Authors: Maya James
All of the gondoliers are required to wear the blank and white stripes, but it really suits our guy. He's even one of the few that actually sing. For some reason I thought they all did, but I'm glad to be in the company of one of the talented minority.
It's absolutely amazing. It's everything I'd dreamed about during our ride in Central Park. Some of the canals are so narrow and busy that it feels like everyone is in one boat together and you can reach out and touch the buildings as you pass. Others are wide and lined with motor boats and water buses, but it's all fascinating.
We are shown the best of the sites; the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, the beautiful Rialto Bridge, and he allowed us to visit the wonderful piazzas on foot while he waited.
Most of all it was having Justin along with me that was amazing. There isn't another soul in the world that I want to be with more. I catch him looking at me often, always smiling, and I know exactly where his thoughts are. The love we began on a short gondola ride in New York has grown and matured over the year into something bigger than both of us.
On the back canals, the calls from the gulls can overpower the voice of a gondolier at times. Sometimes the only thing you can hear is his paddle in the brackish water.
"I can't imagine how you're going to beat this for our honeymoon," I tease.
Justin smiles. "I do like a challenge."
"You know already don't you?"
His smile is confident and annoying. He does know already; he's known before even planning this trip. Whatever it is, I'm sure I'm going to love it.
"You'll see, Warrior. You'll see when it comes, and I promise I will not let you down."
"You never do," I tell him softly.
Justin holds me close for the rest of the ride. Occasionally his loving lips touch my neck or the softness of my exposed shoulder.
Our gondolier returns us to the site where we had hired him and we walk back to the hotel with the sun spraying the last of its colors into the sky. The streets are doused in long shadows and the smells of spices and baking bread.
Justin asks me to wait for him in the lobby and I watch him enter the business center as he did this morning.
Once again my curiosity spills over, but this time I give into it and I follow quietly behind. From the doorway I see him approach one of the computers and open up a browser. It's not going to take him a very long, he doesn't even bother to sit. I can only see a small portion of the screen as he types in a series of URL's and passwords until he is remotely connected into another system.
Justin opens a browser on the remote system and he's prompted for yet another password. It takes about two dozen characters, but suddenly a webcam view opens up on the screen.
"Is that our bedroom?" I ask from the doorway behind him.
"Yes," he answers, disappointed but not startled by my voice.
I walk into the room and step up to his side and I'm not surprised at all by the camera. "You watch me sleep when you are not home?"
He nods softly and I take his hand gently into mine to let him know that I understand.
All of our red pillows are piled up in the center of the bed.
"Did you do that?" I ask.
"No."
I'm more than a little freaked out right now.
"What does it mean? Why would someone do that?" I ask through a voice that's shaking and angry.
"Because I asked them to when it was time," he answers.
"I don't understand—time for what?"
Justin take a steadying breath. "It's time for the end. We're going home.”
"
A
re you ready for this?" Justin asks.
We flew out early this morning, too early really, but there were no flights available during the night. Now we're back in the states in a hotel in Newark trying to adjust back to the time difference.
"As much as I should be," I reply. "I want our life back, so we have no choice."
He nods an agreement while I admire the muscles in his strong back.
"Did you sleep at all?" He asks comfortingly.
I slide my hand across his lower back, tickling his warm skin. "Enough."
We still haven't heard from anyone and I'm so scared for them.
I check the clock and see it’s just after eleven. When we landed it was already a long day for us and it was only the afternoon here. We rented a car and drove a few miles from the airport to the first hotel we came across. Once we got in the room we took showers and just laid here sleeping, waiting for it to be time.
I can hear traffic on the highway about thirty feet from the window, and the glow of the lights from the sign is sneaking around the ugly curtains.
At least it smells clean and I haven't seen anything move in here except us.
"We should start getting ready," he says. "We're not going far, but I don't want to waste any more time."
Just like me, he has no patience left. Our friend’s lives are at risk.
I watch as he stands from the bed, his adorable ass flexing along with the backs of his legs. He yawns and stretches, and on a better day it would have made me wet to see it.
Justin grabs his pants and steps into them. Then a shirt slides over his arms easily while I flip the covers back to feel the cool air humming its way through the air conditioner and across the room to me. I don't mind the cold at the moment; it perks my breasts right up along with my self-confidence while Justin is staring at me.
We'll be putting on gear later at the site, but we don't have it with us now. I pull on jeans and a dark shirt over a black bra.
I'm feeling wicked and dangerous.
Nothing else needs to come with us right now; we'll be staying here and at places just like this until Marker is dead. We leave our bags and climb back into the rental car just outside our door.
"Are you going to be okay with this?" Justin asks one last time as he buckles his belt. "We know him, you know more than anyone how much harder that makes it."
"Fuck him!" I snap. "He's been helping Marker, lying to all of us. He deserves everything we give him tonight." I know exactly why Justin is so worried. "This isn't the same—he's not John."
"Still," he insists.
"I got over shooting John, it wasn't easy but I did put it behind me. This will not be nearly as difficult to handle. I don't have any connection to him the way I did—the way we both did—to John. We loved him before we found out what he was doing, we were close. But Franco—I won't miss him at all."
While we were gone, Justin realized that it’s Franco that's been helping Marker. We don't know why or for how long, but we will tonight after we beat it out of him.
Justin smiles at me, trying not to be proud but I see it anyway. "Put on your seatbelt; we don't need to get pulled over."
I pull the belt around me and the car backs out of the parking space quietly, but out on the street Justin punches the gas hard enough to throw my head back a bit.
He realized Franco was a problem for us the last time he spoke to Garrett. Franco was overly desperate for us to get back, but Franco, as big as he is, could be a little bitch sometimes, so we didn't think anything of it. The problem came when he knew about the threats to the Vice President, something no one knew outside of us, John Roberts, and Arthur Shea.
Justin was clear that no one was to know about the threats, and there's no way at all that John Roberts didn't listen to Justin, no way. He takes Justin way too seriously to ever disregard him, and Shea wouldn't give Franco the gum from the bottom of his shoe.
That information came from Marker. It's the only thing that makes sense.
We're not worried at all about anything Franco might have told Marker, he doesn't know shit. All that we truly want from Franco is to know how he makes contact—and how we can use that to smoke Marker further out into the open.
Suddenly I'm feeling a little relief swirling in with my anger. The end is almost here, so close that I can almost taste it.
And for the first time in a very long while, we have the upper hand.
THE SITE IS AN
old warehouse by the docks in Bayonne.
Justin senses that I'm getting nervous. "You okay?" He asks.
"Fine," I reply without any conviction. "Being on Panther property right now has me on edge, that's all."
"It's not ours," his easy voice responds. "This belongs to Seagate Logistics."
I've worked on their account; I know the name well. I'm sure they have no idea that we're here, but we run their security and they'll never know.
In the far back corner of the parking lot there are a few lights that are conveniently not working. There in the darkness I see one of our black SUV's quietly waiting like an old dog that's been chained to a tree. As we drive closer to it the reflections of our lights are cut into long streaks down its sides.
Justin parks right beside it, but no one climbs out to greet us. He senses my confusion. "They'll be waiting inside."
We both climb out into the darkness of the night. The front passenger door of the SUV is unlocked and Justin reaches in for a bag that has our gear, mostly weapons and holsters, but there are hoods for us as well.
"You're not using your hood?” I ask, seeing him discard his back to the bag.
"No. I want him to know exactly what's happening and who he's dealing with. I have nothing to hide. When Franco sees my face, I think he'll start talking before I touch him."
The evilness in his voice right now makes it completely believable.
I'm thrilled that my Sig is in the bag. I inspect it quickly, making sure that it’s clean and loaded while I enjoy the familiar feel of it in my hand. When I'm satisfied, I slip it into the holster I've already looped over my head and shoulder.
My fitted brass knuckles knife is here as well and I strap it into the custom sheath above my gun.
Justin is smiling at me. He picks me up and aggressively slams me against the side of the truck, wedging himself tightly between my legs. "You're so fuckin hot when you gear up."
I laugh and throw my arms over his shoulders. "You're going to miss that when we don't do this anymore."
"Yes," he says laughing, "I probably will."
He kisses me deeply and I feel it all the way out to the ends of my fingers and toes. He's simply magic to me.
After he lets me back down to the earth, we walk through the solitude of the large empty lot. Our hands are joined with our fingers braided together as if we are walking into the movie theater on date night.
When we reach the door I hear a quick electronic hum and then a metallic click as the door is unlocked remotely.
"They obviously know we're here," I say as Justin reaches around me for the door handle.
"I'm sure they've been waiting for a while, and with no confirmation that we were on our way," he replies, explaining why they would be watching for us.
Inside, the air is damp and heavy. We have just enough light to see by and move through the rows and rows of pallet racks and metal shipping containers. Somewhere at the other end of this place there will be some offices; nothing fancy, just some space set aside for their operations. That's where we need to go.
Through the vast nothingness, I'm starting to hear something. I'm not able to figure out what it is just yet, but it sounds like an animal. The low murmur of it echoes around the large space, bouncing off all the odd angles so that it doesn't come from any one particular direction yet.
"This way," Justin directs, tugging my hand lightly and leading me through rows of stacked boxes that make me wonder what they hold inside.
"Do you hear that?" I ask.
"Yeah."
"Is that Franco?" I push.
"I think so," Justin answers. "But I'm not sure why; they weren't supposed to touch him."
"Maybe he gave them a reason," I say.
The sound grows louder and forms some direction. It's coming from in front of us, and now it sounds slightly more human than before.
"Maybe," he says, "but hopefully not too bad. I want some fucking answers from him before it’s too late."
We turn a corner and there is a long wall with a single door in it. Justin marches at it so quickly that it’s hard to keep up without almost jogging behind him. The door opens right before we get to it.
Oh thank Christ!
It's Garrett. I couldn't be happier to know that he's okay.
Justin throws his arms around him and pats his back stiffly. Garret hugs him back and winks at me over Justin's shoulder.
I hug him as well once Justin lets him go and passes through the doorway. "I'm so glad you're okay," I whisper.
"I feel the same about you guys," he replies quietly and privately.