An Unexpected Crew Pt. 02

"MORE! MASTER BEDROOM! AT LEAST FIVE!"

"I'VE GOT YOUR SIX!"

As I reached the hallway to our bedroom, I heard... and saw, Gwen kill two black dressed figures leaving our bedroom. Then she let loose ten or more suppressed rounds through the door and into our bedroom. I turned my back to her and took a defensive stand for anyone entering our home. I heard her exchange magazines in her rifle.

"I love you," Gwen shouted.

"I love you," I replied. I prayed no one would come around that corner where I was looking. I also prayed...

"GRENADE!"

I heard the vicious device hit the wall and floor immediately behind me. I rolled from my position, into the living room, and braced against the wall to my left... pressing myself to the floor... My head, furthest from the hallway I just left. Holding my ears and facing downward.

Right before the round went off, I heard muffled gunfire from down the hallway. Then...

The report... deafening.

The bright light consumed everything around me. I could see the blood vessels in my closed eyelids because of the light.

I shook my head. I blinked. Primal brain still functioning. I took up defensive position behind my lounge chair. Praying Gwen didn't take that...

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

My prayer answered. A pause...

A muffled round went off.

"I'M NOT GOING TO ASK AGAIN!"

I leapt for the hallway entrance to our bedroom...

"I'M STILL ON THE SIX!" I shouted.

I was answered with another suppressed rifle round from my bedroom and a scream of terrifying agony from a male voice. Then I heard talking from our bedroom. Gwen. Too low for me to make out her words. Two minutes later...

"Steve! I think this is over! Jigsaw! I checked the back! Two Zodiacs on the beach! Check the front!"

"Going!"

I rose from my kneeling position and headed for the garage. Clearing the barricade, I entered the garage, opened the far left overhead door and cautiously peered around the corner. Defensive position behind the palm tree. Duck walk to the hedge. Peer around the hedge...

Nothing.

I backward walked toward the garage... my suppressed rifle at ready. I check for neighbors. Nothing out of the ordinary. A lawn crew going about their business two doors away.

Yes. Muzzle suppressors... A soldier's best friend.

I returned to the master bedroom and found a masked man writhing in pain. His foot nearly blown off with a rifle round. A tourniquet around his thigh.

I knelt next to him... "Wanna tell me about it?"

"Fuck you."

Thick Russian accent... I didn't reply. I closed the half destroyed door in our bedroom to the back patio.

I turned to find Gwen standing at the entrance of our bedroom. Still in her sleeping gown. Her pregnant belly visible through the gown. And...

Blood drooling down her left arm, into her wrist and hand. Dripping from her fingers. Her sleeve soaked blackish red.

My heart sank... My Gwen...

"They're still in the panic room. I told them to stay there until help arrived."

I slung my rifle over my shoulder and crossed the room. Into the waiting arms of my lover.

"You're shot."

"A scratch," she whispered, into my ear.

"I can feel your heart pounding."

"No shit, Sherlock."

*****

Ten minutes later, a squad of special operators, in plain clothes... armed with Glocks, appeared in our home.

Can't alarm the neighbors with rifles, now, can I?

The special operators... Checking each and every room, closet, and cranny of our home. Pulling the zodiacs on the beach into the garage... out of sight of curious eyes. Twenty minutes later, a "housekeeping service" arrived. Cleaning up the mess my uninvited guests made.

The scratch on Gwen's upper left arm...

Not a scratch... Twenty nine stitches from being shot. No nerve or tendon damage, according to the former navy corpsman.

My family... still in the panic room. I asked them to remain, through the intercom in my study. I didn't want them to see the dead. My heart leapt when Amara answered my call. Concern in her voice, I asked her to be patient... and that Gwen and I were just fine. I could hear Sydnee singing to our children. My little girl giggling and clapping.

Then... two hours later...

Max Eisen.

"We got the intel twenty minutes before they got to you. We were still analyzing it when we got your panic alarm." He stopped and inspected a bullet hole in the kitchen wall. He spoke to the bullet hole with his back turned to us...

"Twelve men, Gwen. Elite mercenary operators at that... Damn." He turned with a grin to Gwen... "Wanna join my team?"

Gwen rolled her eyes... "Nine. Three are Steve's."

"Survived two stun grenades and a twelve man assault. Fucking amazing. Both of you. Damn glad I talked the two of you into defensive training in Virginia." He stopped in front of me and gave me one of his typical serious looks. "I told myself, if ever this was going to happen, I would get here and find you two dead, or kidnapped." He moved toward the living room and gestured upstairs. "They still up there?"

"Yes. I don't want them to see this."

He turned to me and nodded. "The survivor is a well-known Russian mercenary. We've met before." He turned to Gwen and cocked a grin. "Nikolai tells me you're a vicious fighter. But, he's a little pissed he's going to be limping the rest of his life." He stood in front of Gwen and smiled.

Gwen... a stern look... "I gave him a chance to talk."

Eisen chuckled... "Nik isn't going to get any revenge, Gwen. I promised him that."

I know that code...

Nikolai would be dead within a week. Perhaps today.

I stepped into the living room and watched the last of the "housekeeping" crew mop up the blood from my beautiful marble floors. Bodies... gone. Not a trace.

"A crew will be here within an hour to repair the house. They'll work through tonight, and tomorrow. More, if needed, until it's done. There won't be a trace left from what happened here today. Frankly, I'm amazed the neighbors weren't alerted."

I nodded at his words spoken from behind me. Then... in a subdued voice... Eisen...

"Steve... You know what this means."

Yes. I did.

I gently nodded my head and looked out toward the Intracoastal and the Atlantic, from my demolished living room...

The Russians knew it was me and Gwen.

My life, and the lives of my family would never, ever be the same. I took a deep breath, and with that, my lover took my hand. I couldn't smile to her. I nearly wept, not knowing what our future may hold.

*****

I stood on the back porch of my new home.

Coffee in hand... Reflecting on my recent past.

During the three weeks, after the attack on my home, with the assistance of the CIA and MI6... grateful clients of mine from the past, my family and I received new names, birth certificates, and social security numbers. My assets, including the sale of our home and yacht by a CIA contractor, transferred to three banks in Switzerland... with the grateful permission of the IRS, by order of the President of the United States. Tax free. Secure transfers, when I needed funds, from Switzerland to my new US bank account, under my new name. The same for Gwen, Amara and Sydnee.

Training for me, and my family, to minimize any foot print on our whereabouts. New wills and power of attorney for us all, with my new lawyer. Hand selected by the CIA, for his work with persons, like myself and my family. Hiding, in plain sight, from my enemies.

I was still able to invest. But, not in my name. In the name of an LLC owned by the CIA... funds transferred on occasion to my banks in Switzerland. A special employee, who never met me, would execute the transactions through my instructions on a secure phone and messaging app.

I am depressed. I had to sever personal contact with my family in Texas. Along with the families of Sydnee and Gwen. Only through a secure courier, operated by MI6, could I send messages to, and from my parents. I maintained my financial support for my brothers, through my attorney. To expand their land holdings for the use by my nephews and nieces, who chose to continue the family tradition of farming and ranching. I will miss them all. I sold all my lands to my brothers through a corporation managed by the CIA.

I sent messages to Rosalyn and Mariana. Apologizing for our abrupt disappearance and wishing them many successes for their future. Gwen, Amara, and Sydnee wrote messages, also.

Rosalyn married Rafael and they have a beautiful family together. Four children. I lost track of Mariana... the last I heard, she had graduated from FIU with a business degree and was working at the bank where Rafael was a senior officer.

It broke my heart to see Sydnee leave behind her brief, and successful, career as an Instagram model. She was clearly disappointed. When I tried to apologize...

"Hell, Steve. After four years of knowing you and Gwen, I figured out the two of you had a secret past life, and that you were still living in that secrecy. I just didn't figure strangers would try to kill both of you." She took me into her arms... kissed me her exotic kiss and then, whispered into my ear.

"I can start a new career, or..." She gave me a small peck on the lips. Looking at me with her beautiful eyes behind her eyeglasses... A whisper... "I can be a mother." She wiggled her sexy eyebrow at me.

In the MI6 safe house in Scotland, for the next three days, we screwed each other until I couldn't offer a dribble of cum. I will never forget the erotic experience I had with Sydnee.

In my new home now. In an affluent suburb of Kansas City. Hiding in plain sight. Two months ago, Gwen gave birth to our son... Donald... named for her father. A home birth, attended by a special physician and nurse, who worked often with those under the protection of the government.

Last week, Amara gave birth to our daughter... Teresa. Yesterday... Sydnee announced to me, and then to Gwen and Amara, she was pregnant.

My heart swelled at her announcement. My heart swells holding my new son and daughter. Sarah and Steven fussing over their new brother and sister.

Priceless.

*****

Over the years, and decades, I lived peacefully with my family.

My family and I had no further trouble with the Russians. Max Eisen told me, on a secure call, that the Russians have given up ever finding me and Gwen. They were convinced we were, "radioactive." Killing everyone who came close to us. He laughed his ass off. And, Gwen and I did, too.

I was an assistant youth baseball coach. For all of my sons' teams. I learned to play the piano, so I could help our children study music. I also learned to play the guitar. As a family, we sang often as I played the guitar and piano. It was a blessing to see my lovers, and our children, having fun with song and music.

I tutored my children. An unforgettable experience to see them thrive in their studies. All of them... on to colleges of their choice.

Gwen and I contributed, anonymously, to the Children's Hospital in Kansas City. Our contributions, catching the attention of the board of directors, due to the amounts, they contacted my attorney and requested a meeting. To thank me and Gwen for our generosity.

When told I required complete anonymity, they arranged for my family to meet... in private... the famous Kansas City Royals baseball player, James Young, and his family. His beautiful wife, Angela, their three young daughters, and toddler son. A handsome family. A great honor to meet a Hall of Fame player, and fellow Texan, who likely, is considered the best to ever play the game. Mr. Young was a wonderful man and thanked all of us for our generosity. It was then, I found out, Mr. Young has also contributed great sums to the hospital and a wing at the hospital is named in his honor.

Mrs. Young caught me alone for a moment...

"Mr. Washington. I don't think I've ever met anyone who has three wives."

After explaining my relationship with Gwen, Amara, and Sydnee...

"Let's not give James any ideas, OK?" she giggled. "James went years without a relationship with a woman. He had resigned himself he would never marry and have a family. Until he met me. I would like to keep him to myself." She and I laughed.

Mrs. Young. Her eyes. Hypnotic. A grayish blue color, the likes I've never seen. Beautiful, and exotic.

And... It was nice to visit with fellow Texans.

I purchased a huge ass RV bus. With my family, we visited national parks, state parks and visited every state, except Hawai'i. Even saw a nice portion of Canada. MI6 agents as escorts.

Two sons in the military. Michael, a Captain in the Navy and Ben... a Major in the Air Force. My youngest son, Justin, who I share with Sydnee. An All American baseball player at Texas Tech and the starting third baseman for the Houston Astros.

And my Steven... my oldest son. With Amara.

Steven came to me when he was about to turn 18...

"Dad... I know Mom's parents died before I was born. But... you have never mentioned your parents to any of us. My grandparents."

It was then, I told him the partial truth. That his other mother... Gwen, and I were under the protection of our government for the work we did many years ago. Steven was the only one of my children to know.

I told him, with a broken heart, that his grandparents had passed away. My mother, passing after he turned 16. I told him, without specific details, that I grew up on a farm and that my brothers, nephews, nieces, and their families were still farmers and ranchers in Texas. Turns out, Steven had the natural MacLeish instinct to farm and ranch. He asked if it were possible to meet them.

I called my attorney, and a week later, two MI6 couriers appeared on my doorstep to escort Steven to Texas. I gave Steven specific instructions to never reveal our whereabouts. Two months later, Steven returned to me, and his mother, Amara.

With his mother in his arms...

"I have fallen in love with Texas, Mom. My family in Texas has welcomed me. They told me to tell you and Dad, they are grateful for sending me to them." My beautiful Amara was choking back tears. I was, too. With his mother still in his arms... "Dad, may I go to Texas Tech, like you did? To study agriculture and business. I think I want to make a living from the land, like my ancestors and my Texas family. I want to work with my cousins... buy my own land."

Oh, God. It took me a good ten minutes, before I could answer him. My emotions overwhelming me.

In the years that followed, my Steven became a successful farmer and rancher in the same area of Texas as his extended family. He changed his legal name back to MacLeish and he blended into the family he adopted. Marrying and raising a family. A beautiful wife, three handsome sons and four beautiful daughters. He often returned to his mother and me... under the watchful eyes of MI6 couriers... Bringing his family with him. A beautiful experience to see Amara love her son, daughter in law and her grandchildren. I was told by the MI6 that the Russians hadn't a clue Steven was there, in Texas. A great relief to me because of his name change.

All of my daughters marrying handsome and successful men. When the last of my twelve children married... Emily... my daughter with Sydnee. A fashion model in her own right. An elite fashion model. Her own label in clothing and accessories. Absolutely beautiful, like her mother. Famous and mixing with celebrities well-known around the world. I was proud of all of my children. All were present for Emily on her special day, with their families.

And...

I was madly in love with my lovers.

Twelve children... Seven daughters and five sons.

Sarah, Donald, and Gwendolyn with Gwen.

Steven, Teresa, Michael, Benjamin, and Rosalyn with Amara.

Ruth, Julie, Justin, and Emily with Sydnee.

Fifty one grandchildren. Twenty one great grandchildren. One great-great grandson.

But now...

I'm not well.

Age has caught up with me.

My heart failing, my breathing is difficult, even with supplemental oxygen. Bedridden in my home for months. My body, weak and feeble.

"Steve."

I turn my head to see my lovely Amara, through cloudy, and blurry eyes. Her whisper... like an angel.

"The doctor says it will be soon, Baby."

I love when Amara calls me, "Baby."

I answer my lover with a nod. My lips... barely any energy to form words. I knew my end was near.

I feel Sydnee take my hand and hold it against her face. Her tears on my withered fingers.

"I love you, Steve. Thank you for sharing your life with me."

My lips quiver in reply, but my words will not come. I think them instead...

"I love you, Sydnee."

Sydnee grooms my white beard with her fingers... her tears left behind in my whiskers... the sensation... Exquisite. Comforting.

My children file in... two by two, into my bedroom. Holding my hands and leaving tears on my fingers and cheeks. Saying their last goodbye. The last of my children to appear at my side... the last words from my child...

My beautiful Sarah... I will miss her so much.

"Daddy," she weeps. "Say hello to Mama for me. Tell her I love her."

My failing heart flutters in my chest at the loss of my Gwen. The agony I bore for weeks, after Gwen died in my arms. I groomed her gray hair with my fingers for half an hour. Tears, soaking my beard, as she passed away in my arms. Amara and Sydnee, mourning with me, over our loss of a beautiful, and loving, lover and mother.

"I love you, Daddy." Beautiful last words from my daughter.

My thoughts... "I love you, Sarah."

On those words, I felt Amara and Sydnee take my hands into theirs. My mind blurs. My feet and hands... chilled. My breaths... labored and wheezing. My lungs... clogged with fluid, I feel like I'm drowning. My chest squeezing like an elephant sitting on me. Painful.

"Baby. Don't suffer any longer. Let it go," I hear... In my mind? Amara?

My brain starved of oxygen, I don't know who offered me their words. My primal brain, stubborn... straining and holding onto my life.

"I love you, Steve."

Yes. Amara. My reply... I think in my mind...

"I love you, Amara."

"Thank you for loving me, Baby."

"Yes... Amara. I love you so much."

Then... through a struggled and gargled breath... then, another... and... another...

I can't... my chest... clogged... immobile. My brain... unclear... I can't see.

I see a white light. A beautiful light. So, so beautiful.

A figure emerges from the light. I feel... Am I?

I'm alive! My eyes widen... Oh, Yes...

Gwen!

Oh, God! Gwen!

"I love you, Steve."

"Oh, I so love you, Gwen."

I embrace my beautiful lover and I kiss her.

Just as I remembered... She's beautiful... soft in my arms...

Our kiss...

Eternal.

The End

#Fantasy... noun... The faculty or activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible or improbable.