Burning Love (Hell Yeah! Cajun Style), page 7
“Harley,” he spoke her name, softly. There was a ton of emotion in his tone. “How do you think that makes me feel?” Waco was all man. He had the devil of a time stepping back and letting a small woman take risks while he stood in the clear.
“I know what I’m doing,” she tried to speak in a confident tone. He didn’t respond, but finished fastening the seals on the side of her suit. Picking up the helmet, she looked up at him. He was tall, as tall as Beau. “My radar will keep me safe, it always has. Trust me, Waco. Next time – I promise – we go in together. Please?” She could have pulled rank – she wasn’t only his boss, he was Navy too and had served under her in Iraq.
“I would take care of you, if you would let me.” His eyes spoke volumes to her. Harley was a bit shocked, she knew he cared for her – but this seemed to be more.
“My sweet friend,” she said in a rush – but Waco was important, “I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine. Pray for me, you can do that.” She would have to deal with this, and she hoped his feelings would not get in the way of their working relationship. At one time, maybe – No, she didn’t have sexual feelings for Waco – not like she did for Beau. Beau. God, Beau – just the thought of him made her heart race. “Let’s go.”
A mask dropped over his face and they prepared to do what needed to be done. “Yes, Ma’am. But, we will talk about this.”
His retort surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. Waco Rainwater was a determined, strong man – but he wasn’t the man she had dreamed of for sixteen years. He gathered up two suitcases full of instruments and followed his superior officer. As they walked toward the tank, a harrowed looking, older man wearing a hardhat started toward her. He carried a clipboard. Harley wondered what he was tracking – a devastation quotient? She could read the fear on his face; at least the gentleman understood the possibilities. “Ms. Montoya? Thank God you’re here. I have never seen anything like this in all of my born days. Who in the world would do something like this?”
“We don’t know, Sir. That’s not really our job. There will be investigations from the CIA, the FBI and Homeland Security, you can be sure of that.” Waco spoke up, and Harley didn’t mind a bit. She had to focus – a huge part of her success was mental.
“Let’s focus on keeping this a failed threat,” Harley stepped ahead of them, already concentrating on the task at hand. The closer she got to the bomb location, the more she realized how dire this scenario actually was. Two men were standing at the base of the massive tank, and it dwarfed them. Great, this monstrosity was something else high for her to climb. Why couldn’t these crazy psychos put an explosive device on ground level? A whisper of uneasiness snaked down her spine. She knew why. Whoever was behind this didn’t want the bomb diffused by remote means, they wanted her to do it. She couldn’t deny the obvious. This was hitting too close to home. Pushing that thought out of her head, she tried to concentrate. It didn’t matter – she had to deal with this either way. “I’m going up,” she spoke evenly to Waco, “I’ll call you when I’m through.” Taking out the tools she thought she would need, she attached them to her suit and began to climb the ladder.
Refusing to look down, Harley hoped that Waco would do as she asked – ordered – God, she should have begged for him to leave. Rung by rung, she made her way upward. Over her head, the platform was adhered to the side of the tank like a window washer’s scaffold clinging precariously to the side of a skyscraper. “Please God; let me be able to take care of this.” She didn’t often pray. Harley wasn’t convinced an appeal to a higher being did any good – but now was the time for a step of faith. Pulling herself up on the shaky structure, Harley gasped at what she found. Compared to the work of art in Philadelphia, this was crude – but deadly. She didn’t have to look very closely – she just knew. Pure C-4 was packed tightly in soft-side suitcases and hung from the side of the tank. Her hand shook as she reached for the zipper on the first one. She had to look to find out how it was wired and what the trigger would be. Hell! This was far more volatile than she had thought – liquid nitroglycerin in fragile vials was woven among the blocks, so there was no possibility of removing the cases and relocating them. They would detonate in her hand. Wires connected the cases, but only the cases, so she knew they were on a timer, not a fuse. But where was the timer? That was the question.
Harley just stopped and stood still for a moment, she didn’t have time to search for the timer; she needed to know where it was – now. “Please she prayed, don’t fail me now.” There were seven cases, the large kind that people rolled behind them as they hurried to catch a plane. This was a huge amount of explosives and the tanks themselves were highly incendiary. For the first time, she doubted. What if she couldn’t do this? Panic coated her soul and seemed to stifle the connection she always had with whatever power gave her a glimpse into the unknown. “No, no, no,” she gently laid her hands on the first suitcase and sought a trance-like state. Evening out her breathing, she let her mind go blank – and waited. Three – three – three – the number flashed red in her mind, blinking like a neon sign. So, she opened her eyes and stared at the third bag. It must be here – she tugged on the zipper and the case swayed and she gasped, waiting on a flash of white-hot heat. Nothing. Good God! She needed to retire.
3:43 3:42 3:41 “Merciful Lord.” she whispered. There wasn’t much time. Hastily, she examined the maze of wires. “Sadistic bastard.” Before, there had been colored wires –which was the norm. Bombers used colored wires for their own safety, so they could be sure of what they were doing and not blow themselves up. Not this time – all of the wiring was black, just a mass of tangled strands, specifically designed to confuse and frustrate. There appeared to be no rhyme or reason and Harley knew most of them were fake – just placed in the design to make it harder for her to know what to do. Someone was playing a game with her, she could feel their hatred emanating off the plastic he had touched and arranged for her sole amusement. 2:49 2:48 2:47 All she could think about was Fox Crocker. It smelled like him – that Old Spice smell that he wore to ad nauseum. But she had watched him go overboard as he was evading arrest for her rape. 2:40 2:39 2:38 Taking a pair of clippers from her belt, she held them in front of her like a dousing rod. This was impossible – there was no way she could figure this out in – 2:15 2:14 2:13.
Harley knelt in front of the device, as if she were praying to it – asking for mercy. Staring at the wires, she saw Beau’s face. Tears welled in her eyes and she wished with everything in her that she was safe in his arms and far away from this unbelievable situation. 1:47 1:46 1:45 Damn! She wanted to live! Calling forth every molecule of belief and faith she had, Harley stared at the mass and willed the riddle to make itself known. Brushing her fingers over the wires – she tried to reason it out – what she would do if she had been the one to make this monstrosity. One wire caught her eyes, it was looped low and seemed to have no use – then it coiled up and the end was soldered into the back of the small control panel. 57 56 55 54 “Please, God!” she begged. “I want to go home – to Beau.” For the first time there was someone waiting for her, and she didn’t want him hearing about her death on the news – along with the slaughter of countless others. Picking up her hand, she poised it - waiting for some kind of confirmation or hint that she wasn’t making a mistake. It made sense – it was what she would do - - - and then - - - it happened. The wire began to glow, just the least little bit. At first, Harley thought it was too late, the bomb was detonating – but then, she realized this was her sign. Taking a deep breath she steadied her hand - 44 43 42 41 – and snipped. The light on the LED screen died and Harley almost fainted with relief.
*****
“Where the hell is she?” Beau talked to himself as he walked from one end of the workshop to the other. He was trying to ignore them, but he was aware his employees followed his movements – step by step.
“What’s wrong with him?” Rick asked. “He’s pacing like a caged tiger.”
“What the hell could she be doing?” He knew he was attracting attention, but he just didn’t give a damn. He had called her home number several times, and damn – he could have shot himself for not getting her cell number. She had his, but he hadn’t been smart enough to get hers. Idiot.
Dandi entered the workshop behind him, her face betrayed the fact that she was enjoying the spectacle he made as much as the men did. Well, tough. He didn’t care – he was worried sick. It had been twenty-four hours and still no word from her.
“Who is this ‘she’ of whom you speak? If it’s your cousin, ‘she’ is right behind you.”
Beau could tell that Indy was trying to be funny, but he wasn’t in the mood. “No, I’m not talking about Dandi.” He didn’t elaborate and his expression let the men know their questions wouldn’t be welcome.
“If you’ve got time, come over here and look at your Ma Deuce. I’ve cleaned her up and she’s a real beauty.” Indiana polished the barrel and lovingly ran his hand down its length like he was caressing the long sleek leg of a woman.
“That’s not the beauty he’s worried about,” Dandi smirked. “It’s Harley Montoya – the woman who sold him that dream gun. I think he wants to see if his weapon will fit in her holster.”
Dandi’s attempt at locker room humor brought a groan from the men. Beau thought about lecturing her on lady-like conduct – but he had more important things to worry about than her crude comments. “Look, it’s more than that; I used to know her a long time ago. We were both at Brownwood in New Orleans. She saved my life.”
“What?” Rick Gentry stepped closer to Beau. “I know about Brownwood. Remember my family lived in New Orleans; my father was one of the cops that brought Pell down. Was she one of the kids that Dad rescued?”
“No,” Beau began to explain, but Dandi walked up close and put her arms around him, effectively shutting him up.
“Beau, who is Harley? I heard you cursing earlier, you used the name Nada.”
“I thought Nada was dead.” Indiana sounded confused.
Beau looked at his best friend. Indiana knew his history better than anyone. They had confessed their sins and drug out their tarnished memories as they fished the bayou on many a dark night. “I did too, until yesterday.” The whole room went quite – everyone waited to see what he would say or do. Beau felt their concern. Finally, he broke the silence. “All right – everyone back to work. We’ve got deadlines.” He dry washed his face with the palm of his hand. “Where are we on that Reaper conversion?”
As the men went back to work, Dandi went to the front to file some invoices. The small TV was on a news program and for a few moments, she didn’t pay it much attention. But then she heard the word ‘bomb’ and glanced over to see where the incident had occurred. The news announcer was pale and shaken. “We avoided a near catastrophe yesterday, ladies and gentleman. If it hadn’t been for Socorro, the landscape of Southeast Texas might look very different”. Dandi was shocked as the familiar face showed up on the screen. “Oh my God. Beau is going to have a Cajun fit. So, that’s why Harley looked so familiar.”
*****
Goodness, she was tired! Willowbend hadn’t been her home for very long, but she was definitely glad to get back to it. It had taken her longer than usual due to the briefings she gave homeland security and the FBI about her take on the bomb and the bomber. She might be making a mistake, but Harley had decided to keep her suspicions about Fox Crocker to herself for now. Accusing a dead man never went over very well.
Shedding her clothes as she walked, Harley paused and listened to the house. She hadn’t been back in it since hearing the voices and laughter. Nothing. It was as still as death - - oh, not a good analogy. She laughed at her own jumpiness. Heading into the bedroom, she tossed her discarded clothes on the end of the bed and noticed the answering machine light blinking. A tiny leap in her chest betrayed her excitement. Could it be Beau? Checking the read-out, she grinned. There were three messages – she smiled and hit Play.
Message One – Harley, this is Beau. I hoped you would be back by now. I’m worried. Give me a call. You have my number.
Message Two – Harley, this is Beau – again. I hope nothing’s wrong. Call me as soon as you get this message.
Message Three – Nada – damn it all – where are you? To hell with it – I’m coming over there. His concern warmed her heart and she pulled out her cell phone and went to contacts – touching his name he had entered. He picked up on the first ring. “Harley?”
“I’m home.” She said the words softly, as if she were sharing a precious secret.
“I know. I see the Hummer. I’m at your front door.”
“I’ll be right there.” Realizing she was standing there – completely nude, she hung up, squealed, and ran to the closet for a robe. Slipping it on, she padded downstairs clad only in the thinnest cotton wrap – no underwear, no shoes. God, she was becoming brazen. Flinging open the door, she didn’t have time to say a word. Beau grabbed her up and held her tight.
“God, I missed you.” His breathing was ragged. “I was so worried. Where were you? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I can’t believe you came over.” She hugged him hard, “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Stand still and let me look at you,” she obeyed his rumbling command. “My God, Baby, you’re a luscious little morsel. You don’t have enough material on to make a good size table napkin.” At first she thought he might be displeased, but his next words dispelled that notion. “I can’t wait to make love to you.”
Okay – time to slow things down, at least until she could be sure she wouldn’t embarrass either one of them. “I guess I should get dressed.” She said the words and he heard them, but neither one of them turned loose of the other for a few more long moments.
“Okay, I’ll let you cover all that sugar up – for now. I came to take you on a little jaunt, if you’ll go with me. I want to take you to my game preserve, I’d like for you to meet my girls and boys.” Beau stepped back and Harley could swear she saw a tremor shake through his body, but it might have been her imagination.
“There’s nothing I would like better,” she told him sincerely. They were standing close – he was so big and broad and she wanted nothing more than to melt back into the haven of his arms, but until she wrestled her demons – it wouldn’t be fair.
An almost harsh laugh escaped his lips, “Cher, there’s something I would like better, for sure.” He looked her up and down – a scalding, slow rake of his gaze that let her know he was aware that she was woman, and that she was aroused – and so was he. “But, we will take it slow – for a bit longer. I want to do this right.” He picked up a strand of her hair and caressed it between his fingertips. “Go put on some tomboy clothes and I will introduce you to more of my world.”
“Okay,” she turned and hurried away while she still could, leaving him standing just inside her doorway. Rushing up the stairs, she untied her robe while she ran. Happiness made her want to throw her arms in the air and twirl in a circle like a small child, but she contained herself. Taking time to hang up her robe, she chose a pair of jeans and a top – grabbed some underwear and headed to take a shower. She didn’t lock the door, knowing that Beau was too much of a gentleman to barge in on her uninvited.
The bathroom had been completely renovated in blues, greens and earth tones – the color of the sand, sea and surf. Turning on the water, she couldn’t help but think about sharing a bath or shower with Beau. That was one thing she fantasized about – steamy visions of a man running his hands over her body as the water sluiced over them. Now that man had a face, a body, and a name.
Climbing beneath the spray, Harley decided not to wet her hair; she didn’t want to take time to dry it. Instead, she soaped her loofah and ran it over her arms and breasts, cleaning away the horrid memories of yesterday. After the recap interviews with the authorities, she had spent some time with Waco. He was so important to her. It had been hard, but she had come to terms with him. More responsibility was what he was asking for – and she wanted to give it to him. If only she could figure out this latest rash of bombs and if they were just wild coincidences or if someone – somewhere – was trying to send her a message. As far as her and Waco’s personal relationship, she made it clear that he was family to her. But after she found herself mentioning Beau every other breath, she figured he had gotten the message. And so had she – because it hadn’t been an act, he had figured naturally in her thoughts, and conversation about him had just flowed. Before she knew it, she had told Waco about Brownwood and Beau and their finding one another again. And before she was through, he had covered her hand with his and told her he hoped it all worked out between them. Now, she had to convince herself. But before anything could happen between them, she had a helluva lot of thinking to do.
God, the water felt good. As she ran the sponge down her thighs and between her legs, she felt a longing – a yearning. This wasn’t normal for her, she didn’t masturbate. But now, with every swipe of the sponge, the hunger grew. Bracing one hand on the marble tile, she began to rub and caress her slit. Moving the sponge up and down, teasing her clit – God, it felt good! A little moan of need slipped out, “Oh, yeah!” She moved the loofah feverishly, riding it as her hips pumped in time to her excited pants. “Please – please – love me – oh, it feels good. Oh, Beau – I want you so much.” As her orgasm hit her, she cried out the name of the man who from fantasy alone – had made her cum harder than she ever had before.
