Title: Pawn En Passant
Author: Amy Jonas
adjonas2000@yahoo.com
Rating: PG 13 for depictions of attempted rape, some language
Archive: Sure
Disclaimer: The Lone Gunmen are owned by 10:13, FOX, and CC.
Summery: The Gunmen and Yves are on an undercover operation when "real
life" intrudes and she is kidnapped. Jimmy/Yves
6:22 PM Lone Gunmen H.Q.
"Eat your heart out T.G.I. Fridays," Frohike said as he checked the chili that had been simmering since early that morning. "Almost ready," he decided when the loud insistent buzz of the doorbell shattered the evening tranquility. He threw an irritated look at the stairs, wondering who it could be. He waited for someone to call up to him, but when the doorbell continued; Frohike sighed heavily and moved toward the stairs.
"Someone get the damn door! Jimmy! Langly! Byers!" No response. "Guys?" Still no response. Worried, Frohike ran down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He hurried to the work area and found Langly typing furiously at one of the computers, his attention deep into a computer game. Jimmy was at another workstation reading the sports section of the Baltimore Herald.
"Are you two deaf?" Frohike shouted. "Can't you hear.?" His voice trailed off when he heard the familiar heavy metal sound of the Ramones pouring out of the headphones Langly was wearing while Knickleback rocked from Jimmy's.
"Oh for crying out loud," he glanced around. Byers must have fled the impromptu concert battle for the quiet sanctuary of his room. Frohike glared at his two friends and their obliviousness to the persistent torture of the doorbell. Muttering to himself about the younger generation, he stomped to the front door; glanced at the monitor then unbolted the locks, swinging it open.
"Slowly step away from the buzzer and no one gets hurt," Frohike warned. Yves smirked and continued to press the buzzer for several more seconds.
"Really Melvin, is that anyway to greet a guest?" Her smirk faded as she peered into the dimly lit lair, "What is that god-awful racket?" She brushed past him heading toward the noise.
Frohike quickly locked the door and ran after her; nearly colliding with her when she stopped short; staring at Langly and Jimmy.
"I have a story that will interest you guys," Yves arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow, indicating the two still oblivious men, "unless your new strategy is to play that horrible sound until your conspirators surrender."
"Funny Yves," grumbled Frohike; his eyes narrowed in suspicious interest. "What kind of story?"
"I would rather not compete with Mutt and Jeffs' 'concert'. If you would discover where Byers is hiding, I'll end the battle of the bands."
Frohike glowered at Langly and Jimmy as he considered her offer. They hadn't had any leads for a story and their deadline was fast approaching for this month's issue. He decided to see what she had to say. "It better be good." He asserted before climbing the stairs.
Yves waited until Frohike was out of sight, and then walked to Jimmy. He was leaning over the newspaper as he read and bobbing his head to the music. She lightly tapped his shoulder. His head snapped up; seeing her, his face lit up in a broad smile.
"Hey Yves," he quickly removed his headphones, turning the sound off.
"Hello Jimmy." Yves found herself returning his smile. She glanced at Langly, still engrossed in his computer game and decided to have a bit of fun. Pressing her forefinger to her lips, she sat down at the computer next to Jimmy, her slender fingers flying over the keyboard.
Curious, Jimmy moved closer to her. "What are you doing?"
"Watch." Yves peered around the monitor at Langly and waited expectantly. The other hackers' computer screen flashed a bright white then went dark. Langly's fingers froze in mid type; his eyes became saucers behind his thick black glasses.
"What the.?" He looked up and saw Jimmy standing next to the computer, a baffled look on his face. "What the hell did you touch?" Langly jumped to his feet, tearing his headphones off.
"Relax, Langly," Yves rose gracefully from the chair, a satisfied smile on her face, "it will come back up in a few minutes."
"You! What the hell did you do?" Langly demanded. "I reached the third tier and claimed the golden staff. I won a second life."
"Really? What did you do with the first one? Waste it playing adolescent video games?" Came her acerbic reply.
"All right Yves, enough of the mystery." Frohike interrupted the verbal sparring as he and Byers descended the stairs, "What do you have."
Yves' smile vanished; clasping her hands behind her back she queried, "What do you know about the Cardoza crime family?"
"They are one of the most powerful organized crime families on the East Coast," Byers said.
"Yeah, and they have their hands in anything and everything," Frohike said, "protection rackets, prostitution, drugs, illegal arms. The word is they have a couple of State Representatives in their back pocket. Police as well."
"Neither the Local or Federal authorities have been able to make anything stick on them," Langly added as he joined Frohike and Byers. "Witnesses either wind up dead or vanished."
"There's hope for you yet," Yves said. "I was told by a very reliable source that the Cardoza family is setting up a new drug distribution pipeline along the east coast. A major distribution site will be just outside of Takoma Park - your backyard." She watched as they perked up at that information. "Anthony Cardoza, the heir apparent to the family business and amateur hacker has put everything on his computer."
Langly snorted as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, "Let me guess, you want us to either hack into the Cardozas' computer or break into their highly secured compound."
"None of us have to break into anything, boys," Yves said. "It's already been done for us. Someone on the inside has downloaded the information and wiped the hard drive. I've talked to the man and he is very anxious to sell the disk to the highest bidder."
"Why come to us?" Frohike asked. "It sounds like a simple snatch and run, your specialty."
"Yeah, put on one of those slinky black numbers of yours and show him some of your - uh -" Langly's hands made waves in the air, "-attributes."
Yves turned away and walked to the computer Langly had been working on. The small flashing curser at the corner of the screen indicated the computer was back up. She drew a finger across the keyboard; her polished nail made a clicking sound against the keys. She glanced at the Gunmen; Byers had taken a seat on a stool and was waiting patiently for her response while both Langly and Frohike had impatient expressions on their faces. Jimmy had been following the conversation as if he had been watching a tennis match. His gaze now settled on her.
"Spill it Yves," Frohike said.
She tapped her fingers on the table, then after a moment, she sighed. "The man harbors archaic notions regarding women. He was more than willing to discuss the sale of the disk with me, but he will only complete the deal tonight and only with -" Yves scowled as her hands simulated quotation marks " - the man."
Langly burst out laughing, startling everyone. He clutched his middle and folded over. Frohike chuckled and even Byers hid a smile as he pressed his hand to his mouth.
Jimmy's smile faltered as he glanced at Yves' flushed face, "I don't get it."
Langly removed his glasses; wiping tears from his eyes. "Mata Hari here has just been reduced to a mobsters' moll," He glanced at Yves, "Guess it's just a Mario Puzio world and you're Diane Keaton."
"Langly," admonished Byers as Jimmy looked sympathetically at Yves. "We need to help Yves with this. Getting that disk could cripple and possibly end a narcotics empire that destroys millions of lives every year. Moreover, if that disk gets out, it might create a mob war with innocent people caught in the crossfire. We cannot pass up this opportunity."
"We're in, Yves," Frohike said. "What do you want us to do?
10:42 P.M. Club Sanctuary
Yves glanced at her watch for the third time in ten minutes. Already, she regretted changing out of her usual leather outfit and into a short leather skirt, tank and thin pink leather jacket. The weather had been getting noticeably colder with the coming of winter. Shivering as a gust of cool night air swept around her, she moved closer to the neon lit entrance of the club hoping it would block some of the cold.
She watched as a group of laughing and chatting friends walked toward the entrance. They opened the door letting out a rush of warm air and what sounded like the band singing Paula Cole's 'Where Have all the Cowboys Gone?' As the door closed behind them, it cut off the music and the warm air. Yves glanced at her watch now illuminated by the pink neon sign. Where have all the Gunmen Gone? Yves thought flippantly. To take her mind off the cold, and where the Gunmen were not, she went over the plan they had devised hours earlier.
Frohike had insisted they move upstairs to the kitchen to discuss their strategy while eating his chili and homemade dinner rolls. Jimmy brought an extra chair from a storage room and they all sat around the kitchen table eating and talking. Yves sampled the chili, finding it was spicy but delicious.
Byers proposed a straightforward yet efficient plan. He and Frohike would pose as the buyers. While he would pretend to strike a deal with the mobster, thereby distracting him, Frohike would switch the disk with a blank. Langly would monitor everything from the van.
Jimmy looked expectantly at the guys. "So what do I do?" His face shone with excitement at the prospect of an undercover operation. The other Gunmen exchanged looks. Jimmy tripping over a cable and knocking out power to an entire block was still fresh in their minds. "Come on guys," He cajoled, "I want to help. I won't screw up. Frohike even said it would be a piece of cake."
"Jimmy can pose as our bodyguard," Byers finally said, "He can escort Willard to our table and stand guard. If he's as nervous as Yves says he is, it may be a good idea to have Jimmy there."
"Thanks Byers." Jimmy beamed at his friend, but his brow soon furrowed, "what about Yves? What will she do?"
Four pairs of eyes turned to look at Yves who was sitting quietly, watching them.
"Yves can be a good moll and keep the home fires burning," cracked Langly. "Maybe do some crocheting, a little ironing."
Yves simply smiled. She slipped a hand inside her leather jacket and brought out something, setting it down in the middle of the table. Byers picked it up; it was an out of focus candid shot of a man. He passed it to Frohike and they looked quizzically at her.
"Since none of you know what Leon Willard looks like, I'll be identifying him for Jimmy." She stood up and walked toward the stairs. She stopped and turned halfway, smiling coquettishly at Langly, "I'll leave the crocheting to you." She tossed her hair and sashayed down the stairs. She was unlocking the front door when she heard familiar footsteps behind her.
"The guys wanted me to lock up after you." Jimmy sounded almost apologetic.
Most likely, they told him to make sure she wasn't skulking around the warehouse. "Don't worry," she said over her shoulder, "you can tell them you personally showed me the door."
"I'm not worried, Yves. We'll see you tonight."
Something in his voice made her glance back. He was leaning against the door, watching her, a smile on his face. She returned the smile then ascended the concrete steps to her car.
**************
Yves finally spotted the Gunmen crossing the street from a nearby parking lot. She glared at them as they joined her in front of the Club.
"It's about time," she said in her lilting English accent, placing her hands on her hips. "Did you have to push that ancient van of yours here?"
Don't get your panties in a bind, Yves," retorted Langly. "We're here."
Yves' eyebrows arched as she shot him a withering look and took an intimidating step toward him. Langly ducked nervously behind Frohike, keeping the older man between him and Yves. Irritated, Frohike shook the other man's hands off his shoulders, "Get off me punkass." Nodding toward Byers, he said. "We would have been here sooner, but the narc decided to change into something more appropriate for a nightclub-"Yves glanced doubtfully at Byers who was wearing his usual immaculately pressed suit. "- until Jimmy said he looked like Sonny Crockett from Miami Vice."
The corners of Yves lips rose slightly as she looked around, "Where is Jimmy?"
"We sent him on an errand," Byers said straightening his tie. "He should be here soon,"
A horn honked twice and they saw Jimmy's black Trans Am drive past them, turning into the same parking lot that the Gunmen had come from. Moments later, Jimmy emerged from between two cars. He was wearing a navy blazer over his usual t-shirt and jeans. His dark sunglasses hung from the front of his t-shirt.
"Hi guys!" Jimmy said enthusiastically as he joined the group on the sidewalk. "This is gonna rock!"
"One thing I'm curious about, Yves," said Byers, "is why this man wants to meet in a nightclub. It's not the most suitable place for an exchange."
""I expect he plans on celebrating his new windfall," Yves said dryly.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. We get it," muttered Langly impatiently, "Wine, women and song. Let's get this over with." He headed back to the van, cutting a wide berth around Yves.
Frohike grinned, "He's pissed because he really wanted to be inside for this one; but he refuses to leave Jimmy alone in the van with the equipment." Frohike glanced at Jimmy, "Your wire is showing kid, you gotta fix it."
"I'll help him with it," Yves said as Jimmy peered at the offending wire.
"Give us a heads up when you're in position." Frohike gave the last minute instruction before following Byers into the club.
Jimmy nodded absently as he watched Yves close the gap between them. "Thanks Yves," he said quietly.
Yves nodded as she quickly unfastened the wire, then clipped it securely back in place, making sure it was well hidden under his lapel. "There, you shouldn't have any more problems." She glanced up at him and her light smile faded as his eyes locked on hers. His hand came up and gently caressed her cheek. The space between them seemed to be shrinking, the air around them becoming warm.
"Jimmy-" Yves started, but the words caught in her throat. When had his eyes become so blue? She thought she heard him say, "What do you feel, Yves?" and then his lips were gently pressing against hers.
The kiss was warm and tender, hesitant at first, then becoming more confident. What did she feel? What did she want? She wanted this moment with Jimmy. A small sigh escaped her lips as her hands encircled his neck, drawing him closer, returning the kiss. His tongue slipped past her parted lips, touching hers in a gentle caress. His hands slowly moved down her face to her shoulders then skimmed her arms to wrap around her waist.
A reproving voice whispered of responsibilities. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss, taking a step away from him. Jimmy stared at her, an amazed, lopsided smile on his face. Then he blinked and his expression became achingly vulnerable, as if he were afraid she was going to tell him the kiss had been a mistake. With the feel of his lips still on hers, Yves smiled and touched his cheek, "We have work to do."
*******
They entered the club separately with Yves going in first. The lights were dim and she took a moment to let her eyes adjust. She scanned the layout of Sanctuary. The house band was positioned in the back right on a high platform. They were performing 'Jessie's Girl' to an enthusiastic crowd on the dance floor. The majority of the tables were already occupied. Waitresses wearing tight black shorts and white cropped shirts with Sanctuary across their chests; maneuvered between their patrons to the polished bar that ran along the left side of one wall. Yves snagged an empty chair at the end of the bar that allowed her a clear view of the entrance. As she ordered a Diet Coke from the bartender, she saw Jimmy walk past her, then become part of the crowd.
She heard Jimmy announce he was in position then Byers affirmative reply. The noise level, which had risen in the short time they were, there was going to make communication difficult. Yves was trying to make out something Frohike was saying when a man sat down next to her, bumping her with his elbow. He smiled at her.
"Hey baby, I lost my phone number, can I have yours?"
Yves rolled her eyes. "You should check the lost and found, I'm sure someone has turned it in." She suggested icily. She heard Langlys' derisive snort of laughter in her ear. "No," Yves said firmly, dropping the subtlety when the man started to speak again, "I'm not interested."
The man stared at her, then picked up his drink and walked away.
"Yves," Langly said in a mocking paternal tone, "if you keep rejecting every eligible suitor you meet, you'll never get married. How will you get by?"
"I'll muddle through somehow," Yves replied sardonically.
"Hey," Langly became semi-serious, "I think our guy just entered the club. It's hard to tell, I think he had a little work done on his face. "
Yves ignored Langly's jab as she observed Leon Willard swagger into the club. He glanced around then spotting two women; he walked up to them. He leaned toward them and said something. One woman looked shocked while the other recoiled and slapped his face. The women took off; one of the women whispered something to her friend and they both burst out laughing. "It's him," she confirmed.
She spotted Jimmy's' navy blazer and blond spiked hair moving through the crowd. "Jimmy, he's the tall, thin, balding man wearing a gray silk suit and a white silk shirt. No, go left." She watched as he successful intercepted the man. They spoke briefly, and then Willard followed him through the crowd to carry out the arranged transaction.
Yves was trying to make out the conversation between the mobster and Byers, but the signal kept breaking up. She was about to move in closer when a wave of dizziness swept over her. She shut her eyes, pressing her fingers against her temples hoping to steady herself. When she opened her eyes, the room had started to spin and her vision was blurred. She grasped her empty glass of Diet Coke realizing it had been spiked.
Apprehension coursed through her system. He had found her. After years of hiding underground, moving around, changing her identity, disguises; her father had found her. No, not him, her instincts warned her, this isn't his style. Then who?
Then someone was behind her, aggressively pressing his body against her. A cold voice whispered in her ear, "I've lost my phone number, can I have yours."
Clutching the edge of the bar, she stood up quickly. The room spun faster. Her legs felt as if they were made of Jell-o. She felt herself sinking to the floor but strong hands grabbed her arms, roughly holding her up.
"Easy baby," whispered the smooth voice.
Yves swallowed, attempting to quell the rising panic in her chest. Stay calm, she commanded herself. She was having trouble thinking; her head was swimming. She needed help. "Jimmy, Frohike, Byers, Langly," she shouted their names, but all that came out was a slurred whisper.
"Are you a cop?" The man spoke with excited curiosity. One strong arm wrapped around her waist, effortlessly holding her up. The man drew her closer, checking the inside of her jacket, finding the tiny wire. Pulling it off, he glanced at it before dropping it to the floor. He pressed his lips against her ear, "Do you think your friends would notice if I did you right here, right now?" Then his hand was under her skirt, sliding up her leg, then stroking her thigh
"No!" Fear ripped through her as she realized exactly what this man wanted from her. His quiet laughter echoed in her ear as he captured her hands, enjoying the futility of her efforts to shove him away.
"No, you're not a cop," he mocked, "or just no?" He kissed her hard on the mouth. Forcing her lips apart, he thrust his tongue inside. She gagged and his tongue retreated. He intimately brushed her lips with a soft kiss. "There's a private party waiting for us." His tone was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of malevolence.
A chill shot through her soul as she fought to stay conscious. Her thoughts drifted to the Gunmen - to Jimmy - somewhere in the club. Would they know she hadn't left of her own volition? Would they care? Care about what? A voice whispered. She couldn't remember, she only knew she needed to stay awake, but even the reason for that eluded her as she slipped closer to unconciousness.
A waitress passing by with a tray of drinks stopped when she saw Yves "Is she ok?" She shouted over the pulsating music.
"Yeah, just over celebrated a bit,' the man shouted back, 'it's our engagement."
The waitress smiled, "Congratulations! Have her take some Ibuprofen, she wont feel the hangover as bad in the morning."
The man watched the waitress hurry away before turning his attention back to Yves. "Let's get you home baby."
***************
In the back of the club, Frohike and Byers sat at a small round table with Willard sitting between them. Byers, as point man, had Willard engaged in a discussion for the exchange of the disk. Frohike glanced at Jimmy, who he surmised had seen one too many mobster movies. Jimmy was standing off to one side of Byers, his hands clasped together. He had also put on his dark sunglasses and a small smile probably meant to be a scowl played along his lips. Frohike wondered if Jimmy could see anything, what with the club being so dark, but he had to admit the effect worked. Willard looked surreptitiously at the young man several times while he and Byers talked.
Willard leaned back in his chair, a smarmy grin on his face, "I believe $5 million is more than a fair price for this information." His voice trailed off as he watched a waitress with long blond hair walk past them with a tray of drinks. "I would love to have a piece of that action."
Frohike raised one finger, signaling Byers he had succeeded in palming the disk and replacing it with the blank. Byers nodded and leaned closer to Willard trying to capture his attention, "Mr. Willard."
Willard watched another women walk by them. "What do you say we cement this deal with a party? You call that exotic flavor that works for you and I just might lower the price." Jimmy stiffened, his grin becoming a scowl, but maintained his position.
"Mr. Willard, as I was saying," Byers managed to sustain a civil tone of voice, "as tempting as your merchandise is, it is a far to dangerous venture for my colleagues and me at this time."
"What?" Willard attention snapped back to Byers.
"I've changed my mind," Byers stated, "our business has concluded."
Willard paled. Byers could see Willard was in over his head, the man had seen an opportunity and taken it, but had never really considered the consequences of his actions. This could make him unpredictable.
Willard leaped to his feet, knocking over the chair. "That bitch of yours said this was a confirmed deal!" He moved toward Byers, reaching for him. Jimmy jumped in front of Byers, shielding him from the angry man.
"The man said he changed his mind," he bellowed, "and don't call Y-" Jimmy caught himself, remembering Yves' alias, ".uh Vera a bitch."
Willard's eyes widened and backed up a step. He glanced nervously at Frohike who casually leaned back in his chair despite the pounding of his heart. He tented his fingers, smiled and shrugged. "He's hard to control sometimes. I suggest you leave before I lose my patience."
At that moment, Jimmy took a menacing step toward Willard. The man blanched, turned and fled, disappearing into the crowd.
Frohike's frozen smile evaporated as he pointed a finger at Jimmy, "I told you not to speak. You could have blown everything."
Jimmy flinched and removed his sunglasses; a hurt expression in his eyes, "But."
"Jimmy played his role quite effectively," Byers interceded smoothly. "Thank you, Jimmy." The younger man smiled.
"Just try and think before you act, he could have had a gun," Frohike said. He stood up and spoke into his wire, "Yves, we have the disk, we'll meet you out front." He looked up when a redhead in a green spandex mini- dress walked past them. She slowly turned around, directing an inviting smile to Frohike.
Byers glanced from the woman to his friend, "Another time, Romeo, we have to get this story out to the public."
Smiling, Frohike shrugged and the woman mouthed 'Next time'. She joined the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. She kept her eyes on Frohike as she swayed to the music.
"Man, what I do for the job," Frohike sighed, tearing his eyes from the woman. He followed Byers and Jimmy, fighting his way through the crowd. When he finally exited the club, he took a deep breath. The cool fresh night air was a welcome change from the overcrowded, noisy and hot club.
"Yves isn't here," Jimmy glanced around, "she's not answering either."
"She probably took off already," Frohike grumbled. "Most likely thinking up ways to grab the disk for herself. Why don't you check and see if her car is still here." He had been joking, but Jimmy unquestioningly ran across the darkened street into the parking lot.
Frohike rolled his eyes and shook his head. Byers gave him an exasperated look, "Frohike."
Jimmy's triumphant voice sounded in their ears, "Her car is still here; two rows left of the van." Then puzzlement, "But.where is she?"
"She probably went to the Ladies restroom," Byers said diplomatically when Jimmy rejoined them..
"She would have said something," insisted Jimmy, "We should. We should at least check."
"Yeah right; walk into a women's restroom. Yves would skin us alive." Frohike shook his head, "No thanks." Then he grinned, "Hey Langly, want to do some undercover work? You've already got the hair."
"You can't tell, Frohike," Muttered Langly over the wire, "but I'm giving you the finger."
"Byers?" Jimmy turned pleading eyes to him.
Byers thought for a moment, "Langly, can you communicate with her?"
"Something's been screwing with our signal. It's been cutting in and out all night. "
"Did you see her leave?"
"Negatory, but.I did have to take a leak. I left the video running, so if she came out the front, I'll have her on tape."
Jimmy raced across the street, dodging a Chevy Cavelier that honked but kept going. He reached the van first, grabbing the side door and pulling it open. He jumped inside. Langly was already setting up the tape and when Byers and Frohike climbed in, they crowded around the video. Langly pressed play.
The tape began with Yves helping Jimmy with his wire followed by their kiss. Frohike glanced at the younger man. He knew Jimmy cared for Yves and had even seen her looking at Jimmy when she thought no one was watching. He never thought anything would become of it; what with Jimmy being Jimmy and Yves - well Yves had her secrets.
Langly chuckled, having seen the kiss live and in Technicolor. He was about to make a joke, but Jimmy's worried expression stopped him. Instead, he pushed the fast forward button and they watched 25 minutes of people entering and exiting the club at high speed. "There!" Jimmy shouted. Langly backed up the tape and they saw a couple exit the club. The woman was definitely Yves. She appeared hammered and the man had his arm around her waist and was holding her up. They were soon out of the camera's range.
"She's been drugged," A sick feeling hit Frohike in the guts, he didn't like what this was looking like.
"She pissed someone off big time," Langly remarked.
Frohike shook his head, "I don't think this has anything to do with her secrets."
The other men stared at Frohike, understanding dawning on them. Jimmy felt his stomach tighten with anger and fear. Yves. In college, a friend had been raped during a frat party. He had seen what it had done to her. The thought of Yves going through what his friend did -
"Stop it there!" Byers exclaimed as a red Corvette drove into the camera view. Langly froze the screen, enlarging the picture to show Yves unconscious in the passenger seat. Langly maneuvered the screen to display the driver, then let the tape run again, capturing a shot of the license plate. He then hacked into the DMV and within seconds he had a name and address.
"His name's Ryan Dawson. Lives at 4695 East Carson St, Apt 5B," Langly said staring at the information.
Yves. Jimmy stared at the frozen picture of Yves on the screen and repeated the address. He scrambled around the other Gunmen, barely registering their stunned expressions as he jumped out of the van. All he could think of was getting to Yves and he knew he would get there faster in his car.
"Jimmy, Stop!" Exclaimed Byers.
"Get back here," Shouted Frohike.
Jimmy didn't respond as he raced to his Trans Am. He pulled open the drivers side door and jumped in. His sleek sports car tore out of the parking lot with a screech of tires, disappearing into the night.
"Shit!" Yelled Frohike. He slammed his fist against the van wall, equipment rattled from the force. "He doesn't think first!" He flung himself over the front seat. Sliding behind the wheel; he threw the van in drive.
Byers quickly pulled the side door shut as the van started moving and rushed to sit behind the front seat. He scanned the road, watching for the taillights of Jimmy's Trans Am, but the streets were dark.
Frohike made a quick turn, electronics clattering off shelves. Langly grabbed the laptop he was working on, preventing it from crashing to the floor.
"I hacked into a military satellite and tracked the guy until the C.I.A. commandeered the damn thing. He was heading toward his apartment." Langly tapped some keys, "Shit, the guy did 8 years for aggravated rape."
*************
Yves opened her eyes. She felt disoriented, her head was pounding and nausea hovered in the back of her throat. Where was she? She looked around, not recognizing the room but she was aware she was lying on a bed. She sat up and was seized by a violent bout of dizziness and nausea. She lunged for the side of the bed, her fingers digging into the edge of the mattress as her stomach clenched then roiled violently. When the spasms subsided, Yves sank against the bed, pressing her burning face against the cool sheets, her body trembling.
Her head cleared quickly and the memory of being drugged and kidnapped returned in a rush. She gasped and scrambled off the bed, the sudden movement caused dizziness to wash over her and her vision to blur. She leaned against the bedpost for support. It was then she realized she was barefoot and her jacket was missing. Her insides knotted, quickly taking stock of her body. Don't panic Harlow. He hasn't touched you. Stay calm and think.
"You're awake." Her eyes darted toward the voice. The man who had tried to pick her up at the club was standing by the entrance of the bedroom. She felt his gaze rake appreciatively over her body. He was as tall as Jimmy, but with a larger build. He wore tan chinos and a white Tommy Hilfiger dress shirt untucked.
"Where am I? What did you put in my drink?" Yves' voice cracked, her mouth was parched and felt as if she had a mouth full of cotton. She desperately wanted a drink of water.
The man smiled, his piercing stare never leaving her, "It's a drug that the FDA never approved; too many nasty side affects. But I found an excellent use for it." He approached her, "As soon as I saw you, I knew I was going to have you." He chuckled, "We're going to have some fun."
With speed that stunned her, he grabbed her, throwing her back onto the bed. Yves cried out and tried to move, but then he was on top of her, pinning her down with the full weight of his body. He grabbed her wrists and clamped them painfully above her head with one hand. Yves struggled, desperately trying to free herself, but her resistance only fueled his excitement.
"That's it baby, fight," he encouraged her, "it makes it so much better."
Yves tried to stay calm, but the crushing pressure of his body on hers made it difficult to breath. Her panic surged as she heard a tearing sound as he ripped her tank top off then her bra. With his free hand he grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing and pinching. His mouth descended on the soft skin of her neck, sucking and kissing. She choked back a sob, struggling more fiercely. Pain shot through her already strained shoulders. He laughed, pressing his growing erection against her thigh.
"So good," he taunted, watching her face as he ground his pelvis against her. "You're gonna be so good, baby."
Tears of anger, fear and humiliation coursed down her face. This couldn't be happening! Think, dammit! Think! You're stronger than this. Please God, No! The churning thoughts created a desperate cacophony in her head. Then her panicked thoughts silenced as his hand released her breast and moved lower, pulling her skirt out of his way. She heard a desperate keening sound and she realized it was coming from her. He became frenetic. He grabbed the waistband of her panties and tore them off. He forced her legs apart with his knee. As he fumbled with his pants, Yves felt the vise like grip on her wrists loosen, his body shift. Her breath came rushing back.
"No!" Yves screamed and thrashed, yanking her hands free. She brought her knee up in a crushing blow to his groin. He screamed, his face contorting in intense pain. She kicked him again. He rolled off her, clutching himself. Yves struggled up and shoved him away from her. His eyes widened in rage. He attempted to grab her as he fell off the bed. Yves spun away from him, falling off the other side. She hit the floor hard, pain shooting through her shoulders. She remembered something she could use against him.
She forced herself to her feet. Her head spinning, she staggered and leaned against the wall for support. Her hands shaking, she reached behind her head and released the hair clip. She seized the miniature tranquilizer gun that she had hidden within her hair; thankful she hadn't hidden it in her jacket.
"FUCKING BITCH!" The man scrambled to his feet, blood dripped down his face from a gash when he hit his head against the nightstand. Yves pushed herself out of the corner, bracing herself as he charged toward her. When he reached for her, she jammed the tranquilizer gun into his arm, hearing the faint hiss of the injector working.
He slapped the gun from her hand as if it were a bothersome insect. It skidded across the floor, disappearing under the bed. He struck her brutally across the face. She crashed into the wall, hitting her head. As she crumpled to the floor, the world went dark for a moment. He grabbed her arms, wrenching her to her feet. Yves' body cried in pain and her head throbbed as blood coursed down her face. She tasted blood from her split lip.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her arms as he dragged her back toward the bed. His laughter echoed in her ears as she fought to remain calm. She clamped her hands together and brought them up and then down hard on his arms, breaking his hold. She kicked him in the solar plexus sending him stumbling backwards into the dresser. Yves raced out of the bedroom, she had to find a weapon. The man launched himself after her, grabbing her legs; tackling her to the floor. She kicked backwards, hitting him in the face. His hands slid from her legs. She scrambled away on her hands and knees. Then his knee was digging into her back as his hand clamped onto her shoulder, pinning her against the floor. He flipped her over and straddled her. He snatched her flailing arms, forcing them down to her side.
Yves' heart hammered in her chest; her breath coming in ragged gasps. She thrashed, trying to break his iron hold on her, but he held her tight. Her blood turned to ice when she looked into his cold, hard eyes. He was enjoying every moment of her pain and fear. Then he laughed, "We're gonna have some fun now."
***********
Jimmy threw himself against the door but it still refused to budge. His shoulder hurt like hell from hitting the door, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting to Yves. He had to help Yves. He thought he heard his name being called and then someone grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the door. Away from Yves. He shook off the grip easily.
"Jimmy, stop," Frohike, it was Frohike. He turned and saw Byers and Langly with him. He nearly cried with relief. The guys were here; they would know what to do!
"She's in there Frohike," Jimmy said desperately, "she needs help; we have to help her." Frohike pushed past him and knelt down. He pulled his lock picks from his leather coat and began working on the door.
"I've called 911," Byers said as they watched Frohike work, "the police are on their way."
They heard the soft click of the lock disengaging and Frohike pushed open the door. Jimmy rushed into the apartment and saw Ryan Dawson straddling Yves. She was struggling, trying to escape. Rage surged through him. Jimmy grabbed Dawson by the collar, dragging him off Yves. He wanted to smash the man's face. He wanted. He wanted. The thoughts that raced through his mind sickened him and he shoved Dawson away.
Dawson stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. Rage flared in his eyes. He leapt to his feet and moved toward Jimmy who had turned his back on him. Then he was slammed up against the wall.
"Don't even think about it, asshole." Frohike warned him, "There's four of us."
The man was off her. Yves scrambled frantically to her feet. She took a step only to have her legs buckle out from under her. She fell to her knees, a sob tearing from her throat. Something touched her. "No!" She cried, blindly striking out and hitting someone.
"Yves, it's ok. You're going to be ok." A familiar voice cut through the miasma of fear. She heard tenderness, concern. "He's not gonna hurt you anymore."
Jimmy? "Jimmy?" Yves whispered. He was kneeling next her, watching her anxiously. She realized he had wrapped his blazer around her. It swung loose, but it was large enough to cover her completely. Still, she clutched the material, holding it tightly closed.
"The guys are here too." Jimmy gently touched her tangled hair, brushing it from her face. Anger flashed in his eyes when he saw the bruises and blood, but quickly turned to compassion. Byers crouched down next to Jimmy, concern in his own eyes. Langly stood behind them, nervously looking around as if he wasn't sure what to do. Frohike was by one wall, holding her attacker. He glanced toward her, worry darkening his eyes.
Where have all the Gunmen gone? The phrase said earlier with flip impatience leaped into her head again. They were here with her. They had looked for her. Why? She saw it in their eyes. They cared about her. The words ripped through her like tissue paper. Her eyes welled, a sob rose in her throat. Don't. Not in front of them. She fought for control, fighting back the tears that threatened her. The sob turned into a dry racking cough.
"Langly," Byers turned to the nervous hacker, "get some water."
Langly nodded and fled into the kitchen. They heard him rummaging through cupboards. He was back within seconds. Jimmy took the water from Langly and helped Yves take a sip. She winced as the glass touched her swollen and split lip but the cool water felt wonderful to her parched mouth. Jimmy poured some water onto a handkerchief that Byers gave him and began tenderly wiping the blood from her split lip. Jimmy smiled reassuringly and that simple act touched a chord in her heart. She started to reach out to him, and then froze.
What was she doing? She realized she was still kneeling on the floor like a terrified little girl, afraid to move. A childhood memory flashed. Darkness. Loud voices. The smell of gunpowder. A child's illusions shattered with one act of violence. She shoved the memory away. She wasn't that weak vulnerable child anymore. She quickly stood up, faltering on unsteady legs. Jimmy and Byers moved to help her from either side. She shook off their hands. "I'm fine," she insisted, stepping away from them, "I'm fine."
It was then that the police entered the apartment. They took one look at the scene and drew their weapons on Jimmy, Byers, and Langly. "Freeze! Back away from her!"
Langly threw his hands in the air, a petrified look on his face. Jimmy raised his hands, still holding the water glass. Water sloshed over the rim of the glass, running down his wrists.
"No!" Yves shouted. The cops looked at Yves, their guns still drawn. "They're-" she glanced at the Gunmen. What were they exactly? "-they're associates."
Byers stepped foreword, "My name is John Byers, I was the one who called 911." He slowly pulled his press pass from his pocket and handed it to the cops. "We are reporters for a newspaper called the Lone Gunmen. Ryan Dawson kidnapped Miss. Harlow during an undercover investigation. He was assaulting her when we arrived."
The senior cop, an older man in his late forties glanced at the press pass then moved between the Gunmen and Yves. He looked the Gunmen over carefully then turned his attention to Yves, taking in the blood and bruises on her face. "Ma'am, is this true?"
Yves swallowed and nodded, "Yes." She watched as the younger cop snapped handcuffs on Dawson and led him away reciting the Miranda Rights. Dawson appeared sluggish and tired. She *had* managed to inject him with some of the tranquilizer; but it had been too little and he had been running on adrenalin. She suppressed a shudder. He had tried to take by force the most private part of herself. He would have succeeded if the Gunmen hadn't arrived when they did.
She heard the cop call for an ambulance. "No. I don't need an ambulance. I'm fine."
"Ms. Harlow," the cop said gently, "You should be examined by a doctor; if you were raped-"
The word crashed against her emotional walls. She glanced at the Gunmen. Jimmy. They were staring at her. What were they thinking? They think you're weak. "No, I wasn't raped," she shook her head emphatically and repeated it more firmly, "I wasn't raped, I'm fine."
The cop canceled the ambulance and clipped his radio to his belt. "I still think you should see a doctor." He glanced at Byers.
"We'll make sure she gets medical attention," Byers told the cop.
The officer nodded and told Yves, "Someone will be there to take your statement."
When the officer left, Byers turned to Yves, "He's right, you should be examined by a doctor. Your wrist looks pretty bad."
Langly peered at her bruised and swelling wrist, his face getting pale again. "Oh man, you could have permanent damage if you don't get that looked at. It could seriously affect your hacking."
"I'll drive myself later." Yves covered her wrist with her sleeve.
"Yves, your car is still at the club, besides you're in no condition to drive," Frohike said. "We'll take you."
"NO!" The Gunmen stared at her, surprised by her outburst. Yves hadn't meant for the word to come out so loud. She knew they meant well, but she felt as if everything was spinning out of control. She needed to be alone. She needed to get out of this apartment. She couldn't let them see-. She looked at them, "You have to verify the information on the disk. Make sure it is legitimate. Stopping the Cardoza's is what's important."
She watched as the Gunmen exchanged glances. Go back to the lair, please. Then Jimmy, who had been silently watching everything, stepped closer to Yves. "I have my car. I'll go with Yves to the hospital." He looked at her, "Ok, Yves?"
Yves caught her breath as she looked at Jimmy; he had just given her some measure of control back. The fear still hovered just below the surface, but it would be just a few more hours and she could be alone. She nodded and without another word, walked out of the apartment.
5:42 a.m. St. Isadore Hospital
"Do you need help, honey?" The nurse asked. Yves was sitting on the examination table wearing a hospital gown. The blood that had covered her face had been cleaned off. Her wrist, which the doctor had diagnosed as fractured, was in a cast that ran from her wrist to her elbow. The nurse touched her arm and said louder, "Miss Harlow?"
Yves snapped from her reverie, jerking away from the light touch on her arm before remembering where she was. She glanced at the nurse. She was watching Yves with a concerned expression. What had the nurse said to her?
"No, Thank you." Yves waited and the nurse's worried expression faded.
"I'll give you some privacy to get dressed. Remember to get the prescription for the painkiller filled. It's mild, but it will help." The nurse smiled encouragement before silently slipping from the room.
Yves waited a moment, and then she slowly eased off the examination room table, wincing as her body protested each movement. The police had taken her statement and her skirt as evidence. Jimmy had gone to the hospital gift shop and bought some clothes. The plastic bag lay on the one visitors' chair. She opened it and took the clothes out of the bag.
Yves slipped on the white shorts underneath the hospital gown, then pulled the loose fitting gown off, letting it puddle to the floor. She caught her reflection in a small mirror on the wall; her face and shoulders were a canvas of black and blue bruises. She touched her split lip. Doubt stole over her. How did this happen? You've dealt with worse - assassins, spies, terrorists - you're supposed to be strong, in control; yet couldn't -. She turned away from her accusing reflection.
As Yves slid the thin t-shirt over her head, pain flared in her shoulders. She quickly wiped away the tears that stung her eyes, grasping the tenuous thread of her emotions. She shivered, the cold she felt had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
She saw Jimmy's blazer hanging on the back of the door. She took it off the hook and slid into it. As she buttoned it shut, she caught the faint scent of Jimmy's cologne. She slipped the sandals Jimmy had bought her then took a slow deep breath and then walked out of the exam room. She followed the painted green arrows back to the waiting room. She immediately saw Jimmy standing next to a small cluster of chairs staring at the floor. As if sensing her arrival, he looked up and went to her, compassion filling his eyes. "Yves, how are you?"
Yves' heart froze in mid beat as she fought to maintain her fragile control. Don't lose it in front of him. You have to be strong. Yves rubbed the sleeve of the blazer with the thumb and forefinger of her good hand as she fought her rioting emotions. She could hear the rapid pounding of her heart, but when she spoke, her voice was measured and cool. "I'm fine, Jimmy. I just want to go home." He nodded and escorted her out of the hospital.
The red and gold lights of the rising sun swept away the last remnants of the night, but off in the distance, gray clouds forecast a coming thunderstorm. During the drive, Yves was silent, staring out the window, lost in thought. Jimmy had turned the radio to a classical station he knew she liked. He wasn't sure if Yves even heard the music until the DJ announced 'Lara's Theme' from Dr. Zhivago. Jimmy thought the music haunting and sad, but Yves smiled faintly as she listened. When it was over, her lovely smile vanished and she became distant again.
Jimmy pulled up to Yves' apartment building, parking at the curb. He cut the engine and looked at her. Her hair had fallen forward, covering most of her face, but he could still see one of the horrible bruises that marred her cheek. His felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what Yves had had to endure.
"Yves," Jimmy said softly so he wouldn't startle her, "we're at your apartment."
Yves glanced at her building then Jimmy; her eyes had assumed some semblance of her normal cool façade. Yves was the strongest, bravest, smartest person he knew, but she always kept her true feeling carefully hidden. Jimmy knew she was desperately trying not to let it show how much she was hurting. He wanted to hold her and comfort her. He wanted to tell her everything would be ok.
"Yves," Jimmy said tentatively, "you can stay at the warehouse for a while. You know, if you don't want to be alone. You shouldn't be alone."
I don't want to be alone. Yves tried to ignore the plaintive cry of the scared little girl she used to be but it was echoed by the lonely woman she had become. "I'm fine, Jimmy; but I have to be alone." She offered him a reassuring smile, "I need to be alone." Before he could reply, she opened the car door and quickly stepped out. She heard him call her name, but she pretended not to hear him as she hurried to the entrance of the building. She heard the car door slam and then footsteps.
"Yves, wait!" Jimmy called as he trotted after her, his mind racing. He didn't understand. She told him she wanted to be alone, but he had seen the truth in her eyes, her soul nearly cried out with it. She didn't want to be alone. He just wished he knew how to reach her, to let him help her.
Yves stopped in front of the entrance, her hand gripping the door handle. She remained facing the door as he caught up to her, watching their transparent reflections in the glass door.
"I'll walk you to your apartment."
Yves closed her eyes shaking her head, "It's not necessary, Jimmy. I'm fine." She felt his warm hand rest gently on her shoulder. He was so close; all she had to do was turn around. His strong arms would wrap around her and hold her close. One moment and she wouldn't be alone. One moment. Yves' eyes snapped open. She had to be strong; stay in control. She had to be alone.
"I'm going to walk you up to your apartment." Jimmy insisted in quiet determination.
Yves nodded, confused by the conflicting emotions swirling within her. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, letting Jimmy open the door for her.
A few minutes later, they walked out of the elevator. "You live on the top floor." Jimmy said, breaking the silence that had settled over them. "That's cool. You must have a great view from your window."
Yves glanced at Jimmy. Her heart tugged at his innocent way of thinking, even after living and working with the Gunmen. She had chosen her apartment for its location. Ideally situated between the stairs and the elevator and near enough the fire escape, it provided her a number of avenues of egress.
"There is a beautiful view of the stars from the roof." Why did you say that? She had been to the roof twice. The first time was when she moved in; she had reconnoitered the area, memorizing the entire layout of the streets and buildings around her. The other time was to hide a set of false documents - identification, passports and a spare weapon. An unfamiliar longing clutched at her heart and she quickened her pace.
She reached her apartment and peeled back a part of the molding, revealing a small hidden compartment large enough for a spare key. She unlocked the door and started to open it when Jimmy reached her.
"Yves." Jimmy's voice trailed off. She turned around, her hand still gripping the doorknob. He hesitated, and then covered her cool fingers with his warm ones. He searched her beautiful sad eyes. "I'm here Yves," he said simply.
Her eyes started to shine. "Thank you for walking me up, Jimmy," she whispered. She pushed open the door and slipped inside, shutting it in his face. He heard the harsh click of the locks engaging.
Jimmy stared at the closed door, his heart aching for her. He wished he could take away her pain. Not just from the last 8 hours, but all the pain she harbored. He pressed his hand against the smooth surface of the door. You don't have to be strong all the time, Yves. You don't have to be alone. Let me help. He dropped his hands to his side. Maybe, it was something she had to figure out herself. Taking one last look at the door, Jimmy turned reluctantly away and headed back to the elevator.
Yves leaned against the door listening to the receding sound of Jimmy's footsteps. When she was sure he was gone, she turned away from the door. She was alone. The emptiness inside her squeezed her heart, causing her eyes to well. She hurried through the darkened apartment to her bedroom where no one could see her. There she sank onto her bed. The fragile walls she had constructed in the last hours collapsed in on her. Tears coursed down her cheeks, followed by deep racking sobs that shook her body.
7:58 a.m. Lair of the Lone Gunmen
"Damn it!" Langly snarled, "the decryption isn't working." He stared at the monitor and the jumble of indecipherable symbols. The program he had downloaded had failed to decrypt the contents of the disk. He sighed in frustration before looking up at his friends. "Just when did you make Huevero Rancheros? You didn't even offer me any."
Frohike mopped up the last of the eggs with a piece of bread, grinning as he popped the morsel into his mouth. He set the dish on top of some papers.
"He did, Langly," Byers said picking up the plate. He looked around, picked up the papers and then set the dish back down, "but your one track mind nearly bit his head off when he asked you."
Langly turned back to the monitor, his stomach growling, "I don't know. Yves must have known it was encrypted. She's holding out on us again." He moaned like a petulant child.
"What did you say?"
Frohike, Langly and Byers turned around to see Jimmy closing the door behind him. For such a big guy, he sure can be quiet. Frohike thought before realizing Jimmy's face was a mask of thunderous fury. Langly's eyes became saucers behind his glasses as Jimmy walked up to him. Langly stood up quickly, knocking his chair over.
"You're blaming Yves?" Jimmy's voice was dangerously low. "She was beaten and almost raped because of that disk. She thought it was important enough to come to us for help. She trusted us."
Frohike slid in between Langly and Jimmy, "Hey big guy, take it easy."
Byers placed his hand on Jimmy's shoulder; his muscles were taut. "Langly's been working on the disk since we got back; he's tired, but he is not blaming Yves." Byers felt the younger mans' muscles relax slightly, "How is Yves doing?"
Jimmy's anger drained completely away. He was silent as he bent down and picked up the chair, righting it. "She says she is fine, that she has to be alone. I think it's because she doesn't want anyone to know how much she's hurting. Like, we'll think less of her. I wish I knew what to do."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. No one knew what to say, and then Langly cleared his throat.
"Oh. Uh. Hey Jimmy." Langly said nervously. "I. uh did a search on the internet and found some stuff about helping people who are victims of assault." He picked up some pages and handed them to Jimmy. The hacker shuffled his feet and looked away.
Jimmy smiled and enveloped Langly in a hug, "Thanks Langly!"
"Yeah, well get off me you big dope," Langly muttered. He glanced at Frohike and Byers' approving looks, "Shut up."
Jimmy released Langly, his eyes trailed to the monitor, "What's with the higher graphics?"
"The higher what?" Demanded Frohike. He looked at Langly who shook his head, perplexed.
"Of course!" Byers exclaimed, snapping his fingers. He moved in front of the computer and started typing.
"Don't 'of course' us, Byers," Langly said, "what do you and the boy wonder know?"
"Yves said Anthony Cardoza was a low-level hacker. He is also a well-known patron of the arts. He's donated millions to museums to support their Egyptian collections. These are hieroglyphics. I've downloaded a translator program."
"How did you know about the hieroglyphics?" Frohike asked.
Jimmy shrugged, "The Sci-Fi Channel had a Stargate Marathon last wekend.
Frohike nudged Langly, "Why didn't you know about this?"
"That was the weekend I had that Dungeons and Dragons competition at Kimmy's." Langly sounded defensive. "I won, thanks for asking."
Frohike shook his head, "You two need to get out more."
"We've got translation." Langly said, ignoring Frohike.
"Oh man," Frohike exclaimed watching the data scroll down "Congressman Jasper Hartley is listed. He heads up that Commission that is investigating police corruption."
Byers sighed, "I guess we know why it's been so ineffective."
Langly tapped the monitor, "According to this, there is a monthly shipment of crack cocaine arriving tonight. This is just what we need."
"We're going to call the police, right?' Jimmy asked.
"We already called A.D. Skinner," Byers said, "we had to be fairly vague when we talked to him."
"Once he stopped screaming at us for disturbing his beauty sleep, he was very interested." Frohike grinned, "Ol' Walt's gonna have a cow when he takes a look at this disk."
***********
You're gonna be so good, baby
Yves bolted upright in bed, strangling the cry that rose to her lips. The dream had been so real; she could still feel his hands on her, his breath against her skin. She drew her knees to her chest willing herself to stop trembling. Slowly her fear turned to anger.
You're losing it Harlow. It's been five days. You've shed enough tears. Don't give him any more control over you. She had let her emotions cloud her judgment. She had gotten soft and weak. It had been a tough lesson, but she was stronger. She wouldn't let it happen again.
She tossed her blanket away and dressed into leggings and a black Nike exercise tank with the white Nike logo on it. She pulled her long black hair into a ponytail. She strode into the living room and glanced at her computer. She passed it and turned on her stereo, tuning it to a classical station. She walked back to her computer and slid into her black leather chair. She needed to reclaim her sense of control. She turned it on, mindful of the cast on her left hand.
She checked her e-mail. There were two from her contact. One was a job that could net her millions but would require her to go undercover. The other was a simple hack job. She replied, refusing the first, taking the second. A third e-mail was from Byers, requesting help on some information. She stared at it, thinking. Langly could easily find the information, why had Byers e-mailed her? She went to delete the message, but instead, saved it.
Her wrist was throbbing; she glanced at the cast, an ever-present reminder of how weak she had been. She opened a drawer in her desk and took out a prescription bottle. She tapped out one painkiller and dry swallowed. She set the bottle down and began hacking, not for her client but for herself.
It was a slow process, but she managed to hack into the Maryland Police Department databases and pull up the file on Ryan Dawson. Her mouth went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest as her finger hovered over the enter button. You're in control, Harlow. Do it. She pressed the button down. The file spread out before her; Dawson's two convictions of rape and subsequent prison term. His arrest for assaulting her had lead police to connect him to four other sexual assaults.
Next, she pulled up his mug shot. She stared at it. His lips curled in a mocking smirk. His eyes taunted her. You're gonna be so good, baby. Her memory flashed, his hands on hers, his weight on her, but worst was the utter helplessness she had felt.
Her stomach lurched. Yves leaped from her chair and ran to the bathroom. She flipped the toilet seat up, bent and vomited. When she had expelled the little she had managed to eat earlier, she stood up. Yves turned on the faucet with trembling hands and rinsed out her mouth then splashed cold water on her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her bruises had already faded to a sickly yellow; soon they would be gone.
She started when her doorbell rang. She glanced back at her reflection. Her dark eyes seemed to ask, do you call that control? Yves grimaced at her reflection, "Shut up."
She walked quickly to the door and checked the peephole. It was Jimmy, smiling and carrying two large brown paper bags, one in each arm. The heaviness that had been weighing on her heart lessened. She unbolted the locks, opening the door.
"Hi Yves!" He directed his smile at her and she felt it warm her heart. "Can I come in?"
Yves stepped back, opening the door wider. As he headed toward the kitchen, he glanced around. Her apartment has a sterile, generic look, nothing in it reflected Yves' personality; except maybe the classical music that was playing on the CD player.
"What are you doing, Jimmy?" She watched curiously, as he set the bags on the white tile counter and began unpacking container after container.
His smile never wavered, "I came to see how you are doing. It's been almost a week and I - we were worried." He showed her a large tan container, "Frohike made some more Chili. You seemed to like it even though you didn't eat much. And he made Pot Stickers from the recipe he got from Captain Toby. I remember you said the recipe had too much ginger in it for your taste so I made sure Frohike didn't put to much in it."
Jimmy watched her as he set another plastic container on the counter. Yves was looking at him as if he was crazy, but she was definitely smiling. He took out a bouquet of flowers from one of the bags and presented them to her.
"These are for you. I just wanted you to know I care and if you need anything -. Yves?" What did I do? Jimmy thought, his heart sinking. Her smile vanished and she was staring at the flowers. Somehow, he had upset her.
Yves looked at the beautiful floral arrangement he was holding out to her. Daisies and Babies-breath. It was so simple, innocent and sweet. Just like Jimmy. And like Jimmy, it amazed her how it lifted her spirits and heart. Don't let you emotions cloud your judgment a voice whispered. If she were to remain in control and remain strong, she would have to end this. She couldn't afford to care about him, to be vulnerable. Weak. It only got you hurt. She had to be alone. She forced herself to look him in the eyes, her heart aching at what she was about to do.
"I appreciate everything, Jimmy, but I think you should go." Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. She had trained herself at an early age to wall of her emotions; convincing herself she was protecting herself. If she didn't need anyone or anything, she couldn't be hurt or betrayed. It was a lie that had served her well. Until now.
Jimmy was confused. He didn't understand why she had suddenly shut him out. He knew she had been happy - until he gave her the flowers. Maybe the flowers had reminded her of something bad from that night. Stupid, Jimmy. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He loved her and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her, but he had. "I'm sorry, Yves."
He started for the door but stopped and turned around, his face a cloud of misery. "I forgot," he whispered as he took out the newest edition of The Lone Gunman from his jacket pocket. He handed it to her, "Because of you, the F.B.I. arrested a whole bunch of people in that mob family." He waited but when there was no response from Yves, he turned away and began unbolting the locks, still clutching the flowers.
Yves stared at the newspaper. The headline proclaimed F.B.I. ends Cardoza Reign. Undercover Reporter Instrumental in Arrests. She touched the paper, thinking of its four publishers. She had known them for only a short time, but she had grown to care about them, to trust them.
She looked at Jimmy fumbling with the last lock. She thought of their brief kiss, the feel of his lips on hers. He had risked his heart when he kissed her. His strength and courage amazed her.
Maybe.
"Jimmy, wait." Yves called.
He turned around quickly, his expression hopeful. She went to him, taking the flowers from him then clasped his hand in hers; their fingers entwining. He reached out, lightly stoking her face. She searched his eyes, realizing what he already knew. She could be strong and still care about him; to be vulnerable.
"Stay," Her eyes glistened and a tear slid down her cheek. She glanced back at the kitchen counter and all the containers of food. Jimmy's voice whispered to her, What do you feel, Yves? She smiled and looked up at him. She had never felt stronger. "Have dinner with me."
The End
6:22 PM Lone Gunmen H.Q.
"Eat your heart out T.G.I. Fridays," Frohike said as he checked the chili that had been simmering since early that morning. "Almost ready," he decided when the loud insistent buzz of the doorbell shattered the evening tranquility. He threw an irritated look at the stairs, wondering who it could be. He waited for someone to call up to him, but when the doorbell continued; Frohike sighed heavily and moved toward the stairs.
"Someone get the damn door! Jimmy! Langly! Byers!" No response. "Guys?" Still no response. Worried, Frohike ran down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He hurried to the work area and found Langly typing furiously at one of the computers, his attention deep into a computer game. Jimmy was at another workstation reading the sports section of the Baltimore Herald.
"Are you two deaf?" Frohike shouted. "Can't you hear.?" His voice trailed off when he heard the familiar heavy metal sound of the Ramones pouring out of the headphones Langly was wearing while Knickleback rocked from Jimmy's.
"Oh for crying out loud," he glanced around. Byers must have fled the impromptu concert battle for the quiet sanctuary of his room. Frohike glared at his two friends and their obliviousness to the persistent torture of the doorbell. Muttering to himself about the younger generation, he stomped to the front door; glanced at the monitor then unbolted the locks, swinging it open.
"Slowly step away from the buzzer and no one gets hurt," Frohike warned. Yves smirked and continued to press the buzzer for several more seconds.
"Really Melvin, is that anyway to greet a guest?" Her smirk faded as she peered into the dimly lit lair, "What is that god-awful racket?" She brushed past him heading toward the noise.
Frohike quickly locked the door and ran after her; nearly colliding with her when she stopped short; staring at Langly and Jimmy.
"I have a story that will interest you guys," Yves arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow, indicating the two still oblivious men, "unless your new strategy is to play that horrible sound until your conspirators surrender."
"Funny Yves," grumbled Frohike; his eyes narrowed in suspicious interest. "What kind of story?"
"I would rather not compete with Mutt and Jeffs' 'concert'. If you would discover where Byers is hiding, I'll end the battle of the bands."
Frohike glowered at Langly and Jimmy as he considered her offer. They hadn't had any leads for a story and their deadline was fast approaching for this month's issue. He decided to see what she had to say. "It better be good." He asserted before climbing the stairs.
Yves waited until Frohike was out of sight, and then walked to Jimmy. He was leaning over the newspaper as he read and bobbing his head to the music. She lightly tapped his shoulder. His head snapped up; seeing her, his face lit up in a broad smile.
"Hey Yves," he quickly removed his headphones, turning the sound off.
"Hello Jimmy." Yves found herself returning his smile. She glanced at Langly, still engrossed in his computer game and decided to have a bit of fun. Pressing her forefinger to her lips, she sat down at the computer next to Jimmy, her slender fingers flying over the keyboard.
Curious, Jimmy moved closer to her. "What are you doing?"
"Watch." Yves peered around the monitor at Langly and waited expectantly. The other hackers' computer screen flashed a bright white then went dark. Langly's fingers froze in mid type; his eyes became saucers behind his thick black glasses.
"What the.?" He looked up and saw Jimmy standing next to the computer, a baffled look on his face. "What the hell did you touch?" Langly jumped to his feet, tearing his headphones off.
"Relax, Langly," Yves rose gracefully from the chair, a satisfied smile on her face, "it will come back up in a few minutes."
"You! What the hell did you do?" Langly demanded. "I reached the third tier and claimed the golden staff. I won a second life."
"Really? What did you do with the first one? Waste it playing adolescent video games?" Came her acerbic reply.
"All right Yves, enough of the mystery." Frohike interrupted the verbal sparring as he and Byers descended the stairs, "What do you have."
Yves' smile vanished; clasping her hands behind her back she queried, "What do you know about the Cardoza crime family?"
"They are one of the most powerful organized crime families on the East Coast," Byers said.
"Yeah, and they have their hands in anything and everything," Frohike said, "protection rackets, prostitution, drugs, illegal arms. The word is they have a couple of State Representatives in their back pocket. Police as well."
"Neither the Local or Federal authorities have been able to make anything stick on them," Langly added as he joined Frohike and Byers. "Witnesses either wind up dead or vanished."
"There's hope for you yet," Yves said. "I was told by a very reliable source that the Cardoza family is setting up a new drug distribution pipeline along the east coast. A major distribution site will be just outside of Takoma Park - your backyard." She watched as they perked up at that information. "Anthony Cardoza, the heir apparent to the family business and amateur hacker has put everything on his computer."
Langly snorted as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, "Let me guess, you want us to either hack into the Cardozas' computer or break into their highly secured compound."
"None of us have to break into anything, boys," Yves said. "It's already been done for us. Someone on the inside has downloaded the information and wiped the hard drive. I've talked to the man and he is very anxious to sell the disk to the highest bidder."
"Why come to us?" Frohike asked. "It sounds like a simple snatch and run, your specialty."
"Yeah, put on one of those slinky black numbers of yours and show him some of your - uh -" Langly's hands made waves in the air, "-attributes."
Yves turned away and walked to the computer Langly had been working on. The small flashing curser at the corner of the screen indicated the computer was back up. She drew a finger across the keyboard; her polished nail made a clicking sound against the keys. She glanced at the Gunmen; Byers had taken a seat on a stool and was waiting patiently for her response while both Langly and Frohike had impatient expressions on their faces. Jimmy had been following the conversation as if he had been watching a tennis match. His gaze now settled on her.
"Spill it Yves," Frohike said.
She tapped her fingers on the table, then after a moment, she sighed. "The man harbors archaic notions regarding women. He was more than willing to discuss the sale of the disk with me, but he will only complete the deal tonight and only with -" Yves scowled as her hands simulated quotation marks " - the man."
Langly burst out laughing, startling everyone. He clutched his middle and folded over. Frohike chuckled and even Byers hid a smile as he pressed his hand to his mouth.
Jimmy's smile faltered as he glanced at Yves' flushed face, "I don't get it."
Langly removed his glasses; wiping tears from his eyes. "Mata Hari here has just been reduced to a mobsters' moll," He glanced at Yves, "Guess it's just a Mario Puzio world and you're Diane Keaton."
"Langly," admonished Byers as Jimmy looked sympathetically at Yves. "We need to help Yves with this. Getting that disk could cripple and possibly end a narcotics empire that destroys millions of lives every year. Moreover, if that disk gets out, it might create a mob war with innocent people caught in the crossfire. We cannot pass up this opportunity."
"We're in, Yves," Frohike said. "What do you want us to do?
10:42 P.M. Club Sanctuary
Yves glanced at her watch for the third time in ten minutes. Already, she regretted changing out of her usual leather outfit and into a short leather skirt, tank and thin pink leather jacket. The weather had been getting noticeably colder with the coming of winter. Shivering as a gust of cool night air swept around her, she moved closer to the neon lit entrance of the club hoping it would block some of the cold.
She watched as a group of laughing and chatting friends walked toward the entrance. They opened the door letting out a rush of warm air and what sounded like the band singing Paula Cole's 'Where Have all the Cowboys Gone?' As the door closed behind them, it cut off the music and the warm air. Yves glanced at her watch now illuminated by the pink neon sign. Where have all the Gunmen Gone? Yves thought flippantly. To take her mind off the cold, and where the Gunmen were not, she went over the plan they had devised hours earlier.
Frohike had insisted they move upstairs to the kitchen to discuss their strategy while eating his chili and homemade dinner rolls. Jimmy brought an extra chair from a storage room and they all sat around the kitchen table eating and talking. Yves sampled the chili, finding it was spicy but delicious.
Byers proposed a straightforward yet efficient plan. He and Frohike would pose as the buyers. While he would pretend to strike a deal with the mobster, thereby distracting him, Frohike would switch the disk with a blank. Langly would monitor everything from the van.
Jimmy looked expectantly at the guys. "So what do I do?" His face shone with excitement at the prospect of an undercover operation. The other Gunmen exchanged looks. Jimmy tripping over a cable and knocking out power to an entire block was still fresh in their minds. "Come on guys," He cajoled, "I want to help. I won't screw up. Frohike even said it would be a piece of cake."
"Jimmy can pose as our bodyguard," Byers finally said, "He can escort Willard to our table and stand guard. If he's as nervous as Yves says he is, it may be a good idea to have Jimmy there."
"Thanks Byers." Jimmy beamed at his friend, but his brow soon furrowed, "what about Yves? What will she do?"
Four pairs of eyes turned to look at Yves who was sitting quietly, watching them.
"Yves can be a good moll and keep the home fires burning," cracked Langly. "Maybe do some crocheting, a little ironing."
Yves simply smiled. She slipped a hand inside her leather jacket and brought out something, setting it down in the middle of the table. Byers picked it up; it was an out of focus candid shot of a man. He passed it to Frohike and they looked quizzically at her.
"Since none of you know what Leon Willard looks like, I'll be identifying him for Jimmy." She stood up and walked toward the stairs. She stopped and turned halfway, smiling coquettishly at Langly, "I'll leave the crocheting to you." She tossed her hair and sashayed down the stairs. She was unlocking the front door when she heard familiar footsteps behind her.
"The guys wanted me to lock up after you." Jimmy sounded almost apologetic.
Most likely, they told him to make sure she wasn't skulking around the warehouse. "Don't worry," she said over her shoulder, "you can tell them you personally showed me the door."
"I'm not worried, Yves. We'll see you tonight."
Something in his voice made her glance back. He was leaning against the door, watching her, a smile on his face. She returned the smile then ascended the concrete steps to her car.
**************
Yves finally spotted the Gunmen crossing the street from a nearby parking lot. She glared at them as they joined her in front of the Club.
"It's about time," she said in her lilting English accent, placing her hands on her hips. "Did you have to push that ancient van of yours here?"
Don't get your panties in a bind, Yves," retorted Langly. "We're here."
Yves' eyebrows arched as she shot him a withering look and took an intimidating step toward him. Langly ducked nervously behind Frohike, keeping the older man between him and Yves. Irritated, Frohike shook the other man's hands off his shoulders, "Get off me punkass." Nodding toward Byers, he said. "We would have been here sooner, but the narc decided to change into something more appropriate for a nightclub-"Yves glanced doubtfully at Byers who was wearing his usual immaculately pressed suit. "- until Jimmy said he looked like Sonny Crockett from Miami Vice."
The corners of Yves lips rose slightly as she looked around, "Where is Jimmy?"
"We sent him on an errand," Byers said straightening his tie. "He should be here soon,"
A horn honked twice and they saw Jimmy's black Trans Am drive past them, turning into the same parking lot that the Gunmen had come from. Moments later, Jimmy emerged from between two cars. He was wearing a navy blazer over his usual t-shirt and jeans. His dark sunglasses hung from the front of his t-shirt.
"Hi guys!" Jimmy said enthusiastically as he joined the group on the sidewalk. "This is gonna rock!"
"One thing I'm curious about, Yves," said Byers, "is why this man wants to meet in a nightclub. It's not the most suitable place for an exchange."
""I expect he plans on celebrating his new windfall," Yves said dryly.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. We get it," muttered Langly impatiently, "Wine, women and song. Let's get this over with." He headed back to the van, cutting a wide berth around Yves.
Frohike grinned, "He's pissed because he really wanted to be inside for this one; but he refuses to leave Jimmy alone in the van with the equipment." Frohike glanced at Jimmy, "Your wire is showing kid, you gotta fix it."
"I'll help him with it," Yves said as Jimmy peered at the offending wire.
"Give us a heads up when you're in position." Frohike gave the last minute instruction before following Byers into the club.
Jimmy nodded absently as he watched Yves close the gap between them. "Thanks Yves," he said quietly.
Yves nodded as she quickly unfastened the wire, then clipped it securely back in place, making sure it was well hidden under his lapel. "There, you shouldn't have any more problems." She glanced up at him and her light smile faded as his eyes locked on hers. His hand came up and gently caressed her cheek. The space between them seemed to be shrinking, the air around them becoming warm.
"Jimmy-" Yves started, but the words caught in her throat. When had his eyes become so blue? She thought she heard him say, "What do you feel, Yves?" and then his lips were gently pressing against hers.
The kiss was warm and tender, hesitant at first, then becoming more confident. What did she feel? What did she want? She wanted this moment with Jimmy. A small sigh escaped her lips as her hands encircled his neck, drawing him closer, returning the kiss. His tongue slipped past her parted lips, touching hers in a gentle caress. His hands slowly moved down her face to her shoulders then skimmed her arms to wrap around her waist.
A reproving voice whispered of responsibilities. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss, taking a step away from him. Jimmy stared at her, an amazed, lopsided smile on his face. Then he blinked and his expression became achingly vulnerable, as if he were afraid she was going to tell him the kiss had been a mistake. With the feel of his lips still on hers, Yves smiled and touched his cheek, "We have work to do."
*******
They entered the club separately with Yves going in first. The lights were dim and she took a moment to let her eyes adjust. She scanned the layout of Sanctuary. The house band was positioned in the back right on a high platform. They were performing 'Jessie's Girl' to an enthusiastic crowd on the dance floor. The majority of the tables were already occupied. Waitresses wearing tight black shorts and white cropped shirts with Sanctuary across their chests; maneuvered between their patrons to the polished bar that ran along the left side of one wall. Yves snagged an empty chair at the end of the bar that allowed her a clear view of the entrance. As she ordered a Diet Coke from the bartender, she saw Jimmy walk past her, then become part of the crowd.
She heard Jimmy announce he was in position then Byers affirmative reply. The noise level, which had risen in the short time they were, there was going to make communication difficult. Yves was trying to make out something Frohike was saying when a man sat down next to her, bumping her with his elbow. He smiled at her.
"Hey baby, I lost my phone number, can I have yours?"
Yves rolled her eyes. "You should check the lost and found, I'm sure someone has turned it in." She suggested icily. She heard Langlys' derisive snort of laughter in her ear. "No," Yves said firmly, dropping the subtlety when the man started to speak again, "I'm not interested."
The man stared at her, then picked up his drink and walked away.
"Yves," Langly said in a mocking paternal tone, "if you keep rejecting every eligible suitor you meet, you'll never get married. How will you get by?"
"I'll muddle through somehow," Yves replied sardonically.
"Hey," Langly became semi-serious, "I think our guy just entered the club. It's hard to tell, I think he had a little work done on his face. "
Yves ignored Langly's jab as she observed Leon Willard swagger into the club. He glanced around then spotting two women; he walked up to them. He leaned toward them and said something. One woman looked shocked while the other recoiled and slapped his face. The women took off; one of the women whispered something to her friend and they both burst out laughing. "It's him," she confirmed.
She spotted Jimmy's' navy blazer and blond spiked hair moving through the crowd. "Jimmy, he's the tall, thin, balding man wearing a gray silk suit and a white silk shirt. No, go left." She watched as he successful intercepted the man. They spoke briefly, and then Willard followed him through the crowd to carry out the arranged transaction.
Yves was trying to make out the conversation between the mobster and Byers, but the signal kept breaking up. She was about to move in closer when a wave of dizziness swept over her. She shut her eyes, pressing her fingers against her temples hoping to steady herself. When she opened her eyes, the room had started to spin and her vision was blurred. She grasped her empty glass of Diet Coke realizing it had been spiked.
Apprehension coursed through her system. He had found her. After years of hiding underground, moving around, changing her identity, disguises; her father had found her. No, not him, her instincts warned her, this isn't his style. Then who?
Then someone was behind her, aggressively pressing his body against her. A cold voice whispered in her ear, "I've lost my phone number, can I have yours."
Clutching the edge of the bar, she stood up quickly. The room spun faster. Her legs felt as if they were made of Jell-o. She felt herself sinking to the floor but strong hands grabbed her arms, roughly holding her up.
"Easy baby," whispered the smooth voice.
Yves swallowed, attempting to quell the rising panic in her chest. Stay calm, she commanded herself. She was having trouble thinking; her head was swimming. She needed help. "Jimmy, Frohike, Byers, Langly," she shouted their names, but all that came out was a slurred whisper.
"Are you a cop?" The man spoke with excited curiosity. One strong arm wrapped around her waist, effortlessly holding her up. The man drew her closer, checking the inside of her jacket, finding the tiny wire. Pulling it off, he glanced at it before dropping it to the floor. He pressed his lips against her ear, "Do you think your friends would notice if I did you right here, right now?" Then his hand was under her skirt, sliding up her leg, then stroking her thigh
"No!" Fear ripped through her as she realized exactly what this man wanted from her. His quiet laughter echoed in her ear as he captured her hands, enjoying the futility of her efforts to shove him away.
"No, you're not a cop," he mocked, "or just no?" He kissed her hard on the mouth. Forcing her lips apart, he thrust his tongue inside. She gagged and his tongue retreated. He intimately brushed her lips with a soft kiss. "There's a private party waiting for us." His tone was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of malevolence.
A chill shot through her soul as she fought to stay conscious. Her thoughts drifted to the Gunmen - to Jimmy - somewhere in the club. Would they know she hadn't left of her own volition? Would they care? Care about what? A voice whispered. She couldn't remember, she only knew she needed to stay awake, but even the reason for that eluded her as she slipped closer to unconciousness.
A waitress passing by with a tray of drinks stopped when she saw Yves "Is she ok?" She shouted over the pulsating music.
"Yeah, just over celebrated a bit,' the man shouted back, 'it's our engagement."
The waitress smiled, "Congratulations! Have her take some Ibuprofen, she wont feel the hangover as bad in the morning."
The man watched the waitress hurry away before turning his attention back to Yves. "Let's get you home baby."
***************
In the back of the club, Frohike and Byers sat at a small round table with Willard sitting between them. Byers, as point man, had Willard engaged in a discussion for the exchange of the disk. Frohike glanced at Jimmy, who he surmised had seen one too many mobster movies. Jimmy was standing off to one side of Byers, his hands clasped together. He had also put on his dark sunglasses and a small smile probably meant to be a scowl played along his lips. Frohike wondered if Jimmy could see anything, what with the club being so dark, but he had to admit the effect worked. Willard looked surreptitiously at the young man several times while he and Byers talked.
Willard leaned back in his chair, a smarmy grin on his face, "I believe $5 million is more than a fair price for this information." His voice trailed off as he watched a waitress with long blond hair walk past them with a tray of drinks. "I would love to have a piece of that action."
Frohike raised one finger, signaling Byers he had succeeded in palming the disk and replacing it with the blank. Byers nodded and leaned closer to Willard trying to capture his attention, "Mr. Willard."
Willard watched another women walk by them. "What do you say we cement this deal with a party? You call that exotic flavor that works for you and I just might lower the price." Jimmy stiffened, his grin becoming a scowl, but maintained his position.
"Mr. Willard, as I was saying," Byers managed to sustain a civil tone of voice, "as tempting as your merchandise is, it is a far to dangerous venture for my colleagues and me at this time."
"What?" Willard attention snapped back to Byers.
"I've changed my mind," Byers stated, "our business has concluded."
Willard paled. Byers could see Willard was in over his head, the man had seen an opportunity and taken it, but had never really considered the consequences of his actions. This could make him unpredictable.
Willard leaped to his feet, knocking over the chair. "That bitch of yours said this was a confirmed deal!" He moved toward Byers, reaching for him. Jimmy jumped in front of Byers, shielding him from the angry man.
"The man said he changed his mind," he bellowed, "and don't call Y-" Jimmy caught himself, remembering Yves' alias, ".uh Vera a bitch."
Willard's eyes widened and backed up a step. He glanced nervously at Frohike who casually leaned back in his chair despite the pounding of his heart. He tented his fingers, smiled and shrugged. "He's hard to control sometimes. I suggest you leave before I lose my patience."
At that moment, Jimmy took a menacing step toward Willard. The man blanched, turned and fled, disappearing into the crowd.
Frohike's frozen smile evaporated as he pointed a finger at Jimmy, "I told you not to speak. You could have blown everything."
Jimmy flinched and removed his sunglasses; a hurt expression in his eyes, "But."
"Jimmy played his role quite effectively," Byers interceded smoothly. "Thank you, Jimmy." The younger man smiled.
"Just try and think before you act, he could have had a gun," Frohike said. He stood up and spoke into his wire, "Yves, we have the disk, we'll meet you out front." He looked up when a redhead in a green spandex mini- dress walked past them. She slowly turned around, directing an inviting smile to Frohike.
Byers glanced from the woman to his friend, "Another time, Romeo, we have to get this story out to the public."
Smiling, Frohike shrugged and the woman mouthed 'Next time'. She joined the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. She kept her eyes on Frohike as she swayed to the music.
"Man, what I do for the job," Frohike sighed, tearing his eyes from the woman. He followed Byers and Jimmy, fighting his way through the crowd. When he finally exited the club, he took a deep breath. The cool fresh night air was a welcome change from the overcrowded, noisy and hot club.
"Yves isn't here," Jimmy glanced around, "she's not answering either."
"She probably took off already," Frohike grumbled. "Most likely thinking up ways to grab the disk for herself. Why don't you check and see if her car is still here." He had been joking, but Jimmy unquestioningly ran across the darkened street into the parking lot.
Frohike rolled his eyes and shook his head. Byers gave him an exasperated look, "Frohike."
Jimmy's triumphant voice sounded in their ears, "Her car is still here; two rows left of the van." Then puzzlement, "But.where is she?"
"She probably went to the Ladies restroom," Byers said diplomatically when Jimmy rejoined them..
"She would have said something," insisted Jimmy, "We should. We should at least check."
"Yeah right; walk into a women's restroom. Yves would skin us alive." Frohike shook his head, "No thanks." Then he grinned, "Hey Langly, want to do some undercover work? You've already got the hair."
"You can't tell, Frohike," Muttered Langly over the wire, "but I'm giving you the finger."
"Byers?" Jimmy turned pleading eyes to him.
Byers thought for a moment, "Langly, can you communicate with her?"
"Something's been screwing with our signal. It's been cutting in and out all night. "
"Did you see her leave?"
"Negatory, but.I did have to take a leak. I left the video running, so if she came out the front, I'll have her on tape."
Jimmy raced across the street, dodging a Chevy Cavelier that honked but kept going. He reached the van first, grabbing the side door and pulling it open. He jumped inside. Langly was already setting up the tape and when Byers and Frohike climbed in, they crowded around the video. Langly pressed play.
The tape began with Yves helping Jimmy with his wire followed by their kiss. Frohike glanced at the younger man. He knew Jimmy cared for Yves and had even seen her looking at Jimmy when she thought no one was watching. He never thought anything would become of it; what with Jimmy being Jimmy and Yves - well Yves had her secrets.
Langly chuckled, having seen the kiss live and in Technicolor. He was about to make a joke, but Jimmy's worried expression stopped him. Instead, he pushed the fast forward button and they watched 25 minutes of people entering and exiting the club at high speed. "There!" Jimmy shouted. Langly backed up the tape and they saw a couple exit the club. The woman was definitely Yves. She appeared hammered and the man had his arm around her waist and was holding her up. They were soon out of the camera's range.
"She's been drugged," A sick feeling hit Frohike in the guts, he didn't like what this was looking like.
"She pissed someone off big time," Langly remarked.
Frohike shook his head, "I don't think this has anything to do with her secrets."
The other men stared at Frohike, understanding dawning on them. Jimmy felt his stomach tighten with anger and fear. Yves. In college, a friend had been raped during a frat party. He had seen what it had done to her. The thought of Yves going through what his friend did -
"Stop it there!" Byers exclaimed as a red Corvette drove into the camera view. Langly froze the screen, enlarging the picture to show Yves unconscious in the passenger seat. Langly maneuvered the screen to display the driver, then let the tape run again, capturing a shot of the license plate. He then hacked into the DMV and within seconds he had a name and address.
"His name's Ryan Dawson. Lives at 4695 East Carson St, Apt 5B," Langly said staring at the information.
Yves. Jimmy stared at the frozen picture of Yves on the screen and repeated the address. He scrambled around the other Gunmen, barely registering their stunned expressions as he jumped out of the van. All he could think of was getting to Yves and he knew he would get there faster in his car.
"Jimmy, Stop!" Exclaimed Byers.
"Get back here," Shouted Frohike.
Jimmy didn't respond as he raced to his Trans Am. He pulled open the drivers side door and jumped in. His sleek sports car tore out of the parking lot with a screech of tires, disappearing into the night.
"Shit!" Yelled Frohike. He slammed his fist against the van wall, equipment rattled from the force. "He doesn't think first!" He flung himself over the front seat. Sliding behind the wheel; he threw the van in drive.
Byers quickly pulled the side door shut as the van started moving and rushed to sit behind the front seat. He scanned the road, watching for the taillights of Jimmy's Trans Am, but the streets were dark.
Frohike made a quick turn, electronics clattering off shelves. Langly grabbed the laptop he was working on, preventing it from crashing to the floor.
"I hacked into a military satellite and tracked the guy until the C.I.A. commandeered the damn thing. He was heading toward his apartment." Langly tapped some keys, "Shit, the guy did 8 years for aggravated rape."
*************
Yves opened her eyes. She felt disoriented, her head was pounding and nausea hovered in the back of her throat. Where was she? She looked around, not recognizing the room but she was aware she was lying on a bed. She sat up and was seized by a violent bout of dizziness and nausea. She lunged for the side of the bed, her fingers digging into the edge of the mattress as her stomach clenched then roiled violently. When the spasms subsided, Yves sank against the bed, pressing her burning face against the cool sheets, her body trembling.
Her head cleared quickly and the memory of being drugged and kidnapped returned in a rush. She gasped and scrambled off the bed, the sudden movement caused dizziness to wash over her and her vision to blur. She leaned against the bedpost for support. It was then she realized she was barefoot and her jacket was missing. Her insides knotted, quickly taking stock of her body. Don't panic Harlow. He hasn't touched you. Stay calm and think.
"You're awake." Her eyes darted toward the voice. The man who had tried to pick her up at the club was standing by the entrance of the bedroom. She felt his gaze rake appreciatively over her body. He was as tall as Jimmy, but with a larger build. He wore tan chinos and a white Tommy Hilfiger dress shirt untucked.
"Where am I? What did you put in my drink?" Yves' voice cracked, her mouth was parched and felt as if she had a mouth full of cotton. She desperately wanted a drink of water.
The man smiled, his piercing stare never leaving her, "It's a drug that the FDA never approved; too many nasty side affects. But I found an excellent use for it." He approached her, "As soon as I saw you, I knew I was going to have you." He chuckled, "We're going to have some fun."
With speed that stunned her, he grabbed her, throwing her back onto the bed. Yves cried out and tried to move, but then he was on top of her, pinning her down with the full weight of his body. He grabbed her wrists and clamped them painfully above her head with one hand. Yves struggled, desperately trying to free herself, but her resistance only fueled his excitement.
"That's it baby, fight," he encouraged her, "it makes it so much better."
Yves tried to stay calm, but the crushing pressure of his body on hers made it difficult to breath. Her panic surged as she heard a tearing sound as he ripped her tank top off then her bra. With his free hand he grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing and pinching. His mouth descended on the soft skin of her neck, sucking and kissing. She choked back a sob, struggling more fiercely. Pain shot through her already strained shoulders. He laughed, pressing his growing erection against her thigh.
"So good," he taunted, watching her face as he ground his pelvis against her. "You're gonna be so good, baby."
Tears of anger, fear and humiliation coursed down her face. This couldn't be happening! Think, dammit! Think! You're stronger than this. Please God, No! The churning thoughts created a desperate cacophony in her head. Then her panicked thoughts silenced as his hand released her breast and moved lower, pulling her skirt out of his way. She heard a desperate keening sound and she realized it was coming from her. He became frenetic. He grabbed the waistband of her panties and tore them off. He forced her legs apart with his knee. As he fumbled with his pants, Yves felt the vise like grip on her wrists loosen, his body shift. Her breath came rushing back.
"No!" Yves screamed and thrashed, yanking her hands free. She brought her knee up in a crushing blow to his groin. He screamed, his face contorting in intense pain. She kicked him again. He rolled off her, clutching himself. Yves struggled up and shoved him away from her. His eyes widened in rage. He attempted to grab her as he fell off the bed. Yves spun away from him, falling off the other side. She hit the floor hard, pain shooting through her shoulders. She remembered something she could use against him.
She forced herself to her feet. Her head spinning, she staggered and leaned against the wall for support. Her hands shaking, she reached behind her head and released the hair clip. She seized the miniature tranquilizer gun that she had hidden within her hair; thankful she hadn't hidden it in her jacket.
"FUCKING BITCH!" The man scrambled to his feet, blood dripped down his face from a gash when he hit his head against the nightstand. Yves pushed herself out of the corner, bracing herself as he charged toward her. When he reached for her, she jammed the tranquilizer gun into his arm, hearing the faint hiss of the injector working.
He slapped the gun from her hand as if it were a bothersome insect. It skidded across the floor, disappearing under the bed. He struck her brutally across the face. She crashed into the wall, hitting her head. As she crumpled to the floor, the world went dark for a moment. He grabbed her arms, wrenching her to her feet. Yves' body cried in pain and her head throbbed as blood coursed down her face. She tasted blood from her split lip.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her arms as he dragged her back toward the bed. His laughter echoed in her ears as she fought to remain calm. She clamped her hands together and brought them up and then down hard on his arms, breaking his hold. She kicked him in the solar plexus sending him stumbling backwards into the dresser. Yves raced out of the bedroom, she had to find a weapon. The man launched himself after her, grabbing her legs; tackling her to the floor. She kicked backwards, hitting him in the face. His hands slid from her legs. She scrambled away on her hands and knees. Then his knee was digging into her back as his hand clamped onto her shoulder, pinning her against the floor. He flipped her over and straddled her. He snatched her flailing arms, forcing them down to her side.
Yves' heart hammered in her chest; her breath coming in ragged gasps. She thrashed, trying to break his iron hold on her, but he held her tight. Her blood turned to ice when she looked into his cold, hard eyes. He was enjoying every moment of her pain and fear. Then he laughed, "We're gonna have some fun now."
***********
Jimmy threw himself against the door but it still refused to budge. His shoulder hurt like hell from hitting the door, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting to Yves. He had to help Yves. He thought he heard his name being called and then someone grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the door. Away from Yves. He shook off the grip easily.
"Jimmy, stop," Frohike, it was Frohike. He turned and saw Byers and Langly with him. He nearly cried with relief. The guys were here; they would know what to do!
"She's in there Frohike," Jimmy said desperately, "she needs help; we have to help her." Frohike pushed past him and knelt down. He pulled his lock picks from his leather coat and began working on the door.
"I've called 911," Byers said as they watched Frohike work, "the police are on their way."
They heard the soft click of the lock disengaging and Frohike pushed open the door. Jimmy rushed into the apartment and saw Ryan Dawson straddling Yves. She was struggling, trying to escape. Rage surged through him. Jimmy grabbed Dawson by the collar, dragging him off Yves. He wanted to smash the man's face. He wanted. He wanted. The thoughts that raced through his mind sickened him and he shoved Dawson away.
Dawson stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. Rage flared in his eyes. He leapt to his feet and moved toward Jimmy who had turned his back on him. Then he was slammed up against the wall.
"Don't even think about it, asshole." Frohike warned him, "There's four of us."
The man was off her. Yves scrambled frantically to her feet. She took a step only to have her legs buckle out from under her. She fell to her knees, a sob tearing from her throat. Something touched her. "No!" She cried, blindly striking out and hitting someone.
"Yves, it's ok. You're going to be ok." A familiar voice cut through the miasma of fear. She heard tenderness, concern. "He's not gonna hurt you anymore."
Jimmy? "Jimmy?" Yves whispered. He was kneeling next her, watching her anxiously. She realized he had wrapped his blazer around her. It swung loose, but it was large enough to cover her completely. Still, she clutched the material, holding it tightly closed.
"The guys are here too." Jimmy gently touched her tangled hair, brushing it from her face. Anger flashed in his eyes when he saw the bruises and blood, but quickly turned to compassion. Byers crouched down next to Jimmy, concern in his own eyes. Langly stood behind them, nervously looking around as if he wasn't sure what to do. Frohike was by one wall, holding her attacker. He glanced toward her, worry darkening his eyes.
Where have all the Gunmen gone? The phrase said earlier with flip impatience leaped into her head again. They were here with her. They had looked for her. Why? She saw it in their eyes. They cared about her. The words ripped through her like tissue paper. Her eyes welled, a sob rose in her throat. Don't. Not in front of them. She fought for control, fighting back the tears that threatened her. The sob turned into a dry racking cough.
"Langly," Byers turned to the nervous hacker, "get some water."
Langly nodded and fled into the kitchen. They heard him rummaging through cupboards. He was back within seconds. Jimmy took the water from Langly and helped Yves take a sip. She winced as the glass touched her swollen and split lip but the cool water felt wonderful to her parched mouth. Jimmy poured some water onto a handkerchief that Byers gave him and began tenderly wiping the blood from her split lip. Jimmy smiled reassuringly and that simple act touched a chord in her heart. She started to reach out to him, and then froze.
What was she doing? She realized she was still kneeling on the floor like a terrified little girl, afraid to move. A childhood memory flashed. Darkness. Loud voices. The smell of gunpowder. A child's illusions shattered with one act of violence. She shoved the memory away. She wasn't that weak vulnerable child anymore. She quickly stood up, faltering on unsteady legs. Jimmy and Byers moved to help her from either side. She shook off their hands. "I'm fine," she insisted, stepping away from them, "I'm fine."
It was then that the police entered the apartment. They took one look at the scene and drew their weapons on Jimmy, Byers, and Langly. "Freeze! Back away from her!"
Langly threw his hands in the air, a petrified look on his face. Jimmy raised his hands, still holding the water glass. Water sloshed over the rim of the glass, running down his wrists.
"No!" Yves shouted. The cops looked at Yves, their guns still drawn. "They're-" she glanced at the Gunmen. What were they exactly? "-they're associates."
Byers stepped foreword, "My name is John Byers, I was the one who called 911." He slowly pulled his press pass from his pocket and handed it to the cops. "We are reporters for a newspaper called the Lone Gunmen. Ryan Dawson kidnapped Miss. Harlow during an undercover investigation. He was assaulting her when we arrived."
The senior cop, an older man in his late forties glanced at the press pass then moved between the Gunmen and Yves. He looked the Gunmen over carefully then turned his attention to Yves, taking in the blood and bruises on her face. "Ma'am, is this true?"
Yves swallowed and nodded, "Yes." She watched as the younger cop snapped handcuffs on Dawson and led him away reciting the Miranda Rights. Dawson appeared sluggish and tired. She *had* managed to inject him with some of the tranquilizer; but it had been too little and he had been running on adrenalin. She suppressed a shudder. He had tried to take by force the most private part of herself. He would have succeeded if the Gunmen hadn't arrived when they did.
She heard the cop call for an ambulance. "No. I don't need an ambulance. I'm fine."
"Ms. Harlow," the cop said gently, "You should be examined by a doctor; if you were raped-"
The word crashed against her emotional walls. She glanced at the Gunmen. Jimmy. They were staring at her. What were they thinking? They think you're weak. "No, I wasn't raped," she shook her head emphatically and repeated it more firmly, "I wasn't raped, I'm fine."
The cop canceled the ambulance and clipped his radio to his belt. "I still think you should see a doctor." He glanced at Byers.
"We'll make sure she gets medical attention," Byers told the cop.
The officer nodded and told Yves, "Someone will be there to take your statement."
When the officer left, Byers turned to Yves, "He's right, you should be examined by a doctor. Your wrist looks pretty bad."
Langly peered at her bruised and swelling wrist, his face getting pale again. "Oh man, you could have permanent damage if you don't get that looked at. It could seriously affect your hacking."
"I'll drive myself later." Yves covered her wrist with her sleeve.
"Yves, your car is still at the club, besides you're in no condition to drive," Frohike said. "We'll take you."
"NO!" The Gunmen stared at her, surprised by her outburst. Yves hadn't meant for the word to come out so loud. She knew they meant well, but she felt as if everything was spinning out of control. She needed to be alone. She needed to get out of this apartment. She couldn't let them see-. She looked at them, "You have to verify the information on the disk. Make sure it is legitimate. Stopping the Cardoza's is what's important."
She watched as the Gunmen exchanged glances. Go back to the lair, please. Then Jimmy, who had been silently watching everything, stepped closer to Yves. "I have my car. I'll go with Yves to the hospital." He looked at her, "Ok, Yves?"
Yves caught her breath as she looked at Jimmy; he had just given her some measure of control back. The fear still hovered just below the surface, but it would be just a few more hours and she could be alone. She nodded and without another word, walked out of the apartment.
5:42 a.m. St. Isadore Hospital
"Do you need help, honey?" The nurse asked. Yves was sitting on the examination table wearing a hospital gown. The blood that had covered her face had been cleaned off. Her wrist, which the doctor had diagnosed as fractured, was in a cast that ran from her wrist to her elbow. The nurse touched her arm and said louder, "Miss Harlow?"
Yves snapped from her reverie, jerking away from the light touch on her arm before remembering where she was. She glanced at the nurse. She was watching Yves with a concerned expression. What had the nurse said to her?
"No, Thank you." Yves waited and the nurse's worried expression faded.
"I'll give you some privacy to get dressed. Remember to get the prescription for the painkiller filled. It's mild, but it will help." The nurse smiled encouragement before silently slipping from the room.
Yves waited a moment, and then she slowly eased off the examination room table, wincing as her body protested each movement. The police had taken her statement and her skirt as evidence. Jimmy had gone to the hospital gift shop and bought some clothes. The plastic bag lay on the one visitors' chair. She opened it and took the clothes out of the bag.
Yves slipped on the white shorts underneath the hospital gown, then pulled the loose fitting gown off, letting it puddle to the floor. She caught her reflection in a small mirror on the wall; her face and shoulders were a canvas of black and blue bruises. She touched her split lip. Doubt stole over her. How did this happen? You've dealt with worse - assassins, spies, terrorists - you're supposed to be strong, in control; yet couldn't -. She turned away from her accusing reflection.
As Yves slid the thin t-shirt over her head, pain flared in her shoulders. She quickly wiped away the tears that stung her eyes, grasping the tenuous thread of her emotions. She shivered, the cold she felt had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
She saw Jimmy's blazer hanging on the back of the door. She took it off the hook and slid into it. As she buttoned it shut, she caught the faint scent of Jimmy's cologne. She slipped the sandals Jimmy had bought her then took a slow deep breath and then walked out of the exam room. She followed the painted green arrows back to the waiting room. She immediately saw Jimmy standing next to a small cluster of chairs staring at the floor. As if sensing her arrival, he looked up and went to her, compassion filling his eyes. "Yves, how are you?"
Yves' heart froze in mid beat as she fought to maintain her fragile control. Don't lose it in front of him. You have to be strong. Yves rubbed the sleeve of the blazer with the thumb and forefinger of her good hand as she fought her rioting emotions. She could hear the rapid pounding of her heart, but when she spoke, her voice was measured and cool. "I'm fine, Jimmy. I just want to go home." He nodded and escorted her out of the hospital.
The red and gold lights of the rising sun swept away the last remnants of the night, but off in the distance, gray clouds forecast a coming thunderstorm. During the drive, Yves was silent, staring out the window, lost in thought. Jimmy had turned the radio to a classical station he knew she liked. He wasn't sure if Yves even heard the music until the DJ announced 'Lara's Theme' from Dr. Zhivago. Jimmy thought the music haunting and sad, but Yves smiled faintly as she listened. When it was over, her lovely smile vanished and she became distant again.
Jimmy pulled up to Yves' apartment building, parking at the curb. He cut the engine and looked at her. Her hair had fallen forward, covering most of her face, but he could still see one of the horrible bruises that marred her cheek. His felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what Yves had had to endure.
"Yves," Jimmy said softly so he wouldn't startle her, "we're at your apartment."
Yves glanced at her building then Jimmy; her eyes had assumed some semblance of her normal cool façade. Yves was the strongest, bravest, smartest person he knew, but she always kept her true feeling carefully hidden. Jimmy knew she was desperately trying not to let it show how much she was hurting. He wanted to hold her and comfort her. He wanted to tell her everything would be ok.
"Yves," Jimmy said tentatively, "you can stay at the warehouse for a while. You know, if you don't want to be alone. You shouldn't be alone."
I don't want to be alone. Yves tried to ignore the plaintive cry of the scared little girl she used to be but it was echoed by the lonely woman she had become. "I'm fine, Jimmy; but I have to be alone." She offered him a reassuring smile, "I need to be alone." Before he could reply, she opened the car door and quickly stepped out. She heard him call her name, but she pretended not to hear him as she hurried to the entrance of the building. She heard the car door slam and then footsteps.
"Yves, wait!" Jimmy called as he trotted after her, his mind racing. He didn't understand. She told him she wanted to be alone, but he had seen the truth in her eyes, her soul nearly cried out with it. She didn't want to be alone. He just wished he knew how to reach her, to let him help her.
Yves stopped in front of the entrance, her hand gripping the door handle. She remained facing the door as he caught up to her, watching their transparent reflections in the glass door.
"I'll walk you to your apartment."
Yves closed her eyes shaking her head, "It's not necessary, Jimmy. I'm fine." She felt his warm hand rest gently on her shoulder. He was so close; all she had to do was turn around. His strong arms would wrap around her and hold her close. One moment and she wouldn't be alone. One moment. Yves' eyes snapped open. She had to be strong; stay in control. She had to be alone.
"I'm going to walk you up to your apartment." Jimmy insisted in quiet determination.
Yves nodded, confused by the conflicting emotions swirling within her. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, letting Jimmy open the door for her.
A few minutes later, they walked out of the elevator. "You live on the top floor." Jimmy said, breaking the silence that had settled over them. "That's cool. You must have a great view from your window."
Yves glanced at Jimmy. Her heart tugged at his innocent way of thinking, even after living and working with the Gunmen. She had chosen her apartment for its location. Ideally situated between the stairs and the elevator and near enough the fire escape, it provided her a number of avenues of egress.
"There is a beautiful view of the stars from the roof." Why did you say that? She had been to the roof twice. The first time was when she moved in; she had reconnoitered the area, memorizing the entire layout of the streets and buildings around her. The other time was to hide a set of false documents - identification, passports and a spare weapon. An unfamiliar longing clutched at her heart and she quickened her pace.
She reached her apartment and peeled back a part of the molding, revealing a small hidden compartment large enough for a spare key. She unlocked the door and started to open it when Jimmy reached her.
"Yves." Jimmy's voice trailed off. She turned around, her hand still gripping the doorknob. He hesitated, and then covered her cool fingers with his warm ones. He searched her beautiful sad eyes. "I'm here Yves," he said simply.
Her eyes started to shine. "Thank you for walking me up, Jimmy," she whispered. She pushed open the door and slipped inside, shutting it in his face. He heard the harsh click of the locks engaging.
Jimmy stared at the closed door, his heart aching for her. He wished he could take away her pain. Not just from the last 8 hours, but all the pain she harbored. He pressed his hand against the smooth surface of the door. You don't have to be strong all the time, Yves. You don't have to be alone. Let me help. He dropped his hands to his side. Maybe, it was something she had to figure out herself. Taking one last look at the door, Jimmy turned reluctantly away and headed back to the elevator.
Yves leaned against the door listening to the receding sound of Jimmy's footsteps. When she was sure he was gone, she turned away from the door. She was alone. The emptiness inside her squeezed her heart, causing her eyes to well. She hurried through the darkened apartment to her bedroom where no one could see her. There she sank onto her bed. The fragile walls she had constructed in the last hours collapsed in on her. Tears coursed down her cheeks, followed by deep racking sobs that shook her body.
7:58 a.m. Lair of the Lone Gunmen
"Damn it!" Langly snarled, "the decryption isn't working." He stared at the monitor and the jumble of indecipherable symbols. The program he had downloaded had failed to decrypt the contents of the disk. He sighed in frustration before looking up at his friends. "Just when did you make Huevero Rancheros? You didn't even offer me any."
Frohike mopped up the last of the eggs with a piece of bread, grinning as he popped the morsel into his mouth. He set the dish on top of some papers.
"He did, Langly," Byers said picking up the plate. He looked around, picked up the papers and then set the dish back down, "but your one track mind nearly bit his head off when he asked you."
Langly turned back to the monitor, his stomach growling, "I don't know. Yves must have known it was encrypted. She's holding out on us again." He moaned like a petulant child.
"What did you say?"
Frohike, Langly and Byers turned around to see Jimmy closing the door behind him. For such a big guy, he sure can be quiet. Frohike thought before realizing Jimmy's face was a mask of thunderous fury. Langly's eyes became saucers behind his glasses as Jimmy walked up to him. Langly stood up quickly, knocking his chair over.
"You're blaming Yves?" Jimmy's voice was dangerously low. "She was beaten and almost raped because of that disk. She thought it was important enough to come to us for help. She trusted us."
Frohike slid in between Langly and Jimmy, "Hey big guy, take it easy."
Byers placed his hand on Jimmy's shoulder; his muscles were taut. "Langly's been working on the disk since we got back; he's tired, but he is not blaming Yves." Byers felt the younger mans' muscles relax slightly, "How is Yves doing?"
Jimmy's anger drained completely away. He was silent as he bent down and picked up the chair, righting it. "She says she is fine, that she has to be alone. I think it's because she doesn't want anyone to know how much she's hurting. Like, we'll think less of her. I wish I knew what to do."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. No one knew what to say, and then Langly cleared his throat.
"Oh. Uh. Hey Jimmy." Langly said nervously. "I. uh did a search on the internet and found some stuff about helping people who are victims of assault." He picked up some pages and handed them to Jimmy. The hacker shuffled his feet and looked away.
Jimmy smiled and enveloped Langly in a hug, "Thanks Langly!"
"Yeah, well get off me you big dope," Langly muttered. He glanced at Frohike and Byers' approving looks, "Shut up."
Jimmy released Langly, his eyes trailed to the monitor, "What's with the higher graphics?"
"The higher what?" Demanded Frohike. He looked at Langly who shook his head, perplexed.
"Of course!" Byers exclaimed, snapping his fingers. He moved in front of the computer and started typing.
"Don't 'of course' us, Byers," Langly said, "what do you and the boy wonder know?"
"Yves said Anthony Cardoza was a low-level hacker. He is also a well-known patron of the arts. He's donated millions to museums to support their Egyptian collections. These are hieroglyphics. I've downloaded a translator program."
"How did you know about the hieroglyphics?" Frohike asked.
Jimmy shrugged, "The Sci-Fi Channel had a Stargate Marathon last wekend.
Frohike nudged Langly, "Why didn't you know about this?"
"That was the weekend I had that Dungeons and Dragons competition at Kimmy's." Langly sounded defensive. "I won, thanks for asking."
Frohike shook his head, "You two need to get out more."
"We've got translation." Langly said, ignoring Frohike.
"Oh man," Frohike exclaimed watching the data scroll down "Congressman Jasper Hartley is listed. He heads up that Commission that is investigating police corruption."
Byers sighed, "I guess we know why it's been so ineffective."
Langly tapped the monitor, "According to this, there is a monthly shipment of crack cocaine arriving tonight. This is just what we need."
"We're going to call the police, right?' Jimmy asked.
"We already called A.D. Skinner," Byers said, "we had to be fairly vague when we talked to him."
"Once he stopped screaming at us for disturbing his beauty sleep, he was very interested." Frohike grinned, "Ol' Walt's gonna have a cow when he takes a look at this disk."
***********
You're gonna be so good, baby
Yves bolted upright in bed, strangling the cry that rose to her lips. The dream had been so real; she could still feel his hands on her, his breath against her skin. She drew her knees to her chest willing herself to stop trembling. Slowly her fear turned to anger.
You're losing it Harlow. It's been five days. You've shed enough tears. Don't give him any more control over you. She had let her emotions cloud her judgment. She had gotten soft and weak. It had been a tough lesson, but she was stronger. She wouldn't let it happen again.
She tossed her blanket away and dressed into leggings and a black Nike exercise tank with the white Nike logo on it. She pulled her long black hair into a ponytail. She strode into the living room and glanced at her computer. She passed it and turned on her stereo, tuning it to a classical station. She walked back to her computer and slid into her black leather chair. She needed to reclaim her sense of control. She turned it on, mindful of the cast on her left hand.
She checked her e-mail. There were two from her contact. One was a job that could net her millions but would require her to go undercover. The other was a simple hack job. She replied, refusing the first, taking the second. A third e-mail was from Byers, requesting help on some information. She stared at it, thinking. Langly could easily find the information, why had Byers e-mailed her? She went to delete the message, but instead, saved it.
Her wrist was throbbing; she glanced at the cast, an ever-present reminder of how weak she had been. She opened a drawer in her desk and took out a prescription bottle. She tapped out one painkiller and dry swallowed. She set the bottle down and began hacking, not for her client but for herself.
It was a slow process, but she managed to hack into the Maryland Police Department databases and pull up the file on Ryan Dawson. Her mouth went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest as her finger hovered over the enter button. You're in control, Harlow. Do it. She pressed the button down. The file spread out before her; Dawson's two convictions of rape and subsequent prison term. His arrest for assaulting her had lead police to connect him to four other sexual assaults.
Next, she pulled up his mug shot. She stared at it. His lips curled in a mocking smirk. His eyes taunted her. You're gonna be so good, baby. Her memory flashed, his hands on hers, his weight on her, but worst was the utter helplessness she had felt.
Her stomach lurched. Yves leaped from her chair and ran to the bathroom. She flipped the toilet seat up, bent and vomited. When she had expelled the little she had managed to eat earlier, she stood up. Yves turned on the faucet with trembling hands and rinsed out her mouth then splashed cold water on her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her bruises had already faded to a sickly yellow; soon they would be gone.
She started when her doorbell rang. She glanced back at her reflection. Her dark eyes seemed to ask, do you call that control? Yves grimaced at her reflection, "Shut up."
She walked quickly to the door and checked the peephole. It was Jimmy, smiling and carrying two large brown paper bags, one in each arm. The heaviness that had been weighing on her heart lessened. She unbolted the locks, opening the door.
"Hi Yves!" He directed his smile at her and she felt it warm her heart. "Can I come in?"
Yves stepped back, opening the door wider. As he headed toward the kitchen, he glanced around. Her apartment has a sterile, generic look, nothing in it reflected Yves' personality; except maybe the classical music that was playing on the CD player.
"What are you doing, Jimmy?" She watched curiously, as he set the bags on the white tile counter and began unpacking container after container.
His smile never wavered, "I came to see how you are doing. It's been almost a week and I - we were worried." He showed her a large tan container, "Frohike made some more Chili. You seemed to like it even though you didn't eat much. And he made Pot Stickers from the recipe he got from Captain Toby. I remember you said the recipe had too much ginger in it for your taste so I made sure Frohike didn't put to much in it."
Jimmy watched her as he set another plastic container on the counter. Yves was looking at him as if he was crazy, but she was definitely smiling. He took out a bouquet of flowers from one of the bags and presented them to her.
"These are for you. I just wanted you to know I care and if you need anything -. Yves?" What did I do? Jimmy thought, his heart sinking. Her smile vanished and she was staring at the flowers. Somehow, he had upset her.
Yves looked at the beautiful floral arrangement he was holding out to her. Daisies and Babies-breath. It was so simple, innocent and sweet. Just like Jimmy. And like Jimmy, it amazed her how it lifted her spirits and heart. Don't let you emotions cloud your judgment a voice whispered. If she were to remain in control and remain strong, she would have to end this. She couldn't afford to care about him, to be vulnerable. Weak. It only got you hurt. She had to be alone. She forced herself to look him in the eyes, her heart aching at what she was about to do.
"I appreciate everything, Jimmy, but I think you should go." Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. She had trained herself at an early age to wall of her emotions; convincing herself she was protecting herself. If she didn't need anyone or anything, she couldn't be hurt or betrayed. It was a lie that had served her well. Until now.
Jimmy was confused. He didn't understand why she had suddenly shut him out. He knew she had been happy - until he gave her the flowers. Maybe the flowers had reminded her of something bad from that night. Stupid, Jimmy. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He loved her and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her, but he had. "I'm sorry, Yves."
He started for the door but stopped and turned around, his face a cloud of misery. "I forgot," he whispered as he took out the newest edition of The Lone Gunman from his jacket pocket. He handed it to her, "Because of you, the F.B.I. arrested a whole bunch of people in that mob family." He waited but when there was no response from Yves, he turned away and began unbolting the locks, still clutching the flowers.
Yves stared at the newspaper. The headline proclaimed F.B.I. ends Cardoza Reign. Undercover Reporter Instrumental in Arrests. She touched the paper, thinking of its four publishers. She had known them for only a short time, but she had grown to care about them, to trust them.
She looked at Jimmy fumbling with the last lock. She thought of their brief kiss, the feel of his lips on hers. He had risked his heart when he kissed her. His strength and courage amazed her.
Maybe.
"Jimmy, wait." Yves called.
He turned around quickly, his expression hopeful. She went to him, taking the flowers from him then clasped his hand in hers; their fingers entwining. He reached out, lightly stoking her face. She searched his eyes, realizing what he already knew. She could be strong and still care about him; to be vulnerable.
"Stay," Her eyes glistened and a tear slid down her cheek. She glanced back at the kitchen counter and all the containers of food. Jimmy's voice whispered to her, What do you feel, Yves? She smiled and looked up at him. She had never felt stronger. "Have dinner with me."
The End