Once Upon a Blu Moon Pt 2

Once Upon a Blu Moon Pt 2

 

by

 

Macie Snow

10:13 p.m.

 

                I rock back and forth slowly as the grim reaper covers my sister with a black cloth. He wasn’t really the grim reaper, as I had discovered after throwing a rock at his head. I close my eyes and replay the scene that had occurred not fifteen minutes ago.

 

                Screaming at the top of my lungs, I reach down and grab the first thing I can find, a rock. It fits nicely into my hand; at least it does in the brief moments I hold it.

                I throw the rock at the grim reaper, putting all my fear and panic into the throw. The cloaked head moves to the side, barely dodging the rock in time.

                “Whoa, calm down,” it says as I fling myself over Clair’s immobile form.

                “You can’t have her!” I scream, cradling her head in my arms while leaning over her, shielding her from the view of the grim reaper. “I won’t let you take her!”

                The grim reaper pulls back his hood, revealing a human face, the top half covered by a skull mask. He quickly pulls the mask off, revealing a pale face.

                I stare up at him in horror, my panic ridden mind no longer seeing the grim reaper, but a ghost.

                “She will never join you!” I scream, as new tears stream down my cheeks. “Leave us be you vile apparition!”

                The ghost frowns. “Apparition?” he steps forward and I start screaming again. He steps back and I reluctantly stop screaming.

                He lifts his hand to his face slowly, frowning. When he pulls his hand away he looks down at his fingers and a look of realization crosses his face.

                “Relax, it’s just make-up, see?” he says, holding his hand out. I vaguely see that white now stains his fingers and somewhere in the back of my mind I notice the traits that prove him undeniably human. The footsteps leading up to where he now stands, mud splattering up his pants. The fact that he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and the skeleton mask that he now held in his left hand.

                I swallow a thick lump in my throat and reluctantly sit up.

                “I’m going to help you, okay?” He says softly, slowly stepping forward.

                I nod.

                “Why don’t you go ahead and sit over there for now? Give you some time to cool off,” he says, removing his cape. “I can take care of her.”

                I walk away in a daze and plop down on the ground a few feet away and start rocking back and forth, trying to convince myself that this was all a horrible nightmare.

 

 

                “This was your sister I assume?” The man asks, walking over to crouch next to me.

                “Yes,” I say the single syllable breaking. “She is.”

                “What are you going to do?”

I shake my head sadly. “I don’t know.”

“You could tell the police.”

“And cause a panic? Besides, I didn’t get a good look at his face, and if I told the police, he would just go and hide and no one would ever find him.”

“He could kill someone else.”

I drop my head into my hands. “I know.”

“What are you going to do about your sister?”

A sob escapes my throat. “I don’t know.”

“Tell your parents?”

I shake my head. “How could I tell them that I sat here and watched her be murdered? How could I tell them she was murdered? I can’t cause them that pain.”

“Perhaps you could tell them she just went missing.”

I frown “Why would I do that?”

“Well,” he pauses, as if contemplating his answer. “They would never have to know about her murder. They would be frantic for a few years, obviously, but there would be hope. If they knew she was murdered, they would be devastated, and would never be able to let her rest in peace.”

“She was murdered, I don’t think you get to rest in peace if you’re murdered,” I mutter. “But even if I did that, how would they not find out about her?”

“You could, uhm, dispose of her corpse.”

A strangled gasp escapes my throat and I stare at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Well, how else will your parents be able to go on? If you just leave her here then someone will find her. You have to-”

“Bury her,” I say, comprehension coming slowly.

He shakes his head. “No, someone would find her. You can’t throw her in the river either.”

I try to block the image of my sister floating down the river from my mind, but am unsuccessful.

“So what do I do then?” I ask, trying to erase the horrible image from my mind.

“Well I would think it obvious,” he says, staring at me. I dimly realize that he has grey eyes, a rare color in such a small town. “We have to burn her body.”

I grow pale at the thought of having to watch Clair burn.

“It would be no different than her being cremated,” The man assures me.

I shake my head slowly. There were so many ways this night could go. None of them good. Reluctantly, I find myself agreeing.

“Fine. We will burn her.” I whisper, dread gripping my heart.

The man pulls a lighter out of the waistband of his pants.

“Let’s get to work then.”

 

11:23 p.m.

                 I stare at the flames licking at Clair’s face. We had left her on the stone table. It was granite, the mysterious man had said, so it wouldn’t leave scorch marks. What was left could be scrubbed off.

                “We need to stay with her the whole time,” the man says, walking over to stand next to me. “So that we can gather her ashes and clean up the mess from the fire.”

                I nod numbly.

                “You sure you don’t want to sit? It’s going to be a while.”

                I shake my head.

                The man shrugs and plops down next to me, and wraps himself up in his cape, which he had removed from Clair shortly before setting her ablaze. I shudder at the thought of wearing the garment that had soaked up her blood.

                “What’s your name?” I whisper, staring into the flames, trying to remember the bright, vibrant child that Clair had been mere hours earlier.

                The man hesitates before answering. “Ron.”

                I say nothing, but file it away for later use.

                We sit in silence for a few moments before Ron speaks.

                “And… yours?” he asks.

                “Luna.” I answer.

                Neither of us says another word as we stare into my sister’s funeral flames.

 

2:07 a.m.

 

I breathe out slowly as Ron stomps out the last dying embers of Clair’s impromptu crematorium. Neither of us had spoken in the last two and a half hours, and I was extremely grateful to him for not trying to make conversation.

“I want to scatter her ashes in the river,” I say, stepping forward.

Ron shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. Though you realize it won’t be all her ashes right?”

I nod.

He pulls out a Ziploc bag and together we begin gathering her ashes.

 

2:34 a.m.

 

                I shake the plastic bag, dumping its contents into the river. Clair had always lover the river. She would sneak out to swim in it while Zack would stomp around in the mud on the riverbank. During the summer mom and dad could hardly ever get her out of the water. The river seemed like the best resting place for her, everything considered.

                I hand the bag back to Ron, due to my lack of pockets.

                “Now what?” he asks, shoving it into his pants pocket.

                “I find the bastard that did this,” I snarl.

                “And when you find him?”

                “I make him pay.”

                “And how exactly will you go about doing that?” Ron asks a distasteful tone in his voice.

                “I don’t know,” I sigh. “Give him a piece of my mind, maybe take a few swings at him, and then turn him into the police I guess.”

                “For what?” Ron asks, the distasteful tone gone.

                “Murder of course.”

                “We just destroyed the evidence.”

                “Crap!” I scream. I kick angrily at the river bank, my mind racing. “What about the knife?”

                “He’s probably already cleaned it, used bleach to get rid of any traces of DNA, and hidden it.”

                “Well there’s gotta be something!” I cry. “I mean, he drank her blood!”

                “Maybe that’s it.” Ron says softly.

                I pause. Maybe he was right. After all, if police could find alcohol in your bloodstream, or tell if you’d taken drugs two weeks ago, surely they could tell that he had drunk blood. “I think that just may be it,” I grin. “We’ll find him, apprehend him, then have them search for the different blood in his bloodstream or pump his stomach or something.”

                “Great.” Ron says.

                “But I have no idea where to find him,” I moan.

                “I may be able to help with that,” Ron grins, turning to me.

 

Swingers Part VII

How do you define Swinging? Can you swing solo? 

 

 

Part VII: All That Glitters

by

Abyrne Mostyn

 

 

Tangyr glanced about the modest room, slipped off her shoes and sat down on a small settee. The gold lame mask in her hand making her smile. It was not your everyday mask, what could it mean? The whorls and scroll work extending up from the area about the temples on the mask making it seem baroque or more than just an identity concealment. Fun.

She unzipped the bag she had been handed and now brought out the items with careful hands, inspecting each of the meager pieces. Upon first glance into the bag she had seen small shimmers of gold and had thought they were pasties. They weren’t. They were similar but something much more than a simple stick on. She wondered absently for a few moments if all the females would be adorned the same.

The first item she withdrew was elaborate gold lame and sequins, something of a paisley shape, but nothing as stodgy as a simple paisley. Reaching in she withdrew an identical, if opposite facing piece. Each one with a small O-ring clasp on the back that didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how they were affixed, or where. Next came out a scoop-looking piece, though it was more a quarter curve that seemed to be more flexible with a tail of feathers opposite the wide top. It too was gold, glitter and sequin. Someone had planned for the dismal March to be broken by quite a party. The clasp on this piece was significant and would be no small matter to attach. Already she trembled with excitement to try them on.

Deciding that the odd piece of the grouping might be easier if she didn’t have to fight with the matching ones, she slipped off her filmy slacks, thigh-highs and her favorite thong folding them carefully before setting them aside. Tangyr studied the piece for a few moments before she figured out it was a clit-clamp. Tricky thing about these types of clamps, you had to be erect to attach it. Excitement had gotten her part of the way, but she was nowhere near enough to the stubborn knot of nerves she would need to attach the piece and get it to stay.

Her own emerald green eyes stared back from the mirror on the wall. Sliding the mask into place she stared, becoming the voyeur and the victim of her own wandering hands. Long slender fingers trailed from knees to hips, around and between the globes of her arse and back to the front again before toying with the top line of the scream of dark curls. Twisting and furrowing, outlining and venturing to the midline and back she watched as she teased herself. Waiting for a short eternity before sliding one finger between the folds to check her progress, damp. Bringing that finger and another with it to her lips she wet them both before returning to the little button she hid at the cleft of her and began a slow pressure-ful turn.

Turning, pressing and turning some more she could feel the bud begin to wrap itself tighter. Feel the clench and unclench all the way through to her stomach. Feel the nipples that she hadn’t exposed tighten to small pebbles and become ultra-sensitive to the slide of her satin camisole. Dipping those same fingers back an inch and sliding up and down within her core, she was more than damp now, but now, she wanted it all. Watching avidly as the fingers came out again shiny and iridescent she changed directions of the turning against her clit, rubbing with a finger along each side of it and a pressure building between. She watched as her lips parted so she could pant, and her free hand scratched streaks up her thigh as she pushed herself higher. Watched as her own hand turned faster and faster, her hips begin to pulse in a rhythm they knew by heart, and her teeth come to bite down on her bottom lip to stifle the cry as she wet the inside of her thighs with the proof that she was ready.

Grabbing a few tissues from the table to wipe up some, she pinched the cross-clamp open and pulling back the labia that were still shiny with her release; she slid the opening over the angry pink bud and released it to grab hold. The immediate tension and pressure nearly had her releasing again. The piece designed to keep her on the edge, a pleasure and a torture all at the same time. The tail that seemed to plume and cover the essentials of her arse seeming very showgirl in her mind, but also something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Wasting no time as her nipples were still standing up for attention, she slipped from her blouse and camisole, rolling the tight tips against her open palms before squeezing the O-rings open and attaching the pieces with the paisley points up and out. The pinching not comfortable, but not uncomfortable either, instead something like a constant biting feeling and again her core wept. This night would be a wet one.

Sliding on the nude slippers, she took off all her jewelry, put her accoutrements in the bag, zipped it closed, locked it, and slid the key band onto her wrist. Setting the bag aside to a shelf with the others, she took one last look in the mirror before opening the door and entering a festival in full swing. Smiling as she recognized Carnival, she hummed as she walked. Making her way to the far table for a drink and to see what was on the menu she stopped abruptly when someone gave a soft tug on the feathers of her tail. The sensation shot an electric current through her clit, up thru her stomach, and nearly had her moaning. Having taken her release before she entered just moments ago, everything was still hyper-sensitive. Turning, she found a tall leggy blonde with honey eyes watching her intently from behind her cerulean mask. The woman pointing to the scratch marks up her own thigh before motioning to Tangyr’s.

“You too?” was all she said. Tangyr’s soft shrug and giggle the only response she could muster as she nodded. The blonde circled her like a lion measuring a quarry, standing behind her, inhaling deeply as she tugged the feathers again just enough to make Tangyr’s knees go weak before she leaned in to whisper in her ear;

“Work the room, have a drink but know this much...I will have you in my bed this night. If you taste as good as you smell right now, I’m not of a mind to share, but your choice. Two of us? Or three?”

Tangyr took all of three seconds to turn the tables on her, circling her as she stood still this time; before stopping behind her, pulling rhythmically and repeatedly on the feathers that controlled the clit, inhaling slowly watching the goose bumps rise on the blondes arms and back before whispering back;

“If you think you can handle me alone, I dare you to try.”


Read Part VI here
Read Part V here
Read Part IV here
Read Part III here
Read Part II here
Read Part I here


Faere Warrior: Passion's Price Pt 7

Leevander rescued his warrior from the clutches of the slayer, and translated him to Faery.  On the brink of war, the loss of their human warrior may cost them the battle to their Unseelie brethren.  Is hope lost?  Will Keegan survive the attack?  Will he be forever damaged from the Dark Fae blood coursing through his veins?  The last time a human was infected with Unseelie blood, the corrupted mad man nearly destroyed an entire race of humans.

Faere Warrior:

 

Passion's Price Pt 7

 

The Faerie Court

 

by

 

Ellie Mack 

Leevander handed Keegan off to one of their house servants. He didn't touch Keegan, but rather "floated" him to the ornate bed chamber draped in diaphanous silks. Two female servants quickly moved, to attend his needs.

Urias smirked, the way they fawned over the human was pathetic. The Fae were a proud noble race.  Well, he had been before he had been trapped on earth; imprisoned by a group of humans, tortured and tormented by a female slayer that was bound to the Dark Prince. Leevander had rescued him two centuries ago in human time, and Urias had served him ever since.

"Urias, I need you to accompany me to the queen."  Leevander stripped from his clothing and donned his regal  prince's robe.  Requesting court time with his mother was no small matter, but this was urgent. He motioned Urias to follow as he moved quickly in long loping strides toward the main hall.

"Do you remember the woman slayer who held you in irons?"

A low growl at the back of his throat, Urias replied, "Of course.  I shall never forget her."

Leevander stopped, turning towards his servant. "Can you project me an image?"

Urias quickly threw an image on the white marble wall in front of them.

"Remove the anger and malice from her expressions."

Urias rolled his eyes, then rolled his shoulders.  He'd have to work at that. It had been one of his defenses to make her angry and malicious, when in fact she had slowly seduced him, tricked him in the very way of the Fae to entrapment.  There was nothing more shameful for him than to be tricked by a human woman.  He calmly motioned towards his projection, removing the harsh lines from her features.

Leevander gasped.  "Look at your projection Urias,  is that accurate?"

Urias opened his eyes to view his projection.  She had been beautiful. He felt the physical desire he felt for her so many years ago. He remembered the nights of passion they had shared and he hardened. It had been a week of pure pleasure before she tricked him into the iron cuffs.  As soon as the cuffs were fastened on his ankles and wrists, he knew.

He was forced to watch his female serve her true master, the Dark Prince. Watched him beat her, punish her, then bring her to orgasm multiple times in front of him. At one point, her lips were on him, her beautiful mouth taking him deep into her throat like no human or Fae ever had, while the Dark Prince was pounding into her, sneering at Uriah, telling him he was no better than his pet that served him.
Urias dropped his head.  A meek "Yes, my lord, it is accurate. Painfully so."

Leevander took him by the shoulders,giving him a firm squeeze. "You've done well. No one faults you for giving into her charms, I've seen her. She seduced our warrior there." 

He motioned to where Keegan lay, helpless on the bed as the two women bathed his body tenderly with slow loving strokes. "Can you cast the same image for the queen?"

Urias nodded that he could.

"Combined with my image, this may be just the break we need to secure the pact once and for all."


         *                *             *              *


"Come forward Leevander." The queen motioned her son and his servant forward.  "What is so vitally important that you have interrupted my court?"

"Your majesty."  Leevander bowed low before the Queen. It was no trivial matter at all to disrupt her court, but he felt it necessary even if he had to bear the punishment.  "My apologies for the interruption.  I do believe this is important, if your majesty will allow me a few minutes of your time."

She shifted, consulting her current companion, Oban.  It irritated Leevander that his mother chose younger and younger lovers.  Oban was the same age as he was. Granted, the Fae didn't show their true age, but they were all well aware of the years. Oban pawed his mother's arm then snaked around her waist, then over her breast. She glanced up, seeing Leevander's disapproval.

"Do you disapprove of my current choice?"

"No, your majesty.  As queen it is your right to choose your suitor."

"Keep that in mind before you cast your glances in my direction.  It doesn't matter that you are my son, I will still punish you."

It was true.  She had never let a little thing like being her own children stop her from anything she chose. "Yes, your majesty."

"Enough of formality, come greet your mother with a proper kiss."
Leevander stepped forward, giving her a kiss on her cheek, and a hug.

As soon as Leevander stepped back, Oban lifted the queen from her chair and positioned her in his lap, while he traced lazy circles over her shoulders and down her breasts.

Leevander cleared his throat, looking away. "I have just come from the human realm where I had to rescue our warrior from poisoning."
"What does it matter to me whether he is poisoned?"  Her fingers now trailing over Oban's arm.

"Poisoned by Dark Fae blood." He turned back, leveling his eyes with hers.

"Do you have proof?  That is a lofty accusation."

"Mother, please.  Do you think I am fool enough to interrupt your,"  he motioned with his hands in a small circle, "Your court, if I didn't feel it was valid with valid proof?"

She sat up, squinting her eyes at her son. "Then you best be about producing it."

He recounted briefly Urias humiliation and had Urias project his vision.  "As you know, that was two human centuries ago. Now, allow me to convey the current situation."

As he relayed to her the proceedings, and gave a projection of the mormo, the queen gasped.

"I am not finished. It gets worse."  Leevander walked up and down the dais, conveying the events and how he found Keegan he cast multiple projections about the room for all to see.  The final projection was of Selena laid on the bed, appearing exactly the same as in Urias' projection.

"Even worse, my Queen is this final bit."  He showed his last projection as a movie, when he spoke the Faery tongue causing her glamour to fade and making her tattooed skin visible. Urias, is this not the same woman that served the Dark Prince before he was imprisoned?

Urias stood wide eyed, his mouth gaping.  He had thought her dead so many years ago.  Had hoped that she died horribly twisted.   "Yes, my lord, it is her.  Selena Mubarak.  She was the queen elect of the Egyptian empire."

Murmers broke out amongst the crowd. Whispers, gasps, and looks of terror in the eyes of his Fae brethren.

He approached his mother, the Queen within two steps. "I can destroy the momo, but the woman has been taking the elixir and wears the cuffs of Nuada, first king to our race, conqueror of the Firbolg."
Everyone bowed and said the chant respecting the name of their high king. "She is mind linked, and spiritually bound to him.  I read the runes tattooed upon her breasts, marking her as his bride.  He has managed to either escape, or project himself from within his prison.  When was the last time that anyone checked to see if it's really him in that cell, or if he's managed to escape and we actually hold one of the guards that's been glamoured?"

The Queen rose slowly.  She paced a few steps across the front of her throne.  She turned and dismissed Oban.  He pouted for a moment but her sharp dagger stares quickly urged him out of the room. She ordered the court dismissed and the high council to convene instantly.

She summoned two of her guards, sending one to retrieve the momo, the other to check the prison cell. She turned to Leevander.  "You and Urias will convey all to the council.  I forgive your intrusion this time as it is vital information. So what of our poisoned warrior?  Have we lost him?"

"NO, he is here.  I brought him here to my palace.  He is being bathed by my servants."

"How often have you given him a dose of elixir already?  We still have that matter of Sir Robert to contend with."

Sir Robert was Keegan's uncle.  He had been the first knight to be drafted by the Seelie into serving their needs. They had yet to fulfill their bargain with him.

"Three doses so far.  He isn't immortal, but longevity; I'd say he'll live three times his normal life with the current level. It wasn't enough to counter the green blood of the Momo's sting however.  I don't know if we can save him."

The Queen summoned her aid, and sent him to tend to Keegan. "Come.  We have much to attend."

Leevander and Urias followed the traditional six steps behind the queen as they moved to the council room. 


               *            *             *            *


Salena woke, stretching lazily, fully sated from the evening before with Keegan.  She had been surprised by the instant desire she had felt for him again. She was a little sad that he wasn't in her bed when she woke.  Another round or two would be a great way to start her day. 

His clothes lay strewn on the floor with hers, but there was no sign of him.  Surely he hadn't left naked.

Full of energy, she made her way to the bathroom. Wondering if Keegan had gone into the kitchen to prepare them a meal, she washed her face.  Opening her eyes for the first time, she gasped. 

The glamour spell had worn off.  Every rune, every glyph, every wrinkle stared back at her in the reflection.  Her course, aged hair little more than straw sticking out of a pruny ancient old woman.   

"OH gods!"   What if Keegan had caught a glimpse of her like this?  NO wonder he fled!  

Selena's blood curdling scream was heard by Siamm, but she was too weak to come to her aid.  Siamm tried to move and managed about two feet before collapsing. 

A black cloth fell over Siamm.  "Nasty little bugger aren't you?"
She was to weak to fight, too weak to defend her mistress, and too weak to cry out to Master. 
 

Read Chapter 6 here

Read chapter 5 here
Read chapter 4 here
Read chapter 3 here
Read chapter 2 here
Read chapter 1 here

Love Notes Chapter 10

Have you been  enjoying Love Notes?  Leave a comment and let me know what you think of it.  This is the last installment for the free share.  If you are interested in continuing with Love Notes, leave me a message and I'll let you know when it's published!  Thank you everyone for the support. Next week will begin a new story, a paranormal romance.

 
Now, let's back up a bit from last week's ending.  I did tell you this was a first draft?  Well I made a huge change in the plot and took off in a different direction.  I think you'll like the changes.

Love Notes Chapter 10

by

Ellie Mack & Ben Hannigan

chapter 9

            She quickly jumped up to answer. "Hello?" It was a London number, but not Rob.

            "Ms. Colson? Stephanie Colson?" It was a sultry female voice.

            "Yes?" She couldn't imagine who it could be. "Who is this?"

            "Ms. Colson, there's been an accident. Mr. Taylor has requested you be notified. He's in critical condition. "

            She didn't hear anything else the woman said. "What? Rob is hurt? Where? What happened?" Tears welled in her eyes. No, this couldn't be happening. "What room? Where do I need to go?"

            "Calm down Ms. Colson. He's stable at the moment, but if you could get here soon."

            "Yes, yes of course just give me the address." She scribbled furiously, swiping at the tears.   She closed out the call, looking around feeling immense guilt that she'd been masturbating while he was in critical condition. "Oh baby I'm so sorry," It came out barely more than a whisper. Quickly she dressed, and slipped on a pair of sandals. Mr. Prince was roughly tossed back into the box, the lid set on top. She grabbed a light sweater on her way out.

            Frantically Stephanie went to the front desk and asked the man what was the best way to get to the hospital from there.  Smelling the alcohol on her he called a cab. It was only a few minutes before the cab arrived.

Chapter 10

            Stephanie slid into the seat. “Alright love, where’s it you need to be?”

            She thrust the paper in front of him, as she could barely keep from bursting into tears. Her lips quivering , she gave him an anguished look.

            The driver tried to make small talk.  “OK, so you need to get to the hospital, got a mate in there or family?”

            “My boyfriend.”  Stephanie blinked furiously, her breathing coming in small pants, her voice barely more than a whisper.

            "Should be about 20 depending on this fucking traffic.  Get a move on mate!  I haven’t got all sodding day.  Sorry about that.  This fuckwit in the van can’t drive.”

            “No problem.”  She swiped at her tears.

            He reaches into the glove box and hands her a tissue. “If it’s a mate in there they’ll be fine.  It’s a good place.  It’s where I’d go if I had the choice.  Stay green!  Come on you fucking clown move!  Fucking tourist drivers.”  He leaned out of the window towards the car. “Stay out of London!” He turned his head back to her. “Sorry Love.”

            Stephanie turned from the window to look at the driver.   Danny Bowers, the license tag read. “Yes.  He was in an accident.”

            “Is he ok love? Or you not been told anything? Want to stop get him anything? Paper?  Bunch of grapes?”

            “Bunch of grapes?  What?”  The driver gave her a sly grin explaining a British perceived custom.  She realized he was trying to lighten her mood.  The tears flowed now, a steady stream down her cheeks.  She nodded at the driver keeping her blurred gaze out the window. ‘Please God let him be ok.’  She couldn’t picture her life without Rob, didn’t want to.  Somehow, he had to be ok for them to be together. 

                                    *                      *                      *                      *                      *

                Rob  rolled into the small car park and waited.  His orders were to meet the contact and hand over the package; nice, easy, simple. He really needed to come clean with Stephanie, share the truth with her.  He wasn't wearing his body amour because it would have been awkward to hide in the hotel room.  It was a safety violation but the job didn’t seem to be dangerous enough to need it.  Still, he checked his holster making sure it was secured one last time.

                The van rolled in and as the door slid open he realized that he had really dropped a bullock here. This wasn’t going to be a simple package handover.  Rather than the single courier he expected, the van was full of armed men.  They casually stepped out into positions, preparing for a shootout. 

                Drawing casually, the last thing he thought before the first shot rang out was “Bugger! I’ve been having such a good week as well.” They shot first; he took one to the right arm.  He radioed in to his boss on the emergency signal that ‘something was very wrong’ before taking his shooting stance. He executed a perfect Mozambique drill on the first two shooters, the third took a bullet to the chest and dropped immediately, and the final shooter dove back into the van spraying a burst from a clunky looking submachine gun.  It nailed Rob in the left leg.  A sharp pain hit him in his gut as he dove out of the rain of bullets.  Rob fired, smiling in satisfaction upon hearing the scream which indicated a hit.  He radioed the plates on the van to his boss before he allowed himself to hit the floor and sink into the relative escapist bliss of unconsciousness.

                He was awakened about fifteen minutes later by a paramedic who tried to convince him to go to hospital.

                 “Look mate, just patch me up. I need to go speak to the boss.” Rob stood and limped from the ambulance bandaged.  When challenged he flashed his ID badge and was allowed to leave when the police realized that this was a “Firm” job.   Flagging down a cab, he got back to Vauxhall and walked through security, dripping a trail of blood as he went to report to the boss.

                After his grilling he limped to his bike, feeling the pain from his wounds now that the adrenaline rush was receding.  He sped home to his flat, feeling the let down hit him hard. He jumped in the shower and threw on a change of clothes.   He  texted  Stephanie asking her to come to the flat.

                He managed to get to the door and the world went black.  Rob’s elderly neighbor Mrs. Tillman found Rob slumped on the pavement in his entryway with a mobile phone in his hand displaying the message “Error message not sent.”  She immediately called Danielle Vicenzi, Rob’s beautiful girlfriend. She arrived in mere minutes, stepping out of a black Range Rover with two other men.  Danielle motioned the men, and thanked Mrs. Tillman.  “We’ll get him checked out.  He’s been working long hours lately.”   The two men carried Rob to the car supported between them.  They rushed him to the small private hospital he officially worked for. He was rushed into theatre, and immediately prepped for surgery.  They were the finest surgeons in the entirety of the UK, but Rob had lost a lot of blood.  They  patched up his wounds and set up in a private room under guard.

                Rob drifted in and out of consciousness as the anesthesia wore off.  Unbeknownst to him his handler was there watching, waiting for the arrival of this mystery yank who had captured the heart of the gent she referred to as hers.

                He awoke to a hand wiping his brow with a damp cloth, dabbing at the sweat.  He smiled deeply “Steph”.  The figure growled and stood fuming, waiting for this yank to arrive.

                *                             *                             *                             *                             *

                Stephanie swiped at the tears, not even trying to hide them now.  She paid the cabbie “Thank you Danny.”  She ran into the hospital, heading for the main desk to ask directions.  She was issued a pass card for the fifth floor.  Stephanie found the restrooms next to the elevator, and washed her face, attempting to hide the swollen eyes, and streaked makeup.  She touched up her makeup, and dabbed a little blush.  It would never fool Rob, but she looked a little better.

                Not having any idea what she was walking into, she said a quick prayer and hoped for the best.  As soon as the elevator opened she knew it was much worse than she had anticipated.  The guard was armed, and asked to see her pass.  He directed her down the corridor to where two more armed men stood by a door.  When she approached, one of them asked for the pass.  She strained to see around him into the room to see Rob.  It was no use.  The guard efficiently blocked her view and her path.  He radioed “Your yank is here.”

                A tall slender woman walked from the room.  She had the grace and beauty of a model.  Long flowing dark hair, big doe eyes that were vivid blue, full luscious lips, a long neck, average sized breasts and slender waist and hips.  She strode with an air of confidence that most women envied.  She wore black fitted trousers, and a black leather blazer over a white mock turtleneck figure hugging sweater.  In two seconds Stephanie knew she was Rob’s lover, either past or present.

                She couldn’t blame him really, what man could resist a woman that looked like this?  Was he still seeing her?  Her heart sank and the tears threatened to rise for another reason.  Stephanie gulped as the elegant woman reached out her hand.  “Dani Vicenzi, I work with Rob.  Let’s walk shall we?”

                It had been her voice on the phone.  “But Rob.”  Stephanie wanted desperately to see him, to make sure he was ok. 

                “He’s stable.  Let’s walk.”  Her voice was curt, and she had a grasp on Stephanie’s elbow that was almost painful.  Dani led her to a small table in a waiting room, where she pulled the chair out for her, motioning her to sit as if she were a criminal.

                Stephanie sat, her defenses rising.  She had never imagined Rob would be hurt.  She certainly hadn’t anticipated meeting his lover, and now the woman was assessing her with a look of disapproval that clearly stated she felt Stephanie was no threat to her. 

                “So I finally get to meet Rob’s yank.  We had a good thing ‘til you came along.”  The woman glanced to the windows, her jaw clenched.  “He’s in this mess because of you, you know.  Trying to protect you from the truth, he didn’t wear his armour, and he’s lost a lot of blood.”

                “What?” Stephanie was stunned by her statement. “What happened?  What truth?”

                “Huh!  As I expected.  He hasn’t even told you, has he?”  Dani leaned forward, clasping her hands together and made a menacing smile.  “Well, I’ve nothing to fear then have I?  You’re just another passing fancy. He’ll ship you back to the states, and this will all be over?”  Dani eased back in her chair, her arm draped over the back. "Hopefully sooner than later."

                “What truth?  What has happened to Rob?”  She had to ignore the woman’s words.  Even if they were true, there was nothing she could do now and crying wasn’t going to help. She cared about Rob, and even if he did ship her back, she couldn’t just walk away from him being injured.

                “He was making a routine exchange, except it went wrong.  There were six of them, and they got the drop on Rob.  He took three bullets. We didn’t know about the third, until we got him here and prepped.”  She  glared at Stephanie assessing her, and passing the guilty verdict all at once.  “He’s been asking for you.”

                “I’d like to see him, please.”  Beautiful women always got away with being bitches.  This one was being especially bitchy to her.  Stephanie gambled, based on her earlier statement that she wasn’t a current lover but the ex.  Probably recent ex, explaining this anger directed at Stephanie.  “I was not aware that Rob was engaged in any other relationship.  When he’s feeling well, we’ll confront him together.  Right now I’d like to see him, please.”  The last almost pleading with the woman’s sensibilities.

                “Hmmph.”  She stood, raising slowly from the table. “Do not upset him.”

                Stephanie stood, squaring off with Dani. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

                They walked the short distance down the hall, Stephanie close on Danielle’s heels.  She knew the woman wouldn’t leave her alone with Rob, it didn’t matter.  She had to see him. When she rounded the corner to his bed, she wasn’t prepared for the tubes, and machines that he was surrounded by.  Her hand went to her mouth as she gasped.  Stephanie quickly stepped to his side. “Rob baby, what happened?”  Her hand stroked his hand as the tears fell.  A light brush from her other hand swiped the strand of hair from his face. “Oh baby, I’m here.”

                Rob shifted in the bed, turning his head towards his angel's voice. “Steph” his voice weak and raspy.

                “I’m here baby.”  She leaned in close to him, kissing his forehead. 

                “I messed up babe.  I was going to tell you.  I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

                The tears welled.  So it was true.  Dani was his lover. She was just a bit on the side, to pass the time.  She leaned over, kissing his forehead again.  “It’s OK Rob, you can tell me all about it when you’re well.”  She pushed down the urge to lash out at him.  She'd been the one that assumed there was more than it was.  She clamped down her emotions like a vice, putting on her professional face. "I'm here for you Rob."

                He smiled weakly up at her. “Stay with me?”

                “Sure baby.  I just got here.  I’ll stay for as long as you want me here.” She couldn’t help but glance at Dani.  The mixed emotions of the woman's rudeness to her, the anger at Rob for putting her in the middle of this triangle, the heartache seeing him pale and weak in the hosptial bed all churned within her heart, causing it to ache  in a way she never even felt at Trevor's betrayal.  How could she be so naive?  She moved the strand of hair that kept falling forward back into place again. Despite the heartache, she decided that she'd stay until Rob was better.  Then she'd gather her things, head home and bury herself in work and try to forget Rob Taylor, the man she loved.  "For you, I'll stay."

                Dani rolled her eyes, turned and stepped out of the room.

                She scooted the chair close to his bed. He rolled slightly on his side facing her, letting out a pained wince as he tried to adjust to a comfortable position.  She sat on her knees in the chair, raised up just slightly to be closer to him.  She leaned over again to kiss his forehead and he raised his lips to hers.  “I’m sorry my darling.  It wasn’t suppose to go down like this.”

                She nodded in agreement.  He probably never intended her to know about Dani, much less be in the situation where they’d meet.  Even though she knew Dani was just outside the door and could come back any minute, or maybe even wishing that somehow he’d choose her over gorgeous Dani, Stephanie kissed him.  A light brushing of her lips against his.  A gentle loving kiss like they’d shared  on the sofa.  “I’m here Rob.  I’ll stay with you.”

                Just till he got well.  Until he was able to be on his own.  Then she’d pack up and go home and try to get over her broken heart.

                “Can you get closer darling?  Lay here beside me?”

                “Oh I don’t know if the nurses would like that.”

                He looked so sad and disappointed. “OK."  She conceded.  "But if the nurse yells at me I’m telling her you wanted me to.”

                He grinned weakly “And I’ll deny it and play innocent.” 

                She scooted onto the edge of the bed, easing between him and the side rail.  It was an uncomfortable fit, but she didn’t want to make him move again as painful as it sounded when he did. 

                His arm went around her, and held her close. “OH Gods Stephanie. All I could think about is you.  About us.  How I messed everything up now.”

                How  could it feel so right to lay in his arms, yet know it was so wrong with the other woman outside the door?  “You can tell me all about it later babe.  Get some rest so you can heal.” The sooner  he healed the sooner she could go back to her life alone.

                Just then the nurse came in.  She cleared her throat. “Miss, we generally don’t allow the visitors to share the patient’s bed.”

                Stephanie blushed and started to move back to the chair. “NO!  She stays with me.” For an injured man, his grip was tight as he held her close to him.

                The nurse stepped closer putting a shot of something in his iv drip.  “Yes sir, Mr. Taylor.”  She gave a slight smile to Stephanie.  “Just be careful with your lines.”

                Stephanie was acutely aware of the tubes attached to various parts of him. “Where’s the call button if he needs you?”

                The nurse reached behind Stephanie’s back, “there’s a call button right here on the rail; and there’s one there.”  She motioned on the wall just behind the iv caddy.

                Rob cuddled into Stephanie, kissing her throat softly. The medication was already taking effect as he drifted into sleep.  Her fingers played over his muscular arms and down his back.  He was asleep in minutes.  Stephanie quietly asked the nurse to fill her in on his injuries.  The nurse got the chart and quietly shared the information about the bullet wounds.  Stephanie’s brows furrowed. “Bullet wounds?  What?  How?”

                The nurse answered her “ I don’t know how just where.  She leaned over Stephanie.  He’s been asking for you since he came in, assumin’ you’re Stephanie.”

                She nodded in agreement that she was.

                “That harpie out there has been irritatin’ him something fierce. Pacing back and forth, questioning Mr. Taylor.” She patted Stephanie’s arms.  “Being a regular nuisance, questioning me about my job.  You just stay put right there, and I’ll get a pillow so you can get more comfortable.”   She brought Stephanie an extra pillow and even a blanket.  She placed a plastic bag with toiletries on the tray.  “If you need anything you just buzz me.” 

                Rob snuggled closer, wincing slightly as his movement strained, a drowsy rumble in his chest as he relaxed into her.  She slowly drifted off to sleep entwined with Rob, perhaps for the last time.