The Big Catch

"It's not pretty, but it should get us to the next pit stop."

Jason nodded and cranked the jack, setting the car down again. Shortly thereafter, they were back on the road, with Jason at the wheel.

"Look, I think we could stop here," Janet said, tapping the car's nav screen. A small dot, labeled "Rasor Road Services", practically next to I-15, caught Jason's eye.

"You know, this quick and easy job is turning out to be one major headache," he said.

"True, but isn't that what we wanted?"

"I didn't ask for people shooting at me. I had plenty of that, thank you."

Janet leaned back in the passenger seat and held her tongue. Jason wasn't too forthcoming when the talk turned to his time in the service, and by now she knew better than to prod. It surely wasn't fond memories he was harboring, his tensed-up posture and white knuckles on the wheel told her as much.

Jason turned off I-15 and made his way along a winding band of packed dirt. You could barely call it a road, save for the markers rammed into the sand at relatively even intervals. Eventually, they reached what looked like an abandoned airfield, the rounded roofs of two old hangars dark shapes against the ever present beige of the desert sand. To the side of the hangars they could see a two-story motel and gas station.

"Just in time, I think we're running on fumes here," Jason said, tapping the dash with his fingertip.

Janet smiled. The Charger's fuel gauge was part of a small LCD screen between the rev counter and speedometer. The old trick of tapping it to see if it still was displaying the fuel level properly just didn't work anymore. But try telling Jason that.

He stopped the car in front of the gas station and honked. A moment later, an old man wearing a blue coverall and washed-out baseball cap came out, his face hidden behind a beard that would do the Gibbons brothers of ZZ Top proud. He stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at the car.

"What the hell happened to you guys?" he asked, coming around to the driver's side of the car. Jason opened the door and stepped out.

"Those guards at Area 51 were none too pleased when we dropped by," he grumbled. "Can you fix it?"

The mechanic walked around the car, mumbling to himself. Janet left the car as well, causing the old man to stop dead in his tracks.

"The fuel lines are shot to hell," she said, "and I won't be surprised if the tank got punched through too."

"Well, in that case I'd need to order a couple parts, not to mention the glass. Can't let ya drive with no glass in the car. Parts should be here first thing tomorrow and in the afternoon you'd be all set to go. Or I could have the parts flown down and have it ready first thing in the morning, Of course that will cost extra. But just so you know, fixin' her won't come cheap either."

"So?" Janet arched an eyebrow.

"See, as a concerned citizen, I shouldn't let ya drive that thing anymore, even with fixed fuel lines 'n' all. Too dangerous."

"Are you trying to blackmail us?" Jason snarled, tensing up.

"I'm just sayin'," the mechanic grinned, flashing a gold tooth their way. "Road safety an' all. I'd hate to have the cops on me when your car causes a major accident. Right?"

Jason opened his mouth to snap at the man, but Janet stopped him with a slight touch to his arm. "Fine, we'll humor you." She opened her bag and fished out the money Scarletti had given her, counting off nine hundred and fifty dollars.

"Will this put your mind at ease?" she sweetly asked. The mechanic nodded slowly and took the bills. Before he could stash them in an overall pocket, Janet intercepted his hand. "This also buys us first-class service at the motel. Is it open?"

"Yes, this will get the parts flown in later before dinner and a stay at the motel. Of course there will be the labor fees. It's been ages since we had customers staying at the motel. Its not open yet, but I'll see to it right away. But first, I'll need to get her on to the lift, to see what else I'll be needin' 'sides the glass."

Jason drove the car into the shop and onto the hydraulic ramp. He then grabbed their bags and the briefcase and returned to Janet, just in time to see the mechanic go back inside the gas station's office. He disappeared behind a counter, fiddling with binders and a phone. Then the mechanic returned to the shop and began to look the Charger over. Janet and Jason waited outside, glad for the peace and quiet.

"I'll take boring trains over this desert any day," Janet sighed, trying to wipe sweat off her brow. But the only thing she managed was to smear dust across her forehead. Tiny glass shards from the destroyed car windows caused her hair to sparkle as if dusted with diamonds in the afternoon sun.

"It's just for one night," Jason said. The mechanic chose this moment to return to their side. He waved for them to follow. Kicking up small dust clouds, they walked towards the motel, the once white facade stained a splotchy brownish-beige from all that sand.

"I just phoned a friend o' mine who'll deliver the parts before six p.m. It'll be a long night for me, but I should have her up and running first thing tomorrow. Is that okay with you?" the mechanic inquired as they walked.

"Great," Janet said. Jason grumbled his approval.

"Well, here we are. Welcome to the Rasor Rest Resort," the mechanic chuckled, unlocking a door and thrusting it wide. The sunlight coming in through the doorway and the half-closed blinds painted the room beyond a warm orange. Jason felt as if he was looking back in time, straight back to the '70s.

"It ain't the Ritz, but we kept it well maintained," the mechanic said. "I'll get you fresh sheets and you can make yourself comfy." He leered at them and shambled off.

The room was the height of luxury, thirty years ago, going by the butt-ugly wall paper. It had a moderately sized bed, an armchair, an old picture tube TV, a fridge and even a bathroom with running water.

They stowed away their luggage and used the bathroom to freshen up. When Jason came out of the bathroom, Janet leaned against the door, briefcase in hand along with an arm load of bed linen the old man had just dropped off.

"What's up?" Jason asked her, intrigued. Janet placed the linen on the table by the door and turned to Jason.

"I have no intention to stay cooped up in here. They have no internet and the cell coverage for my 4G is only one bar, good enough for a phone, but not my computer. The TV channel selection is limited at best and I'm hungry. I saw a diner up the road. You coming?"

"Sure, why not? It's not like we've got anything better to do."

As they left their room and headed towards the packed-dirt road, they could hear noise coming from the garage where the old man worked on their car. They walked back the way they had come for a bit and entered the diner. Apart from a pair of bikers, they were the only customers. The aging waitress took their order. While they waited for their burgers and fries, Jason looked around. The interior of the diner was reasonably clean and sported a nice selection of vintage car pictures. The old analog clock over the counter read five thirty p.m. He found it hard to believe that they had been fighting for their lives only two and a half an hours ago. Casting wary glances at the leather-clad bikers, the waitress brought their food. Janet and Jason dug in. The helpings were large, but the food's taste was just passable. While they ate, they heard a plane descend. As the engine noise became louder Jason peeked out of the window and saw a small Cessna, its bright red-and-white paint job in stark contrast to the ever-present beige of the desert, rolling out near the hangars.

"Looks like our parts have arrived a little early," he told Janet. She nodded, chewing her burger.

When they were done with their food, they contemplated desert, but the choice of freeze pops or sundaes wasn't quite to their liking, so they slowly walked back towards the motel. The plane had taken off already and they could hear the noise of power tools coming from the shop, as the mechanic continued to work on their car.

They returned to their room. Despite the half-closed blinds, it was pretty warm, and it warmed up even more with the two of them inside. Within moments, Jason felt his shirt sticking to his skin. The old AC unit roared valiantly, but the air it pushed into the room was only marginally cooler than the outside heat.

"Now what?" he asked, flopping down into an armchair by the window, unbuttoning the first three buttons on his shirt. Janet eyed him, a little smile pulling at her lips. Then she snapped her fingers and began to rummage in her purse. She joined him at the table and dropped a deck of cards onto the tabletop.

"You're not asking me to play strip poker, are you?" he asked her.

"Interesting idea, muscles. I was thinking more about the regular kind, five-card stud, just for kicks. If we started playing kinky poker, we might be too distracted if the bad guys show up again."

"Good point," Jason conceded, taking up the cards. With practiced ease, he cut the deck and started to shuffle the cards, occasionally throwing a look at his partner.

Janet seemed at ease, but he could see her hand drift to a certain pocket of her pants once in a while, patting it for reassurance. He nodded to himself, knowing full well how she felt. That was too damn close earlier. But sitting here at the window, they had a good view over the space in front of the hangars and along the road, so he hoped they would get enough advance warning if their mysterious pursuers would show up again. With a grim smile, he dealt the cards.

Four hours later, Jason folded his last hand. They had played five card stud, seven card stud, Texas Hold 'em, five card draw and they even delved into the Hoyle book of cards and played a game of 500 rummy. Jason was completely and utterly beaten. Until now he thought he was a fine judge of character, but Janet could teach the Sphinx a trick or ten in regards to poker faces. She, on the other hand, called his bluffs with ease. He swore to never take her to a real gambling table. Or if he did, then only to see her break the bank.

"I quit," he moaned. Janet looked at the notepad holding their respective scores and smiled happily.

"That's about a hundred and sixty grand you owe me. You wanna pay cash or in naturals?"

"Naturals?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, massages, foot rubs, that kind of thing. You'd be my personal relaxation agent for um... the next thirty years or so."

Jason groaned, then yawned. The heat in the room was draining him.

"I won't agree to anything until I've seen my lawyer," he joked, standing up.

"Lawyer? You don't have any money for no stinkin' lawyer," Janet giggled. "Now what?"

"No clue what you might want to do, but I think I'm done for today. The sooner we're up tomorrow, the sooner we're out of here."

"Sounds like a plan. The early bird escapes the Russians, huh?" Janet agreed, walking to the bed.

Jason nodded, then he fumbled around behind himself, testing the armchair. The springs creaked, but seemed to hold his weight.

"What are you doing?" Janet asked, rummaging in her bag. A few bottles had already appeared on the orange-and-brown quilt. Next came a few towels and a huge T-shirt. She shook it out. Jason blinked at the red-blue-and-gold print of Wonder Woman, ready to smite her enemies.

"Trying out my resting place for tonight," he said after closing his mouth. Janet, in the bathroom door, half-turned to face him.

"No way you're sleeping in the armchair. If today was any indication, things could get even worse tomorrow, I want you at a hundred percent. You're our security chief after all. I don't mind sharing, really." With that, she closed the bathroom door, leaving Jason to pick his jaw off the floor.

While Janet took her shower,. Jason went over the last few days' events. The run-in in Chicago hadn't been the first time he had seen these men. While he was waiting for Janet to finish her business with Scarletti, there were some shady characters leaving the building by the side entrance. Standing at the hot dog stand down on the corner, waiting for the vendor to finish preparing his dog, he had a great vantage point. He watched them talk animatedly before tossing a metal briefcase into the trunk of a large Mercedes and driving off. In Chicago he was too preoccupied with the crowds, but the shootout on I-15 had burned their faces clear enough into his mind. Now things were starting to make sense. He yawned and sat down onto the foot of the bed. These guys were after something in a metal briefcase. Another yawn hit him. Well, a little rest wouldn't hurt. Janet was still showering, so Jason let himself fall backwards. He was out like a light even before his head hit the mattress.

"Your turn," Janet said, nudging him. Jason blinked at her. She leaned over him, the large, loose collar of her oversized T-shirt afforded him a spectacular view of her breasts, two small handfuls.

"Whuh?" he muttered, then got his bearings. He must have dozed off on the freshly made bed.

"You. Shower. Now. There's no way I'll let a sweaty, stinky hunk of a man share my bed," she said, playfully grabbing his wrist with both hands and hoisting him into an upright position.

"All right, let go already. Musta nodded off," he grumbled, slowly extricating his hand from hers. He turned and stretched, yawning loudly.

"Nodded? It sounded like you were attempting to de-forest Canada."

"I have no clue what you're talking about," he grumbled, fishing for his toiletries.

"Just FYI, I thoroughly disinfected both the john and the shower before I used them. Can't be too careful around here. Did you see any roaches around here? I hate roaches. And spiders. And all those other squiggly things."

"I think it's too hot and dry even for them. And if any monster insects show up, I'll protect you," Jason smiled, slipping his SiG from his waist, placing it on the dresser and stumbling into the bathroom. Behind him, Janet sighed an appreciative "my hero" his way before erupting in a playful giggle.

The bathroom smelled really good, fresh and flowery, just like Janet's perfume. Or was that her shower gel? Whatever she used to smell good anyway. Jason stepped into the shower and turned on the water. The piping rattled dangerously, but dutifully delivered fresh, cool water. Jason washed the sweat and dust off his body, his thoughts drawn to his colleague in the next room and how good she had felt pressed against him, how right his hand had felt on her breast. Inevitably, he ended up hard as a pipe. Shrugging, Jason rinsed himself off. She asked for him to share the bed, so she had to suffer the consequences. It wasn't his fault she was such a hottie and he was just a man, after all. After toweling off, Jason climbed into a fresh pair of boxers and returned to the bedroom.

Janet was laying on her side, her back to him, breathing regularly. She hadn't yet bothered to turn off her bedside lamp. Somewhat relieved he didn't have to deal with any irreverent questions regarding the bulge in his sleepwear, Jason climbed into bed behind her and pulled the thin sheets over both of them. Sighing contently, Janet scooted backwards, smoothing her body against his, then she almost casually took his arm and placed it around her waist.

"Hmmm, that's nice," she cooed.

"You think so?" Jason asked, trying not to move. Her butt was pressing against his member and he hoped she wasn't noticing it.

"Either that's a very large wrench in your shorts, cowboy, or you're mighty happy to see me," she purred, grinding her behind into his erection.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his face very close to the softness of her neck. Janet shivered as his breath hit her skin.

"What for?" she asked.

"I bet I'm violating at least three or four of your rules by now," he grumbled, nibbling at her skin. She shivered in delight.

"No worries. You're doing number six just fine," she sighed. "Here, let me give you a hint." She reached for the hem of her shirt and raised it, first past his hand, then past her navel. Not daring to breathe, Jason traced the silky soft skin of her stomach with his fingertips. Janet inhaled sharply and he stopped.

"Not good?" he rasped. In response, Janet turned in his embrace, snaking her arms around his neck. His hand ended up on her naked butt. To his amazement he discovered she didn't bother with panties.

"Guess," she whispered. "There are signs. But are you brave enough?"

"Gotta check," Jason growled, sliding his free hand under the fabric of her shirt. Janet moaned softly and he felt goose bumps under his fingers as he slowly moved higher, climbing the swell of her breast. Her nipple was rock-hard as he reached it. She leaned against him, forcing his full hand into contact.

"Hmmm, I like your hand on me," Janet breathed, her lips almost touching his ear. Then her tongue slithered along his earlobe. Now it was Jason's turn to shiver in surprise. Not what he had expected.

"Tease."

"You have no idea," Janet said. Abruptly, she sat up and pulled the shirt off completely, tossing it over his head. Jason inhaled deeply. For some reason, he couldn't get enough of her scent.

"Hey, don't forget me," Janet said, smacking his stomach. He pulled the shirt off his face and turned back to face her. She had made herself comfortable, lying on her back, arms over her head, looking at him. The small bedside lamp painted her skin a rich gold, but it paled to the fire in her blue eyes.

"Like what you see?" she asked softly.

Jason's jaw worked a couple of times until he finally managed a weak "You're... gorgeous."

"You know what's missing right now?"

"Huh?"

"Your hands on my body. Please?" Her voice was aquiver.

Jason was more than happy to oblige, placing both his hands on her breasts, caressing the silky smooth skin. Janet smiled at him. "You like them, huh?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice or brain to come up with anything useful.

"But there's more you could touch. I really won't mind," Janet said, sliding one of his hands lower, back onto her stomach. Careful, as not to overstep any bounds, Jason caressed lower, his gaze locked onto Janet's beaming face. One of her hands slid under the elastic of his boxers and he nearly choked on his tongue.

"Don't mind me... big boy," she whispered when her fingertips found his erection. "Just having a look myself." Now it was Jason's turn to groan. Her slender fingers were gentle yet thorough as she explored his shaft, crawling around his hardness as if she wanted to memorize every bump, every vein by touch. That was so different from what had happened with Natasha. On the train, it was a mutual relieving of tension, rough, explosive, cathartic. But this was special, tender and so exciting. Getting bolder, Jason pulled Janet close and pressed his lips to hers. She snaked one arm around his neck, hungrily kissing him back. Her hand closed around his member, starting a slow stroking. Coming up for air, Jason stopped her hand with his.

"What?" Janet complained. Jason smiled, digging both hands into the elastic of his boxers and yanked it off him. "Oh, I see. Go on," she smiled, cuddling against him and going for his rod again. Sliding one arm under her shoulders, he pulled her close, caressing down her body with the other. Grinning fiendishly, he traced a circle around her belly button.

"Don't you dare, mister," she threatened, grabbing his ball sac and closing her hand to a loose fist. He growled playfully and kissed her again, this time pressing his tongue against her lips. Moaning into him, she opened her lips and challenged his tongue to a duel.

His fingertips meanwhile had found her mound. She was bald down there, nothing but smooth skin and goose bumps as his fingers intensified their scouting mission.