Carthago Delenda Est

Veronica was silent as she absorbed the violence from which Jack had come. The images he spun from his words sickened her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and a deep desire to show him the love and affirmation she realized had been so absent from his development. "Which part of that story is what makes you feel happy, Jack?"

She heard him chuckle softly, and recognized the bitterness in it. "Sort of a toss-up; it was so good to see that trooper kick the hell out of him, but it was also great to finally see him go to prison."

"Was he always like that, Jack?"

"As far as I can remember, and from what my aunt, my mother's sister, told me after my mom died, yes, he was always like that, even before I was born." Jack felt Veronica's lungs draw in breath and felt certain he knew what she would ask him next. "She married him because he knocked her up before he was sent to Saudi Arabia in1990, for Desert Shield, which as we know, turned into Desert Storm." Jack told her, preemptively.

"He was in the Army, too?" She asked him.

"No, he was a weapons technician in the Air Force. He was stationed at Ellsworth, in South Dakota, and met my mother at a bar one night in February. From what my aunt told me, they were both drunk, but he waited until she was passed out, then date-raped her and left her on the steps of her trailer. I was the result. Anyway, after my mom sobered up and realized what he did, found out she was pregnant and decided to keep me, she got in touch with the Air Force and filed a paternity claim. After he came back from Desert Storm, he slimed his way into her heart, married her, became an overt drunk, was dishonorably discharged from the Air Force, and spent the rest of his life wallowing in his sorrow and self-pity in between beating up my mother, telling me what a mistake I was, and taking our food stamps and EBT card to go off on benders, and leaving my mom's family to share what little they had with us."

Veronica was silent again, as Jack's story was starkly different from the image she'd always had of what it meant to grow-up white in America. Certainly, Jack hadn't faced any of the systemic or overt racism that she had experienced, nor the generations-deep pain from slavery and overt discrimination her American-born peers had known, but still, the life Jack described was not how she imagined whites to live. "So, your dad and mom, were they both from South Dakota?"

"No, my dad was white trash from Southeast Arkansas; my mom's family were trailer-trash miners, poachers and layabout truck drivers who came to South Dakota in the early 1900s and worked for three generations at the Homestake Mine during its last 80 years, until it closed, after 9-11. You know what, Ronnie?" He asked her, continuing after she said nothing but squeezed his hand in a signal for him to continue. "I'm the only one from either side of my pathetic white-trash family who has a passport, all of my adult teeth, isn't fat and who lives off more than welfare or minimum wage. I think that makes me the first-generation, bonafide human being in my family."

Veronica now turned to face him, and looked into his eyes and felt she saw some of the depth of Jack's self-loathing, shame and hatred for his family and himself. His latent rage made more sense to her now, as did the swiftness with which he'd reacted to her own desperate need for help and looming threat of violence. She must have reminded him, even if not consciously, of his mother, scared and at the mercy of an angry, armed man.

"Honey, please, don't be so hard on yourself or your family. I never met her, but I'm pretty sure your mother was a bonafide human being, too, right?" She asked, and he could see the tenderness in her eyes and knew she wasn't baiting him, but rather appealing to something other than the self-loathing in his personality. He hated himself for allowing that side of his personality to show forth, for exposing her to the self-directed anger that all too easily could turn to pity. He well knew that his inwardly directed anger was a defect of his personality and one which he'd tried hard to isolate, but would always feel shame when it became exposed.

Veronica placed both her hands gently alongside his face and looked deeply into his green, jade colored eyes. "You're not trash, Jack. You're not your father." She told him softly, willing him to truly hear the conviction with which she spoke. "You helped me and loved me when everyone else just took advantage of me, used me or otherwise preyed upon me." She gently traced her right index finger along his left cheek and continued to look at his eyes. "You're better than anyone else I have ever known, baby." She told him, and closed her eyes as she kissed him lovingly. When she opened her eyes, she saw the whites of his eyes had become somewhat pink and that the edges of his lids ever so slightly shined with moisture.

"Thanks, Ronnie." He said hoarsely and quickly sat-up, angrily wiped his right hand and forearm across face, cleared his throat, stood up and walked toward the bedroom door.

"Jack." She said to his naked back, and he stopped, but did not turn around. She got up from the bed, as naked as he, and quickly walked to him and wrapped her arms fiercely around his waist, holding him tightly and gently kissing the back of his neck and shoulders. "You're a good man, Jack. I love you, very much." She whispered to him, and she felt his ribs flex outward once, violently, and she heard him take in a deep breath, and clear his throat again, angrily, and felt him turn around to face her, and put his arms around her, holding her close. She knew he was keeping his breathing deep and measured and was not willing to deal any longer with the soup of toxic memories and explosive psychology that still poisoned his soul.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He said guardedly to her, kissed her once on the forehead, patted her back gently, then slowly pulled away from her and walked out of the bedroom, toward the living room.

XXXIII

Tuesday, 2158

"Ronnie, can you take a look at something for me?" Jack asked, pushing his chair a few inches back so that Veronica could see the screen of his desktop computer.

She walked from the kitchen where she'd been planning breakfast for them the next day, and sat down on Jack's lap, facing his screen. She felt the press of his well-muscled chest against her back and through the soft, fluffy fabric of the robe he'd given her, and enjoyed the way his hands naturally moved to encircle and hold her waist.

"Shit!" She said. "That's Dante! Where'd you get this picture, Jack?" She asked him as she turned and looked at him, surprised.

Jack smiled and kissed her quickly before responding. "Thanks, that's what I thought."

"Jack, how did you get this picture?" She repeated.

"I setup some cameras around each of his clubs that you told me about, and I've been reviewing the footage I took. Mostly useless, and I fast forwarded through a lot of it, but I found some footage from each of his clubs that shows this Jabba-looking fuck getting out of what seems to be the same, shiny black Escalade or maybe a Navigator at the "VIP" parking space for each club. This is the best picture I've been able to take from the footage."

"Jack, you really are going to kill him?" She asked meekly, the concern and fear she'd tried to ignore reasserted itself over her thought processes.

He looked at her with gentleness and deep affection as he lightly brushed a few long, stray braids behind her ear and looked into her eyes. "Sweetheart, you can't stay in this damned condo the rest of your life, I'm going to do what I have to, what I know how to do, so you can be safe. Plus, I don't like anyone threatening you; that shit just pisses me off." He said, smiling at her in his roguish manner. "And," he thought but did not say, "I can use this as a way to finally get square with something I had to do awhile back..."

XXXIV

Wednesday, 0600

Veronica woke to the combination sounds of Jack's iPhone alarm chimes, accompanied by the angry vibrations against the hard surface of the nightstand. She felt Jack sit up and begin to reach toward his iPhone and turn it off. While his left arm was still outstretched, away from her, she shifted onto her left leg and arm and climbed on top of him, taking his head in her hands and began to kiss him, hungrily. She'd been sound asleep when his alarm went off, and as soon as she came to, had felt an incredible need for him. Her pussy was very wet and felt hot between her legs, and she enjoyed the sensations that shot through her nerves as she ground her already frothy lips against his warm and very erect morning wood. Veronica felt Jack inhale deeply as she attacked him, and was happy when he brought his arms up and held her, even as she reached down to take his cock in her hands. She stroked him, gripping and squeezing his shaft strongly, pumping him twice before angling his cock so that she slid backwards and took him within her, and began to furiously grind her hips back and forth, never letting up her kiss nor her renewed tight grip on his shoulders and neck.

Jack was very pleasantly surprised at their return to a routine of wake-up sex, and doubly so with how aggressive Veronica had initiated things, waking him up with her need for him, holding him desperately as they coupled frenetically. He very quickly matched her expressed passion and desire, feeling his ears and face become hot as she moaned and vocalized her need into the previously cold, dark atmosphere of their room. The result of her efforts awoke in Jack his own insatiable need for her, and he took a great deal of time before he finally ejaculated inside Veronica. Though he'd not had trouble focusing on his movement within her pussy, nor her incredibly sexy body as he touched her and watched her riding him, he'd felt again his desperate need for her, just as when he'd taken her after coming home from work, the night before. Jack felt his desire fueled by her need for him, and reveled in the smooth tightness with which she held him inside of her. He was surprised at his stamina as he fucked her through two of her orgasms before finally reaching his own point of no return.

Veronica's two orgasms had left his crotch, stomach and legs covered in her juices, and when he ejaculated inside of her, holding her tightly by her waist, they fully soaked their bed in the mess of their copulation. As was also their routine, they spent a considerable time afterwards holding one another tightly and enjoying their time for afterplay. But this time, Veronica seemed to Jack especially affected by their love making. She seemed demonstrably more emotional, he noted, as she very slowly trailed her fingers along his scalp and looked so deeply into his eyes. She wasn't smiling, and in fact looked somewhat forlorn, as though she were saying good bye to him. Jack tried to cheer her up, smiling often as he knew she liked him to, and frequently kissing her. In time, Veronica began to smile and react more positively, but intrinsically Jack knew that something was changing or shifting within Veronica's mood and her feelings toward him, but he couldn't discern the genesis of these changes. Eventually Jack gently disengaged from Veronica, kissing her several times before getting dressed and going to exercise as she snuggled under the covers and prepared to snooze.

XXXV

Wednesday, 0730

Veronica slowly came to full consciousness from her nap, yawning and stretching as she sat up. The room was no longer warm but still redolent of their earlier love making, and she smiled at the pleasure and intimacy she remembered. With that in mind, she slipped quietly from the bedroom and into the gym which Jack had made out of his guest bedroom, noticing immediately as she opened the door the much elevated temperature and the palpable smell of Jack's sweat and testosterone in the air. Veronica shut the door behind her and enjoyed the heat trapped in the room, feeling warm for the first time since they'd finished making love, in the otherwise (to her) always chilly condo. She inhaled deeply and felt her desire ever so slightly begin to rekindle; she loved Jack's overt masculinity and part of that was the very distinct testosterone smell to his sweat and personal scent. She watched him as he lay back upon his freeweight benchrest, his knees toward her as he softly grunted under the weight of his barbell, which to Veronica seemed almost comically full of weighted plates. She was impressed, as Jack seemed to be lifting a very heavy load, the barbell (which she knew to be an Olympic standard, 44 pound barbell, from her poking around his apartment before he'd known she was there) was slightly bent at each end and there was a terrific wet sheen of sweat covering Jack's bare chest, and arms. When he shakily lifted the barbell a final time to the height necessary and put it back on the rest, she bit her lip and enjoyed the sight of his beautifully muscled body as he sat up and noticed her.

"Hey, Ronnie!" Jack said tiredly, breathing fast. She saw the veins on his temples throbbing, as well as the rhythmic pulse of blood through the thick arteries of his corded, strong neck. He sat forward and put his hands on his knees and watched her with a smile playing slightly across his face.

Veronica walked forward and took off her robe, letting it fall to the floor and sat down upon him, naked, with her legs spread to either side of his crotch. She liked the way Jack watched her disrobe, smiled and then instinctively leaned back and put his hands behind him on the cross bar holding the bench aloft on the frame of the bench press, so that she could sit upon his lap. He was wearing a pair of his exercise shorts, but she felt him becoming hard again, through the stretchy fabric.

"Hold me, Jack." She said, reaching out her arms toward him and smiling.

"Sweetheart... I'm pretty sweaty; are you sure?" He asked, leaning toward her but pausing.

"I'm sure." She said simply, and inhaled deeply of his scent, again, as he put his warm, twitching and very sweaty body against hers. Veronica closed her eyes and held him close, rubbing her smooth, ebony cheek against the not-yet-shaven, raspy texture of his own. She ran her fingers down his sweat-slick back and folded her legs behind him, resting her crossed ankles on the seat of the benchrest as she tried to absorb him into her, and change the trajectory she worried would take him away from her.

"Why are you home now? Don't you have to go to work?" She asked, not yet ready to ask him the question that gnawed at her otherwise satisfied outlook on life.

"My piece-of-shit boss is in jail and the company took possession of the office; probably to toss it and look for any drugs that he might have left in his office."

Veronica opened her eyes, but did not sit back to look at his face. She kept her body tight against his, and moved her hands up to move through his slick, wet fuzzy scalp. "Your boss used drugs?"

She felt Jack's cheeks peak into a smile before he answered. "Not really, but the meth I planted on his car and in his coffee certainly made the police think so."

Now she did sit back and look at Jack in surprise, and perhaps a mix of alarm and disappointment. "Jack! You planted drugs on him? Why would you do that?!"

"Because he was a lousy, fat piece of shit, and he had it coming." Jack answered her evenly, but there was the hint of his roguish smile on his face, which she'd normally like, but now found it overly smug.

"What did he do to have it coming?"

"He didn't do his job in Afghanistan and some guys got hurt because of it."

"How?" She persisted.

Jack paused, thinking for a moment, before answering. "Gill, that's my former boss's name, was a fuck-up, and really was only ever decent in a deployed area at logistics and admin. One of the duties that came with those jobs was making sure our commo gear was updated, every month, with the new crypto so we could use the net."

"Jack, can you say that again in English for me?" Veronica asked, smiling a bit at the 'lingua martial' that Jack fell into so naturally, but then she remembered she was upset with him, and forced the grin off her face.

"We used encrypted radios to communicate, in Afghanistan. They're encrypted so that the Taliban (and Russians and Chinese and Pakistanis) can't monitor what we're saying or what we're doing. Ultimately, the NSA, the 'National Security Agency,'" Jack explained "is the organization that's in charge of doing whatever magic it is they do to let us have our encrypted radio networks. On a regular basis, the NSA changes the voodoo rituals or whatever it is they use to encrypt the radio network, and when they do this, every unit that's authorized to use that radio network has one or two people who are supposed to be responsible for following the NSA's instructions to update the settings on their unit's radios so they can still use the radios to communicate. You with me so far?"

"I think so," Veronica said. "so your boss, this guy, 'Gill,' was supposed to do that, but I'm guessing he didn't?"

"That's right, he was too busy harassing a new girl who rotated in, and forgot to update our radios with the new crypto. Problem was, when the network switched from the old to the new settings, we had guys in the field who couldn't communicate with our headquarters anymore, and they got into some shit, but couldn't call in their location or ask for the QRF-that's 'Quick Reaction Force,' kind of the on-call group that responds to hostile fire events." Jack explained.

"Okay, that's pretty bad, but what does it have to do with you framing him as a drug addict?"

"The company I work for knew what he did, and they got him out of the country right away. Although those guys got into trouble (and some of them were injured), since no one was killed, the company let Gill continue to work stateside. They cut his pay, but he was never going to deploy again. Both the company and the client told him he was done with overseas work. But that's all they did, and it wasn't enough. Gill had a blood debt, regardless of the fact that, but for the mercy of fate, no one died. I was there in Afghanistan at the time, so I knew what he did. This was after he'd already gotten in trouble for lying about being a former Navy S.E.A.L. For all those reasons, he had it coming. And when I saw my chance, and had a need that was worth the risk, I got him."

"What need?"

"I needed him out of my life so that I could use the time I have to wait here, stateside, to get all the information I need to take care of Dante."

Veronica felt a swirl of emotions, from relief, to fear, to love to anger, at what Jack had told her, but she decided to push those thoughts away for the moment, and instead refocused her questions on Jack's boss, Gill. "So, what, some cop pulled him over and found the drugs?"

"I guess. I don't think it's enough for him, with an otherwise clean criminal record, to actually do any hard time; I think he'll get moved over to drug court, get parole and mandatory treatment, but his clearance is going to be revoked, and he'll never be in this line of work again."

Veronica was silent for a moment, weighing what Jack had told her. She felt his body beginning to cool, slightly, noticing the feeling of the sweat more as it cooled. She knew Jack was capable of great violence, the way he'd left the junkie-thief's blood and tissue on his pants and knuckles attested to that; so she knew he could have just as easily beaten the hell out of Gill, but he'd chosen to be devious and sneaky rather than brutal and lethal. Veronica wasn't sure if Jack had really shown any restraint. She decided to broach the subject that had been bothering her since he'd told her, early the day before, that he intended to kill Dante.