UPSET
Loralei couldn't sleep, so she wound up going to work early the next morning. She sighed a little when she noticed the light on in Donovan's office. He had apparently not slept any better than her. Dare she go to him? She needed him more than she had ever needed any man. It wasn't just a lust thing. It was sappy [that word again], but he literally completed her, that was where her need came from. He would yell at her, she was certain, but it was something she could endure. Fuck it. She had to touch him, absolutely had to do it. She dropped her purse and keys onto the top of her desk and then stepped out into the hall. The heels of her shoes made a hollow clocking noise as she neared his door. Before touching it, she listened carefully for signs of life. It was possible that he wasn't there, that he had simply left the lights on overnight. She reached out and grasped the doorknob. When she pulled open the door, it made an incredible noise in the empty hallway, echoing loudly. She was certain everyone in the building could hear it. As the door came open wider, her eyes met Donovan's. She was steeling herself against his anger, but it wasn't painted on his face. Surprised, she moved further into the room, just enough so that she could close the door behind her. He had yet to get into his "Mittel" mask. She noticed the glasses with the false lenses resting at the far corner of the desk. He would avoid them as long as possible. It was one thing he hated most about the getup. The other was that the whole operation was keeping him from his family. He stared up at her for so long a time, she nearly drowned in his eyes. It was suffocating, but also so very thrilling. There were few times they could share moments like this, at least in this setting. She still waited to hear his angered words, but they never came. Without a word or a sound, he stood and walked around his desk, approaching her. He took her into his arms and drew her up against him. For a moment, all he wanted to do was hold her, inhale her scent, and feel her warm body against his. God he missed her, missed everything about her. He didn't want to release her for one moment, and he held tightly onto her body, content to have her crushed against him. He wanted to speak to her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her, but he couldn't vocalize. It didn't matter; he was transmitting every thought, every emotion through his tight embrace.
After holding her so long that her breathing was labored, he drew back and didn't hesitate to cover her mouth with his. No time to breathe. No time to take a breath. He wanted to kiss her while he had the chance. He might not receive another for a long time to come. Their lips parted for a moment. This was a little crazy. She needed to breathe. He pressed his forehead against hers and both of them took deep, heavy breaths. Recovery time was brief as he captured her lips again, hers immediately parting against his to allow his tongue entrance, to make way for her own inside his mouth. She felt one of his hands moving to the back of her head, cupping it, mussing her perfectly coiffed hair [who gives a fuck]. Her hands worked their way inside his jacket and encircled his waist. It didn't take long for them to slide down to his buttocks. She gave them a hard, hearty squeeze, and she pressed her lower body against his. Her leg came up around him, and his free hand supported her the best it could. The kiss went on long enough for them to break for air a second time. Moaning a little, she didn't want to stop, didn't want to break the only connection they had had for weeks. What was happening to them was a cruel twist of fate, and she hated it, utterly hated it. He was gazing down into her eyes hungrily, wanting more, needing more. At the same time, Loralei was tempted to angrily shove him away. These brief, heated encounters weren't enough. If she couldn't have him all the time, she didn't want him at all. Yet, her thoughts were irrational. She would take what she could get, even if it was an animalistic quickie. He was waiting for her to decide if she wanted him or if she didn't want to take the risk. His answer was written clearly in his eyes and body. He wanted her, wanted every inch of her, but he wasn't sure what she wanted at that moment. It was one of a few times he could not read her. There were mixed emotions rushing through her. It was more than obvious to him.
"Lora-"
He had barely gotten the first two syllables of her name out of his mouth before she cut him off with two fingers pressed against his lips. She didn't want him to speak, to ask her what she wanted, and she knew he was about to do that very thing. He should never have to ask her a question like that. He should never have to ask her anything. As she gazed up at him, as she felt his heartbeat beneath her hand, a wave of terror struck her suddenly, making her head spin with its violence. The wave seemed to say: This is your last day with him, make it last. She couldn't take the thoughts rushing through her mind, she wanted to drive them out, drive them away. Donovan watched, perplexed, as she backed away. Never in a million years did he think she would deny him so blatantly. He was a little hurt and a bit angry, but not surprised. Instead of backing out of the office, she turned away and engaged the lock on the door. She went into his arms again, just holding onto him, and she felt the first of many tears to come fall out of her eyes. His strong arms came up around her and held her just as tightly as he had earlier. He didn't quite understand the tears. It wasn't from missing him, it was different. It was sad and heart wrenching, as if she were crying about a horrendous loss. He had witnessed such crying spells before, the worst after her miscarriage two years ago. However, he realized that this was worse, much worse, and he simply didn't understand.
Donovan drew away from her, holding her by her upper arms. He gazed down at her again, consuming her, reading her soul. "You will talk to me," he said in a soft, but demanding tone. "You will, Loralei."
"I will," she promised through her tears. "I will talk to you." She went into his arms again. "But later," she whispered as she placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. "Later, okay," she begged as her lips tripped over his left cheek. "Please?"
He had no intention of allowing her to wait until 'later.' It wasn't what they did, not now, not ever. His need to touch her, to make love to her could wait. He wanted to know what was going on inside her head, and he wouldn't be content until he picked it clean. He was very close to reminding her of their vow, one they had carried to the wedding, to speak, not hide. "We can wait until later," he said. "We have time." Those words [also spoken to his dying lover so very long ago] would come back to haunt him time and time again.
Donovan backed her up against the door, his hands propped on each side of her head. He kissed her again, hard, almost brutally. He didn't often lose control like that, but today, he couldn't help it. He hadn't hurt her, because she responded to him, allowing him to devour her. One hand came down and yanked her pullover blouse free of her slacks. He broke the kiss as his hands shoved the blouse up past her breasts. He used the same carnal movements and bunched up her bra with her blouse. One of her hands came up to her forehead as if she were checking for fever. Her other plunged into his hair as his lips and tongue assaulted each nipple with passionate relish. The hand planted firmly on her forehead came up to her hair as his mouth moved downward. His body followed, and before long, he was almost kneeling before her. He kissed her lower abdomen, just inches above the line of her slacks, drawing her skin between his lips as if he were trying to mark her. He hadn't done that to her before. It felt weird, but incredibly sexy. He went to work on the zipper and snap of her slacks, drawing them down past her hips, down her legs, stopping at the top of her shoes. Balancing her hand on his shoulder for support, she raised each leg, working them out of the slacks. Her feet were still adorned in her strappy fall sandals, but he didn't bother removing them. She sighed a little and held onto him for dear life as he lifted one leg, which went instinctively over his shoulder. Her panties, a nice sexy little black thong, were the only barrier separating him from her flesh. Yet, the garment wasn't really a barrier at all, now was it? He didn't intend to go very far with this, not with his patience level at negative fifteen right now. He moved them aside very briefly to allow his tongue to taste her only for a moment. One hand plunged into his hair again as she bit down a little on the palm of the other.
She had wanted to cry out, but it wouldn't be such a great idea. Her leg came down as his body moved upward. Their lips joined again and her hand moved down. She ran her finger along him, outside his jeans, and he moaned, the sound muffled by their kiss. He was so hard, the ache so bad that he thought he might burst before he was even inside her. Her hands worked frantically to release the snap and zipper of his jeans. With the denim shoved slightly past his hips, all of him, every single inch was exposed to her. She ran her tongue along her lips, wanting to get her mouth on him, but something about the intense gaze of his dark eyes stopped her short. No. He wouldn't allow that, not today. There was one place he longed to be inside, and it wasn't her mouth. Grasping her delicate silk thong, he dragged the garment down and off her body. He could have simply shoved it aside again, but he wanted no hindrances. Her leg went around his waist, his arm came up and his hand grasped her buttocks. Lifting her slightly, he plunged into her heated, moist warmth. He again experienced the same sensation he felt the first time he made love to her. It didn't take either of them long to meet release. He heard a whimpering cry escape Loralei, the noise almost sounding like a soft hiccough. Simultaneously, he felt the strong contractions inside her, gripping and releasing him, pulling him deeper inside her. Her fingernails dug into his buttocks, but he hardly noticed the stinging pain. His breath had begun to come in sharp, hissing gasps. He was close…very close. All it took to send him over was her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. Oh God. He wanted to draw away, to make this last as long as he could, but she wouldn't let him. One hand had come up to plunge into his hair, holding him in place. She nipped his bottom lip with her teeth, running her tongue over it, almost sucking it as if it were a substitute for…
He couldn't complete the thought as he stilled and leaned his head back just a little as his body worked through its shuddering climax. Keeping a steady hold on her, he buried his face against the side of her neck, his lips and nose seeking the silky shelter of her hair. He vaguely wondered if he had ever felt such an intense feeling of elation and euphoria. He felt a slight shift of her body, and he reinforced his grip on her, moaning an insistent 'no.' He didn't want her to move, not just yet, not until he had his fill, not until she had taken in every ounce of love he had to give her.
* * *
A little while later, Loralei sat in her office reviewing a lecture before class. She was still distracted, still inherently sad. She had heard Donovan leaving his office just a few moments ago, and she literally longed to follow him. Yet, she kept back, she stayed out of it, as she had promised her husband. She became engrossed in her lecture notes and reread them. How many damn times did she think she needed to go over them before class? Damn it. She looked up when she heard a polite knock at her door. Thinking it might be Donovan, she came from behind her desk and approached. Before she had the chance to open the door, it came flying back toward her, missing her face by mere inches. She ducked away, but not before it dug into her side, pinching her breast. Grimacing in unexpected pain, she whipped around the door and faced a grinning Andy Dannon. More irritated than afraid, she quickly whirled around to find some type of weapon, laying her hands on the first thing she found. She swung out with a book, successfully whopping Dannon on the side of his arm. Undeterred [she hadn't hit his sore arm at least], he reached for, grabbing her hair and jerking backward. He pinned her against her desk, its sharp edge biting into her abdomen. Dannon slammed the door, not giving one ripe fuck if the noise could be heard.
"I know who you are," he whispered viciously, his stinking breath fanning against the side of her face. "You'd better believe that, baby. I know who Mittel is, too. He's Frank Donovan, isn't he? Your husband? A federal agent? What if I told you I just killed him as he strolled down the hall? It was relatively easy; he didn't even see what hit him. It was the easiest elimination ever."
Her heart ached to cry out that he was a liar, but she wouldn't give Dannon the satisfaction of knowing Donovan's true identity. In the back of her mind, she believed him, believed he had ambushed her husband. "Let me go, you twisted psycho," she demanded through clenched teeth.
"Not just yet. You're coming with me. If you don't comply, I have a semi-automatic handgun, and I won't hesitate to start shooting. You wouldn't want that to happen, now would you?"
* * *
"What the hell do you mean," Donovan shouted angrily, his ire directed toward both Jake and Alex. It was irrational and misdirected, but he thought his brain might explode. "How the fuck did he slip past you?" No one could answer him, he was simply too enraged, in the midst of a mind-bending temper tantrum. He went over to the kitchen table in his small cursed faculty house and planted his hands firmly onto the surface of it. Breathing deeply, he slowly gained control of his temper. Just who was he angry with? Alex, Jake, or himself? Jack Reed was dead, his body was found earlier that morning. He had been bludgeoned too death with a wine bottle. His face was so bloody that he was nearly unrecognizable. He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. He was about to say something more, but his work cell phone twittered. At first, he was tempted to ignore it, but he reached for it. Snapping it open, he glanced at the screen. Loralei? "Loralei?"
"Not quite, happy hubby," a man's voice said amusedly. "I think you know who you're speaking to, Dean Fehr." [Dean Fehr, Donovan interjected inside his mind.]
"Andy Dannon," he forced out through tightly gritted teeth. He had Loralei's phone, and that meant he had Loralei. "If you harm one hair on her head, I will take immense pleasure in tearing you apart limb by limb, piece by piece."
"How do you know I haven't done it already? Look, Fehr, your wife stole my job, and I just want another chance to prove myself. I'm giving you that chance to redeem yourself. Listen very carefully, because I won't repeat myself. Come out to the construction zone in thirty minutes. I'll have your wife on top of the tallest gutted skeletal building. It's the only one with a covered floor. You'll see it easily enough. Come out here and face me. I'll make sure your wife is safe and sound. All I want is my job back, nothing more."
Donovan took all the information in frantically, remembering every detail, every word and nuance. Although his wife was the hostage, he didn't throw away his professionalism. It was the only thing keeping him sane. "Give me proof she's alive. Until I hear her voice, I will not play your game." He heard rustling noises in the background and Dannon's muffled command. He barely heard Loralei spitting out let me go. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth again. "Enough," he shouted. "Leave her alone. I'll meet you."
* * *
Dannon prodded Loralei along. She was completely intimidated by heights, and her heart beat hard and frantically in her chest. The beams supporting the skeleton that would become a building didn't seem strong enough to hold them. Dear God. What if they fell? If she stopped for one second, he pushed her, growling "move it" under his breath. Once they reached the top of the precipice, Loralei felt dizzy, and her head began to spin. How high were they? It didn't seem to be very far up, but it didn't matter to her. It could have been one story or fifty. Although she was a bit far away from the edge, it seemed as if the top of the building shrunk minute by minute. She was certain that she would fall and hit the soggy ground below. The thought horrified her. Jesus. She wanted to wrench her arm out of his grasp and get away, but the feeling of vertigo didn't allow it. She was losing time. How much time had passed? Had it been thirty minutes? An hour? A month? She knew Dannon had lied about having a weapon, but it still wouldn't prevent him from tossing her over the side.
"I'm here, Dannon. Release her," Donovan's voice suddenly demanded from behind.
He turned sharply, and a gasp emitted from Loralei. The sun had obscured her vision, and she couldn't see her husband's face very plainly. She made out the silhouettes of Jake and Alex flanking Donovan from behind. She wanted to shade her eyes, but Dannon wasn't letting her move. The grip on her arm tightened and she held her breath, waiting for the moment that the earth would fall away from her feet. Loralei's vision was blocked, but Donovan's was not. He fixed his eyes on her face for an intense moment, but soon redirected his attention on Dannon. They were incredibly close to the edge of the precipice, and it wouldn't take many steps for them both to plunge down to the ground below. Would the fall kill? Damn it. He wanted to move forward, but he dared not. The slightest step he took would only force Dannon to move an inch closer to the edge.
"She stole nothing from you," Donovan said calmly. "It's not her fault you were fired. It wasn't the fault of Reed, Simons, or Combs." If Dannon thought he was Fehr, he would play along. It might help save Loralei's life. "If you must blame anyone, blame me. Let her go and we'll settle this man to man."
Donovan's heart nearly stopped as Dannon dragged Loralei closer to the edge. One more step, and they'd go over. He found himself praying that the support beams could withstand their combined weight. Dannon's hand tensed and relaxed, relaxed and tensed on Loralei's arm. The pressure was incredible. She was horridly aware that the heel of her foot was nearly touching the edge. If she breathed wrong, down she'd go. After a tense moment, she felt her body being tossed to the side. She didn't scream or cry out, she held her breath and said a silent goodbye to her husband and children.
Donovan heard a gasp leaving him as he watched Dannon shoving Loralei's body away from his. His only conscious thought was to prevent her from hitting the ground. Without a thought to anything else, he rushed forward. By the time he faced Andy Dannon, he realized that Loralei had fallen safely away from the edge. It was a realization that came too late. Donovan's forward momentum, along with a vicious kick from Dannon, sent him over the edge. He heard very little, but Loralei's horrified scream broke the complete stillness of the otherwise beautiful morning. He grabbed a support beam, which was the closest thing to him, and he held on for dear life. His grip was slipping and the beam was creaking. Above him, he heard several muffled thuds and a string of curses leaving his agents. A moment later, Loralei leaned over the edge of the precipice, her body likely laying flat upon it.
"Baby, don't let go," she cried. "Give me your hand," she demanded.
He gazed up into her helpless green eyes. What was she thinking? She wasn't superhuman. "Loralei, you can't…"
"Fuck what I can't," she shouted. "Give me your fucking hand."
Grunting with the effort, he reached up with his free hand, never losing contact with the support beam. It creaked alarmingly again, and he took in a deep breath. She took hold of his arm with both hands, her grip amazingly strong. No matter how strong she was, he knew she wasn't strong enough to drag his ass back over. If she tried, she would topple over the edge with him. He would not let her do that. Somebody had to be there for the children. He gazed up into her eyes and held on for as long as he could. He transmitted every thought, every ounce of love in that gaze, and he saw that she understood. Her gaze was sad and horrified, a gut-wrenching mix of emotions that had the ability to drive a sane man stark raving mad. She understood, she had always understood. He could feel her body slipping forward, straining. Clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth together, he wrenched his wrist out of her hands and took hold of the support beam. As the beam gave way, the last thing he heard was Loralei's anguished wail. FFFFFRAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNKKKKKKK! NOOOOOOOOOOO!