Chapter Eleven - Can Opener
Can-opener: virtually the only submission that can be applied in your opponent's guard, it entails putting both of your hands behind his neck and pulling his head towards you. Usually applied to open a closed guard, it can lead to a submission against an injured, tired, or inexperienced fighter.
Casey heard the heavy bass music coming up behind him and knew it wouldn't be good. He glanced at the car as it slowed down to match his speed. It was a blue Mazda 3, decked out for street racing with two Caucasian wanna-be gangsters inside.
"Whoa, dude, what happened to you?" the passenger asked.
Casey wasn't surprised this was the type of help they got. The warehouse district was virtually abandoned, it was the darkest part of the night, and he was walking down the street in nothing but his boxers, carrying a nearly unconscious woman, both of them still wearing the remainder of the handcuffs around each wrist.
He made eye contact with the thug, but kept walking. "A series of bad decisions," he growled. The thug laughed and elbowed the driver. "I'd appreciate it if you could call 9-1-1."
"Naw, man, naw," the passenger said. "We can do better than that. We'll take you to the hospital ourselves."
The car stopped and the passenger jumped out, hiked up his jeans and then folded the bucket seat against the dashboard. Casey glared at the young man as he motioned to the tiny back seat.
"Go ahead, man…." he said. Casey just stared at him. "Honestly, homme, you don't want to keep walking in this area dressed like that. The next people that stop won't be as nice as us."
Casey growled low in his throat. He felt Jo's hand flutter against his chest. "We can take them," she whispered.
Casey was reluctant still, but finally leaned into the car and set Jo on the seat. As he pulled his arms back, he sensed the kid's movement and felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pushed into his ribs.
"Turns out there's not enough room for you, dude," the kid laughed as Casey straightened up.
"Yeah, man, four's a crowd!" the driver laughed.
Casey kept his eyes on Jo and the moment she reached out for the driver he grabbed the passenger's gun hand and pushed it away from his body. A shot rang out and Casey heard brick shattering several yards away. Casey grabbed the kid's curly hair with his left hand and slammed his head on the roof of the car.
The kid made a noise as Casey ripped the gun free. Casey spun the gun in his hand and brought the handle across the kid's temple. The kid slumped toward the ground and Casey accelerated his descent with his bare foot.
He ducked his head into the car just in time to see the driver fire the gun out the windshield. Cracks made the glass into a large spider web.
Jo had her left arm around the driver's neck and was using the head rest as leverage to apply pressure on the carotid artery. She struggled to control the kid's shooting arm with her right hand. Casey put the gun against the kid's temple. The kid stopped struggling immediately.
"Fun time is over, dip-shit," Casey said, grabbing the gun away from him.
The kid made a gurgling sound as Jo applied more pressure against his neck. Within a few seconds, the kid went unconscious.
Jo released the hold and slumped back into the seat. Casey put the safety on each gun and set them in the passenger seat. He reached down and pulled the curly-haired kid up on to the curb and then closed the car door. He relieved the kid of his shiny green jacket and circled the car. He opened the driver's door and pulled the other kid out into the street. He handed the green jacket to Jo and then stripped the driver of his leather coat.
Casey did a quick scan of the area and was thankful that the street was still deserted as far as he could tell. He handed the leather coat back to Jo and got into the driver's seat.
Jo tried to push the leather coat back at him. "You take it."
"You need it more," he said, examining the controls for the heat.
He could hear her sigh. "You're shivering, John."
He took a moment. He hadn't noticed he was shivering. He looked at her through the rearview mirror. "I'm fine." She shook her head weakly, so he added, "I couldn't fit in that coat if I wanted to."
She held his eyes for a moment and then pulled the jacket over her torso. He turned the heat on full power and rolled up the passenger side window then put the car in gear.
It took him ten minutes of random turns to finally get to a street he recognized and then only because there was no traffic, another 15 minutes to get to his place.
He walked through the small contingent of agents in his living room, stopping only long enough to give an essential debrief and to request a doctor for Jo. He carried her upstairs. He tried to go straight to his bedroom, but she mumbled Angel's name and he understood.
He carried her into the guest bedroom, let her see that Angel was still sleeping soundly, and then moved on to his room. He pulled the covers back, laid her down, covered her up, and went to the hallway closet to get another blanket.
He quickly added another blanket to his bed and then stood there and watched her shiver for a few moments.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "You know what you have to do, Marine," she said, her voice shaking in rhythm with her shivering.
He retrieved a dry pair of boxers from his dresser and stepped into the bathroom for a quick change. Then he searched her suitcase – the suitcase that Walker had packed - for some sensible pajamas. There were none. He managed to find one pair of cotton underwear and then went to his closet and pulled a plain gray t-shirt from a hanger.
He returned to the bed, pulled back the covers and ran his eyes quickly over her body. "I should be getting hazard pay for this…"
"If it's too much for you to handle, you can just fetch me one of the rookies from downstairs," she said, sounding suddenly tired.
He gave her a small smile and then joined her, bringing the clothes with him. He settled on to his left side, facing her. She pressed her body against him and if the temperature of her skin hadn't shocked him slightly, he would have been aroused.
After a few moments, she rolled on to her back and wriggled her body as she pulled off her damp underwear. He focused his eyes on her face and tried not to picture the rest of her body, but when her hip caressed his, his body reacted in the typical man way.
She brought the undergarment out from under the covers and tossed it on the floor. When she reached toward him, he put the underwear in her hand. There was more wriggling and caressing of skin and Casey had to shift his top leg so his state was less obvious.
She rolled on to her right side so she was facing him, and undid her bra with one hand. He felt the release against his chest and the throbbing in his boxers increased. She threw the bra in the same direction that the underwear had gone.
She looked into his eyes for a moment and then moved in closer, pressing the whole length of her body against him. He dug his fingers into the t-shirt still in his right hand and let out a quiet groan.
"Have you no mercy, woman?" he breathed against her hair.
She spread her palms over his chest and tucked her head into his shoulder. "I put on the underwear, didn't I?" she whispered into his chest.
"Unh," he replied, and pressed the crumpled up t-shirt against her abdomen. "T-shirt… please."
She shook her head, "Not yet."
He made a disgruntled sound in response, but knew she was right. In an attempt to distract himself, he replayed the events of the day in his head. Again. For the 19th time.
He was coming to the conclusion that it was probably the worst day of his life. And Colonel John Casey had been in some shit in his time. But the ups and down of this particular 24 hours pushed him to his absolute limit. The picnic in the park was something that he hadn't experienced since his childhood and evoked feelings that he never felt before. But when he looked down and saw Joelle and Angel gone, he felt something else he'd never felt before – absolute, uncontrollable fear.
The wonderment of the way he and Joelle had connected in the aftermath was shattered by her rejection of him just a few hours later. The total frustration of the show of public affection at the club and in the alley caused him more pain and confusion. Then he had to allow Smythe to take them and swallow huge amounts of unwanted emotions as he watched Smythe try to reclaim Joelle.
And now, having her so close and not being able to do anything about it was maddening. He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to move his hands over her body, but his mind was filled with doubts. Doubts about her feelings for him as well as her feeling for Smythe. Questions about her past with Smythe as well as her current motives. He wanted to trust her. He really did. But he couldn't.
There was a knock on the door. It was Devon with his medical kit, followed closely by Chuck and Walker.
Chuck jerked to a stop when he saw them in bed. "Whoa, whoa!" Chuck looked at Walker and then Devon. "Am I the only one who is uncomfortable?"
Casey replied with his signature snarl. He helped Joelle into the t-shirt while they were still under the covers and then Devon started examining her and quietly asking questions.
Casey got out of bed, walked to his dresser, and pulled on a pair of jeans. He grabbed a black t-shirt from the closet and pulled it on then finally turned to face Walker.
"What happened?" she asked.
It was the first in a long series of questions and by the time Walker had finished interrogating him, Devon was done examining Joelle. "You're going to be fine," he said. "I would recommend a trip to the hospital to bring your body temp back to normal more quickly…"
Joelle shook her head. "No hospital."
Devon exhaled. "Okay, then, John…" Devon looked at him, "it would be best if… "Devon motioned toward the bed.
Casey nodded and headed back toward the bed. He got back under the covers and she curled up into his arms too easily.
As soon as Devon was clear of the room, Walked asked, "So what do we know for sure?"
"Only that he's making the exchange within the next 12 hours," Casey replied.
"And that he thinks it's a suicide mission," Joelle added.
Casey tried to make eye contact with her, but she kept her face buried in his chest. "Rio?" he asked.
She nodded. "We ran a really bad op in Rio once."
Chuck looked back and forth between them. "Wait… if he thinks it's a suicide mission, why all the drama and stalker talk?"
Joelle was quiet for a long moment. "He's either developed some kind of serious psychosis or he's asking for our help."
"I vote for psychosis," Casey said.
She gave a weary shrug. "If he's not crazy, then he's got a plan and we'll know about it when he wants us to. If he is crazy, then he's probably not making it out of the meet alive."
"But we have to get the device back," Sarah said.
"And we have to neutralize Peter," Joelle said softly, sounding like she was drifting off. "I can't let him endanger us like this ever again."
xOxOxOx
Casey stayed with her for several hours, until her body temperature came close to normal and she fell asleep. He slipped out of bed and quietly left the bedroom. He found Chuck at the kitchen table. Walker was conversing with two CIA officers in the living room over a laptop.
"Morning," Chuck said, pouring a cup of coffee and holding it out to him.
Casey took it and appreciated the warmth in a new way. "Anything new?" he asked.
"Nope," Chuck replied. "How is Joelle?"
"Seems back to normal, I guess…" Casey paused, not sure how to ask his question, not sure if he even should.
"So…" There was an awkward silence and Chuck seemed obliged to fill it. "She seems nice…"
Casey locked his eyes on Chuck's. "Is there anything you want to tell me about her?"
Chuck furrowed his brow, giving him a confused look. "Uh, no… I don't think so."
"You ever flashed on anything related to her and not told me?"
Chuck quickly shook his head, "No."
"Do you know how she and Smythe met?"
Chuck was quiet for a moment then answered, "In her file it said they worked together…"
"I know what it said in her file," Casey snapped, "but that doesn't really explain how they met…"
"Uhm…" Chuck's eyes focused on a spot over Casey's left shoulder.
"You got questions about my past," Jo's voice came from behind him, "why don't you just ask me?"
