The Gray Man Ch. 43 - The Nurses

Early fall had arrived in DC. The merger between SSG and Pelican Intel were taking shape - even though there were still some major hurdles to be overcome. This Thursday afternoon found Gray, Davey Thompson and Rebecca Ramirez sitting around a table in the SSG offices. Opposite them sat Leila Hassan. The Egyptian nanny that had been "liberated" from services to Fatima Omar just a couple of weeks before. Leila tried to remain calm, her expression guarded. TJ tilted his head, remembering the treatment she had received at his and Davey's hands.

TJ smirked at her nervousness. He knew that the threat of the flog, crop, and fucking machine would keep her a bit off kilter, even though by the end her body craved the punishment.

"So, Leila," Davey began, his voice smooth but with a hint of steel. "We're here to talk about Fatima, Al-Qatil, and eventually Parisia. I called in a lot of favors to get you here, if you lie to us or don't give us all that you know, what happened to you on Crete will feel like a day at the playground. Am I clear?"

Leila shifted uneasily in her seat, her eyes darting between the three interrogators. "I...I'll tell you everything I know," she stammered, her resolve wavering under their intense scrutiny.

Rebecca leaned forward, her gaze steady and probing. "Tell us, Leila," she began, her voice a soft but insistent whisper. "How did you become involved with Fatima and the Saudi Royal family?"

Leila shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse as she struggled to find the words. "It... it started after my time in the Egyptian Military," she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was recruited as a nanny, a guardian of sorts, for the royal family. My age, my education, my training all fit what they needed."

Rebecca's brow furrowed in concern as she leaned in closer, her eyes searching Leila's for any sign of deception. "And how did you come to work for Fatima?" she pressed, her tone gentle yet probing.

Leila swallowed hard, the memories of her time with Fatima flooding back with startling clarity. "Fatima... she approached me one day, offered me a position caring for her daughter, Parisia. I didn't know about... Mr. Gray. I thought maybe Parisia had been adopted, or... liberated from her family," she explained, her voice tinged with a mixture of fear and resignation. "At first, I didn't realize who she really was... what she was involved in."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed with interest as she listened intently, her mind racing with the implications of Leila's words. "And when did you discover the truth about Fatima?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leila hesitated, her gaze flickering with uncertainty as she recounted the moment her world had been shattered. "It... it was only a few months into my employment," she admitted, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "I started to hear things... see things. Things that made me realize the true nature of her organization."

TJ pushed her a bit, "Her organization? At the time Nazir was running the operation?"

Leila looked at Gray, a sense of fear and sensual arousal coursed down her spine. "In my culture, an operation like the Omar's MUST be run by a man - in this case though, Nazir was merely a puppet, doing the bidding of his wife. Aziz did not respect his brother - and from what I learned there was almost a war after Aziz died. It was Fatima who ordered the elimination of Nazir's enemies and brought him to power. Fatima's own family is a powerful force in the various Jihadi movements."

Rebecca nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed Leila's revelations. "So, when you learned of this, why didn't you leave? Why didn't you go to the authorities?"

Leila's breath caught in her throat, her eyes darting nervously between Rebecca and the two men seated beside her. "I... I was afraid," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I had seen firsthand what Fatima was capable of... what her goons in Al Qatil would do to those who dared to cross her. They would have tortured and raped my family in front of me, raped and tortured me but not give me the dignity of death. They would force me to live with the reality of choices."

Rebecca's eyes softened with sympathy as she reached out to grasp Leila's hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to be afraid anymore, Leila," she murmured, her voice filled with quiet conviction. "We're here to help you."

Davey nodded, "Word has been given to the Saudi's of your untimely death in an automobile accident. We are working now to get your family out of harm's way."

Leila nodded but she couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of fear that threatened to consume her. The memories of the two men who had captured her, who had done unspeakable things to her, lingered like a dark shadow, their presence in the room a constant reminder of how her body had betrayed her. The memory of how they made her beg for the flog so that her body could cum. How she squirted all over the floor and how they had spoken about her body as if she were a common whore. The most disturbing part of it all, they had been correct.

Even now, beneath the fear, there was something else stirring within her - something primal and forbidden. The sight of the two men, their eyes burning with an intensity that both terrified and aroused her, sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a fire within her that she dared not acknowledge.

In that moment, as she struggled to maintain her composure in the presence of her captors, Leila couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be able to escape the tangled web of fear and desire that bound her to them.

TJ listened intently, his mind racing as he processed the revelations. None of the new pieces of intelligence were exactly new, they did confirm every suspicion that he and Pelican Intel held about The Omar's operation. However, every piece of information brought them closer to unraveling the web of deceit that Fatima had spun around them.

Gray's brain raced, his mind so full of thoughts that he barely heard when Rebecca's voice cut through the noise, her tone sharp and determined. "And what about TJ's daughter, Parisia? Where is she?"

Leila hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty before she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "There have been talks...plans...to take her to a compound owned by Fatima and her husband in Argentina."

The room fell silent, the weight of Leila's words hanging heavy in the air. TJ's heart clenched with a mixture of fear and resolve. Parisia, his precious daughter, in the clutches of his most formidable enemy.

Davey Thompson thought for a moment. "What kind of compound are we talking about? A farm? A ranch? A safehouse?"

Leila looked at the older man, a shiver ran through her as she remembered the flick of his wrist that brought the flog down across her belly, her tits and about her body's response to it. She knew that her panties were soaked at the memories. "You have to believe me, I don't know. I knew that we were scheduled to be there for their summer. I can't imagine Fatima would have Parisia in a city."

Davey looked at Gray, "That's a lot of real estate to cover."

Rebecca put her hand on her boss's hand, "We found her once, Boss. We have a two month planning window, we will find her again."

That evening Gray sat in Bistro Du Jour on Capitol Hill. His afternoon included a long run to try to sweat out the memories of Angela and his anxiety about his daughter. The air was crisp and filled with the scent of fallen leaves. A few fireplaces along his route had filled his senses with the aroma of a wood fire.

TJ sat across from Gretchen, their conversation flowing amidst the clinking of cutlery and murmurs of other diners. The ambiance was cozy, with warm lighting casting a gentle glow over the elegant décor of the restaurant near Capitol Hill. Angela updated him on the merger and the boxes she and Olivia were able to check off on their to do list. Gray told her about what they had learned from Leila earlier in the day.

They began their meal with bowls of rich Soupe à l'oignon, savoring each spoonful as they caught up. Gretchen, ever the gourmand, had chosen the Gnocchi Parisienne for her main course, while TJ opted for the indulgent Steak Au Poivre, relishing the tender meat and peppercorn sauce.

As they delved into their dishes, their conversation was momentarily interrupted by the entrance of Bianca Shey-Snider, accompanied by her husband Matt. Bianca, with her perfectly coiffed hair and designer attire, exuded an air of entitlement as she glided into the restaurant, her gaze sweeping over the room with practiced ease.

"Look who's here," Gretchen muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a disdainful smirk as Bianca approached their table.

"Gretchen, darling," Bianca greeted her with faux enthusiasm, her voice dripping with insincerity as she air-kissed Gretchen on both cheeks, her gaze barely acknowledging TJ before she leaned forward, her low-cut blouse leaving little to the imagination.

TJ noticed that Bianca made sure to angle herself so that he got more than a glimpse of her ample cleavage. He even found his mind wondering if they were real. She was a bit older than TJ or his cousin, and the porcelain globes seemed to not have the tell tale signs of the breasts of a woman in her late 40's

"It's been ages, hasn't it?" Bianca continued, her tone sugary sweet as she engaged Gretchen in small talk, completely disregarding TJ as if he were little more than an afterthought. "Since you left the firm, negotiating has been so boring. Do give me a call and let's share lunch sometime.

Once Bianca had fluttered away to her own table, Gretchen let out a derisive snort, shaking her head in disbelief. "That woman," she muttered, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "She's the epitome of everything I despise."

TJ raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Gretchen's vehement reaction. "Care to elaborate?"

Gretchen sighed, stabbing her fork into her gnocchi with more force than necessary. "Bianca is the definition of pretentiousness," she explained, her tone tinged with disdain. "She struts around like she owns every place she is in. She flaunts her wealth, success, and connections as if they somehow make her superior to the rest of us."

TJ nodded in understanding, his own distaste for Bianca growing with each word. "Not to mention her tits."

Gretchen scoffed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Oh, she makes sure people know she has tits, and that they are real. She thinks she is so successful in real estate because of her skills. It's not because of her skills or expertise. Bianca relies on underhanded tactics to get ahead in the business." Gretchen looked at her cousin, "And because your gender thinks more with their cock and their brain when negotiating with a woman."

TJ frowned, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Gretchen leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She hated when I was representing a client. She could flirt, show cleavage with one of the male partners and they would give her the moon if she had asked. As you saw tonight, that woman is not above using her... assets to manipulate the situation. She ignored you because she doesn't think you have anything to offer her. If she knew that you were the CEO of Pelican, she would have almost been in your lap."

TJ smirked, "Fascinating."

Gretchen nodded grimly. "Exactly. It's infuriating. No matter how fair an offer is, Bianca always manages to outmaneuver us. Hell, even now I am trying to negotiate the purchase of an office park for Allen and Valerie. Things go fine, until Allen shows up to the table. He ups his bid without the need. She then leaves and talks to some other swinging dick and dangles her assets and they come back with a higher bid and we go full circle. I've told Allen to find some place else, but I think he likes feeling like she is genuinely interested in him. It's fucking maddening."

TJ smiled, "Fascinating."

Gretchen shrugged helplessly, her frustration evident. "Is that all you have to say? Fascinating?"

TJ winked at his cousin, "Well, I do owe Allen more than my wallet could ever afford. Maybe there is another way I can sway the balance of power and put a bit of a stop to her ways."

Gretchen regarded him with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "What do you have in mind?"

TJ smirked, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "You said there may be a time when I have to use my assets to gain leverage over an adversary. A bit of bourbon, a bit of flirtation, a random hotel room, and a few pictures and the playing field could be leveled."

Gretchen had to hide her smirk as she led TJ across the bustling restaurant floor to Bianca and Matt's table. The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance over the scene. If this were a movie the camera would zoom into the flickering candlelight before panning out to capture the entire scene.

"Bianca, darling," Gretchen purred in the same annoying tone as Bianca just 30 minutes earlier. "Since you didn't take the time earlier, I thought you'd like to meet TJ Gray, the CEO Pelican Intel."

TJ nodded graciously, his gaze drifted to Matt before looking directly to Bianca. He met Bianca's mischievous brown eyes with a confident smile. "Pleasure to meet you both, I'm sure," he murmured, his tone smooth and confident. His eyes engaged with the attractive real estate maven with a look that dared her to look away.

Bianca's eyes sparkled with interest as she took in TJ's imposing presence, her lips curling into a flirtatious smile. "Well, this is certainly a surprise," she cooed, her voice dripping with charm. "And what brings the CEO of Pelican Intel to our humble abode?"

Gretchen chuckled softly, exchanging a knowing glance with TJ before launching into a lively discussion on TJ luring her away from the firm to become Chief Legal Counsel to his start up, then about the upcoming merger and public stock offering. Bianca listened intently, her interest piqued by the prospect of potential business opportunities and maybe more..

As the conversation unfolded, Bianca's flirtatious demeanor became increasingly pronounced, her gaze lingering on TJ's with unmistakable intent. With a subtle yet deliberate gesture, she slipped him a business card, her touch lingering against his palm for a tantalizing moment.

"Feel free to give me a call anytime," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. "I'd be happy to assist you in any way. Whether it's with your firm or your personal real estate needs. I assure you that there are none better and I am a full service agent."

TJ smirked as he took her card. Gray glanced at Matt who visibly shrunk away from his wife's wanton display. TJ returned his eyes to Bianca, leaving no doubt that he was mentally undressing her. "I will be in touch I am sure. I have some very large projects that definitely need a full service agent to handle."

TJ and Gretchen turned to walk away from the Shey-Snider's as TJ put his palm in the small of Gretchen's back. He whispered as they walked away, "Like taking candy from a baby - the thought of a huge commission and the competitive idea of fucking one who she thinks is your lover. I'll be buried in her cunt inside of two weeks."

Gretchen smiled, "That's not a bet anyone in Vegas would take. That's a losing proposition. Hell, I think you could have fucked her tonight with that pathetic loser of a husband eager to watch. Did you see how he seemed to melt away when you engaged Bianca?"

TJ sighed, "I did, I actually feel bad for the guy. He shrank away like an abused spouse, knowing if he stepped out of line that there would be hell to pay when they got home. Maybe he hates what she does, but she has him trapped. So a few pictures sent to him could either give him the proof he needs to formulate an exit strategy, or it will turn him on to see his wife dominated. I think it's a win/win."

Saturday morning was a perfect fall day for a long run along the Potomac, TJ's footsteps echoed a rhythm that mirrored the cacophony within his mind. The symphony of nature's whispers sought solace in the depths of his consciousness, yet were overpowered by the haunting echoes of his past. TJ's plan for the day was to get in a long run, fire up the barbecue pit for a nice rack of ribs, and to get lost in a college football Saturday.

That was his plan, but as folks who battle Post Traumatic know, there are days when the monster needs to feed and for TJ Gray, today was that day. Each stride propelled him further into the labyrinth of memories, where the sting of Aziz's whip reverberated across the expanse of his psyche. The agonizing remnants of weeks spent ensnared in the clutches of the sadistic warlord clawed at the fringes of his sanity. The loss of Damian, Matty, Juan, and Cortez and the two pilots, killed when their little bird crashed in a futile attempt at his rescue. Their names forever etched into the annals of his torment.

The darkness of his mind got even darker as the shadows of despair, betrayal lurked insidiously, its venomous tendrils entwining with the fabric of his being. Underwood's treachery, a dagger plunged into the heart of camaraderie, seared the memory of Gretchen and Angela's suffering into his soul.

And then there was Fatima, a specter of malevolence whose touch left scars far deeper than skin-deep. Her cruelty branded him with the indelible mark of anguish, a burden he bore silently, buried beneath the veneer of stoicism. She had his daughter, and seemed to taunt him at every step.

Somehow in his run he had crossed the Potomac and found himself at Arlington National Cemetery. He was seated on a Memorial Bench where one of his old friends was buried. They had gone through Basic together, had found one another again at Airborne School and even gone through the Ranger Selection Course together. Scott was buried only a few yards away from where his friend was seated.

His body may have been sitting in Arlington, but the demon in his soul had dragged him from a mountain village on the Afghan border, to the burning wreckage of a Kiowa little bird, to the distant cemeteries of the four men who died trying to rescue him.

His nose was filled with the smell of a traditional Afghani breakfast, while his eyes could only see the helicopter falling from the sky, and his ears felt like he was 100 feet underwater as the pressure pounded on his head. The muffled screams of Angela and Gretchen as Underwood raped them filled his mind. Both Gretchen's and Angela's accusations and blame crushed on his heart until he thought he was having a heart attack. His discipline broke and his breathing raced out of control as his heart felt like it would explode.

For TJ Gray, the walls of his world began to close in around him, everything felt like it was a million miles away, and then there was nothing. Darkness gripped at him from the depths.

In a haze of consciousness, Gray floated adrift in a sea of fragmented sensations. The distant wail of sirens reached his ears, a faint melody weaving through the fog of his mind. His body stirred, a puppet in the hands of unseen forces, propelled forward by a current he could not grasp.

As his eyelids fluttered open, the world coalesced into a blur of sterile white. An IV bag dangled above him like a suspended promise, its contents a lifeline tethering him to the realm of the living. Monitors blinked rhythmically, their gentle cadence a symphony of reassurance in the chaos of uncertainty.

But for Gray, comprehension remained elusive, veiled behind the shroud of confusion that enveloped his senses. He blinked, his gaze drifting aimlessly across the unfamiliar surroundings of the ambulance. Faces blurred into indistinct shapes, their voices muted whispers in the periphery of his awareness.