A TIME TO GRIEVE
Pax stared at Donovan curiously. He had just spent a trying few hours on the phone speaking first with his superiors and then with his former in-laws. Neither conversation had gone well. As he suspected, his superiors didn't want to give him the time off and the in-laws wouldn't give on Stasia attending the funeral. They didn't care to listen to Donovan's side of things, they wanted their way. Pax wanted to say something, but Donovan wasn't in the mood to talk and she wouldn't push him when he was like this. She knew when to push his buttons and when not to. She had long since given up trying to hurt him [on purpose, anyway]. She also noticed that Donovan wasn't looking at her. He was studying his hands as if he thought they might detach themselves from his body and run off. A few moments ago, he had been clenching them into fists so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. It had been a while since she had seen him this angry. There were only a few stunts she pulled that could compare to the anger he displayed today.
Donovan sat out in the waiting room of a Bogotá hospital. Pax had cursed and spat at him for several hours after he shot her. It was the only thing he could think of to keep her from carrying out this crazy Death Angel wish of hers. Simply kissing her wouldn't do it. When this was over and she could walk again, he would probably lose a limb and another appendage he was quite fond of. He thought he might need it one day if he ever decided to have a child. He was trying to check on Pax, but she wouldn't have it. Every time he entered her room, she screamed until hospital personnel shuttled him out. The stubborn bitch wouldn't listen to him. He was trying to keep her from fucking up her already fucked up life. Didn't she care? Did she want to eventually need a cleaning herself? Was that her goal in life? Was that why she joined the agency? He didn't understand because she wouldn't give him the time of day long enough to talk to him, even when she was drunk off her ass. He had tried many times. He felt almost…obligated to protect her. It was weird, but he couldn't explain it. It seemed as if he had an innate sense that something had gone wrong somewhere in the grand scheme of things in her world. However, there was that not talking thing.
Jonella Paxton was as oily as an eel and he hated her, but he was also drawn to her like a wasp to a bright color. Regardless of the deed, he never turned her away even when she clearly didn't want his help [which was all the time]. He butted in every damn time, knowing full well that she would refuse his help and kick his ass while she was at it. As he stared at the floor, he was tempted to go to her room. He hadn't been back there since she was admitted. As crazy as it sounded, he had shot her for her own good, but she would never get that. For now, he would give her some time to calm down before he tried talking to her again. Admit it Donovan, you're a pussy. Yes. He was definitely a pussy, especially when it came to Jonella Paxton. And why is that? God. He hated the little voice that persistently popped into his head without him wanting it to. Regardless of how hard he tried, he could never get it out. It wasn't that he loved her or wanted to have something with her [the thought of that turned his stomach…sort of], but she had prickled his nerves. God. How many fucking times am I going to think that before I go incurably insane? He knew he should get up and leave. There was nothing he could do for her here. Nothing she would allow him to do. If she saw him right now, she might pierce his heart with a scalpel. If she would listen to him, she would open her eyes. He had been faced with making the same choices that she had made. He knew how the game was played. Pax thought she was invincible, that nothing or no one could hurt her. She thought she was smarter than her lead operative. She was only half right on that. She was smart and could get herself out of messes the average person never could, but she often underestimated the Death Angels. Donovan wasn't supposed to know of them, but he did. He had lost more than one partner in his tenure to them and all but one was in a grave now. He didn't want to see Pax go out like that. She had promise. For God's sake, she could run the fucking agency some day if she would straighten out her act. However, it would never happen, not in his lifetime.
Donovan let her cool out for about two or three days and brought her a peace offering: coffee made by his own hands. An hour or so prior, her lead op had visited her, and he had no intention of asking what they had talked about, because she would simply tell him to mind his own fucking business. He had ideas, of course, but he didn't know how to voice them. It was a difficult subject to approach. So, Pax…do you plan on going back to taking people out for the CIA? You are? How nice? Should I throw you a party for that? What kind of cake would you like? It was a ridiculous thought. Much to his surprise, Pax took the coffee and drank it without comment. He was surprised [and happy] when she didn't throw it into his face. It was scalding hot and he had no desire to get second-degree burns. During the entire time she drank her coffee, he watched her carefully. It was the first time he had ever seen her so vulnerable. For the first time since he met her, she was actually kind of…human. It was unsettling. It was funny how he missed the old Pax when she suddenly became somber and normal. It was then that he realized he would be absolutely devastated if something happened to her. Incredible. It was one revelation he would never voice aloud. Pax might…hurt him. You pussy.
After every drop of coffee was consumed, it was either talk or walk. He wasn't ready to leave just yet, not until they had it out. For a long moment, he stared down into the bottom of his paper cup before finally deciding to set it aside. This was something he couldn't avoid no matter how hard he tried. This wasn't the time to hold back. "I realize your other lead op left not long before I came in," Donovan began. "He was in here for quite some time. Were you making plans to return?" He watched her carefully, trying his best to gauge her reaction. Her face was blank. There was absolutely nothing there. The bitch could mask her feelings better than anyone he knew.
She focused her sapphire eyes on his face. They were cold and angry. "I don't see that as any of your fucking business, Frankie. I think you best keep your fucking nose out of my business unless you want me to slice it off for you. You'd look awfully fucked up without a nose. I don't think many of those little girlies in the central office would cream their jeans so much then, huh? Your fan club would dwindle down to no one." She finished off her coffee and set her paper cup aside. "I appreciate the gift of the coffee. I think you made it. This shithole certainly didn't. Don't think for one minute that coffee is going to melt my panties or some shit. I'll do what I want when I want. I am not your charge or some shit. I don't understand why the fuck you always think that."
He was up and out of his chair in a shot. Pax had never seen him move so fast. He leaned right over her, not giving one ripe fuck that he was putting pressure on her banged up legs. She had seen him angry, of course, but not like this. There was a fire in his eyes and the bastard was nearly snarling. He didn't look human at all. He looked like some fucking predator about to rip its prey apart just for shits and giggles. She was certainly in the right place for an ass beating. It was almost funny. She might have laughed, but she was actually afraid to. She had never been afraid of Frank Donovan in her life, but she could no longer say that. It was the first time she had ever thought he might kill her. She was close…very close…to reaching over for her call button. Security needed to haul his ass out before he actually did some damage. He'd shot her fucking legs. Wasn't that fucking enough? Jumping Jesus Christ on a fucking camel. Hell no. He wanted her to die. Well, go on ahead, Spankie. Fucking do it and get it over with. You've ruined my legs for a while you might as well ruin the rest of me while you're at it. He said something through clenched teeth, but she was so shocked to hear it that she thought she'd been hallucinating. She could have sworn he called her "Jonella." He never fucking called her by her first name. She nearly asked him to repeat himself, but she knew he wouldn't.
"I know you want to talk," he said harshly. "But you'll keep your motor mouth shut until I'm finished with what I have to say. Is that clear?" He didn't give her a moment to speak. "What you want to go back to is stupid, Jonella. Utterly fucking stupid. It's bad enough being a CIA patsy, but when you're one for the darker side of the agency, it's worse. How long will they use you? One year? Two? You'll never know. They'll come in one day when you least expect it and blow your brains out. Do you think I want to see you go out like that? You are one of the most irritating people I have ever met, but you're also one of the best agents I've ever been partnered with. When you play two sides, you die and you die young. Don't do it. Don't go back to it. Take this time and work it out in your head. Get out now while you can."
"Are you finished," she challenged, lifting her chin defiantly. Before she gave him the chance to speak, she continued right on. "Your heart fucking felt speech touched me, Spankie, and it nearly made me cream my panties. I don't need a father or a keeper or a watcher. I've never had one and now is not the time to get one. I don't see how in the fuck you can tell me this shit with such authority when you've never done this. You don't know. You've never been an Angel. Butt out, Frankie. Butt out and let me do whatever the fuck I want to do. I'm not and never was your responsibility."
"You are, Jonella, and you don't even realize it. You're under my charge and every move you make is under my scrutiny. Simply put, you're mine. I don't know what I'll have to say to get this through to your fucking thick ass skull. I wasn't an Angel, so I don't have any idea what goes on. I was approached once, but I never considered it, because that job comes with a price. You're going to pay, Pax. You're going to pay with your life. You're right about several things, including the fact that I'm not your father, but I am the closest thing you have to a confidante. For once in your sorry pathetic life, trust someone, you wretched bitch. I'm telling you what I know from experience. I don't want to see you walk that path. Every day you're in the hospital, I'll be on your ass until you tell me you're not going back. You know I'll do it. What do you want to do? Do you want me here every day and night chewing your ass?"
Oh yes. The fucker would do everything he said and more. What could she do? For now, she could tell him anything she wanted and he would buy it. She could be sincere and lie creatively when she had to. Frankie was good, but she could fuck him up, especially when he was acting like a man, and right now he was. Keeping her eyes focused on his, she put on her best face. It was the face she used often when she took out a unit. It was a blank look mostly, with little emotion. There was nothing to read. Donovan had seen a version of it a couple of times, but this was a mere shadow of it. "I don't want you here every day and night. I couldn't stand to look at your fucking face. I won't go back, you prick, but you'll have to help me."
No sooner than Pax was up and around, she insisted on being released from the hospital. Donovan didn't quite trust her. He couldn't take her back out to the jungle, of course, so he brought her back to Central where they set her up in a cushy hotel room. Donovan hung around like an annoying mother hen and Pax had had to cuss him nine ways to hell before he would leave her alone. It was her goal all along. As soon as he was out of sight, she had plans to leave. Her lead op already had an assignment for her. So her legs were messed up. It didn't mean she couldn't shoot. Hell…she could shoot blindfolded. Frankie knew her biorhythms well. Instead of sneaking out during the wee hours of the morning [when he would expect it], she walked out right in the middle of broad daylight. It was so easy that it was nearly stupid. She kept looking over her shoulder, expecting to see Frankie at every corner, but he never turned up. She hated leaving like she did, hated going back on her word, but fuck it. She didn't owe Donovan anything. He didn't owe her anything. However, she could almost see the look on his face and she was pretty damn certain that it wasn't pretty. It was probably ugly, vicious, and cruel.
It was probably ugly, vicious, and cruel. Donovan's look was nearly as ugly, vicious, and cruel when she ditched him some years ago. Of course, she hadn't been present to witness it. However, today she was right up in his face. Yet, the situation was quite different. They were together together and engaged for Pete's sake. Back then they hadn't been that fond of each other. That isn't true. They were equally fond of each other, but neither of them wanted to see and/or admit it. It was all psychological bullshit. She knew what her reasons were, but Donovan's were something else altogether. Like it matters anymore anyway. She watched as he stared down at his hands and worked over his bottom lip. If he continued to chew on it, he was going to make it bleed. She had the greatest urge to smack him, but she didn't think he would appreciate it. Then again, now wasn't the time for the old Pax to come raging out. She would save that for the female detective and his former in-laws. Those were the folks who needed supreme ass whippings. She had ruined her spike-heeled boots in Miami, but she thought she could find a pair in an S & M shop if she needed them. Goddamn it, Donovan, look at me and say something.
After several moments of staring and chewing, he glanced up at Pax. "I'm sorry, Jonella. Why do people always act like assholes when someone dies?" He shook his head. "They're not giving an inch on their arguments. I realize that Stasia is-was Remy's daughter as well, but I'm not putting her through that. I don't care what they say or what they think. And…" He stopped speaking suddenly.
Pax gazed at him curiously. He had nearly completed another thought, but he cut off his words. What was the and? The in-laws wanted Stasia to go to the funeral and…what? Of course, she wasn't an idiot. She knew what the 'and' was just as surely as she knew what size panties she wore. "And they don't want me there," she finished for him. "I expected as much, Frank, and it's okay. Your ex and I never gee hawed that well. In fact, we pretty much hated each other's guts until she found that Hilton guy. I can understand. It's not a big deal. Stasia and me can stay here and tear the place apart. Leave you a big old mess."
A ghost of a smile touched Donovan's lips. He shook his head again. "No, Jonella. I love you and I want you by my side, even if I have to fight them all the way. I don't care what they say or think."
Pax bit her tongue. She had nearly spat out some words she might have regretted saying. But I'm not your wife. It was simple. She wasn't his wife. She was nothing more than a glorified permanent piece that wore his engagement ring. Regardless of what he said, it wasn't her place to be by his side at the funeral of his ex-wife. She agreed with him about not taking the kid, but she didn't think she belonged there, either. I'm not his wife, but it's a situation that could be remedied right quickly. Oh good God. She had to get that thought out of her head. She didn't want to get married. Or do you, Pax? Come on, little girl. Be honest with yourself. Doesn't some little part of you want to? Hell no and hell no again. "The tension will be bad enough, Frank. Let me just sit this one out, okay? I don't want to cause any more friction than is already going on. They're already pissed off because of Stasia. What the hell are they going to say when you waltz in there with me on your arm? Goddamn it, Frank."
Donovan bit his tongue. He nearly said 'you're my wife.' However, she wasn't. He was ever so close to once again pushing the marriage issue. He hadn't said one word about it since he gave her the ring. He didn't want to keep pushing her, because she might up and leave. She had done it once and would do it again. If he lost her now, he would go nuts. "Don't push it, Jonella, okay? I love you and I want you there."
She reached out and placed her hands over his. He grasped hers and held them tightly. For a moment, they didn't speak at all. Now, it was Pax's turn to chew on her lip. There was something she wanted to say, but she couldn't say it. She didn't want to admit she wanted to say it. Oh God. She hadn't felt like this since before she told the stupid fuck she loved him. "You're still a stubborn asshole, you know? You never change, even when I finally admit I love your ass. I won't jump any of the family there, but I still want a piece of that cop."
This time, he genuinely smiled and afforded her a chuckle. It did her heart good to hear and see that. She hated seeing him hurt. "I don't think you have to worry about that detective, Jonella. She can't seriously believe that I would do something so insane," he told her.
"You damn straight you didn't. She's a fucking idiot."
"Have I told you yet that I'm damn glad you came back from Miami," he asked.
She grinned. "Maybe a few times. I think you showed me how glad you are more than a few." She bit her tongue again. What the hell was it that she wanted to say?
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To be continued…