This directly follows Home Again, picking up later that same day.
Strangely enough, no sooner did I decide to take a break for a bit and
catch up on my reading when the next story plunked itself into my head.
Fickle Muse, I had writer's block last week. Thanks to everyone who read
and reviewed the preceding stories. It's such a wonderful thing to know
people like my writing. And, yes DM, you and my other regular reviewers
are a big part of that cyber-family! Thanks so much for encouraging me
along the way. Hope you enjoy this one as much as Vacation!
Disclaimer: The usual (Top Cow owns em. I don't make a dime from this.)
Kenneth Irons sat in his stark and sleekly modern office atop the Vorschlag building and brooded. He had instructed his secretary to hold all calls that weren't emergencies and admit no one to see him. The various computer monitors around his office all showed the same images, but the volume was off. Kenneth was not watching them in any case. Somehow, his office felt emptier than it had in a long time. He stared at the wall, at nothing in particular, toying with a gold-plated pen.
He pondered how he could have lost control so quickly. In his perfectly pressed gray Armani suit, immaculately polished Italian leather shoes, not a single pale hair out of place, he was the very definition of control. The episode in the hospital room with the fair Sara had completely blindsided him, and he detested being surprised. Anything less than complete control was unacceptable to him after all his years of being unquestioned master of both his private and business domains. But somehow Sara had managed to wrench a portion of that control from him, and he felt a burning need to get it back.
True, what she had said was absolutely correct. Ian did spend nearly all his time watching Sara anyway, and Ian's absence would be no greater than before. Irons did not really lose anything by agreeing to Sara's request, and he gained her cooperation in an arrangement that meant the continuation of his very life. That made Kenneth the victor in that encounter, didn't it? And Ian would have a chance to learn happiness in the arms of a woman. Kenneth wanted Ian to be happy. Didn't he?
But what if that happiness distracted Ian and someone or something got through his guard to eliminate the Wielder? Kenneth was entirely too sure he would not survive another thirty years until the next Wielder was chosen. And Ian's loyalty could be compromised, turned instead to the woman who showed him all the pleasures he had been denied for the sake of his duties. Sex would be a powerful weapon in Sara's hands, if she chose to use it, and Ian had no knowledge or experience with which to fight back, or even recognize an attack when it came. What would Kenneth do then? Who would he be able to trust to serve him with such devotion and precise ruthlessness as Ian did?
But the risk was worth it to have Sara's cooperation. Wasn't it?
As Kenneth continued to brood, dark clouds began to gather over the city.
* * * * *
Sara signed out at the hospital desk and gathered up the paperwork and prescriptions she needed to take home. Ian had her bag in one hand, waiting by her side until the formalities were completed, then took her hand and led her out of the brightly lit corridor into the rapidly fading light of a stormy day. His car was not far, but it was beginning to rain, so they hurried as much as Sara's wound would allow. She was shivering when they reached the vehicle, so Ian slung his coat over her shoulders before he opened the door for her. The ride back to her apartment was not too long, and Sara rode with her head leaning against Ian's strong, warm shoulder the entire way.
She was surprised to see the door repaired, and Ian pulled a new set of keys out of his pocket for the knob and dead bolt. He smiled at her expression and swung the door open for her.
"I wouldn't leave your apartment vulnerable, Sara," he said, smiling, dropping the new keys into her palm. His copies already hung on his key ring.
"Wow, Ian, thanks," she said, looking over the door jam. There was a new frame running up the lock side of the door, with a metal strip reinforcing the locks so it would be much harder to kick the door in again. The brackets the security bar slid home into on the inside of the door were also reinforced. It would take a battering ram and several strong men to break in now.
"I took the liberty of having all your windows similarly reinforced and secured," Ian said. "There are probably only five people in the world who could open them without shattering the glass."
"You being one of them," Sara remarked with amusement, quirking her eyebrow at him.
"Of course," he grinned.
The apartment had been hastily cleaned, and quick repairs had been done. The bullets had been pried out of the walls by the police for evidence, but it was Ian who had borrowed the carpenter's spackle and tried to patch the holes. He had had plenty of time to do what he could while the carpenter and locksmith were plying their trades, and he had been far too worried to just sit and watch. A much more thorough cleaning would be needed to get all the blood off the floor, but Ian had gotten pretty much all of it out of the couch fabric before he left, knowing once it dried it would be nearly impossible to get back out completely. Sara noted all this, and the look on her face and quiet but earnest "thank you" were all the thanks he needed. He merely folded her in his strong arms and gave her a gentle hug in reply.
"Nothing sucks more than coming home from the hospital after being shot and finding the place in a mess," Sara said.
"We'll worry about the rest of it later, my love. Now, you need some rest, and I need to go get some things from my old home."
"I guess this means I need to clean out my closet, huh?" Sara said with a weary smile. Ian laughed.
"Perhaps we should order a dresser or two," he suggested. "I won't be too long. Did you want anything while I'm out?"
"More orange juice, and some ice cream? Other than that I don't know what we need." She grimaced. With Ian cooking, he knew the contents of her fridge far better than she did, and he had taken over the shopping.
"I'll take care of it," he said, giving her a sweet kiss, then heading out the door. She locked it behind him, then went to check her messages. There were four.
"Hey Pez," the voice of Vicky Po came from her machine. "We just got Dante and Orlinski's bodies down here. What the hell is going on? Are you all right? Call me." Click, beep.
"Detective Pezzini, this is Captain Branson, from Internal Affairs. Agent Kronin of the FBI has shared all his evidence with me. You know we have to hold a hearing, procedure and all, but I don't think you have anything to worry about, especially with that audio tape. Just relax and get better. You're on leave for a week." Click, beep.
"Hey Partner," Jake's voice said. "I made sure my boss got in touch with I.A. so you shouldn't have anything to worry about. Sorry I couldn't come by to see you at the hospital, but I had a lot of paperwork to fill out and people to talk to. They're keeping me pretty busy. I left my cel on for you, though. Call me and let me know how you're doing." Click, beep.
"It ain't over, bitch! You didn't kill all of us, and you're gonna pay!" Click, click, silence.
Sara sat, staring at her answering machine, her hands beginning to shake. After everything else, it was too much. She put her head in her hands and cried. Ian felt her distress and fear.
~Sara, my love, what's wrong?~
~I just listened to my messages, Ian. One of the Bulls is threatening me.~
~I'm almost at the mansion now. Do you want me to turn around?~
~No, you get your things and hurry back. I'm calling Jake.~
~Call Gabriel too,~ Ian suggested. ~Have him keep you company, if he can.~
~Good idea. I love you. Hurry home.~
~I will, my Lady,~ Ian replied.
Sara picked up her phone and called Jake's celphone. He answered on the third ring, sounding slightly annoyed.
"Jake? Can you come over? I have more evidence for you," Sara said, her voice stressed.
"Can it wait," Jake asked. "I'm in the middle of giving a statement right now."
"While I was in the hospital someone left a message on my machine threatening me."
"Are you there alone now," Jake asked.
"Yeah,"
"Okay, I'll be right over. Stay put until I get there."
"Will do, Jake. Just hurry, please?"
"On my way," he replied. The call cut off, and Sara dialed Gabriel.
"Talismaniac," the young businessman's voice was cheerful.
"Hey, Gabe, it's Sara. You busy right now?"
"Not really," he replied. "What do you need?"
"Company?"
"Really?" He was surprised. "Not information on the Twitchblade?"
"Really, Gabriel. Just company."
"Uh, sure. C'mon over."
"Can you come over here," she asked. "I kinda have to stay put. The Feds are on their way over to pick up some more evidence against the White Bulls."
"Feds? White Bulls? Whoa, Sara, what's going on?"
"I'll tell you when you get here," she said, and hung up.
* * * * *
Ian entered the mansion on Faust Street silently, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He had really never thought of any other place as home, and now he was here to collect his things and leave that definition of this place behind forever. The long halls, silent as always, gave the impression now of hiding secrets, no longer comforting as they once were. He let his gloved fingers trace their way down the wall as he walked, feeling like a child in a way, poised on the threshold of becoming his own man at last.
His footsteps echoed slightly as he walked down the hall to his room, pausing at the door to let his gaze sweep over the darkened room. Curtained in heavy black fabric, the windows were hidden, though he could hear the wind rising beyond the glass. He flicked on the light, his eyes adjusting instantly to the brightness. Deciding what to take and what to leave would be difficult. His two suitcases were not large, and Sara didn't have very much room. Besides, he would want to keep some clothing and weapons here, since he was still working for Irons, and undoubtedly the availability of changes of clothes for any occasion would come in handy.
Shaking himself out of his indecision, he started packing up the laptop he had bought for the trip to Mexico. It had it's own case, and was quickly tucked away with all the attendant software and wires. Now that he was actually moving, packing became a lot easier. One suitcase for clothing, starting with the things that had some color, finishing with his black work clothes, and one suit folded very carefully on top. The other for his personal items, starting with his set of traditional Japanese swords, various items of interest he had picked up on his travels with the military, and later with Irons, favorite books. Then the rest of his arsenal, even the rifle, which he quickly disassembled so it would fit in the case. A few other items in the little space that was left, and he was ready.
Suitcase in each hand, laptop strap across his shoulder, he gave his room one last glance, then shut off the light and closed the door behind him. He stopped by the kennels to pet the wolfhounds for a few minutes, then headed back to his car in the underground garage, grateful he did not have to walk through the rain to his car. As he finished setting the last bag in the trunk the garage doors opened. Kenneth Irons had arrived home. Ian closed the trunk and stood waiting, head down, arms clasped in front of him. Irons climbed out of the back seat as the driver held the door and stood looking at Ian for a minute.
"Come to get a few things, Ian?"
"Yes, sir," Ian replied neutrally.
"So you intend to go through with this," Irons said, his tone between amusement and regret.
"Yes, sir," Ian replied simply.
"Well, remember boy, you will always have a room here if things don't work out with our fair Sara." His tone had changed to be kind, wistful. "She is a woman of some temper, and you may find her more difficult to get along with than you thought."
"Thank you, sir," Ian said, daring to look up at Irons briefly. There was surprise and regret in his eyes.
"Second thoughts, young Nottingham," Irons asked.
"I want to be with Sara, sir," Ian replied. "I wish it had not meant leaving here."
"A difficult decision, indeed, Ian," Irons sighed. "We will discuss it more later. You should not leave Sara alone for too long. Report to me at the usual time tonight."
"Yes, sir," Ian replied, inclining his head respectfully. As he turned to go Irons stopped him.
"Oh, Ian," Irons handed Ian a slip of paper. "Your receipt of electronic deposit to your account."
"Sir?" Ian was confused.
"Part of my deal with Sara," Irons reminded him. "Your paycheck. So you can buy her flowers and take her to dinner, I believe she said. You'll also find another bonus for your years of loyal service deposited to your investment account." Irons smiled. "I think you will find I have been quite generous."
"Thank you, Sir," Ian said, unsure exactly how to respond, what to think. Irons put his hand on Ian's shoulder.
"Despite appearances sometimes to the contrary, I am very proud of you, son. I want you to know that. Now go to your Lady. I will expect you tonight."
Ian bowed his head again, then stood and watched as Irons walked to the door and entered the mansion. He was very thoughtful as he got back into his car and pulled out into the rainy streets.
Disclaimer: The usual (Top Cow owns em. I don't make a dime from this.)
Kenneth Irons sat in his stark and sleekly modern office atop the Vorschlag building and brooded. He had instructed his secretary to hold all calls that weren't emergencies and admit no one to see him. The various computer monitors around his office all showed the same images, but the volume was off. Kenneth was not watching them in any case. Somehow, his office felt emptier than it had in a long time. He stared at the wall, at nothing in particular, toying with a gold-plated pen.
He pondered how he could have lost control so quickly. In his perfectly pressed gray Armani suit, immaculately polished Italian leather shoes, not a single pale hair out of place, he was the very definition of control. The episode in the hospital room with the fair Sara had completely blindsided him, and he detested being surprised. Anything less than complete control was unacceptable to him after all his years of being unquestioned master of both his private and business domains. But somehow Sara had managed to wrench a portion of that control from him, and he felt a burning need to get it back.
True, what she had said was absolutely correct. Ian did spend nearly all his time watching Sara anyway, and Ian's absence would be no greater than before. Irons did not really lose anything by agreeing to Sara's request, and he gained her cooperation in an arrangement that meant the continuation of his very life. That made Kenneth the victor in that encounter, didn't it? And Ian would have a chance to learn happiness in the arms of a woman. Kenneth wanted Ian to be happy. Didn't he?
But what if that happiness distracted Ian and someone or something got through his guard to eliminate the Wielder? Kenneth was entirely too sure he would not survive another thirty years until the next Wielder was chosen. And Ian's loyalty could be compromised, turned instead to the woman who showed him all the pleasures he had been denied for the sake of his duties. Sex would be a powerful weapon in Sara's hands, if she chose to use it, and Ian had no knowledge or experience with which to fight back, or even recognize an attack when it came. What would Kenneth do then? Who would he be able to trust to serve him with such devotion and precise ruthlessness as Ian did?
But the risk was worth it to have Sara's cooperation. Wasn't it?
As Kenneth continued to brood, dark clouds began to gather over the city.
* * * * *
Sara signed out at the hospital desk and gathered up the paperwork and prescriptions she needed to take home. Ian had her bag in one hand, waiting by her side until the formalities were completed, then took her hand and led her out of the brightly lit corridor into the rapidly fading light of a stormy day. His car was not far, but it was beginning to rain, so they hurried as much as Sara's wound would allow. She was shivering when they reached the vehicle, so Ian slung his coat over her shoulders before he opened the door for her. The ride back to her apartment was not too long, and Sara rode with her head leaning against Ian's strong, warm shoulder the entire way.
She was surprised to see the door repaired, and Ian pulled a new set of keys out of his pocket for the knob and dead bolt. He smiled at her expression and swung the door open for her.
"I wouldn't leave your apartment vulnerable, Sara," he said, smiling, dropping the new keys into her palm. His copies already hung on his key ring.
"Wow, Ian, thanks," she said, looking over the door jam. There was a new frame running up the lock side of the door, with a metal strip reinforcing the locks so it would be much harder to kick the door in again. The brackets the security bar slid home into on the inside of the door were also reinforced. It would take a battering ram and several strong men to break in now.
"I took the liberty of having all your windows similarly reinforced and secured," Ian said. "There are probably only five people in the world who could open them without shattering the glass."
"You being one of them," Sara remarked with amusement, quirking her eyebrow at him.
"Of course," he grinned.
The apartment had been hastily cleaned, and quick repairs had been done. The bullets had been pried out of the walls by the police for evidence, but it was Ian who had borrowed the carpenter's spackle and tried to patch the holes. He had had plenty of time to do what he could while the carpenter and locksmith were plying their trades, and he had been far too worried to just sit and watch. A much more thorough cleaning would be needed to get all the blood off the floor, but Ian had gotten pretty much all of it out of the couch fabric before he left, knowing once it dried it would be nearly impossible to get back out completely. Sara noted all this, and the look on her face and quiet but earnest "thank you" were all the thanks he needed. He merely folded her in his strong arms and gave her a gentle hug in reply.
"Nothing sucks more than coming home from the hospital after being shot and finding the place in a mess," Sara said.
"We'll worry about the rest of it later, my love. Now, you need some rest, and I need to go get some things from my old home."
"I guess this means I need to clean out my closet, huh?" Sara said with a weary smile. Ian laughed.
"Perhaps we should order a dresser or two," he suggested. "I won't be too long. Did you want anything while I'm out?"
"More orange juice, and some ice cream? Other than that I don't know what we need." She grimaced. With Ian cooking, he knew the contents of her fridge far better than she did, and he had taken over the shopping.
"I'll take care of it," he said, giving her a sweet kiss, then heading out the door. She locked it behind him, then went to check her messages. There were four.
"Hey Pez," the voice of Vicky Po came from her machine. "We just got Dante and Orlinski's bodies down here. What the hell is going on? Are you all right? Call me." Click, beep.
"Detective Pezzini, this is Captain Branson, from Internal Affairs. Agent Kronin of the FBI has shared all his evidence with me. You know we have to hold a hearing, procedure and all, but I don't think you have anything to worry about, especially with that audio tape. Just relax and get better. You're on leave for a week." Click, beep.
"Hey Partner," Jake's voice said. "I made sure my boss got in touch with I.A. so you shouldn't have anything to worry about. Sorry I couldn't come by to see you at the hospital, but I had a lot of paperwork to fill out and people to talk to. They're keeping me pretty busy. I left my cel on for you, though. Call me and let me know how you're doing." Click, beep.
"It ain't over, bitch! You didn't kill all of us, and you're gonna pay!" Click, click, silence.
Sara sat, staring at her answering machine, her hands beginning to shake. After everything else, it was too much. She put her head in her hands and cried. Ian felt her distress and fear.
~Sara, my love, what's wrong?~
~I just listened to my messages, Ian. One of the Bulls is threatening me.~
~I'm almost at the mansion now. Do you want me to turn around?~
~No, you get your things and hurry back. I'm calling Jake.~
~Call Gabriel too,~ Ian suggested. ~Have him keep you company, if he can.~
~Good idea. I love you. Hurry home.~
~I will, my Lady,~ Ian replied.
Sara picked up her phone and called Jake's celphone. He answered on the third ring, sounding slightly annoyed.
"Jake? Can you come over? I have more evidence for you," Sara said, her voice stressed.
"Can it wait," Jake asked. "I'm in the middle of giving a statement right now."
"While I was in the hospital someone left a message on my machine threatening me."
"Are you there alone now," Jake asked.
"Yeah,"
"Okay, I'll be right over. Stay put until I get there."
"Will do, Jake. Just hurry, please?"
"On my way," he replied. The call cut off, and Sara dialed Gabriel.
"Talismaniac," the young businessman's voice was cheerful.
"Hey, Gabe, it's Sara. You busy right now?"
"Not really," he replied. "What do you need?"
"Company?"
"Really?" He was surprised. "Not information on the Twitchblade?"
"Really, Gabriel. Just company."
"Uh, sure. C'mon over."
"Can you come over here," she asked. "I kinda have to stay put. The Feds are on their way over to pick up some more evidence against the White Bulls."
"Feds? White Bulls? Whoa, Sara, what's going on?"
"I'll tell you when you get here," she said, and hung up.
* * * * *
Ian entered the mansion on Faust Street silently, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He had really never thought of any other place as home, and now he was here to collect his things and leave that definition of this place behind forever. The long halls, silent as always, gave the impression now of hiding secrets, no longer comforting as they once were. He let his gloved fingers trace their way down the wall as he walked, feeling like a child in a way, poised on the threshold of becoming his own man at last.
His footsteps echoed slightly as he walked down the hall to his room, pausing at the door to let his gaze sweep over the darkened room. Curtained in heavy black fabric, the windows were hidden, though he could hear the wind rising beyond the glass. He flicked on the light, his eyes adjusting instantly to the brightness. Deciding what to take and what to leave would be difficult. His two suitcases were not large, and Sara didn't have very much room. Besides, he would want to keep some clothing and weapons here, since he was still working for Irons, and undoubtedly the availability of changes of clothes for any occasion would come in handy.
Shaking himself out of his indecision, he started packing up the laptop he had bought for the trip to Mexico. It had it's own case, and was quickly tucked away with all the attendant software and wires. Now that he was actually moving, packing became a lot easier. One suitcase for clothing, starting with the things that had some color, finishing with his black work clothes, and one suit folded very carefully on top. The other for his personal items, starting with his set of traditional Japanese swords, various items of interest he had picked up on his travels with the military, and later with Irons, favorite books. Then the rest of his arsenal, even the rifle, which he quickly disassembled so it would fit in the case. A few other items in the little space that was left, and he was ready.
Suitcase in each hand, laptop strap across his shoulder, he gave his room one last glance, then shut off the light and closed the door behind him. He stopped by the kennels to pet the wolfhounds for a few minutes, then headed back to his car in the underground garage, grateful he did not have to walk through the rain to his car. As he finished setting the last bag in the trunk the garage doors opened. Kenneth Irons had arrived home. Ian closed the trunk and stood waiting, head down, arms clasped in front of him. Irons climbed out of the back seat as the driver held the door and stood looking at Ian for a minute.
"Come to get a few things, Ian?"
"Yes, sir," Ian replied neutrally.
"So you intend to go through with this," Irons said, his tone between amusement and regret.
"Yes, sir," Ian replied simply.
"Well, remember boy, you will always have a room here if things don't work out with our fair Sara." His tone had changed to be kind, wistful. "She is a woman of some temper, and you may find her more difficult to get along with than you thought."
"Thank you, sir," Ian said, daring to look up at Irons briefly. There was surprise and regret in his eyes.
"Second thoughts, young Nottingham," Irons asked.
"I want to be with Sara, sir," Ian replied. "I wish it had not meant leaving here."
"A difficult decision, indeed, Ian," Irons sighed. "We will discuss it more later. You should not leave Sara alone for too long. Report to me at the usual time tonight."
"Yes, sir," Ian replied, inclining his head respectfully. As he turned to go Irons stopped him.
"Oh, Ian," Irons handed Ian a slip of paper. "Your receipt of electronic deposit to your account."
"Sir?" Ian was confused.
"Part of my deal with Sara," Irons reminded him. "Your paycheck. So you can buy her flowers and take her to dinner, I believe she said. You'll also find another bonus for your years of loyal service deposited to your investment account." Irons smiled. "I think you will find I have been quite generous."
"Thank you, Sir," Ian said, unsure exactly how to respond, what to think. Irons put his hand on Ian's shoulder.
"Despite appearances sometimes to the contrary, I am very proud of you, son. I want you to know that. Now go to your Lady. I will expect you tonight."
Ian bowed his head again, then stood and watched as Irons walked to the door and entered the mansion. He was very thoughtful as he got back into his car and pulled out into the rainy streets.
