A TENTATIVE REUNION
Remy had remained in Donovan's office as he instructed. She had called home a few additional times just to ensure that Renata and Frankie were gone. Her sister had promised to let her know when they arrived safely at Mom and Dad's. She had sat still for quite a while, but found that if she didn't get up and start moving, she might lose her mind. Remy was tempted to go back downstairs if only to get her frustration out with the woman. She had two areas she'd like to discuss with her further. The first of course, was the cruel hit. How could anyone want to murder her so viciously while in the presence of her daughter? How could anyone be so cold? The woman sat downstairs casually, carelessly, as if she were there to lend support instead of nearly killing another human being. The second was her inherent idea that she had been Donovan's lover. She couldn't believe the jealousy coursing through her. At the same time, she felt like a hypocrite. In fact, she felt no better about herself since making her confession to her husband [ex-husband]. Deep down inside, she had expected Donovan to be less hurt than he actually was. She thought he would simply forget it all and want her back. Just like that. You are a dolt, Remy Miranda Ellis, and if he never looks at you again, you would deserve it. She had underestimated his hurt, his overwhelming feelings of betrayal. She had made the ultimate, stupid mistake. It had cost her the man she loved. She paced about the office, every now and then glancing out the window. Donovan was still downstairs with the woman, seemingly speaking to her. Damn it. She wanted to break it up, to end it, because her heart couldn't take it. She didn't think he had any feelings for the woman either way, but it didn't prevent her from feeling betrayed. The man who professed his love for her time and time again had screwed around with another woman just days after his divorce was finalized. It hurt so much, and the longer she obsessed about it, the more it hurt. After several minutes, she gave up on her pacing and sat back down behind Donovan's desk. She expected Renata to call at any time now.
A bit later, Remy looked up as the office door creaked open. She didn't realize she had been napping until the noise startled her. It was Donovan. He noticed that she had fallen asleep, and he tried to slip in without waking her. He was a chickenshit again, plain and simple. He didn't want to face her just yet. His heart ached fiercely at what he considered to be her betrayal of his trust, his love, and their marriage. He didn't have the stomach to do it, not now, not with Pax throw into the mix. Remy knew he had been with her, and he still felt that eating guilt. At the moment, he didn't know what to say to her, didn't know how to talk to her. He walked over to one of the visitor's chairs and dropped into it tiredly. He was more than ready for this crazy case to end and was equally ready to ship Pax out on her happy [slightly bruised] ass. Donovan could feel Remy's eyes on him, studying him, as if waiting for him to initiate conversation. He didn't have the energy to do it. He knew they needed to talk, but he was in no hurry to make the first move. If she wanted to rehash their divorce, it had been her idea; therefore, she could bring it up. He refused, he absofuckinglutely refused. He finally raised his head to meet her gaze. She was staring at him curiously, waiting for him to make the first move, expecting it. Neither of them was right on this deal, and he would not grovel to her.
So, he isn't going to talk to me, she thought. Was this the way he wanted to play it? Did he want to ignore, ignore, ignore? She couldn't stand it. She couldn't sit there and stare at him. "I see you're not willing to talk about this," she began.
He shook his head. "It's not that I'm unwilling, Remy. I don't want to rehash the bitterness or the devastation either of us felt during those confused moments while we were still married. It's apparent the divorce shouldn't have happened at all, but I'm uncertain as to how you expect me to feel right now. Rehashing it can't erase anything that was said. It can't repair the irreparable. It can't stop me from feeling as if I were to blame for your pain. It can't. It won't. It's obvious that you truly never knew what you wanted, even from the beginning." She started to speak, but he held up his hand. "Wait. I'm not finished. I love you, Remy, you know that. I know you love me. But just voicing that each to the other can't bring us back to where we were before this. It won't come close for a long time. I think it's important for you to know where I stand before you say anything further."
Remy sat back and pressed the palms of her hands down onto the arms of the chair. She needed to do something with them, because she was tempted to cross her arms before her chest. He would immediately recognize the stance. She used it to convey anger and insecurity. Right now, both were coursing through her like an out of control flood. His words hurt, but they also made sense. However, her own feelings of betrayal pushed her to want to hurt back. She fought it. She fought it desperately. She didn't want to push him away any more than she had already done. "This woman, Frank, this assassin. Was she…is she your lover? Was she the one who scratched you?"
He sighed and absently caressed the bridge of his nose. He wondered when she was going to bring it up. At least she had done so in relative privacy. She hadn't given Pax the satisfaction of a full-on barroom brawl. He drew his hand away from his face and looked up at her again. He noticed how she was gripping the arms of his chair. Could he lie? Yes. Did he want to lie? No. "She was," he said with a brief nod of his head.
She exhaled a deep breath, one she had been holding for several minutes. "I see," she said. Of course, she had known this, but it had finally been confirmed. "Do you…did you…have feelings for her?"
"Some," he admitted, "but not what I would consider love." He wanted to explain further, to give her details of his difficult relationship with Pax from the past, but he was sure she didn't really want to hear that. His confession not only startled her, but it had also done an amazing job on him as well. He hadn't known what he was going to say until the words left him. She nodded, conveying that she understood, but he knew she didn't. Fuck it. He didn't understand himself.
Remy tightened her grip. She had to have something to do with her hands. Dear God. Had she thought she would ever have this conversation with her husband [ex-husband …that's more obvious than ever, isn't it]? "What's next, Frank? Where do we go from here? Where can we go?"
It was another difficult question he expected, but he really hadn't wanted to deal with it. A week ago, if she had asked that question, he would have cheerfully fallen back into her arms and made love to her until he was comatose. However, it was different, the situation had changed. "I think staying separated is the best thing right now. We both have so much shit to fix, so much to make up to each other, and none of it will be easy. I can't just come back to you, and I don't think you could come to me, especially not now. It would lead to a permanency I'm not prepared for. It will take time, it will take a long, long time." Not wanting to drag this out any longer, not wanting to look at her right now, he stood and left her in his office.
Pax looked up as Frankie slowly descended the stairs. Dreadfully nosy, she ached to ask him what happened. It didn't appear as if they had played slap and tickle. Frankie was distressed, but he didn't exactly look disheveled. He loved his fucking princess and had to have fucked her. She watched as Frankie moved downstairs and walked past her.
He knew Pax was watching him, but he didn't give a ripe fuck. He had little time to deal with her whacked out ass. If she uttered one single word to him, he thought he might strike her. Right at that moment, he didn't want to strike her, not just yet. Perhaps in a few moments when he calmed down, he could deal with her. Dusk was several hours away, and they could do nothing until then. He had sent Jake and Alex to track down Weizmulder, but he hadn't heard from them yet. If they could tail him, their job would be so much easier. Of course, as he sometimes lamented, nothing was ever that easy. Goddamn. Goddamn it all. As the day wore on, everything would become painfully awkward. In order to keep both Pax and Remy alive, they would have to stay with him, stay near him. Otherwise, neither would live past nightfall. He felt as if he were being tested by some cruel, evil higher power.
"Frankie," Pax suddenly spat. "Would you take off the fucking cuffs and let me help you with this? Shove aside your stupid ass male pride and let me fucking do something about this shit. You have got to let me do it. Set it aside, you witless prick, and let me help."
Donovan didn't turn toward her at all. Instead, he stalked toward the back room where he had dug out the cuffs. She wondered if he was searching for the duct tape he had threatened her with. The stubborn ballsy motherfucker. Couldn't he just fucking be human for once and listen to her? Yes, she had been sent out to kill his princess. It was something she would never live that down. She hadn't gone through with it, knew instantly from the moment she laid eyes on the princess that she couldn't. However, she understood that Frankie would hate her anyway. But goddamn. His vicious ire didn't give him reason enough to let her fucking sit here and rot while Weizmulder took out his ex. It was a fucking stupid move on Frankie's part. She looked up as he came back toward her. She couldn't quite see what he was holding, but she was certain it wasn't duct tape, not unless it was the totally invisible kind. He stalked past her, yanking the chair arm as he did and spun her around viciously. She had to hang on for dear life to avoid toppling over on her face. He dragged around a chair from the conference table and pulled it over before her. She supposed he wanted to get as close as possible so he could get the duct tape arrow straight. He was a seriously anal fuck. He held something in his closed fist, but he refused to show it to her.
"Everything in my life was mapped out perfectly, Jonella, but it all went to hell. Most of it happened before you returned, but a large portion of it came about because of you," he spat angrily. "If you and your leader hadn't made those fucking phone calls to my ex-wife, none of this would have happened."
"Excuse me," she cried indignantly. "What fucking phone calls are you talking about? I never made any goddamn phone calls to your princess. I didn't even fucking know who she was until you fucked me in your apartment. I never fucking called. I never fucking knew. Weizmulder was behind that job, Spankie. That's more his gig. I fucking swear on my life that I didn't have a goddamn thing to do with those calls."
He studied her suspiciously. Did he believe her? Did he actually believe the bitch? He was so fucking confused, he might believe her if she told him she was Santa Clause. "Pax, I swear, if you're trying to fuck with me-"
She sighed before doing something so out of character for her, that Frankie nearly fell out of his own chair. Her free hand came out and fell upon one of his. She had never touched him like that before, and he had no idea how to react. Stunned, he simply left it alone. "I'm not, Frank. All shit aside, I'm finished fucking around with you. Let me help you end this, let me help save her life. How many lives have I taken in the name of the CIA? For once, let me help save one. I'm begging you, Frank, I'm flat out begging you."
Donovan sat back in his chair, mainly to get her hand off his. He felt incredibly awkward at that point and didn't like it one little bit. "You are harsh, biting, and corrosive, Pax. I cannot fucking believe I'm actually considering your request. You are a foul mixture of acid and lye, some kind of human Liquid Plummer. I have never known anyone who could eat away at me like you." At that moment, he revealed what he had hidden in his hand. It was a handcuff key. "If I do this, if lay my trust in you, you have to follow very simple ground rules." He held up his index finger and said, "First, you will not leave my side. If I glance over and do not see you, I will hunt you down mercilessly, endlessly." His middle finger joined the index. "Second, I will have to keep my ex-wife by my side to ensure her safety because of what you have tried to do to her. You will not fuck with her like you've been fucking with me." His ring finger joined his middle and index. "Third and final rule, Pax. You will follow any order I give without question. If you don't, I will not hesitate to shoot you, not to kill, only to disable. I'll leave that to your squad. If you can follow those three simple rules, I will allow you to help. Know this, Pax; I am in charge here, you're not."
Pax watched as Frankie literally bore his eyes into hers. She had never seen him look so deathly serious before. He was giving her another chance, and she was actually touched. No games. Not this time. "I'll do whatever you ask, Agent Donovan."
Sighing heavily, knowing that he was probably shooting himself right in the fucking foot, he took the key and freed her. For a moment, he didn't take his eyes off her. He expected her to take off, but she didn't. She sat and quietly massaged her wrist, not making eye contact with him. He knew she hated submitting to him. She had never been one to follow orders at all, especially when it was he doing the ordering. He waited patiently, giving her the chance to run. In fact, he thought he wanted her to run, to prove to him that she hadn't changed. He wasn't sure he could deal with Pax if she surprised him by doing what he least expected.
Pax looked up at Frankie, completely deadpanning. "Can I take a piss?"
"Disgusting," he uttered under his breath. "Monica, take Jonella to the bathroom," he said as he buried his face in his hands.
He didn't see as Monica walked over to Pax to lead her away. He kept his face buried. He had to. He felt the first stirrings of what he assumed was hysteria working on him. He was grinning behind his hand, nearly laughing. Dear God. What had the bitch done to him? What had she fucking done? How could he put his trust in her? How could he put the lives of his team and his ex-wife into the hands of this psychotic hag? What had he done? He hoped he could trust her, he hoped he would have no regrets by the end of the night. However, he was more than certain that he had fucked up and fucked up big.
When Pax came out, she saw that Frankie's ex had come downstairs again. She had simply come down to update him about their daughter. Pax had turned to remove herself from the scene, but Remy saw her before she could. The instant she laid eyes on Pax, she went back upstairs. Sighing, Pax went back over to the conference table where Frankie seemed to be in the throes of a nervous breakdown. She actually felt badly for the fuck. Most of this was her fault.
"I can talk to her," Pax said suddenly.
Donovan looked up at her as if she had suggested they go skinny dipping together. "You talk to her? I don't fucking think so, Jonella. For one thing, I don't trust you enough. For another, it's not such a great idea, not after…everything that's happened," he said.
"Look, Spankie, I know she knows we fucked. I'm not an idiot and neither is she. I could at least tell her that it meant nothing. I can save your marriage and her life at the same damn time. I feel fucking generous today, like some twisted Mother Theresa. Woman to woman, Spankie, let me talk to her."
He shook his head. "No, Jonella, you don't understand. I don't think either of us wants reconciliation right now. It's not possible. Nothing you say to her will help at all. What you tell her will make the whole thing ten times worse. She wouldn't listen to a woman set out to fucking kill her." He sighed angrily. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done."
"I'm sorry, Frankie, I'm truly sorry. No bullshit. She'll come around. You've got good intentions, you're a halfway decent guy, and she'll snatch you back up. She would be a fucking idiot if she didn't."
Donovan looked up at her. What was this? Pax acting human? Goddamn. He didn't know how to act. "What are you saying?"
Shit. She had gotten herself mired right in the goddamn mud without a four-wheel drive. "Don't get me wrong, Spankie. I don't want anything from you, and this is no game, but…" Oh God, he's going to make me fucking say it. Goddamn bastard. She sighed. "You're a catch, okay," she spat out grudgingly. "If you didn't disgust the shit out of me, I'd be all over you like white on rice. If she can't see that, she's a fucking dolt. That's all I gotta say." Without giving him a chance to say anything, she walked away. Jumping Jesus on a fucking camel. She was all flustered and shit. She didn't want him to see her like this.
He couldn't find the words to come back on that. He was as flustered as she. He stood up. It was time to get his shit together. Jake and Alex needed to get back here so they could plan. Before he set the wheels in motion, Donovan approached Pax from behind and laid his hand on her shoulder. She didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't do anything. "Thank you," he said, his voice falling quietly into her ear. "Me too."
* * *
Weizmulder was busily packing his things. By midnight, he planned to be on a plane back to D.C. The time between dusk and eight p.m. would be enough time to finish Pax's hit and clean the op while he was at it. Weiz never made mistakes. He made it a habit to do everything perfectly. He never intended to need a cleaning. Part of that avoidance would involve straightening out the mess known as Jonella Paxton. If he did not succeed, he would have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. He didn't intend on doing that. Uh uh. No sir. No how. Weiz wasn't averse to taking out more people than necessary. If someone else got in the way, big hairy deal. Pax's association with Frank Donovan would complicate things, but not to the degree where Weiz was worried.
Donovan hadn't been with the agency in quite some time. He was hired help for the FBI now. He'd probably gotten soft. His instincts were shot to shit. If he needed any more proof of that, all he had to do was peruse the Ellis file. There were a few interesting photos of Donovan and Ellis taken while they were fucking around as witness/bodyguard. The old Frank Donovan, the one he had heard of, would not have gotten so careless, even for love. Then there were the new photos taken of Donovan and Pax entangled in some steamy action. Bad move, Pax, very bad move. That alone would have sent her for cleaning. He had labeled this as the 'Donovan file.' It was almost time for ol' Frankie boy to be cleaned. Perhaps he would do it anyway, before any orders came down to that affect. Ops who left the fold weren't trustworthy, weren't loyal. He had read some interesting shit in Donovan's CIA file. Donovan mistakenly thought he was immune from the prying eyes of the agency. He was not. There were a few ops with access to the files. He was one of them. After what had happened to him during his tenure, Donovan wouldn't care to stir up shit, now would he? Weiz could justify it. Yes, indeedy. He could justify almost anything he did.
Weiz snapped his suitcase shut and dug another from under the bed. This was his special case. He carried his own equipment, weapons he designed. Most were ten times more powerful than what he could find on the street. His special 'baby' could take out five people before they knew what hit them. This weapon would be perfect for tonight's work. Yes indeedy. Time to do some cleaning.