Justice Ch. 07: From the Grave

"You must've really loved her," I sighed.

"Still do. Always will," Eli said with simple but utter certainty.

"That badge. Is it real?" I asked, looking at the Texas Ranger badge on his chest.

"Sure is. Got it from Captain Bill McDonald himself," Eli replied proudly.

"Who?" I asked, having never heard the name before.

"You really should bone up on yer history, Olivia," Eli said with a wry smile. "He was only one of the greatest Ranger Captains of all time. Used to say that no man in the wrong could ever stand up to a fella in the right who kept on a-comin'."

"Sounds like an interesting man."

"He was that and more," Eli said with a wistful look. "Rode with him for five years."

"What happened to him?" I asked.

"Caught pneumonia and died in 1918," Eli replied.

"I think I would've liked him," I said.

"And I'm certain he would've liked you as well. Maybe sometime if yer ever in Quanah, Texas, you can stop by and pay yer respects. Say hello or something. I think he'd like that," Eli said.

"I'll do that," I said. "So, you've worked with Adrestia ever since you were shot," I mused after a few moments of contemplation. What does one say to a man who fought and died in the Civil War and served in the Texas Rangers for five years?

"Yeah," he said. Our discussion was interrupted by the sound of Charlie's phone dinging.

"Well, well," Adrestia said, looking at the incoming call. "Your mother wants to speak with Papa Charlie. Let's see what she wants."

"Why not give me the phone?" I asked. Adrestia thought for a moment, then handed the phone to me with a knowing smile. I answered the phone, and then put it on speaker. I saw her face on the display and placed my thumb over the camera so she couldn't see anything - for now.

"What's your status, Charlie?" Anne asked. "Have you found the little bitch yet? Talk to me, dammit! I know you're there!" I made my decision and removed my thumb from the camera so she could see me.

"I'm right here, mother dearest," I calmly replied as her face turned a bright red. Her mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water. "My team is dead, but I'm still alive, thank you very much. And how are you?" I asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Uh, Olivia! Thank God you're still alive. I was so worried when I didn't hear from anyone," the older woman stuttered.

"Uh-huh," I replied. "Tell me, dear mother. How is it you have this number? And why are you calling a man who is wanted by several countries for terrorism, drugs, human trafficking, and seditious activity?"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about, Olivia. You must be mistaken. You know we track the phones of people all over the world. I took a chance, that's all. I was so worried and desperate. I hadn't heard from anyone..."

"Stuff it, Mother! Enough bullshit. I know what you were up to! You were the only one with knowledge of our operation AND my inheritance. You've been after the money Dad left me since the first day I started working for you."

I saw her expression change as she dropped the "concerned mother" mask. Then I saw her glance at something off-camera and knew she was trying to get a location on Papa Charlie's phone. I decided to make my point fast and end the call before she could get a lock on the device in my hand.

"Know this, bitch. Because of your treason, my teammates are dead. And I'm coming... for YOU!" With that, I ended the call, but not before seeing a look of sheer terror cross her face.

...

"Did you get a lock on that phone?" a shaking Anita asked Douglas, who sat at a small table across the office from her desk with a laptop. Olivia's last comment drove a stake through her self-confidence, and she felt an urgent need to act, the sooner, the better.

"No, I didn't," he replied, shaking his head. "By the way, I have some images from the satellite over the target island that you might find interesting."

"Show me," she commanded.

Douglas brought up the pictures on his laptop and showed them to her when she stepped behind him. The first image showed the heat signatures of Papa Charlie and his assembled troops in the compound. The second showed the entire island covered with impenetrable cloud cover liberally strewn with flashes of lightning, while the third showed no clouds and almost no human heat signatures whatsoever.

"What the hell happened? Where did they all go?" Anita asked, surprised, and confused.

"I don't know," Douglas said. "There's only a few minutes between the first and last photo."

"If they're not on the island, then where the hell are they?" Anita asked. "They couldn't have just... disappeared into thin air."

"Your guess is as good as mine," he replied, infuriating Anita even further.

"Dammit, Douglas! This is turning into a real shitstorm. You need to get this under control. NOW!" she screamed.

Douglas looked at her momentarily without responding. It was clear to him that she was losing control, perhaps dangerously so. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to extricate himself from her influence. He considered his words before speaking.

"I'll do what I can," he said quietly before shutting his laptop down.

"Do it FAST. You hear me?" she screeched as he walked out of the office.

...

Commander John Armstrong, the commanding officer of the fast-attack nuclear-powered submarine USS Idaho (SSN 799), stood in the boat's control room, watching his crew perform their jobs when Petty Officer Sparks, the duty communications petty officer, approached him.

"Yes, Sparky, what is it?" John asked.

"A coded message for our guest, Captain," Sparky said, handing John a folded piece of paper.

"Thank you, Sparky. I'll take it from here," John said quietly. "Carry on."

"Yes, sir," Sparks said before leaving.

John was tempted to unfold the paper and read the message, but he knew better. Besides, he thought, he probably wouldn't be able to glean anything from the coded message anyway. He left the conn and headed to the boat's sick bay.

"How's our patient, doc?" John asked the senior corpsman when he reached the tiny medical facility. Submarines normally don't carry doctors, and the USS Idaho was no different in that regard. However, being a designated Special Operations boat the crew did include Chief Petty Officer Terry Hammond, a seasoned professional trained in advanced medical procedures, including emergency surgery.

"He's resting now, Captain," Terry said. "We need to get him to a medical facility as soon as possible, though. He needs to be seen by a real doctor. And he'll need rehab. Those wounds took a lot out of him. Fortunately, nothing critical was hit and the crew came through with enough donated blood to see him through."

"Think he'll make it back to Kings Bay?" John asked, referring to the submarine base in Georgia. Given the Chief's opinion, he wouldn't call for a mid-ocean MEDEVAC.

Gibraltar was the nearest submarine base with world-class medical facilities, but the harbor was watched by reporters and anti-nuke groups, and standing orders were to avoid it while on SPECOPS unless it was an extreme emergency. While far away, Kings Bay was the closest American sub-base and boats went in and out all the time, and all the facilities, including medical, were second to none.

"I think so," Terry said. "He's a fighter, and he's strong."

"I have something for him. Is he awake?" John asked.

"Believe it or not, he is. Don't tire him out."

"Thanks, doc," John said, leaving Terry to his work. He made his way to the tiny compartment where Ryan lay in his rack, connected to an IV and monitors. Ryan looked up as John entered.

"Hey, Captain," Ryan groaned.

"Hey yourself," John replied. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I've had my ass shot off," Ryan quipped. John chuckled at that. "What's up?"

"Got something for ya," John replied, handing the folded message to Ryan. "Just came in."

"Did you look at this?" Ryan asked as he opened the message.

"No," John said truthfully. "Probably wouldn't mean anything to me anyway."

Ryan read the coded message, his emotions ranging from relief to anger and rage. Relief that Olivia was still alive, anger at the news that the rest of his team was dead, and rage at the fact they had been betrayed by the woman they all worked for.

"Well?" John asked, slightly alarmed when Ryan looked up at him with a thundercloud face.

"We need to get back, ASAP," Ryan answered through his pain.

"I take it we need to maintain radio silence?" John asked.

"Absolutely," Ryan hissed. "And Captain?"

"Yes?"

"I was never here. Understand?"

"Yeah. I get it," John replied, nodding his head. This wasn't the first time he had dealt with covert operators on his boat, and he understood the need for operational security.

John hit the comm switch. "Conn, this is the Captain. We're going home. All ahead flank, 100% power. Don't spare the neutrons."

A voice responded crisply, "All ahead flank, 100% power. Conn, aye."

John turned back to Ryan. "You get well. Do as Doc says. He knows his stuff."

"I will. I owe him my life," Ryan replied. After John left, Ryan thought about 100 ways to end Anita Coles' existence - all of them involving various levels of pain. He had lost men before on operations, but never as the result of deliberate betrayal on the part of his "superiors."

And then there was Olivia. He had worked with her closely several times over the last eighteen months and had developed a rapport with the Army sniper. They were closer than casual friends, but not nearly lovers. Although he had fantasized about bedding the woman more than once.

He hadn't thought he had a thing for strong, confident women, and Olivia certainly was that. She was strong, accomplished, and confident. She was also beautiful and normally hid it well. But when they had been assigned to go undercover at that party in Brussels which had itself been cover for a dozen trafficking cartel bosses to meet...

When she strutted out on that floor in that dress, which probably cost more than his annual take-home pay and had as much cloth as a pillowcase... a small pillowcase... He found himself getting heated at the memory. He had laughed to hide his reaction, and he could tell that it had mildly annoyed her.

And when they danced, he sensed a hidden sexuality that - if he wasn't careful - could easily overwhelm him. Those three minutes of his life had dominated his fantasies ever since. Perhaps when this is over... He smiled, happy to hear that she was alive, then drifted off to sleep.

...

I lay in the bed Adrestia let me use for the night, thinking about everything I had experienced over the last day or so. A lot had taken place - from being held hostage at the behest of my birth mother to meeting my dead father and finding myself allied with an immortal being and a veteran of the Civil War in an effort to bring my mother and boss down for good.

Then I thought about Ryan, now recovering from his wounds on the USS Idaho - wounds he received at the hands of men working on Anne's behalf. A tear came to my eye when I realized how close he had come to being killed.

I also thought about the others murdered by Papa Charlie's goons - and that's what happened no matter what anyone said. Blake, Delgado, Edwards, Michaels, and of course, my trusted spotter, Smitty, died never knowing the real reason why. I swore to get justice for all of them, no matter what the cost.

But my thoughts always returned to Ryan. I hadn't been with many men in my life. In fact, I could count them on one hand - and that includes my high school flame, Larry. They were all decent guys in their own way, but none of them could hold a candle to Ryan.

In my mind, Ryan was a man's man. Hard, muscular, determined, and loyal to a fault. I've seen him break a man's neck with his bare hands one minute, then gently carry a crying child in his arms to safety the next, all the while whispering soft words of encouragement while bullets flew.

That had been a raid for the books. Seven women and 22 children were freed without a scratch, while seventeen traffickers were now nothing but compost. He reminded me a lot of both of my dads.

Thinking about Ryan stirred something inside me, and I found myself getting aroused. I may not have been with many men, but I am a red-blooded woman, with desires and dreams. I normally suppressed those desires successfully, but now I had the freedom to... indulge... them. The more my thoughts lingered on Ryan, the more I felt the desire to touch myself, again something I rarely ever did.

I brought my left hand up and under my olive-drab t-shirt and rubbed my breast, fantasizing about Ryan kissing and sucking my nipples. My right hand went into my panties, and I began rubbing my wet lips, amazed at the level of my arousal.

The more I rubbed, the more I thought about Ryan. I had seen him naked once before, by accident, when he was taking a shower. I never forgot the image of his well-toned and muscular body and the beautiful cock that dangled between his legs. He quickly covered up when he saw me, but the image remained in my mind, and right then, I wanted nothing more than to feel that cock between my legs.

I kept rubbing myself, thinking about Ryan. I couldn't take anymore and slid my panties off. Then I spread my legs and inserted first one finger, then two, and finally three, in hopes of feeling what it might be like to have him deep inside me, fucking me.

Images of Ryan filled my mind as I furiously fucked myself. I felt my orgasm build, and I let it, moaning softly as I fingered my wet pussy.

"Fuck me, Ryan," I whispered into the dark room. My body tensed as I peaked, and I rammed my fingers deep inside. "Oh, God," I quietly moaned as I arched my back up to meet my imaginary lover's cock.

My climax passed and I lay in the bed, my body covered with sweat. I couldn't believe I had just brought myself off while thinking of Ryan - that had never happened before. I pulled my panties back on and quietly drifted off to sleep, having experienced the most intense orgasm of my life.

...

Thousands of miles away, deep in the bowels of the USS Idaho, Ryan woke from one of the most intense sexual dreams he had ever experienced. It involved Olivia, and he realized he was still sporting a painfully intense erection. Even the aching parts of his wounded body couldn't compete with that throbbing.

A wet dream? That hadn't happened since he was a teenager, he thought as he checked himself to make sure he hadn't left anything that might cause him embarrassment. Fortunately, there wasn't anything and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Satisfied, he relaxed as much as he could on his cramped rack and tried to go back to sleep. As he lay there, however, he thought he detected the distinct odor of a woman's arousal.

"Nah, that can't be. Get a grip, Jackson," he thought as he drifted back to sleep.

...

"How did you sleep last night?" Adrestia asked after I entered the dining area the following morning.

"Better than I have in quite a while," I replied. I saw a knowing smile on her face and wondered about last night. Was she responsible for that? Then I dismissed the idea. That wasn't possible, I thought.

"Excellent," Adrestia said as she put two plates filled with scrambled eggs and bacon on the table. Next to those were bowls of fruit and a smaller plate with pieces of toast, already buttered. A glass of orange juice completed her breakfast. "We'll get to work after breakfast, okay?"

"Sure," I said. I noticed Adrestia studying me in between bites.

"You really like this Ryan Jackson, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, I do," I admitted, wondering what she knew.

"When you meet the right man, you just know it, deep inside," Adrestia said quietly. I wondered whether she was referring to Ryan and me, or her and her husband.

"Is that the way it was with you and Max?" I ventured.

"As a matter of fact, it was. It's hard when we're apart, and there's been more than one time that we've shared an intimate dream," Adrestia sighed.

"Wait," I said, shocked. "You mean..."

"Yes. He had a nice dream as well. I think there may be something there. He's a good man, Olivia."

"Yes, he is. But how do you know all this?"

"I AM an immortal goddess, you know," she replied with a knowing smile. "Besides. You're a young, healthy, beautiful woman. It's normal to have these feelings for a man."

"I've never felt anything like this before," I confessed, embarrassed.

"Maybe that's because you've never met the RIGHT man before Ryan," Adrestia replied.

"Maybe you're right," I said. We finished breakfast and Adrestia collected our dishes.

"Now, are you ready to help me burn a bitch?" she asked. Her words were light, but her tone had the menace of a guillotine.

"Absolutely," I exclaimed, although I was certain she didn't really need my help.

"Good!" Adrestia said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Before we go, though, I need to tell you about your birth mother."

"What's there to know?" I asked. "She's a cheating, traitorous bitch. Men have been killed because of her."

"I like your attitude, but I think you deserve to know about the woman you lived with for eight years. I went through the information Cameron provided, and it was quite revealing."

"In what way?" I asked, curious.

"I know from her memories that she began cheating on your father about a year after you were born. She went through a period of post-natal depression. She saw herself as flabby and unattractive, which happens sometimes. Your father encouraged her, so she began working out at a local fitness center.

"That's where she met Jake Keniston, a trainer who helped her get back into shape. He seduced her, and that's when things started going downhill. While your father was busy working, she was out sowing her wild oats.

"After the trainer, it was with partners in the law firm where she worked, then it was random men she met during 'girl's nights out,' and finally, it was Michael Simpson."

"And Dad never suspected?" I asked, incredulous.

"He suspected a few times, but your mother could read him like a book. She backed off of her... activities... until your father's suspicions died down. Then after a while, she would start back up again, always being careful not to arouse the same suspicions. Plus, your father didn't want to lose you, and knew that he probably would not fare too well in a divorce."

"Damn," I hissed, feeling a flash of guilt that he stayed for me... but also gratitude that he stayed for me. "So how did she go from being a federal witness to running a section in Homeland Security?"

"That's where it gets dicey. It seems she wasn't being completely truthful when she was first approached by the feds. She always suspected her lover was engaged in illegal activity. Instead of doing the right thing and reporting him, she decided to keep that information to herself so she could ultimately use it against Michael.

"When she was confronted about it, she put on a good act. It was enough to make the feds think she was innocent, so she was brought into the fold. She did as they asked, and in return, the state didn't pursue the charges against her. But she learned how to use the system for her own gain."

"Charges?" I asked, shocked. "As in more than one? I knew about the parental abduction charge, but there were others?"

"Yes. She was charged with child abuse and endangerment. Do you recall her giving you medicine in Cancun for your sinuses?" Adrestia asked.

"I remember that. I fell asleep almost right away, and couldn't remember anything the next day," I replied.

"The medicine she gave you was laced with Rohypnol," Adrestia explained. "After you were asleep, she and her lover put you to bed, locked the door, and went out dancing and partying. She had given you enough that it still showed up in your blood after you returned.