that.

Stan and Weird each had one of the 7mm's; they folded up enough they could be carried in a knapsack, as well as a 5mm hoser. The 5mm used pretty much the same ammo that the standard 5mm sidearm but carried a 500 round magazine. Hold the trigger down and it would be empty in about thirty seconds but I guarantee whatever was in front of it wouldn't be a problem after you were done. The recoil was light enough you could just point it like a garden hose and spray for effect: hence the name hoser. It wasn't much good beyond a hundred meters but in close it was deadlier than hell.

Brian had his standard 6mm rifle and I had one if I needed it although I much preferred the flechette gun which looks and shoots like an old shotgun but does a hell of a lot more damage. The 20mm caseless round had some 150 little razor-sharp darts that spread out in a cone pattern from the muzzle. The dispersal pattern was adjustable from a ten-meter spread down to one meter at fifty meters. The flechettes weren't much use against anything more than light armor but against personnel it was hamburger time. I may not have been the best rifle shot in the team but then I didn't need to be; I was management, after all.

Of course we all carried at least one sidearm. Most of them stayed with the standard 5mm service pistol but I preferred the 2mm. It was smaller and more concealable plus it carried more rounds in the mag. You had to be a better shot with the 2mm to get a consistent kill but what I wasn't with the rifle I was with the pistol. I'm proud to say that with the popguns I'm probably the best on the team. Not that I liked to demonstrate it all that often. Using a pistol means your target is close which is generally not the ideal situation. I'm good enough that I'd gotten into the habit of taking head shots against all kinds of military training. Sure, body shots increase the chance of a hit but sometimes body armor can stop a 2mm; an eyeball or skull bone can't and that I can tell you from experience.

So for the most part we sat around, played with our guns and waited. There wasn't much talking but then there never was before a mission. Nothing needed to be said that hadn't already been said a hundred times.

Edited by Morgan



-------

Chapter 8



Top came back a little over an hour later grinning like a mad fiend at the same time Weird surfaced from his daze.

"The East Bay warehouses," Top announced triumphantly.

"That checks," Weird nodded. "The first tracker on her limo stopped transmitting about midnight, just about the time she was supposed to have left the party. The second one didn't stop until they got right here." He placed his finger on a map of the Bay area. It was an area just west of East Bay. At one time there had been considerable merchant traffic there and the area around the nearly abandoned piers was littered with huge warehouses and cold storage facilities.

"They found it then?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he answered shaking his head. "If it had been me and I found a second tracker I'd have driven the car all over hell and back to confuse anyone who was watching it. My guess is they drove it somewhere where it's surrounded with metal. The signals aren't that strong to begin with and it wouldn't take all that much to mask it. One of the buildings maybe, or maybe they put it into a trailer. No, my guess is they never found it and this is where they were and maybe still are."

"No problem with the snitch?" I asked looking at Top.

"Sang like the pigeon he is," Top grinned. "He knew there were some big boys from Ecuador in town and he knew about where they were setting up their operation but not much else. He'd heard a rumor they were here to drum up business in their acquisitions section (their euphemism for kidnapping) but hadn't heard if a big snatch was going down soon."

"You think he'll tip them off?"

"Not much chance of that," Top laughed. "Tiger and Bobby Dee are sitting on him right how. He isn't going anywhere." Tiger and Bobby Dee were ex-rangers, likable enough and competent as much as those army types can be. Top was right: Javier wasn't going anywhere.

"So, this is the most probable target?" I asked looking at the city planning map that showed block outlines of each individual building.

"Best guess," Top interjected looking at Weird for corroboration. "If Weird's intel is good and I have no reason to doubt it then that's the most probable place."

"What do we have on it?" I asked as I studied the possible approaches.

"Building schematics," Weird said and a 3-D holo of a warehouse appeared in front of us. "Five entrances: Two large truck entries for shipping/receiving and three personnel doors. One each next to the truck gates and the third on this side out of sight from the rest."

"Any utility tunnels?" I asked. "Roof access?"

"None," he answered shaking his head. "It's really nothing more than four walls and a roof to keep the rain out. It was originally used for temporary storage before transshipment. There are a few offices here near the center. My guess is if she's there, that's where they have her."

"Okay, we don't have much time to reconnoiter. The note says they want the money sometime tomorrow morning," I sighed. "I say the first thing we do is split and come up on them from all sides and see if we can pick up on any guards or spotters. Once we have them IDd we can decide where to move next."

I could go through our planning as we sketched it out over the next hour but I won't. Sure it had been years since we had done this for real but it was just like riding a bicycle: not something you easily forget. It was like water flowing down a hill, it just happens. It's not like we go into a whole lot of detail anyway; we hadn't bothered with that for years. For the most part this was going to be like almost every other mission we'd ever had: that is we'd make it up as we go along. I've heard it said that a plan will survive anything except contact with the enemy and from my experience I'd say that was right about ninety-nine times out of a hundred. The hundredth time is when things really go wrong. Sometimes too many details can slow the reactions of the people involved so I try to keep them to a minimum. Besides, my people are pros: they don't need me to tell them when and who to shoot; they just know.

By the time we got loaded up and hauled ass over to East Bay it was mid-afternoon and hotter than hell. This was good news if the bad guys were using anything except the most sophisticated IR snoopers but not so good for visuals. Hopefully the old issue camies we were wearing would help with that. Those camies aren't a cloak of invisibility or any magic like that but they were pretty damn close, if you ask me. Developed during the second half of the war, they were made of a special fabric with a light and dark dot pattern. Looking at them up close you wonder how the hell you wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb in just about any terrain, but believe me it works. Someone explained to me once that it works by not really hiding you, the person on the looking end does actually see you, but for some reason their eyes kind of glide over you and don't tell their brain that they've seen something. Don't ask me: above my pay grade; all I know is that it works. I was once able to walk through an open field in broad daylight right up next to a sentry and slit his throat before he even knew I was there. Maybe it is magic, at that.

I had Mike and Weird with me as we worked our way towards the probable target from about a klick out while the other three teams did the same thing. An outsider might have thought we were moving really slowly as we picked and frog-hopped our way through that maze of empty buildings and in some ways they'd be right. We went slowly because we wanted to make sure of two things: first that we would see any sentries before they saw us and secondly, we had to make sure the buildings around the target were clear before we proceeded. It's not that I didn't believe Weird but he could only tell us what his sensors told him. Just because the car stopped in one particular building didn't mean that was where they were or that they were keeping Tink there. There are times when charging in with all guns blazing is the right thing to do; this wasn't one of them.

As it turns out everything surrounding the target was clear and empty. Tampa isn't the greatest natural port in the world and even though it had been hopping during the war, afterwards most of the commercial shipping had either gone north to the new man-made port near the Pensacola crater or south to Port Charlotte. That move had left a lot of empty warehouses and piers in the East Bay area. I'm sure it was all scheduled for "redevelopment" for some time in the future but right then it was just empty cover for us.

"In place," I heard one team after the other report in over our secure net. We were lying down on a roof directly across from what I'd call the main entrance although we could also see the north side of the building which was nothing but bare metal. Mike had her big mama out and was slowly traversing the breadth of the warehouse about a hundred meters away with the mounted IR scope. We were on the east side and I'm sure the building's roof probably looked like a blazing sun through the scope but she had the ability to screen it out. The wall and truck door we were looking at were fairly cool and our equipment good enough I was confident she would be able to pick up heat signatures for a good piece inside the building even through the thin metal siding. Weird was doing the same with a handheld set next to her.

"Two bogies sweating like pigs over here," Top informed me through the net. He meant there were two sentries standing outside the second set of truck/personnel doors on the west side.

"We can see one just inside the door," Stan reported from the south where they were watching the single personnel door.

"We can see the north wall from here," I told them. "Nothing there. I think we can forget it unless they blow the side and try to go that way." It's what I would have done, or at least had the option ready, but I was willing to bet the goons inside hadn't thought of it. If they had then everything could go to shit real fast but hell, this was real life and you have only so many resources and you can't plan against every stinking little contingency.

"Okay," I continued sub-vocalizing. "Five on the accesses at least." That bothered me. If they had five or maybe six just guarding the doors how many might be inside? This could get fuzzy real quick.

"Ah, boss," Mike chimed in. "I count twelve, maybe fifteen bodies about ten meters behind the door and maybe a couple further off to the left. Mostly still with minor movement. Looks like they're just standing around waiting."

"I confirm," Weird said from beside me.

"Fifteen?" I glanced questionably at Mike hoping beyond hope I heard her wrong. I hadn't and she nodded as she pulled away from the scope's eyepiece. "Fuck!" I hiss softly.

"They got an army in there, Boss," she said gently. She knew as well as I did there was no fucking way we were going to be able to take out anywhere near fifteen before either one of us or Tink got killed in the crossfire.

"Maybe most of them are other hostages?" Weird added helpfully.

"Can't take that risk," I answered shaking my head. "Besides this would explain why there are so many on the doors. One each I can see but you start putting two outside or even inside that's too many unless you have a shitload in reserve to relieve them. Let me think for a minute."

"Boss is thinking again," Mike whispered over the net. "You know what that means." I did my best to ignore both her and the groans that came in response.

I sat back a little ways from the edge making sure I couldn't be seen from the ground and pondered a bit. Could we get them to come out for some reason? Would it do any good? What if they were all goons with one little Tink? We could get maybe half before the rest started spraying lead. I mulled over this and started with one plan then switched to another as the first one went to shit in my mind. I was beginning to think this was beginning to look like trying to play solitaire with one of the kings missing when I got interrupted.

"Cap'n, car coming."

I belly-crawled over to the edge and looked down. A huge black limo slowly turned the corner and purred right up to the big truck door. It started opening and the limo drove through and into the warehouse. Once it was inside the door started closing but not before we got a good look at the crowd standing around waiting for it. Muscle and plenty of it, with lots of hardware showing. They sure as hell weren't hostages!

"Looks like one of the bosses showed up," Weird commented.

"You want me to start taking them out?" Mike asked as the door started slowly dropping.

"As you were, Mike," I said and her finger relaxed slightly off the trigger. "I got a better idea. Team, this is Mayhem. This is what I want to do..."

+ + +

"You call that a better idea, boss?" Mike hissed. "Are you fucking crazy?" The rest of the net was strangely silent.

"Opinion noted," I replied evenly. Even if we weren't civilians now her comment wouldn't have been considered insubordination, not by me anyway. I always accepted any input any of the team wanted to give me before a mission and it certainly saved my ass more than once. After we got started it would be different story but for now I accepted it. Besides, how could I argue? She was dead on.

"I'm open for better suggestions," I added. "But I can't think of any."

"How about forgetting the whole thing?" Mike said vehemently. "She isn't your problem, especially after the way that bitch fucked you over."

"This isn't about Cynthia," I said taking a deep breath. "This is about Antigua, a little girl who is my friend. I don't turn my back on my friends."

"You don't have to do this, Mike," I said gently. "None of you do. This is my play. You can all opt out and I won't think the less of you."

"I'm with ya, Cap." "I'm in." So are we."

"We're all with you, Captain," Top added finally. "But Mike's right: This is the craziest stunt you've ever come up with and that's saying something."

"Mike?" I asked her softly.

"Of course I'm in," she growled. "Who else is going to save your dumb ass?"

"Thanks guys," I muttered over the net. "Stan, I think I'm going to need your expertise..."

+ + +

"You're sure you can open that door?" I asked Weird about half an hour later.

"No problem, Cap," he answered. "I caught their signal when they opened the door earlier. Standard low-level encryption; I can have it opening by the time you get to it."

"Let me get right up next to it before you do," I told him. "Okay kids, its showtime!"

I worked my way off the roof from the opposite side away from the guards and moved around until I was just around the corner. Top was right: This was without a doubt the craziest stunt I'd ever come up with and the chances of me living through it were about the same as winning the Florida Lotto. Taking another deep breath I flipped the cover off the dead-man's switch in my left hand, depressed it with my thumb and stepped out into the lot and started walking toward the big truck door.

Almost instantly three bullets from the 7mm's crashed into three skulls. We only had three of the assassin rifles so Stan had to take two shots at the guards next to the door around the corner but I'm willing to bet the second one didn't even know his partner was down before the second shot put him well beyond caring. The only sound I heard was a metallic ping as one of the rounds went clean through one of the goon's skull and ricocheted off the metal side of the warehouse. I'd hoped nobody inside heard it but about fifteen seconds later it didn't matter anyway. That's how long it took me to cross the lot and stand in front of the door. Just as I stopped in front of it the door started opening. Thank God for Weird!

I was hoping having the door open unexpectedly would confuse those inside and freeze them for a moment or two; at least enough so they wouldn't shoot me immediately. If they didn't then we actually had a chance; if not, well then everything was fucked. The one and a half kilo's of C12 I had strapped to my waist would probably take down the whole building and certainly anyone inside it within line of sight of the blast would be hydro-shocked into bags of gelatin. It wouldn't do much for my day either.

I know C12 isn't its official name but the stuff is about three times more powerful than the old C4 plastic explosive so that's what we in the business call it. It's really remarkable stuff and fun to play with. It starts out as a gel and you can squeeze it out of a tube just like toothpaste where it sets up with the consistency of modeling clay after about thirty seconds of exposure to air. It's great for forcing it into tight places, like locks or door frames, and makes it incredibly versatile in the hands of an expert. It's completely inert in any of its forms until detonated using a special electronic detonator but when it is it packs a pretty good punch. Unfortunately this wasn't one of those finesse jobs, I just needed its blast radius or more precisely it's threat.

There were at least twelve guns pointed at me as the door rolled up but luckily nobody was shooting, yet. Partly I assumed was because of the surprise but partly I'm sure it was because they could see I was alone and unarmed. At least there wasn't a gun in my hand. I started walking towards them at a normal pace. I'm sure they could see I was carrying something in my left hand but it was small and obviously not a weapon.

I got to within about ten meters before one of them finally said, "Stop! That is far enough!" He had a thick SA-Spanglish accent.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. "I'd be a bit careful where you're pointing those things if I were you. You wouldn't want me to drop this," I said holding up the small cylindrical detonator. "My thumb comes off the trigger and BOOM! That would be a shame since I'm only here to talk." Very slowly I used my right hand to pull my blouse apart to expose the bomb I had strapped to my stomach.

"Holy Mother!" one of them gasped in Spanish. "Crazy fucker!" said another.

"Not crazy," I said in my own fairly good Spanish. "I just wanted to get your attention," I continued switching back to English.

"Who are you and what do you want?" the first said as he slowly lowered his piece down to where it was pointing somewhere between us. He motioned for the others to do the same. They did so nervously but then I suppose they had a right to be nervous when some crazy bastard with a bomb was standing right in front of them.

I wasn't nervous but then unless you've been in combat or some other life-threatening situation you'd just think I'm nuts. I was in the zone. The closest I can come to describe it is you're high as a kite but totally aware of everything going on around you. Technically I suppose it's the adrenalin pouring into your body readying it to either fight or flee and the endorphins it stimulates but that's just doc-talk. What it means to normal people like you and me is your body primes itself to do whatever needs to be done and from personal experience I can tell you it gives you a head-in-the-clouds, fatalistic, don't give a shit attitude in the face of situations that would cause any sane person to freeze into quivering lumps of jelly. You don't believe me? Then just ask yourself how for the past ten to a hundred thousand years have armies been able to entice normal human beings to charge into the face of an enemy carrying sharp pointy things or projectile weapons? It doesn't sound like a particularly effective survival mechanism to me but I know it's there and it works more often than not.

Kind of like walking into a den of cold-blooded killers with a bomb strapped to your chest to retrieve one little girl that you've known for only a couple of months. Like I said, it just ain't sane, but there I was.

"Who I am really isn't important," I said using as little emotion as I could. "What I want is. Now, where's your boss? I want to talk to him."

"You will talk to me," number one hissed.

"I don't think so," I replied cocking my head to look him over. He may have been one of the upper lieutenants in this organization but it was obvious he wasn't the top dog. I admired his loyalty in the attempt to shield his master but I really didn't have time for those games. "Your boss is here, or at least someone higher up than you is. That's who I'll talk to and I can wait here as long as it takes. Well, maybe not for too long. Sooner or later my thumb is going to get tired and this conversation will be over quickly. Oh, I probably should point out that nobody is getting out of here alive before me. I'm alone in here but I do have friends outside."

"You pig..." he started but was interrupted by a cultured, almost bemused voice.

"Manuel, that will be enough." The owner of that voice casually pushed his way through the crowd and walked over to stand in front of me. He was about my height and maybe just a bit older with a face and body that could only come from good blood lines and a shit load of expensive cosmetic surgery. The suit he wore probably cost more than my annual salary when I was with the U.N.

"I am Juan Carlos Felix-Abadia. I believe I am the one you wish to speak to." I recognized the name. At least I recognized the surnames. Felix and Abadia were old line names in the trade going back into the last century and the Cali and Medellin cartels. This was somebody whose grandfathers and even great-grandfathers had been in the family business.

"Yes, I believe you are correct," I nodded agreement.

"You went to a great deal of trouble to arrange this meeting so we might as well hear you out," he smiled. Let me tell you, when people like him smile it isn't a good thing. "However, one point before we continue, I must insist you tell me who you are. I make it a point of never dealing with anyone nameless. You will at least grant me that courtesy?"

"If you insist," I replied. "Mayhem, Daniel Mayhem." I don't think any of his sicarios (hit men/soldiers) recognized my name but I could tell he did. He was a cool one, that I'll admit, cold as ice, but I saw his eyes widen slightly and the corners of his smile drooped ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Mr. Mayhem," he said as if nothing had changed. "But before we begin might I be so bold as to inquire how you were able to walk past my men outside?"

"They weren't paying me much attention when I did," I answered.

"Very sloppy of them," his smile drew down to a thin line. "I will have to discuss their attention to duty with them later I suppose."

"You might find that to be a very one-sided conversation, Mr. Abadia."

"Ah, I see. All six?" he asked.

"Only four," I admitted. "The other two on the side door weren't outside. I assume they're standing on the inside where it's cool." I looked over in that direction but couldn't see the door because there was an island of offices between us.

"Patron, he has nobody with him," hissed Manual in Spanish. "We must get you to safety."

"Keep still, Manuel," Abadia barked back at him. "Have you forgotten Mr. Mayhem speaks perfectly passable Spanish? If you truly believe he is here alone maybe you would like to step outside and look for yourself. Will you allow that, Mr. Mayhem?"

"I won't set off the bomb if that's what you're asking," I shrugged. "But he won't be happy with what happens if he goes outside."

"He's bluffing," Manuel protested.

"I don't think so, Manuel. But you are welcome to see for yourself," Abadia said grimly. "I assume you do not recognize Mr. Mayhem by name but maybe you have heard of Los Muchachos Perdidos?" I'd figured as much. He'd recognized me and now apparently so did everyone else in there. At least I'd assumed so from the raised guns, muttering of curses and calls for protection from God and the holy mother. It would appear the legend of The Lost Boys hadn't been forgotten after all.

"So you see, Manuel, I seriously doubt if LaMuerte stoops to bluffing." Literally translated LaMuerte means the death. I've also been called the Angel of Death; mostly by the folks on the other side but not always. I suppose it's better than being called Peter Pan; the tights get too itchy.

Turning back to me he continued. "You were the cause of death for three of my uncles and the destitution of my father's family."

"I don't know that for a fact," I answered. "But I can't dispute it either. What can I say? Fortunes of war."

"As you say, fortunes of war," he nodded slightly. "But I think you are not here to complete the task of erasing my family, is that not so? If so I think you would have done so without placing yourself in danger. It is your way: to kill without facing your enemy and giving them the chance for an honorable fight."

"As often as I could," I agreed. I seriously doubt if he gave a shit about his uncles; now his family's fortune, that was another matter entirely. "But you are correct; that's not why I came here. I didn't even know who was involved here to be honest and didn't care. Still don't, if the truth be known. Not that I wouldn't gladly exterminate you along with the rest of the vermin here if I had a reason but that is part of what we can talk about."

"Indeed," he nodded. "Then I suppose we should begin our discussion. What exactly did bring you here?"

"Antigua Delmar," I said. "You have her and I want her back, whole and unharmed. Now."

"Delmar? Delmar. Hmm, I am sure I haven't had the pleasure of meeting this Delmar person you speak of or know her whereabouts either," he smiled again. "I am afraid you have arranged this rather flamboyant meeting for nothing."

"That would indeed be a pity," I said. "Unfortunately I don't believe you and that being the case I feel compelled to set this off right now." I lifted the hand holding the detonator so everyone could see it and started lifting my thumb off the switch. I can't tell you exactly what I was thinking right then; I was more numb than anything. I do know that at least part of me was hoping that Kathy had been right in her belief in a God and an afterlife and that maybe I'd get to see her again. I've never believed and unless something comes up by the way of some cold hard facts to prove its existence I doubt that I ever will, but hoping doesn't hurt does it?

"Let us not be hasty, Mr. Mayhem," Abadia said and raised his hands in a beseeching manner. Maybe he remembered what he had said to Manuel about my bluffing. "If say by some chance I might know the whereabouts of this Delmar person what is she to you? If you were hired to retrieve her then I'm sure we can reach some accommodation. You will find we can be most generous and willing to compromise in such a situation."

"Money isn't a factor, Abadia," I said and he frowned slightly.

I could guess what he was thinking. When it's just money people have a tendency to be very cooperative with those who have great big piles of cash. The cartels didn't have the resources they once had but still theirs was mostly a cash-only business and they still had enough to make anyone except the obscenely rich think twice. Unfortunately dealing with someone for whom money has no meaning throws a wildcard into the deck and makes dealing with them unpredictable and dangerous. Take religious or political fanatics for example. If you think you can sway them with either reason or logic you are just setting yourself up for disappointment. Short of killing them there is almost no way to stop someone who is willing to die for their cause.

"She's my friend, Abadia, and I never leave my friends behind."

"I see," he said through pursed lips. "She is a pretty little thing, I suppose, although somewhat underdeveloped for my tastes."

Why is it everyone thinks I have the hots for Tink? I swiftly debated telling him this but decided it really didn't matter if he understood the reason. He seemed to agree as he continued. "I suppose the why really does not matter now, does it? Is that all you want, the return of this person?"

"No, there is more," I said taking another breath. "I am not inherently opposed to most of your business interests in this area. As far as I'm concerned you can smuggle all the cigarettes, booze, caffeinated coffee and sugared drinks you want. I'm not happy with the sex slaves that have been coming in and I assume you have more than just a finger in that pie but I'm not prepared to discuss that with you right now. What I will not tolerate is wholesale kidnapping as a business, moving in on my turf. That will stop and it will stop now."

"That is a rather extravagant demand, Mr. Mayhem," he said smiling again. "I am not sure I or my associates could agree to that."

"You have no choice, Mr. Abadia," I said shaking my head. "This is absolute and non-negotiable."

"This is a curious method for local authorities to operate, Mr. Mayhem," he frowned. "To ignore some, shall we say, extra-legal activities and yet forbid others. I admit it is quite confusing. Normally we settle this with suitable honoraria to the appropriate persons involved but this is quite new. I assume you will want, how do you say it, a cut of our allowable activities? I also assume you will be offering some level of protection for these fees? Just out of curiosity which agency do you represent? I'm afraid we already have some arrangement in place and I wouldn't want to be in the position of paying double."

"Ah, well there we may have a bit of a problem, Mr. Abadia," I answered with a grin. "You see I'm not with any established authority. I'm just a private citizen doing his duty along with a few other patriotic veterans. No fees, no percentage and no protection. Nothing except the promise that if you don't abide by our agreement the consequences will be dramatic and rather final."

"I see, and you believe you have the wherewithal to oppose us? What you see here is a very minor portion of the resources we can muster if required."

"Juan," I used his first name as a small but pointed insult. "The last time I looked there were over ten million veterans in this country both from the southern war and over in the east. We're armed and have been fighting for what seems like our whole life. Believe me when I tell you we had no problem finding you here and killing everyone in this building would have been easier than finding a smoke in the local bar. You don't want to go to war with us. A very small number of us practically destroyed your family and you weren't even our primary target; you just got in the way. If you push it, I can guarantee that there won't be a single one of you left from Hudson Bay down to Tierra Del Fuego. I'll say it one more time: You do not want war with us. You understand force, we understand war."

He actually blinked and paused before he answered. "It could be we might be able to come to some accommodation. This was, shall we say, merely an exploratory operation, a test of the market. If you are sincere about not interfering with our other business opportunities I might be able to convince my associates to avoid your turf. Just for the record just what is encompassed by your turf anyway?"

"Tampa and the surrounding counties," I answered. "Hillsborough, Hernando, Pasco, Pinellas, Manatee and Sarasota."

"And you will not interfere outside these six counties?" he asked.

"I won't," I affirmed. "But I can't guarantee somebody else won't. We veterans are a fairly open-minded lot for the most part but I don't see much tolerance for murder-for-hire, kidnapping or anything else tending toward violence. We've seen enough of that already. And like I said we will have to have a discussion about the sex trade at a later time. Consensual sex, even for money, doesn't bother me, but if it's forced that's another matter."

"I'll keep that in mind," he answered dryly. "I believe we can assume we have a deal as you would say it. My associates will not be pleased but," he shrugged, "business is that way sometimes. Now for the first portion of your request..." He turned around and called out, "Bring the girl, now!"

A couple of seconds later a door opened to one of the offices and Tink came out with a goon holding firmly to each arm. She was disheveled, dress torn and was sporting one hell of a shiner but otherwise she looked okay especially since she was spouting incredibly foul profanities and struggling against her escorts. She didn't look scared at all, just pissed. I have to admit it was easy to admire the little fireball. After trying futilely to kick the shins of her guards she finally looked up and saw me.

"Danny!" she yelled and redoubled her effort to escape. Abadia nodded and they let her loose and she came running straight at me.

"Whoa, princess," I said raising my right hand to stop her just before she crashed into me. "Don't jiggle me or this will have been a messy waste of time." She stopped suddenly and her eyes got wide when she saw what was strapped to my chest.

"Danny, what's that?" she asked.

"Just a little incentive to facilitate our discussions," I answered. I turned back to Abadia, "I believe we are done here?"

"I certainly hope so," he said. "It might help if there were a way we could contact you, just in case there is a need for further clarification in the future."

"I'm not in hiding," I said. "You can find my com link in the directory."

"Doesn't that leave you a bit, shall we say, exposed, Mr. Mayhem? I wouldn't want someone to think they could take advantage of that too, oh, negate our agreement."

It wasn't more than a second after the last word exited his mouth that the rear window of his limo shattered, a neat trick considering it was supposed to be armored glass, and a 12mm round lodged itself somewhere in the rear floor. Even more impressive was the fact that the shot hadn't been made through the open door but through the side of the building. I don't think anyone had any doubt that the round had gone exactly where it had been intended even for coming through the wall blind. Every sicario dropped to his knees with guns waving wildly around. Abadia remained standing although he did raise his eyebrows.

"Yes, I think that answers that question," he said. "I will pass that along also. Can I assume we will be allowed to leave unmolested?"

"You can," I said. "But you'll need to do something about the bodies outside. I'm actually sorry we had to do that but I couldn't think of any other way."

"Think nothing of it," he waved. I wasn't planning to and I'm pretty sure he wasn't either. I'm sure to him sicarios were expendable items, just like bullets or toilet paper.

"Wait for an hour before you leave," I said. "After I'm out of sight you can bring the bodies inside."

"That will be acceptable, Mr. Mayhem," he nodded. "I can't say it has been a pleasure doing business with you but I believe we can find an equitable solution."

"For the most part if you leave us alone and stay within the boundaries we've established we will do the same," I said shaking my head. "Good day, Mr. Abadia." With that I turned and taking Tink's hand started walking out the door. We were almost around the corner and out of sight of the warehouse before she said anything.

"Danny..."

"Wait a second, honey, let me make this safe first," I said as I dropped her hand and reset the safety on the detonator. "There, safe as tapioca pudding now."

Suddenly I had an armful of squirming, wiggling softness doing her best to stuff her tongue down my throat and find out for herself if I still had my tonsils. Okay, I didn't complain much and it felt really good, really good, but I couldn't help thinking about how she was about the same age as my daughter and started feeling like a pedophile for what I was thinking. I tried to gently push her away or at least disengage her mouth from mine.

"Oh, Danny," she sighed after she finally retrieved her tongue. Unfortunately I was beginning to think it was going to take a pry-bar to get her arms from around my neck. "I knew you'd come for me."

"You did?" I asked rather surprised. Why would she think that?

"Mom's a bitch and an idiot to do what she did to you but she's not completely stupid," she answered into my neck. "There's only one person who could have got me back alive and she'd have known that. That's what happened isn't it? She came and asked you to find me didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"I'll bet she even promised to come back to you and never leave, didn't she?"

"Do you read minds?" I asked.

"Don't do it," she said finally looking up at me. "I love her but she's fucked up as a soup sandwich. She'll just hurt you all over again."

"Don't worry, that's not going to happen," I said. "But could we save this for later? I'm not real trusting that our friends back there can tell time let alone know what an hour is and I like to be somewhere a bit safer."

"You're the boss, Danny," she said grabbing my hand letting me pull her away from the warehouse and towards our vehicles. We had just about reached the end of the building when Mike and Weird popped out from around the corner. I could guarantee they'd left a spy-eye up on the roof so we'd know the minute anyone left.

"Crazy shit, Boss. You ready to go?" Mike said.

She looked pretty surprised when Tink walked right up to her, wrapped her up in a huge hug and softly said "Thank you."

"Ah, no problem kid," Mike said awkwardly patting Tink's back. "Wasn't my dumb ass on the line out there."

"Yes it was," Tink said leaning back and looking up at her. Then she let go and did the same to Weird although I noticed Weird wasn't anywhere near as awkward about returning the hug. Maybe he wasn't so weird after all.

"All of you were out here, weren't you?" she asked.

"Couldn't let the captain trip over a crack and hurt himself, now could we?" Top said coming up behind us. "You know these officers: couldn't wipe their own ass if they didn't have a sergeant there to guide them."

"Ah, I think we ought to be going," I ventured. "We still have to get back safely."

"No sweat, Cap," Brian interjected from behind Top. "Stan and Sam are hanging back a little to make sure we're clear. So far nothing other than the ones came out and dragged the deaders inside."

Top and Brian got their own hugs and thanks then we did the hockey retreat and got the puck out of there.

Edited by Morgan



-------

Chapter 9



We couldn't tell how closely they had been watching Tink's house or even if they were so we didn't head straight there. I'm sure it would have been safe enough but I didn't want to take even the small chance of getting into a firefight. Besides I had no desire to see Cynthia right then and Tink didn't want to go back home just yet. Tink did call her to briefly say she was okay and would be home soon. Luckily I had to only hear half of that conversation.

"I'm fine, Mom," Tink said rolling her eyes. "Yeah it was bad ... Yeah I was scared ... No you're not! For one thing, Danny doesn't want to see you right now and I'm not too happy with you either ... That's not my problem, Mom ... I said that's not my problem, that's yours ... Look, why don't you go play with your new boy-toy or better yet go sit down somewhere quiet and think about how really fucked up your life is. I'm going to hang with the grownups for awhile ... I'll be back tonight, I promise. Oh, yeah, you'd better twist up the security another notch or two. I'm not going through this shit again ... Yeah, well fuck my language. I'm sending you the name of a protection service Danny recommends, I want them on the job before I get back tonight ... Yeah, well I'm telling you I'm not moving my ass from this spot until they're on the job.

"I also want background checks on all our employees, I don't give a shit if they wiped my ass as a baby ... I know you're sorry, Mom, but sorry ain't going to cut it in the big people's world ... Yeah, I know you love me and I love you too but right now I'm not sure I like you a whole lot. Tonight when I get home I'll tell you all about it. Actually it was really kold... ! I told you I'm fine, a couple of bruises and they ruined my dress ... No, they didn't rape me... ! Yeah, I'm going now, I'll be back tonight and don't forget to call those guys right now. They're expecting you. Bye, Mom. Love ya."

"You were a little bit hard on her, weren't you?" I asked as we lounged on the Katherine's aft deck. Brian and Weird were up in the flying bridge keeping a lookout. I didn't expect anything. Abadia was an immoral, heartless, bottom-feeding thug but he was also a businessman and from what I could tell more than just a little intelligent. He wouldn't do anything unless he thought it had a chance of succeeding or there was a profit in it. I was pretty confident he was smart enough to cut his losses and look elsewhere for business opportunities. I had a feeling we'd be dealing with him again sometime in the future. How and when I didn't know but I had the feeling today wouldn't be the last time we meet.

"Maybe," she admitted. She was curled up in one of the deck chairs wearing one of my t-shirts that came down to about her knees. She'd pronounced the dress a total loss and swiped one of my tee's when she'd been down below. I have to admit she looked cute as a kitten as she sipped on some twenty-year old scotch and grimaced. "Shit! How do you drink this crap? Although I will admit it does burn kind of nice."

"It's an acquired taste," Mike laughed as she tossed back half a tumbler of the liquid gold. "After the first hundred liters or so it actually starts tasting good."

"I can tell it's an acquired taste," Tink said sticking out her tongue in disgust but taking another sip anyway. "I'm just not sure why you'd want to acquire it."

"So, Danny, you still going away tomorrow?" Tink said after a short pause. "You don't have to run away, you know. I'll make sure Mom doesn't bother you."

"It's more than that, honey," I replied with a smile.

Oh sure, that was part of it still, I suppose, but it wasn't really the biggest part now. Yep, she was still one of the most beautiful women I'd even seen and there was still an ache in my soul from the loss and betrayal but honestly it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it had been. Like everybody else I'd get over it. I knew that but it wasn't taking as long as I'd thought. There must be something about adrenalin pumping through your body and a bomb strapped to your gut that helps put things into perspective and burn the hurt away. By the way, I wouldn't recommend it as standard therapy for a broken heart. There are easier ways, like getting stinking drunk.

"Captain, we got visitors," Brian called down. Almost instantly everybody except Sam and Tink was sitting up and reaching for a piece.

"Ah, Cap," he said looking embarrassed. "It's Natalie. I invited her down and kind of forgot to tell you. If you don't want her here, we can leave."

"Jesus, Sam," I said with a sigh settling back into my chair and gently lowering the flechette gun back down to the deck. "Hell, I don't mind but you should warn a body beforehand. My old heart can't take the excitement this many times a day." Luckily everybody laughed at that.

Natalie drove her tiny little eco-friendly roller-skate right onto the pier just like she owned it and squeezed out of it like a crowd of clowns coming out of a funny-car at the circus.

"Hey guys," she said as she strode across the brow and onto the deck. Her eyes scanned us but I swear she didn't even flinch when she saw the hardware we all had within easy reach. "Hi, lover," she continued plopping down on Sam's lap and giving him a lip-lock that would have curled my toes. I winced slightly trying to calculate the combined weight that chair was holding. Natalie was no small waif and Sam, well, Sam was just Sam. It creaked a little but held up just fine. I thought to myself that I ought to send the manufacturer a testimonial or something.

"Okay, what kind of trouble have you delinquents been up to?" she asked us when she finished sucking Sam's tonsils out of his throat.

"What do you mean?" Stan replied as innocently as he could. "We're just sitting around shooting the shit."

"Spewing the shit is more like it," she snapped back. "And you're spewing it in the wrong direction if you think you can bullshit me, babycakes. It may have been seven years but I remember what a team looks like when they come back in and you little lamb chops have it all over you. I don't even need to see your hardware to know you've been up to something.

"So spit it out before I have to start doing some bean squeezing and it gets real ugly. And you mister!" for God's sake she pointed right at me, "are the leader of this band of misfits so I'm sure it was your idea. Now what in the hell have you been doing with my boyfriend because if you get him shot up there ain't nothing alive or holy that's going to save your ass!"

"Look, nobody got shot at," I started to say. That was technically true, nobody on our side anyway. However before I could open my mouth again and get myself into even deeper shit Tink came to my rescue.

"I got kidnapped and Danny and the rest saved me."

"What!" Okay, maybe I wasn't saved just yet. For some reason Tink's abbreviated explanation didn't seem to console Natalie overly much. "Spit it out, kid. What the fuck has been going on? And don't you dare try to hold out on me."

"Don't get yourself worked up, honey," Sam said trying to placate the woman of his dreams who was now sitting on his lap and working herself up into a lather. After seventeen years of marriage I could have told him that was probably not the wisest move, kind of like spraying alcohol on a fire trying to put it out. I was surprised when she didn't bite his head off.

"Put a lid on it lover boy," she said pinching his lips closed, hard. "I don't want you getting yourself in more trouble than you already are. I want to hear about it from the short stuff over there. From her I might actually get something close to the truth. The old fart over there would lie like a rug and the rest of you would swear to it on your mother's grave. Give it up, kid. What the hell happened?" I resented that last remark. Okay, so it was possibly true, maybe even probably true; okay fine, absolutely true. But I resented the implication I would lie without at least a good reason.

Tink did a reasonably good job of sketching out what parts she did know from the time she was kidnapped to the time we got back here. She'd listened to the recording of the mission and heard everything Abadia and I had said and she summarized it pretty well. Other than in very general terms and what she didn't know about what her mother and I had said but she glossed over that anyway. That was private stuff and not germane to the discussion anyway.

"I want to listen to it," was all she said when Tink finished. Sam looked at me and I nodded then he mumbled a few words to Sara and the recording was sent to Natalie's com. She tapped the button in her ear and silently settled back into Sam's arms staring up at the sky. There was some nervous small talk but for the most part we just waited. Why you ask me, would seven fully trained and certified killers, any of whom could have broken this woman in half, be nervously waiting for her to evaluate our latest mission? Hell, we've had generals screaming at us that didn't faze us this much. I don't know; she's just that way I guess: a force of nature or something.

"Okay, I see it now," she said finally. "I suppose it had to be done that way. Not that I like the idea of my boyfriend playing with guns again."

"Nat," Sam said softly, "there are still bad people out there and sometimes you have to do what you have to do, no matter what it takes."

She twisted around, grabbed his shirt and stuck her nose right up against his. "I know, baby." I swear I could see a tear in the one eye I could see. "But I waited my whole life for you and I don't want to lose you now." She shook him gently and bumped her forehead against his.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered to her. "And even if I did would you rather me run away from something like this?"

"Hell yes, I would," she growled but then sighed. "But I know you can't. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"The Captain always brings us back," he said. "Always."

"Yeah, there is that," she said sighing again. Then she looked at me. "And as for you buster: I can't decide whether you're the biggest fucking hero I've ever seen or the dumbest dick-head." I voted for the latter. "But you know this isn't over, don't you? You got your work cut out now."

"What do you mean?" Mike asked puzzled. I had a good idea what she was talking about.

"Mr. Big Shot-off-his-mouth here told that SA grease-ball you had an organization of vets backing you up on this," she answered. "If it stays the way it is, sooner or later he's going to find out it's only the seven of you and I don't care what kind of psycho-killers you are, the seven of you alone ain't going to last against all of them and my boyfriend's going to get his ass shot off. That ain't going to happen, so what are you planning to do about it?"

"Yeah, I thought of that," I said swishing the amber liquid around in my glass before taking a swig. "When I get back I'm going to start talking to a few of the other teams, groups and even the loners around here. Maybe it's about time we vets start taking an active interest in how the country we put our ass on the line for is being run. I, for one, am getting a little tired of the corruption, petty crime and all the rest of the bullshit that's been going on. Sure, we can keep our own turf pretty clean but damn it, that shouldn't be our job. I'm thinking it's about time we actually do what I told Abadia we've already done."

"Fair enough," she said. "There's enough of us out there that are willing to help but what's this shit about getting back?"

"Danny's taking a little vacation," Tink piped in sitting up in her seat staring straight at the big woman.

"Oh, he is, is he?" Natalie stared right back at her.

"Yeah, he needs some time off, to think," Tink continued steady as a rock. They sat there and stared at each other for what seemed like a long time but really wasn't.

"Shit!" Natalie finally hissed. "Your mother again?" Tink only nodded. "You know your mother is a fucking idiot, don't you?" Tink nodded again.

"I'm sorry, Mayhem," Natalie sighed and looked over at me. "I thought the dumb bitch had smartened up this time. Looks like I was wrong. I guess I should have warned you but..." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"Not your place to, Natalie," I assured her. "I'm a big boy and I'll get over it. That isn't the only reason I'm going. Tink's right: I have some thinking to do about a lot of things."

"And drinking!" Mike chimed in.

"And whoring!" Stan added lustfully. I could only shake my head in dismay.

"Yeah you do, tough guy," Natalie agreed. "And don't worry about Cynthia; the pain will pass. I've had it enough to know. Yeah, she's a great fuck, sorry about that, kid." Tink just shrugged. "But you'll have better and I know there's a better woman for you out there just waiting for you to find her; or maybe she'll find you. Hard to say, really." She sounded like she actually knew what was going to happen. The more I got to know Natalie the more I get the feeling she really does have a touch of that special something. I know! I know! Psi-talents have never been proven but that broad has turned out to be right more times than I can explain with simple luck. Maybe it's like one of those fortune-teller acts where they say something nebulous enough the receiver can mold it around whatever does happen to make it look like real clairvoyance. She's never claimed to have the Sight, but I wonder sometimes.

"Besides, there's a lot better fucks out there, ain't there, Tiger?" she said and started to tickle Sam.

"I don't know," he said still squirming. "I've never been with her." I think Sam actually cracked a joke! Not exactly the best time, place or subject to do it but I think it was an actual joke. Crap, what the hell was going on? Next thing you know Weird will be doing the stand up; if that happens then I'll really know it's Armageddon time.

"And you never will," she hissed and poked him in the side, hard. "This beautiful pecker belongs to me! It doesn't get stuck anywhere else unless I say so! Got it?"

"It's always been yours, Natalie," he assured her with a smile even though I have a feeling that finger poke could have dented steel.

"I know, sugar," she answered with a grin and put another lip lock on him that probably cleaned out everything she'd missed the first time. Then she pulled back and stared him straight in the eyes. "You know I'm all yours, Tiger; but that means you're all mine too and I don't like sharing my toys."

"Get a room, you two," Stan groaned and rolled his eyes. "All it is is fuck, fuck, fuck. Eat, fuck, sleep, fuck..."

"We get the picture, Stan," Mike laughed and Natalie glanced pointedly towards my below-deck cabins.

"Your own room," I interjected forcibly. "You two aren't messing up my sheets and leaving my boat smelling like a whorehouse just before I go on vacation."

Natalie stuck her tongue out at me

"Anyway, this pulling of the vets together is going to be bigger than you or any of you think it's going to be," she stated confidently to me. "You go on your little vacation; clear out the cobwebs and get your ashes hauled fifty or sixty times. By the time you get back we'll have a good ground work already set up for you. Right guys?" I think she surprised everybody but they all chimed in with a "You bet, Boss," or "We got it Cap'n." What the hell? Who died and made her queen?

Oh well, like I said, a force of nature.

"Anyway," she said standing up and pulling on Sam's arm, "you need this hunk of meat anymore? All this dirty talk made me horny and it's his job to take care of it."

"Captain?" Sam looked at me questioningly.

"Go on, Sam," I waved at him. "That goes for the rest of you too. Nobody's going to try anything tonight and I need to get ready. Why don't some of you take Tink home? Her mother's probably worried sick." Somehow that didn't make me feel bad.

"You sure, Boss?" Mike asked and I nodded.

"You keep in touch and be careful down there," Top said as he waved Brian and Weird down from the bridge.

"I will. Besides I'm leaving the link with Sara open for now." He nodded knowingly. We weren't in a combat situation anymore but I wasn't going to take any chances. My team was going to have all the support and communications I could give them. If they really wanted to listen in to me singing really bad rock-and-roll while I'm piss drunk then who am I to stifle their entertainment?

Tink was the last one to leave. She grabbed me in one of the fiercest hugs I think I've ever had and rested her face on my chest. When she looked up at me I could have sworn she was going to kiss me again but she hesitated for a second and didn't. I honestly don't know if I was glad or disappointed. Confused would best describe it, I suppose. I guess it was best that she didn't. The bitter taste of her mother's betrayal was still in my mouth and I sure didn't need any more complications right then for sure.

"You be careful," she whispered sternly. "You get your head set on straight and come back to us. I may even have a little surprise for you when you do."

"You will?" I asked. "What is it?"

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" she said brightly. "What time are you leaving? Can I come down and see you off?"

"I don't know, noonish I guess. You can if you want to, I suppose."

"Good. Don't leave till I get here." She let go of me and then said shyly, "You are a hero, my hero." Then she did jump up and gave me a peck on the cheek before giggling and scampering off. What else could I do except just shake my head.

Edited by Morgan

Epilogue — Antigua

Antigua Delmar, a.k.a. Tinker Bell, leaned back against the fiber-resin body of the armored limo watching the small yacht clear the jetty on its way into the bay and from there into the open waters of the Gulf. Her two shadows, as she had begun calling them, were standing a discreet two meters away continually scanning the surrounding pier and boathouses. She didn't resent them and she made sure they knew it, but she did resent the necessity of them being there. It is what it is, she thought to herself. The days of roaming around either by herself or with just a driver were over, for now at least.

She'd acquired them the night before when Weird walked her up to her door. That was probably a good idea, she thought. Weird, or maybe Brian, would have been the least likely to have broken her mother's neck when she came running out the door and nearly bowled her over. At least it wasn't Mike, and she shuddered. Antigua liked the lanky sergeant but being next to the woman who betrayed her "Boss" would be akin to waving a piece of raw meat under the nose of a starving lioness: Not a good idea.

She had immediately been introduced to their new chief of security from the Papadarous Protection Agency and the retinue of ten bodyguards that would be rotating through as both hers and her mother's new security. They were nice but very professional and distant. It was made crystal clear that they were there for her protection only. Her privacy would be absolutely guaranteed but she was never to leave the house without them. While in the house other security measures would be in force.

Antigua politely greeted them, assured them she understood their function and need and after quickly dismissing them dragged her mother into the study and slammed the door shut. The ensuing hour and a half involved a lot of screaming, crying, mutual recriminations and more than one declaration from the twenty-one soon to be twenty-two-year old pop star.

"You will never, under any circumstances see, speak or even talk to Daniel again," she stated.

"But I just wanted to thank him and say how sorry I..." Cynthia Delmar protested.

"Mother, I love you dearly," Antigua interrupted. "But you are fucked up in the head and hurt any man you touch. You won't get help so I'm damn well going to keep you as far away as possible from the one man that doesn't deserve your shit!"

It went on like that for quite a while ending with Antigua's declaration of emancipation.

"You are my mother and still my manager but this is my life and my career," she stated finally. "Whatever I do and whatever is done will be done with my prior consent and approval."

The first exercise of her newly won freedom came the next day when she postponed a scheduled rehearsal of the road show so she could see her hero off on his trip into self-examination and healing.

Suddenly her two guards stiffened and hands went instantly to concealed weapons. Antigua turned and saw Mike strolling down the pier towards them.

"She's good," Antigua said loudly. "She's part of the group that saved me. She's allowed near me anytime she wants." From what she'd been told of their methods Antigua was certain Mike's image was already being sent back to their central station with her clearance preference attached. She didn't bother to add that if this particular person really wanted her dead there wasn't a damn thing either one of them or their whole agency could have done about it.

"Hey, Mike."

"Seeing the Boss off, kid?" Mike asked as she lounged back against the car next to the young woman. Antigua nodded.

"Yep, I knew the rest of you would be watching but I wanted to do it in person."

"That's good, kid," Mike nodded. They both watched the boat as it got smaller and began to get lost in the sun's reflection off the blue water.

"I hope you're not setting yourself up for a big disappointment," Mike finally said. "He still thinks of you as a kid. Twenty-two years is a lot of difference."

"Maybe," Antigua said not looking up. "But I love him and someday I'm going to be with him."

"Don't get your hopes up."

Antigua shrugged and then said, "What about you?"

"He's never going to be mine, not that way anyhow," Mike answered without surprise. "Oh sure, if he told me to lie down and spread them I would in a heartbeat. But he won't; that's not what he needs or what I need. We don't have that kind of relationship and never will."

"What kind do you have?" the young woman looked up questioningly at what might have been her potential rival.

"He's not a man to me," Mike said looking down. "Just like I'm not a woman to him. To me he's much more and yet less." She paused for a moment and glanced over at Antigua. "I'm not sure I can explain it so you would understand. No, that's not right; I know I couldn't explain it so you would understand."

"Try," Antigua prompted.

"Hmm, okay, if you insist," Mike agreed pursing her lips. "But this is going to sound crazy. Which makes sense, I suppose, since I am crazy."

"You're not crazy!" Antigua protested.

"Oh yes I am," Mike replies forcefully. "Crazy as they come and I know it. You see the problem is you and I don't have the same references or memories. I think unless you've gone through what we have you'll never really understand it. Yeah I'm talking about the war; what else is there? I'm 34 years old and spent over a quarter of that fighting in that god-damned thing. Sure it was over seven years ago but to me it's like it never ended. Every day I'm still fighting, doing the same shit over and over. Still think I'm not crazy?" One of the bodyguards gave a muffled harrumph as if in accent. Mike glanced over at him and sort of grinned.

"He knows. The other one probably does too. Hell, anybody who spent much time in combat knows what it's like. That's probably why we vets feel most comfortable with each other: shared experience and all that bullshit is what the shrinks tell me.

"Anyway, I'm not going to go into what I saw, what I did. You wouldn't believe half of it; no sane person would. But you ask: What does this have to do with me and the Boss? Everything, really. You see I was one of the original members of the Boss's team right along with Top. Brian and the Koble came in about a year later but we weren't really The Team until Weird joined us a year after that. So there I was this seventeen year old brat thrown into what only could be call hell by anyone's imagination.

"Am I lucky to be alive? Some would say yes. You can probably count on your hands and feet the number of real combat vets that lasted the whole ten years. Six months was a long time to last on average; ten years was a fucking miracle. But it wasn't a miracle, or luck; it was that man," she jabbed a finger towards the small boat just barely visible. "He made us what we were and still are: the best fucking combat team I think anyone has ever seen. The only reason any of us are alive is because of him. I won't go into why; shit I'm not sure I could really tell you why or how, but if there is one thing I am absolutely drop-dead certain of in this life it's that we are alive because of him.

"So what is he to me?" Mike smiled almost sadly. "I don't know, maybe a god is the best way to put it. Not the big Gee like some people believe. I don't know anybody who really believes in that anymore. Maybe the captain's wife; she did I know that and for her sake I hope she was right. But I know I don't.

"No, he isn't the God, just a god, my god. Kind of like a dog and her master. A dog isn't her master's mate and knows it. Her master is simply her world. The beginning, the end and everything in the middle. If he told me to do something I'd do it without hesitation. If he told me to kill you, honey, you'd be dead. If he told me to blow my own brains out I'd put the muzzle in my mouth and pull the trigger thanking and loving him even as the bullet scrambled my brains. Crazy, right?"

"Maybe," Antigua responded after a moment's thought. "But more sad than crazy, really."

"I can see where you'd think so, honey," Mike laughed. "But it's really not. In fact it feels really good. I don't have to think about what's right or wrong, good or bad. That's his problem. You see, I really don't deserve to be alive. I should have died long ago either during the war of just afterwards when they didn't need people like me anymore. But I didn't; he wouldn't let me and he still won't. So until he does I'm just going to be his faithful bitch. So you see, Hon, I'm not trying to warn you off because I want him for myself. I don't, not that way. In fact I would have been perfectly happy if your mother hadn't been such a fucking bitch and screwed up. It's the first time I think someone actually got through that shell of his since his wife died. He was crazy in love with Kathy and we were wondering if he'd ever get over her. Maybe she did all of us a favor. Not the hurting him and all that; I could still happily break her arms for that. But for opening him up. He's still got a lot to give somebody out there. I'm just not sure it's you. You're awfully young."

"That can be corrected with time," Antigua shrugged. "I know I'm going to try. But it's good to know you aren't interested in him that way. I don't mind sharing but I think you'd be too much to compete against."

"Too needy, you mean," Mike laughed. "Yeah, he already spends too much time babysitting me as it is; they all do. I'm going to have to do something about that one of these days. So you wouldn't mind sharing?"

"Not if that's what's best for him," Antigua stated flatly. "And I may be young but I'm patient. Someday he'll see we belong together."

"Well maybe you might be right after all, Tinker Bell," Mike said pushing herself upright. "By the way, he named you so you're one of us now, a junior associate maybe, but one of us. I expect we'll see you around now and then."

"Couldn't get rid of me if you tried," Antigua grinned back. "See ya around, Mike."

"Till next, Tink."

Antigua watched the woman walk down the pier although it looked more like a jungle cat on the prowl than a woman. Turning back she squinted and tried to catch one last glimpse of his boat but it was out of sight by now. She sighed.

"Okay, boys, let's get moving. I've got work to do."

Edited by Morgan


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The End
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Posted:  2008-10-07
Last Modified: 2010-01-06 / 10:46:02 pm
Version: 1.10
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