While There Is Hope Ch. 06

The sun had been down for a while now and it began to feel a little cold. Hope shuffled sideways, it made sense to share body heat, and I liked the feel of her next to me. Our eyes were still riveted on the scene below, and Hope continued to take photos. At this distance it was impossible to hear anything, but it seemed to be an amicable meeting. There were smiles and backs being patted. I thought that they might break out some beers at this rate.

But the group was not together long. The Captain popped his trunk and handed a long duffle bag to one of the detectives. It looked heavy, but it was unclear what the contents might be. Then he got back in his car and was on his way. The remaining pair stowed the bag and also prepared to leave. The sound of the Captain's car was upon us. The tower was only a few feet from the dirt road, but trees prevented us from having a clear sight. Nevertheless, scattered light from the Captain's headlamps briefly illuminated Hope's eager face.

Then there was the sound of the second car approaching. Approaching and then slowing. And then stopping. Voices drifted up to us. The first was indistinct, but the second much clearer. "Yeah, I know. But I didn't need to piss then, I do now. Just give me five. Quit fucking bitching won't ya?"

A car door swung shut loudly and there was a noise of feet on dirt and gravel. Then an expletive, it seemed the man had caught his clothing on a bush or something like that. The moon appeared from behind clouds and I could now make out Hope's features. They were contorted into a mask of anger and revulsion. I whispered urgently, "what is it?"

"His voice. I know his voice."

Her words stirred Hope into action. She pulled out her weapon and made as if to stand. Horrified I clasped her right arm and pinned it. Her eyes flamed even in the dark and some exclamation was about to pass her lips. I put my other hand over her mouth, staring at her, imploring her to silence and stillness.

I knew Hope's strength and her determination. I seriously doubted whether I could restrain her for long, but I felt her initial struggles abate, replaced by a look of disgust and rage on her face, only inches from mine. There was more shuffling of feet below, then the car door again. Finally the engine came back to life and its sound slowly receded into the distance.

I released Hope and rolled onto my back. She was on me in an instant, kneeling across my chest, raining blows on me as I tried to shield my face. And her frenzied attack was accompanied by screamed expletives, and the repeated words, "you don't ever do that to me," yelled at a volume that had me worrying about the departed cars.

"Hope! Hope! It's me. It's Bill."

It had no effect, I grabbed her wrists and held them. "Hope! It's OK. It's OK."

The demon left her and suddenly I was gripping the arms of a scared and confused woman. Realization came flooding across her face. "Oh, Bill. Bill. I'm sorry. I... I..."

"I know, Hope, I know. It's OK. It's really OK. I'm the one who should be sorry." I felt shaken, but I also understood.

I freed Hope and she fell forward, her face buried in my neck, sobbing. Slowly and carefully, I put one arm around her and stroked the back of her head with the other hand. "It's OK, I get it. No harm done. It's all OK."

Hope levered herself up and looked at me with tear-filled eyes. "I... I... I just thought I was back... there. It was so... so real. I'm so sorry."

I placed my palms softly on her cheeks and pulled her face to mine. Our lips met and it felt like there was nothing else in the World, only me and Hope. Me and Hope, and our shared, burning pain. She kissed me more urgently, her breath coming faster, as mine quickened too. And her hands were fumbling with my zipper, sliding it down. then unfastening her own pants.

I stopped her, holding Hope's upper arms again, aware of what my actions could provoke, but I needed to speak. "I don't have anything. I wasn't really expecting..."

"It's OK. Don't worry. I'm on the pill." Hope dragged her pants off, and spread mine open, pulling down the front of my boxers and releasing her objective. She was like a force of nature. I knew her birth control claim was BS. She'd been in captivity for three weeks for fuck's sake. And I didn't really want to think about what they had done to her, and how. But, I couldn't stop her. I didn't want to stop her. I didn't want to deny Hope what she so obviously needed.

She pulled her panties to one side, in a matter of fact manner, and just as deliberately sank down on me. My initial passive horror was overtaken by the perfect sensation of skin on skin. I'd told myself I was doing it for her, but the truth was I wanted this. I craved the intimacy, I adored the incredible feeling of her warmth surrounding me, her juices lubricating me.

Hope leaned forward and kissed me, and I was lost. All that mattered was our shared passion, her body rising and falling, me filling her deeper and deeper. The physical and emotional intensity was like nothing ever. I realized with a pang of guilt, not even like Valentina. But these thoughts were immediately pushed out of my mind. By her, by her heat, by her ferocity, by the overwhelming potency of her desire. And it was just us. Two people sharing their bodies and their souls.

She moved to being upright, and rocked harder, her moonlit face contorted in ecstasy. And a roaring scream exploded from her, hurling her very essence out into the black surroundings. And I too exploded, thrusting up in euphoric elation as my body tensed and tensed and tensed, pumping into her.

Having lost all control, physically, my brain followed the same path. The words "I love you, Hope!" passed my lips with no conscious filter, and there was no taking them back.

Hope rolled off me and felt around for her pants in the darkness. I lay recovering, aftershocks still running through my body, a hollow feeling inside me from both the startling profession I had made and her total lack of any response. Not for the first time, my mind reeled at what was going on. I was clearly crazy. I had Bianca to worry about. Why had I let that happen? Why had I exposed myself to potential danger? Why had I said those words? I knew the answer to the last question, because they were true. At least in the fucked up reality I was currently inhabiting.

Having wiped herself with a tissue and pulled her pants back on, Hope kissed my cheek. "Come on, I need to speak to Dad." It was like a switch had been flicked inside her and what we had just shared meant nothing.

Hope tapped out a brief message, and then she was off, down the ladder. Leaving me a mess of confused thoughts and feelings. Making a Herculean effort, I pulled myself together as best I could, and followed her. As we walked back to the rental, she squeezed my hand once, but then sat silently for the rest of the trip, her legs bunched up against her chest in the passenger seat, and looking out of the side window.

Hope's phone beeped once during the drive. She glanced at it but didn't comment on whatever message she had received. Out of the corner of my eye, it seemed to me that she opened another app and was then consumed with typing for a few minutes. Having finished, she returned to quietly surveying the nighttime streets as we passed through them.

Hope's father was in a robe when he met us, his striped PJs underneath. She imparted her news briefly. The Marshal sat, his fingers joined in front of his face, clearly in the middle of some deliberation. Having reached a conclusion, he spoke to me. "Officer Kowalski, would you mind leaving us for a few minutes?"

Before I could respond, Hope interjected. "No, Dad. Bill stays. We are in this together."

A look of annoyance flitted across the older Molinera's face, and then was replaced by one of resignation. I sensed a long-established father / daughter dynamic. "Very well." He paused and then spoke flatly and with no sign of emotion. "The Captain you mention is known to me. My concern is... that it goes higher than him, maybe to the top." He turned his head slowly between the two of us, gauging our reactions.

"And there is something else. They have been in contact. A date has been set. It's Wednesday next week."

Hope sat forward in her chair. "You are sure this is going to work? You fucking better be."

Marshal Molinera winced at both his daughter's insubordination and her language. "There are no guarantees. But I believe this course of action is for the best, yes."

It was Hope's turn to ponder. "OK, I'll trust you. But we are going to be there. Both of us."

Her father had clearly had enough of this. "Deputy Molinera, you will do exactly as you are ordered to do. You will stay completely out of this and leave it to me. I say that as your superior officer and your father."

Hope nodded, but I could see from the way her chin jutted that she was far from in agreement. Instead she stood. "OK, Dad. I had anticipated some shit like this." Her father opened his mouth to object, but a fierce glare from Hope silenced him. "So, what I've done is to write a nice mail to the Attorney General's office. Do you want me to read it to you?"

Hope held up her phone as she spoke. She seemed to grow in size, whereas her father shrank down into his seat. "A summary is that one of her Marshals has gone rogue, and committed multiple felonies in the process. I provide details. It's very thorough. I can send it with just one touch. What should I do, Dad?"

The Marshal breathed deeply. I could tell he was trying to suppress his anger. But then he relaxed and a smile even broke across his face. "Hope, you will be the death of me, maybe literally one day. But OK, you win. Her transport will need an escort. I guess you two will provide it. But on one condition..."

"Name it."

"You don't attempt to make contact with the witness. You keep your distance. You never get close enough that she can recognize you. Ideally she never sees you at all. Agreed?"

Hope held out her hand and said "agreed," but, instead of taking it, her father stood and embraced her. "And for God's sake be careful, Hope. I already thought that I had lost you once."

Hope kissed his cheek. The action reminded me of earlier and I felt an emptiness as she began to speak, but, despite this, her words still brought a smile to my face. "It will be OK Dad. Besides, you know what a cautious gal I am."

I'd not gone back to work. Marshal Molinera had stressed that the people who had got to Raoul and Maria might well realize their mistake, he had a point. Instead, he'd made a local Service safe house available to me and Hope. I had no idea what she had told him about us, but the place had only the one bed, a double. Maybe I was meant to sleep on the couch.

I'd been allowed one more visit with Mancini. Her doctors were happy and she would be released next week, just after Hope and I would be getting on a plane. My cover with both my partner and the Station was that Bianca was having some problems, ones which meant that I had to go out and help her. I shrugged while adding, "sometimes only Dad will do."

Time hung heavily. Hope and I were still intimate, though never with the same fury as our coupling on the water tower. She sometimes seemed a little distant during our love making, distracted even. I assumed it was something to do with Ashley, or maybe just me.

Hope never mentioned my ill-judged words to her. I was loath to bring up the subject, both as we clearly had other things on our minds, and as I felt that her lack of response had been an answer in itself.

Strangely to my mind, Hope was more affectionate, showing a softer side to her character that I had not seen before. We cuddled and kissed. We talked. She wanted to know all about Bianca. I even told her some things about my life with Valentina. It was like the depth of our friendship was growing, while the ardor of her initial feelings was cooling. She was much less forthcoming about herself. And she point blank refused to open up about her ordeal, or anything related to it.

Monday came round and we were sitting together on a plane bound for the West Coast. Hope was still fuming about the time it had taken the TSA agent to allow her through, even with X-rays of her leg and her Marshal's accreditation. Wary of provoking her ire in some unintentional manner, I told her that I was going to try to sleep.

Eyes closed, my mind wandered over the events of the last week. Making sense of it was beyond me, and I found myself always ending up with Hope. Thinking about how she had burst into my life, worrying about how I would cope when she inevitably left it. With such unhappy ideas filling my head, I eventually slipped into an uneasy sleep.

The compound was some distance outside of LA, far enough for their to be Joshua Trees. It had taken two hours from the airport, and darkness had fallen by the time we arrived. Hope's father had been right, its thick, terracotta walls, with glowing, slit-like windows spoke of impregnability. It even had crenellations.

Four buildings sat at the compound's internal corners. The largest had two stories and housed the garrison. Another contained the kitchen, stores, and eating areas. The third was where we were staying, together with the Chief Deputy Marshal, a handsome and commanding woman, around my age, called Brooke Davenport. It also contained a communications / meeting room. And the fourth? The fourth had even thicker walls and iron gratings. It was where Ashley was housed, with two Deputies always in attendance.

Between the garrison quarters and the kitchen lay rooms containing power generators, and an armory. Facing these, between our building and Ashley's, was a substantial garage housing a number of Service vehicles. These included an armored witness transporter, and three black Ford Explorers. The large, open, central area was paved to the garage. The rest was occupied by two exercise areas, and a small garden, with benches, and full of potted desert plants.

Davenport welcomed me and Hope, and gave us the tour, steering well clear of the witness accommodation. Tuesday was meant to be dedicated to briefings and making sure everyone knew their roles. Wednesday was it. Given the late hour, the Chief Deputy suggested we get some rest

Hope and I had separate rooms, which seemed advisable in the circumstances. But, as I lay staring at the ceiling far from sleep, there was a knock on my door. I made room for Hope in my bed. "I'm sorry, Bill. This is hard. Knowing she's here." I did my best to be supportive, but felt that, inside me, something was dying.

My alarm sounded at 6 o'clock, she was gone. We caught up over breakfast. Hope said that she had gone for a run with Davenport. "I felt like my thigh had tightened up with the flight. Probably some yoga would have been a better idea, as it's now killing me." Hope smiled ruefully, rubbing her leg, and then went back to downing eggs and gulping coffee. I'd noticed that she never seemed to care too much what she ate. I wondered where it all went, given her skinny frame. Burned off by nervous energy, maybe.

"Well, your leg didn't stop you from kicking my butt." With that, Davenport sat down. "I thought I was pretty good, but you're still fast, despite..." She tailed off, realizing maybe this was not the happiest of subjects.

Hope laughed. "It's OK. At least I can still run. They were scaring me about maybe not walking again at first. I'll settle for a limp, and 15% slower."

Davenport visibly relaxed, it struck me having a Marshal's daughter as a guest might not exactly be paradise for her. "15%? Fuck, you must have been fast."

Hope smiled a little grimly. "Yeah, maybe. Once anyway."

Something else was clearly on Hope's mind. "So, Ash... the witness, does she eat with you?"

Davenport's brow furrowed. I assumed that Hope's father had briefed her. "No. She eats in her quarters. It may sound draconian, but after what happened on the East Coast." This time Brooke was clearly concerned about my feelings, but I waved her on. "And, frankly, what happened with you two years back... well Marshal Molinera asked my boss to be extra careful. So here I am..."

"And I appreciate it," Hope said with some earnestness. "Dad mentioned that you were excellent."

Brooke bowed ever so slightly, maybe with a hint of a glow in her cheeks. It's always nice to be appreciated, I guess. But suddenly she was business like. "Right, I normally just have coffee in the morning. I have some things to do, shall we say 8:30am in the meeting room?"

We both agreed. Davenport walked off with her beverage, Hope focused on her eggs, and I went to see if they had any bacon and potatoes. As I approached the buffet, I couldn't help looking at the witness block, and thinking about its occupant. I realized, with some amusement at myself, that Ashley was now my rival. I couldn't help but wonder what sort of a woman she really was.

To be continued...