EXPLORING UNKNOWN TERRITORY
Donovan managed to sleep only about an hour and a half before he came wide-awake. It was dark outside and he glanced at the bedside clock with one eye open. He groaned, wishing that the whole divorce settlement meeting had been a dream. Of course, it wasn't. His life was never that easy. He came up off the bed, suddenly feeling the need to get out of the apartment for a bit. He intentionally avoided the picture of Remy and Stasia on the bedside table. He couldn't look at it right now. He threw on a jacket and left the apartment. He started toward the stairs, decided he had no energy for them tonight, and chose the elevator instead. As he rode down to the lobby, a billion things ran through his mind. He couldn't let his divorce consume him. However, he couldn't prevent it no matter how hard he tried. He loved Remy, would love her for the rest of his life. When the elevator came to a jarring halt in the lobby, he stepped out of it and moved through the few people milling about. He wasn't particularly paying attention to anything around him, and he bumped right into a woman coming toward the direction he had left. A noise escaped her [oof] as she smacked into him. Donovan stepped back and glanced at her striking mane of dark auburn hair. He uttered a hasty apology. The woman smiled, said it was 'okay,' and continued onward to whatever destiny awaited her. He stood still for a moment, as if experiencing some kind of strange feeling of déjà vu. He shook it off and went on his way.
He walked for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. He liked moving around at night, but sometimes it wasn't such a great idea in this neighborhood. The apartment building was situated in a 'go-between' area that separated the ritzy neighborhood from the bad one. It didn't matter. He really didn't care. He was armed and well trained. Of course, the gun or his ability to fight wouldn't help him if he were hit by a bus or something, but he didn't think fate would be that cruel tonight. It had already wreaked havoc with him. How much worse could it get? Don't say that, bucko, or something shitty will happen, he thought. Right at the moment, he didn't give a ripe fuck. Let a goddamn bus come along and smack him. It might take care of everything. However, he thought of his little girl. He couldn't leave her behind, not on purpose. Suddenly, he ached to see his daughter. Nightfall was the worst time for him. He enjoyed putting his daughter to bed, reading to her until her lovely violet eyes closed. He missed holding her, hearing her calling to him when she couldn't find him [Daaaaaayeeeee]. Realistically, it was too far to walk to Renata's apartment from his neck of the woods. He changed direction and moved back toward his building to the parking garage. He wanted nothing more than to hug and kiss his daughter before she went to bed. It had been far too long since he had done that.
* * *
Renata opened her door to her brother in-law [ex-brother in-law]. He actually looked like hell with the dark circles under his eyes and the five o'clock shadow creeping up his jaw line. Suddenly feeling more than awkward, she had no idea what to say to him. "I don't think Remy wants to see you right now," she said. She actually liked her ex-brother in-law and hated that her sister divorced him. Remy was such a dolt sometimes.
"That's fine," he said, "I'm not here to see her. I want to see my daughter."
"Oh," she said. "Remy is with her, getting her ready for bed."
He nodded. Perfect timing. Renata moved to allow Donovan to enter the apartment. He had visited Stasia here before and was familiar with the layout. He knew exactly where to find them. Renata's apartment was fairly small and Stasia stayed in the same room with her mother. The door was closed when he approached, and he pecked on it. If Stasia happened to be asleep already, he didn't want to wake her. Remy swung open the door, thinking it was her sister. When she saw that it was Donovan, she was a little surprised.
"Frank, you should call first," she scolded. She wondered vaguely if he had been drinking. As her sister thought before her, he looked like death warmed over.
"I know, and next time, I will. But I'd like to see Stasia, to at least help put her to bed. I haven't seen her in several days. Please?"
She stood back from the door and allowed Donovan to enter the room. Stasia was already in her bed, but she wasn't asleep yet. As he approached, she cried "Daaaaaayyyyeeeeeeee" and he nearly cried. Her little arms were reaching for him, and he took her into his without hesitation. She began to babble at him excitedly, speaking that special language only a two-year-old knew. He walked over to Remy's twin-size bed and sat down with her. Remy watched from the door, but didn't move any closer to them. She was a little annoyed. The baby had almost been asleep when he came in. Of course, it was going to take forever to get her back to sleep now. However, she was wrong. The moment the excitement wore down a little, she began to yawn and settled herself firmly against Donovan's body. As she valiantly fought against sleep, he gazed down into her angelic face, still overwhelmed that he had actually helped create this delicate little creature resting in his arms. When she had completely passed out, Donovan carried her back to bed and laid her down. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and brushed away a stray curl that seemed to be tickling her eye. He had wanted this time alone with Stasia, but Remy stood against the door the entire time with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. What was she afraid of? Did she think he was going to run off with her? He turned back toward Remy and noticed that her eyes were fixed on him.
He absently caressed the nape of his neck. He thought that by sunrise, he would have one hell of a headache. "I want her to stay with me next week," he said. "I haven't had much time with her in the last week or so, and I miss her."
She nodded. "Okay," she said. "She misses you too, you know. It's been difficult getting her to sleep at night. She has become quite accustomed to both of us being there with her before she goes to bed."
We could fix that, you know. "There will be a lot of changes for her, changes that I wish didn't have to be made." He shook his head when he noticed Remy's body tensing up. "I'm not trying to start an argument with you, I'm stating how it is, that's all. She's two, very impressionable, and she'll probably never understand any of this, even when she's older. I'm sorry I came by without calling, but I had to see her. Would you mind moving out of the way so I can leave?"
* * *
Donovan let himself inside his apartment and tossed his keys on the coffee table. Since he had seen Stasia, he was more depressed than ever before. Once again, he plopped down on the couch and leaned back. For reasons unknown to him, he gazed down at his appointment book resting innocently on the coffee table. When had he thrown it down? He couldn't remember. How bizarre. He hadn't recalled bringing it home at all. He normally left it in his office, because things had a way of disappearing with a two-year-old in the apartment. Of course lately, there had been no two-year-old. He sighed. He had to stop torturing himself. He sat up on the edge of the couch and reached for the book. He didn't quite understand the sudden interest in the damn thing. Absently, he began thumbing through it, checking out some notes he had scribbled here and there. When he flipped the pages over to the present date, he finally understood what had attracted his attention. He smiled a little and shook his head. He was staring down at Pax's phone number at some ritzy hotel the CIA had secured for her. He couldn't sleep, couldn't get his mind off his daughter or the damn divorce. Donovan wanted to pick the op's brain, feel her out a little, and tonight might be the perfect time for it. As he stared down at the number, he wondered if she would be in. Of course, she's in. Have you ever known her to go out? Nope. Then again, it was a little hard to date someone when stationed in the middle of the goddamn jungle. However, Pax had never shown an interest in the opposite sex, had she? Ack. He had never thought of her in that way. He didn't feel comfortable thinking of her sleeping with someone, either. The thought was almost too horrible to comprehend. Donovan shuddered a little and continued to stare down at the number. He could either call or not. What was so hard about that?
* * *
The doorbell rang and Donovan opened it to Pax. She hadn't been in town for a few years, but she had no trouble finding his place. Amused, he watched as she entered the apartment, seemingly appraising it. He noted that she was wearing skintight black denim jeans with an absurdly oversized cowl neck sweater. Her damnable spike heeled boots completed the outfit. Her taste in clothing had never changed. He still wasn't used to the long hair and wondered what possessed her to grow it out. Pax walked around the living room, picking up knick-knacks, assessing them, and then replacing them back into their rightful places. She had never thought of Frankie as a collector of kitsch. Of course, she had also never been inside his residence before, either. What a nosy bitch, he thought, annoyed. She had to touch everything. A couple of times, Donovan had tried to steer her toward the couch, but she hadn't gotten the pilfering bug out of her system.
Actually, Pax was fascinated with Frankie's humble domicile. She kept looking over her shoulder for the little woman. She wanted to take a gander at the broad desperate enough to take Frankie as her husband. This was one lady she'd like to see, oh yes indeedy. How a woman could kiss him was beyond her. Yuck City. The fucker was probably lousy in bed, too. She turned and fixed her eyes on Frankie. When she had been partnered with him, one of the dingy secretaries in the central office had had the hots big time for the dork. Every time he walked by, she nearly creamed her jeans. Of course, Frankie didn't know she existed. At the time, he was seeing some bimbo back home, and was 'devoted' to her. She never asked about Frankie's love life, because the thought of him in bed with anybody sickened her. When she visualized him naked, she'd die laughing. Any old ho, this ditz went on and on about how 'sexy' she thought he was. Oh, I'd love to be his underwear. I'd love to be the condom on his erection. Oh sick, sick. She had been tempted to pistol-whip the idiot. As she stood staring at the fuck, she wondered what so many women found so sexy about him? She didn't get it. The only thing remotely 'nice' about him was his eyes, and even that wasn't enough to fuck him. She laughed a little and shook her head. Frankie was staring at her with his faboo 'whafuck' look. Nope, I'm not insane yet, she thought.
"Sorry, Frankie, I was just thinking about the past. Wow. Was I surprised to get a call from you! A personal invite to Spankie's place. I've just got the vapors, Spankie, the fucking vapors! Speaking of the vapors. Do you remember that secretary at HQ? What was her name? Diana? Sabrina? Ditzy? She had the hots for you," she said with a laugh. "I wonder if she still works there? Wouldn't she just die to see me here."
"Pax, what the fuck are you talking about," he spat.
"Ignore me, Frankie, I'm just thinking out loud." She continued to pilfer around until she found the liquor cabinet. "Oh, hot damn," she exclaimed. Donovan watched as she dug around. "Oh hell, Frankie. Where the fuck is the vodka?" She had nearly climbed halfway inside the damn cabinet. "Oh, goddamn, you suck. No fucking vodka. I should have grabbed my flask." She backed away and closed the door. Frankie's eyes were fixed on her. She expected him to be pissed, but he seemed more amused than angry. What the hell is wrong with him? Getting married had obviously mellowed him out.
"Jonella, sit down," he finally commanded.
Wow. He had called her 'Jonella.' He hadn't done that very often. She held her hands up innocently. "Okay. Fine. I wanted some vodka, but you don't have any. Shitfire, I counted fifty bottles of bourbon, but no vodka. What good are you?" She moved past the cabinet and made herself at home on his couch.
Donovan watched as she stretched out on the couch. Her damn legs seemed five miles long. She reminded him of a granddaddy longlegs. He didn't want to sit next to her, because he wouldn't doubt that she'd dig her heels into his thigh just for the sheer hell of it. Instead, he chose to sit on the coffee table directly in front of her. He wanted to be close to her in case he needed to subdue her. He never knew what to expect from her.
"So, Spankie, who did you knock up? That's the only way a woman would marry you," she said.
Any other time, any other day, he might have laughed and told her to 'fuck off.' "I'd rather not talk about that right now. Frankly, Pax, it's none of your fucking business."
She noticed the enraged look on his face. "Yikes, sawry," she said. It was then that she saw he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. In fact, it was lying on the table beside him. An interesting development…yes indeedy. "I didn't mean to step on your toes. Let's start over, okay? Why did you call me down here?"
He sighed and ran his hands over his face. "You didn't know, Jonella, I'm sorry, but don't ask about that again." He looked up at her. "I needed to bring you down here because I want to know what the fuck you're game is. I worked with you long enough to know when you're trying to play around. Did you leave the Death Angels? Did you really?"
She laughed a little and sat up straight on to face him. In fact, she purposely mocked his position just to tweak his nerves. She enjoyed the shit out of tweaking him. He was such a controlled, stoic man, and nothing was better than watching that control fly out the window, even steamy, circus sex. "Spankie, I don't have a game. I played you back in the day, but I'm not playing you now. I so promise you. I've told you a dozen times, I want out, and fucking up this hit will get me out. The Angels aren't legit anymore. They're rogues." She sighed. "Goddamn, I'm tired of telling this same fucking story, Frankie. What do I have to do to convince you?"
"Jonella, you could convince Satan to air condition hell. You are a very controlled, very convincing liar. I would go so far to say that you might be pathological. You haven't changed that much, Pax, not that much at all. I could read you then, and I sure as shit can read you now. I don't believe for one minute that you're leaving. I think you're leading my team into some type of trap. You're using us to lead you straight to your target, aren't you? Remember those bullets I put in your legs? I could easily do that again. I could easily put a couple in your brain and no one would ever know. I have my ways of hiding things. You remember that, too, don't you?"
She placed her hand on his shoulder and shoved him back a little. "Oh stop the sweet talk, Spankie, I'm getting all wet," she cried. "Haven't I heard you say once that you never bluff? I think you're bluffing right now. You're playing this good guy/bad guy thing, and you suck at it, especially with me. Goddamn, I think I'm starting to understand why that secretary wanted to fuck you so bad. You're a goddamn good actor, better than that Oded guy. What's his name? Finch? Frye? Now that's a sexy fuck."
"You're reprehensible," he growled.
"Oooh, Spankie upset that I cracked him open? Come on, this is Pax, not some wide-eyed floozy who would spread her legs for you if you winked at her. You can believe me or not, I don't care." She reached over and yanked at his goatee. He jerked back in pain and surprise. "Don't look so fucking startled, Frankie. If you didn't somewhat believe me, would I be here right now? Wouldn't you have taken me out already? I think you've lost your touch over the years. The agency fucked you up, didn't they? Goddamn it, Frankie, fucking shave. That goatee looks absolutely ridiculous!" He didn't move or say one word. She smacked his cheek. "Wake up, Frankie! Are you in there somewhere?"
"You are a fucking lunatic," he spat.
She rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently. "Back to the name calling? You need new material." She crossed her arms over her chest and fixed a stony gaze on him. "Okay, you have two shots against me. Now, it's my turn. You are a witless fuck."
"Better to be witless than a goddamn liar," he said through clenched teeth.
She laughed. "Yahoo," she cried triumphantly. "You want to fuck me, don't you? I was the only woman you knew back then who didn't give a rat's ass about your dick."
He gawped at her. She had a lot of nerve. "You think far too highly of yourself, Jonella. I'd shoot you before I'd touch you."
Pax lifted one of her long, chicken legs and dug a gun out of her bootleg. She put it to her chest. "All you have to do is grab onto it and pull the fucking trigger. You've shot me before, you shouldn't have any trouble doing it now."
He slapped it out of her hand and it fell to the floor with an audible thud. "It's hard to shoot a gun with the safety on. Your time as a Death Angel has driven you mad."
"Stop teasing me, Big Boy. I heard you were kind of…rough. Is this what you consider foreplay? Do you have a special room where you hide all your whips and chains?"
Donovan had had enough. He got up and moved toward the door. "Get out," he demanded. "I've not been around you in years, and I've suddenly discovered that I haven't missed you at all."
She brought herself up to her feet, yawned, and stretched. "Our first date, Spankie, I'll never forget it as long as I live." She moved toward him. Before he opened the door to expedite her departure, she placed her hand on his scruffy cheek. "On second thought, don't shave. The furry face is starting to grow on me."
He intended to shove her hand off his face. Instead, he took hold of her wrist and held it tightly in his hand. He was tempted to snap it like a twig. He was tempted to open the door and throw her sorry ass out. At the same time, he wanted to turn off the safety of her gun and blow her away. Yet another part of him wanted to kiss her. The thought was too revolting to comprehend. However, he had done it before, hadn't he? Hadn't there been a weak moment in the not so distant past when he let his guard way down and kissed her? Yeah. He remembered it all right. She had done the same thing to him as she done tonight. She'd provoked him tirelessly about some stupid shitty thing. He wasn't even sure what had started the argument. Of course, it had ended with a brutal kiss, hard and vicious. She had slapped him, he had slapped her, and both felt better in the morning.
Donovan shoved her against the door and she waited patiently for him to wrap his hands around her throat. This time, he was going to kill her. Fuck yeah. He was going to kill her absolutely dead. Ooops, wrongo, she thought as he took her lips just as brutally as the first time. She wondered if he had done it to shut her up. That had to be the case. He certainly didn't want her. Hmmm. Maybe his defective lip ain't so bad after all. He tasted good and felt even better. It had been too long between kisses. He broke away after several long moments. He pulled away and stood back.
"So very nice, Frankie," she whispered. "It didn't shut me up then and it won't do it now."
He shook his head and rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling, silently asking why the gods were testing him. He hated this fucking bitch, hated her with a passion. From day one, she had wrecked his life, and he had never thought she would have another opportunity to do it again. "Nothing short of a speeding bullet to your brain will shut you up."
"You certainly know how to flatter a girl, don't you," she asked as she blinked coquettishly. "Frankie, what's a little kiss among friends?"
"I don't want to be your friend, Pax," he said quietly.
She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. She kept her eyes focused on him the entire time. "If you don't want to be my friend, I'll take you as a fuck buddy. Good night, Spankie."
Donovan closed the door behind her and shot the deadbolt. He couldn't believe her. She had changed. She'd gotten worse than she ever was before. He couldn't allow her to provoke him; he would not entangle himself with the likes of her. If he did, he would be playing right into her blood soaked hands.