A Family Affair
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters. That would be slavery. Enjoy!
Chapter 28.
It took Sara Pezzini nearly an hour to reach Detective Mike Morgan, who was still down at the docks overseeing the mop-up of the failed drug bust operation.
"Hey, Pez," Mike said, when she was finally put through. He sounded dispirited and tired.
"Hey, Mike. Operation didn't turn out so good, hunh?" she said sympathetically.
"It felt wrong from the get-go, if you wanna know the truth," the detective told her. "However, INS now has their hands full processing three dozen illegals."
"So, the Dominican Star turned out to be a smuggler after all. Except human contraband instead of drugs."
"Yeah. What's up? Dispatch said you had something urgent to pass along to me and my commanding officer."
"I leaned on an informant to find out where Angel's new location is. I checked it out and he gave me good info. It's an abandoned ice factory on 7th Street between Avenues C and D. I also discovered that your undercover guy is there, under close watch by Medina's men," Sara told the narcotics squad detective, who was also her partner's good friend. "Detective Fuller's a little freaked seeing as he's been out of contact with his surveillance unit for more than 48 hours. But more importantly, he says Angel and Joaquin are still waiting for the drug shipment to arrive. Apparently, it's been delayed by bad weather, the same weather system that's heading our way, meaning it's most likely coming by air or by land. My snitch also says that if Angel even smells a hint of surveillance, he won't come within a mile of the new den. Your people and the DEA are going to have to leave a very generous buffer zone around that factory."
"That's excellent news about Tommy being okay. I'll pass that info along to my C.O. and we'll get him hooked up again within the hour. I hope you understand that I couldn't risk telling you and Danny that we'd lost touch with him until after tonight's operation, Pez. There was just too much at risk."
"We're straight, Mike," Sara assured him. "But if you haven't already figured it out by now, I gotta tell you that I'll do anything to stop Angel and Joaquin. Detective Fuller's life isn't the only one at stake here. My nephew is still in danger, and will be until the Medina brothers are behind bars. My informant expects to hear from Angel in the next 24 hours. The minute he does, he's going to call me."
"Can I let my C.O. in on this, Sara? All we had was Tommy, and we even managed to lose him for a while. Sounds like you might have the goods."
"Just let me clear it with Captain Dante when I get to the house. He's a prick, but I don't need to make him more of an enemy than he already is by leaving him out of the loop."
"I understand completely, Pez. I'll contact you later this morning."
"See you in a few hours, Mike."
When Sara hung up, the clock on her kitchen wall said 2:15 a.m. Sighing, she stripped, pulled on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, and fell into bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
But her sleep was not at all restful. She dreamt of Ian Nottingham collapsing to the ground after being cut down by a hail of bullets, interspersed with images of Joey Siri, Jr. dying the same horrible way. Even more disturbing was the dream she had toward dawn of a man whose long, dark hair obscured his features as he made torrid love to her. Sara could have cried with frustration when, just as her dream lover brought her to the brink of ecstasy, she awoke bathed in sweat, her heart pounding and her body tense and aching with thwarted desire. She groaned as a glance at the alarm clock on her night table showed that it was only 5:00 a.m. Entirely too keyed up to fall back asleep, Sara got up and took a long, hot shower, followed by a short cold one. Then she sat in her bathrobe at her kitchen table, drinking mug after mug of coffee and wondering how Nottingham had fared with getting the antidote he so desperately needed. At 7:00, she got dressed and then called Robert and Paula Siri's house.
"Good morning," Robert answered cheerfully.
"Hey, Robbie. It's me, Sara."
"Hey, Sara. What's up?"
"I'm afraid I've got bad news. The drug bust that was supposed to catch Angel Medina, the drug lord that killed Amanda's drug dealer, fell through last night, meaning that he's still on the loose. That also means Joey's not safe and won't be until we catch him," Sara told her surrogate older brother.
"Damn. Joey's in seventh heaven, too, 'cause Amanda called and left a message on our answering machine last night saying he could go visit her in rehab this afternoon," Robert said.
"Oh, well, that's good news that she's well enough to have visitors. But, Robbie, just to be safe, could you or Paula drive Joey to school?"
"Yeah, no problem."
"Good. I'm gonna meet him after school and escort him to Amanda's rehab facility. And I'll wait until he's done visiting her and take him home, too. Could I speak to Joey?"
"Sure, hold on."
Sara heard him call his son, and moments later Joey picked up the receiver.
"Hey, Aunt Sara! You'll never guess who left me a message on the answering machine last night!" the boy said excitedly.
"Your dad told me Amanda called, Joey. That's great news," Sara said. "Listen, kiddo, I want you to promise me you won't breathe a word of your visit with her to anybody. Not even your best buddies at school."
"Why, Aunt Sara?"
"Because the drug lord who killed Paco hasn't been caught yet, and that means your life is still in danger. The fewer people who know your whereabouts, the better. I'm gonna come pick you up after school and take you to visit Amanda, and then I'm gonna take you home. Under no circumstances do I want you to go there alone. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Promise me, Joey."
"I promise I won't say anything to anyone, and that I'll wait for you to come get me."
"Okay then. Have a good day at school, and I'll see you at around 3:00."
"See you later, Aunt Sara. Hold on a minute, my mom wants to speak to you," Joey said.
"Hello, Sara?"
"Good morning, Paula."
"Good morning. I just wanted to invite you to ride out the blizzard here with us. Joey and Gina Marie would love to have you, and so would Robert and me. The guest room is all fixed up already," her sister-in-law said.
"Gee, Paula, that's very nice of you!" Sara said, realizing this was the other woman's way of apologizing for coming down hard on her the other night, when Sara had informed her and her husband of the trouble their son was in. "You know what, I think I'll take you up on the offer. I've been meaning to go food shopping for days, but somehow never got around to it. This way, I don't have to!" Sara told her.
"I practically bought out the whole supermarket just the other day, so we're all set. I'm glad you're coming, and the kids will be thrilled."
"I'll come by after Joey visits Amanda. My friend, Ian Nottingham, will probably drop us both off."
"Great." Paula lowered her voice. "I know I don't have to tell you this, Sara, but that's one gorgeous hunk of man. We all instantly took a liking to him, too. And I think Marie is already planning the wedding."
"Yeah, I don't think she believed me when I told her we're just friends and professional acquaintances," Sara said wryly, "but, I swear, that's all we are."
"Maybe you should tell Ian that. I saw the way he kept looking at you during dinner. He's got it bad for you, Sara."
"Yeah, uh, well, thanks for the invite, Paula. I'll see you later," Sara said, hastily ending the call.
'This is definitely not good,' she thought to herself as she took a duffel bag out of her closet and began filling it with clothing. 'If the way Nottingham feels about me was that obvious to Paula, than it's probably true: He's in love with me.' She paused in the act of putting a pair of boxer shorts into the bag, wondering why this revelation caused nothing more than a slight feeling of unease in her. After all, the man was perhaps the world's deadliest assassin and her stalker, not exactly the guy next door. By all rights, she should have been running around her loft screaming in panic, instead of standing there calmly packing. Her alarm clock went off, and Sara saw that it was 7:30. Nottingham would be here in an hour, she thought, feeling a little flutter of anticipation in her belly. And then a wave of something close to panic did hit her as she realized that she was actually looking forward to seeing him again.
'No, no, no!' she reprimanded herself with more than a little desperation. 'Nottingham is a bad, bad man, Pez. You cannot have him.' That last thought freaked her out even more, and she tested her own forehead for fever, deciding something must be seriously wrong with her. 'Oh, shit, I'm a freakin' mess! Too many sleepless nights, too much stress, and now indiscriminate horniness to boot! That's it: I've gotta get laid. And soon.'
Minutes later, she found herself putting a kettle of water on to boil in preparation of making a thermos of peppermint tea for that very same bad, bad man.
'I sure hope that bastard Irons gave Nottingham that antidote, so I can finally stop worrying about him,' she thought, throwing an irritable look at the bracelet on her right wrist. 'Right. As if. He's Protector Guy, so I always get to worry, hunh? Gee, thanks a lot, Witchy. Could you at least help me catch the Medina brothers so Nottingham can go back to stalking me at a distance as usual? Wait a sec, I mean so I can stop worrying about Joey's safety!' Sara shook her head helplessly as she finished packing. She zipped up the duffel bag, depositing it by the door. After making the tea, she commenced to alternately pace and then stand at the window, watching for her Protector's arrival.
****
Ian Nottingham spent perhaps the most miserable 50 minutes of his life in the stainless steel tub in the physical therapy room of Kenneth Irons' estate. In the wee hours of the morning, he immersed his fever-stricken body in the ice-water bath for as long as he could stand it, which turned out to be only 20 minutes. When his lips turned blue and he started slurring his words, Dr. Immo insisted that he get out of the freezing water. But it had the intended effect: When he went into the bath, his temperature was 103.1; when he came out, it was 99.8. Shivering and stumbling with exhaustion, Ian had gone to his room, barely managing to take off his sodden t-shirt and underwear before falling into his bed. The last thing he remembered was pulling the blankets up to his chin.
Dr. Immo called him at 06:00 hours, requesting that he come down and have his temperature checked again. Ian had been awake since 05:00, which was when he had kicked off his blankets because they had become too warm. Unfortunately, it was not the blankets that had grown too warm; it was him. His fever had slowly crept up again during the few hours that he had managed to sleep. His slumber had not been at all restful, plagued as it was by vivid fever dreams, many of which had featured Sara Pezzini in various states of undress. Ian groaned as he realized that even while he was unconscious, his body responded to Sara, for he awoke hard and aching for her. Fortunately, his arousal subsided after he relieved himself and took a lukewarm shower. He would have expired from embarrassment had Dr. Immo noticed the evidence of his desire for the beautiful Wielder.
After showering, Ian had donned a T-shirt and a pair of loose, black cotton drawstring pants before putting the haphazardly discarded, sopping wet underwear from last night in the hamper. Then, mindful of Dr. Immo's advice that he stay as still and quiet as possible, he'd stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if Sara were awake yet, and, if so, was she thinking about him. His bond with the Wielder was slowly becoming stronger, but aside from occasionally anticipating her destination and sensing strong emotion from her, it was not nearly as powerful as it had the potential to become. He knew this from the glimpses of the lives of past Protectors that the Witchblade had shown him -- past lives in which the Protector and the Wielder had been far more than just allies. The call from the doctor interrupted his reverie. Putting on his robe, Ian headed down to the lab.
"102.1," Dr. Immo pronounced a few minutes later, shaking his head. "I had hoped it would still be lower than that."
"I will take another ice-water bath, Doctor. Maybe I can stay in it longer this time."
"Ian, that could be dangerous. You started to exhibit signs of hypothermia within 20 minutes last night, which is about ten minutes longer than most human beings would have lasted before showing symptoms, but still."
"Please, Doctor. I will need those extra hours if I am to prove to Mr. Irons that I am worthy of his employ as well as capable of protecting the Wielder."
Immo sighed. "Very well. Give me about ten minutes to prepare the tub. Why don't you meditate until it's ready? And feel free to use my computer, if you wish," the doctor said before hurrying off.
Ian sat cross-legged on the examination table and tried to meditate, giving up after a few minutes because he was too restless and feverish to concentrate. He wandered over to Dr. Immo's desk and sat down in front of the computer. On the monitor was a screensaver that depicted fluffy white cumulous clouds scudding across a scintillatingly blue sky. The words "Every cloud has a silver lining" scrolled slowly across the screen. Ian frowned as the phrase niggled at his memory, but a moment later he forgot about it as he did a quick search of the local newspapers' online versions to see if there was any mention of last night's drug bust operation. There wasn't. Next, he checked the weather forecast, which hadn't changed: a blizzard was taking dead aim at the Big Apple. The snow was expected to start late that night or early the next morning and to continue for the next two days. Idly, Ian wondered if he would be alive to see it. If both Sara and Dr. Immo were right about the rate at which his temperature was rising and he did not receive the antidote in time, he realized that he would probably be dead by early Friday morning.
A few minutes later, Dr. Immo came back and announced that the bath was ready. This time, Ian managed to stay in it for nearly 30 minutes. Only his head remained above the freezing water, although, as before, the doctor insisted on placing a towel-wrapped bag of ice on top of it. By the time he couldn't endure it any longer, Ian was so thoroughly chilled, he needed the doctor's assistance to climb out of the tub. However, his temperature was 98.9 when he exited the bath, which pleased the doctor. As Ian sat shivering on a nearby bench, waiting for sensation to return to his extremities, Immo brought him the clothing he had worn yesterday, along with his overcoat.
"You forgot to take these with you when you retired to your room last night, which is understandable. You were exhausted," the doctor said.
"I am st-still weary, D-doctor. I d-did not sleep v-very long, or very well," Ian said through chattering teeth.
"Fever dreams?"
"Yes."
The doctor studied the younger man's pale, drawn face in silence for several moments. "This assignment has not been easy on you, has it, young Nottingham?"
"Sara works long hours," he admitted. "She is very dedicated to her job. However, I do not mind. She needs my protection."
"But it must be difficult for you to be constantly exposed to such an attractive young woman, especially since I know you are unaccustomed to it."
Ian shrugged. "I am coping."
"Are you? Your recent lack of concentration and inattention to your duties suggest otherwise."
Guessing where this was going, Ian attempted to stand, but found that his legs still wouldn't obey his brain's commands. They were burning and tingling quite painfully as circulation returned to them and the ice crystals that had formed in his blood melted. "I do not wish to discuss this subject, Doctor," he said, frowning at the older man in what he hoped was an intimidating manner.
"As I said before, Ian, you are a healthy young man and she is a beautiful woman. It is perfectly normal for your body to react to her. You needn't be ashamed of it."
Ian felt his face flush. He decided that silence was the best tactic. Maybe Immo would stop talking if he got no response from him.
"I've noticed that you've been on edge lately," the doctor persisted. "Having no experience in this area, you have probably underestimated the power that repressed desire has to distract you. Your sex drive is very strong, young Nottingham. That was one of the side effects of the enhancements that were done to your genetic makeup, I'm afraid. Have you tried masturbating? Ejaculation is nature's way of relieving sexual tension."
Ian closed his eyes in mortification.
"It would probably help. I can e-mail you some literature if you are not sure how to go about --"
With a gargantuan effort, Ian lurched to his feet. "Thank you, Dr. Immo, for preparing the ice-water bath for me. Hopefully, the next time I see you, I will be allowed to receive the antidote."
"I hope so, too, my dear boy. Remember what I told you: physical exertion will only drive your fever up faster. Try to stay as calm and quiet as possible."
"I will try. Good day, Doctor." Ian staggered from the room and returned to his quarters. He dressed himself with hands that were still clumsy from cold, and then put on his fur-lined coat. But at the last minute, he changed his mind, deciding that the heavy garment would make him become too warm too fast, negating the 30 minutes of frozen torture he'd just put himself through. He donned the overcoat Dr. Immo had returned to him, tossing the clothing he'd worn yesterday in the hamper along with his wet clothes.
Ian discovered that he still had absolutely no appetite, so he just had a cup of peppermint tea, which he drank in solitude in the dining room, as his master had apparently decided to sleep in that morning. Or maybe he was still disgusted by that lamentable display of weakness in the study. Whatever the reason, Nottingham was glad of Irons' absence. He was almost positive that his face was still burning from the unwanted lesson in sexual education Dr. Immo had given him. Little did he know his master had been privy to the entire humiliating exchange.
Before he left the estate, Ian remembered to put in a call to the grocer that Kenneth Irons patronized and arrange to have a delivery made to Sara's loft that afternoon. He stopped by the armory on his way to the garage and selected a few items to fortify his already formidable stockpile of weapons, just in case. As he got into the SUV, anticipation filled him at the prospect of seeing the beautiful Bladewielder again. Much as he hated to deceive her, Ian had already decided to lie about having received the antidote to the poison in his system. He didn't want her worrying about him when she should be concentrating on catching Angel and Joaquin Medina and keeping young Joseph safe. Hopefully, she would have accomplished this by the time it became obvious that he was still feverish.
As was his habit, Ian parked a few blocks from Sara's loft and did a perimeter check. Thankfully, it wasn't bitterly cold outside, but there was a brisk wind and the sky was heavily overcast. The smell of snow hung in the air, and he imagined he could feel the city holding its breath in expectation of the severe wintry blast. His unremarkable reconnoiter completed, he got back into his vehicle and pulled up in front of the Wielder's building. But before he could get out and go upstairs to knock on her door, Sara came out of the building carrying a duffel bag.
"Good morning, Nottingham," she said, as Ian swiftly got out and took the bag from her.
"Good morning, my Lady," he replied, going around to the back of the SUV, opening the hatch, and stowing the bag in the trunk while Sara got into the passenger seat.
"How are you feeling?" Sara asked him after he got back behind the wheel, noting that although he was no longer flushed, he was pale and still looked exhausted.
"My fever is down," he said truthfully.
"Let's see just how low it is," she said, pulling the digital thermometer out of her pocket.
"Are you planning on going somewhere, Sara?" Ian asked her as they waited for the device to become ready for use.
"Yeah. Robert and Paula invited me to stay at their house during the blizzard, and I accepted. Open up." She placed the device under his tongue.
It beeped 90 seconds later, single beeps instead of fast double beeps.
"Hey, look at that, 99.1. That's hardly a fever at all!" Sara said with satisfaction.
"Dr. Immo said the antidote is fast-acting," Ian murmured, starting the car.
Sara dug into the knapsack that she'd also brought with her. "Here," she said, extracting the thermos, "I made some peppermint tea for you."
"Thank you, my Lady." Taking it from her, he placed it in the storage area between the two front seats. "That was very thoughtful of you."
"Don't mention."
"Are you sure you want to stay in Brooklyn, Sara?" he asked her. "In all likelihood, it will take several days for the city to dig out from the storm. You will probably be unable to make it in to work until Tuesday, or possibly Wednesday, whereas if you stayed at your loft, you would most likely be able to make it in on Monday."
Sara shrugged, looking out the window. "I've got some vacation days coming to me. Where better to spend them than with my family? Besides, you could really use the time to rest up and fully recover from the effects of the poison your shithead of a boss injected you with, Nottingham."
"I would not rest easily unless I could be certain you were safe, Sara," he said quietly.
"I'll be fine at Robert and Paula's house. Mother Nature is about to make pretty sure of that."
"I suppose you are right," he reluctantly conceded. The four, possibly five days he would be forced to go without seeing her stretched before him like a prison sentence. He realized that he would miss her terribly, but he got the feeling that she did not feel the same. In fact, he was fairly certain she would welcome the reprieve, and this crushed him.
"You should be back to full strength by Wednesday, or close to it, which is a good thing, because you'll need to be strong to deal with Thanksgiving with the Siri family," she said, smiling at him. And just like that, Ian's spirits soared.
"Do you think you could meet me at Amanda's rehab facility and take me and Joey to Brooklyn later this afternoon?" Sara asked him.
Nottingham nodded. "It would be my pleasure. I assume you spoke with him this morning."
"Yeah, I did. I made him promise not to mention his visit to Amanda to anyone at school and to wait for me to come escort him up there."
"So, he is aware that he is still in danger."
"Yeah. So are his parents. One of them is driving him to school, and I'm gonna pick him up in an unmarked car with Danny riding shotgun for the trip to the rehab facility in upper Manhattan. Danny can drop the car off after we see Joey safely there."
"What did you tell your contact in narcotics when you reached him earlier?" Ian inquired.
"I told him that I had leaned on an informant, who gave up the new location of Angel's base of operations, and that Detective Fuller was there and was being watched closely by Medina's men. He was very relieved to hear that Fuller was okay. Turns out, he knew contact had been lost, but he felt he couldn't risk telling me about it until the bust on the docks went down. I also told him that Angel's drug shipment had been delayed by the weather, and that my informant would call me if and when Angel gets in contact with him. He's gonna wait until I let Captain Dante in the loop before he tells his C.O. about my connection."
"Your captain is not going to be pleased that you violated his orders to go track down Mr. Brown, Sara."
"Tell me something I don't know," Sara sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly.
'I love you with all my heart and will until the day I die, which is probably tomorrow,' Ian thought, glancing at her weary face. She gave him a sharp look, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought he'd accidentally spoken out loud.
"Turns out the Dominican Star was smuggling something illegal: about three dozen stowaways. INS was on the scene processing them when I finally got through to my contact in narcotics," she told him.
They pulled up in front of the 11th Precinct. "So, the operation was not a total loss."
"No. As soon as Alonzo calls you, you'll call me, right?"
"Of course, my Lady. Here is the beeper number that Mr. Brown uses to alert Angel to danger. It may come in handy," Ian said, handing the slip of paper to her.
"I suppose you've already memorized it, hunh?" Sara asked, eyeing him.
"Of course."
"Hmph. Well, if you haven't heard from Alonzo by the time I have to go get Joey, I'll call you and you can meet us at the rehab facility. It's on 172nd and Broadway. Try to stay warm, Nottingham."
"Have a good day, Sara. I will see you later," he said.
"Oh, um, I'm just gonna leave my knapsack here in the backseat," Sara said, opening the rear passenger-side door. She quickly grabbed the plastic bag containing her tampons and tried to surreptitiously stuff it into the backpack, but when she glanced up, distinctly amused hazel eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. Face reddening, she slammed the door and marched into the precinct.
More to come. Thanks to everyone for their ultra-encouraging feedback. You are my inspiration for continuing this saga.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters. That would be slavery. Enjoy!
Chapter 28.
It took Sara Pezzini nearly an hour to reach Detective Mike Morgan, who was still down at the docks overseeing the mop-up of the failed drug bust operation.
"Hey, Pez," Mike said, when she was finally put through. He sounded dispirited and tired.
"Hey, Mike. Operation didn't turn out so good, hunh?" she said sympathetically.
"It felt wrong from the get-go, if you wanna know the truth," the detective told her. "However, INS now has their hands full processing three dozen illegals."
"So, the Dominican Star turned out to be a smuggler after all. Except human contraband instead of drugs."
"Yeah. What's up? Dispatch said you had something urgent to pass along to me and my commanding officer."
"I leaned on an informant to find out where Angel's new location is. I checked it out and he gave me good info. It's an abandoned ice factory on 7th Street between Avenues C and D. I also discovered that your undercover guy is there, under close watch by Medina's men," Sara told the narcotics squad detective, who was also her partner's good friend. "Detective Fuller's a little freaked seeing as he's been out of contact with his surveillance unit for more than 48 hours. But more importantly, he says Angel and Joaquin are still waiting for the drug shipment to arrive. Apparently, it's been delayed by bad weather, the same weather system that's heading our way, meaning it's most likely coming by air or by land. My snitch also says that if Angel even smells a hint of surveillance, he won't come within a mile of the new den. Your people and the DEA are going to have to leave a very generous buffer zone around that factory."
"That's excellent news about Tommy being okay. I'll pass that info along to my C.O. and we'll get him hooked up again within the hour. I hope you understand that I couldn't risk telling you and Danny that we'd lost touch with him until after tonight's operation, Pez. There was just too much at risk."
"We're straight, Mike," Sara assured him. "But if you haven't already figured it out by now, I gotta tell you that I'll do anything to stop Angel and Joaquin. Detective Fuller's life isn't the only one at stake here. My nephew is still in danger, and will be until the Medina brothers are behind bars. My informant expects to hear from Angel in the next 24 hours. The minute he does, he's going to call me."
"Can I let my C.O. in on this, Sara? All we had was Tommy, and we even managed to lose him for a while. Sounds like you might have the goods."
"Just let me clear it with Captain Dante when I get to the house. He's a prick, but I don't need to make him more of an enemy than he already is by leaving him out of the loop."
"I understand completely, Pez. I'll contact you later this morning."
"See you in a few hours, Mike."
When Sara hung up, the clock on her kitchen wall said 2:15 a.m. Sighing, she stripped, pulled on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, and fell into bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
But her sleep was not at all restful. She dreamt of Ian Nottingham collapsing to the ground after being cut down by a hail of bullets, interspersed with images of Joey Siri, Jr. dying the same horrible way. Even more disturbing was the dream she had toward dawn of a man whose long, dark hair obscured his features as he made torrid love to her. Sara could have cried with frustration when, just as her dream lover brought her to the brink of ecstasy, she awoke bathed in sweat, her heart pounding and her body tense and aching with thwarted desire. She groaned as a glance at the alarm clock on her night table showed that it was only 5:00 a.m. Entirely too keyed up to fall back asleep, Sara got up and took a long, hot shower, followed by a short cold one. Then she sat in her bathrobe at her kitchen table, drinking mug after mug of coffee and wondering how Nottingham had fared with getting the antidote he so desperately needed. At 7:00, she got dressed and then called Robert and Paula Siri's house.
"Good morning," Robert answered cheerfully.
"Hey, Robbie. It's me, Sara."
"Hey, Sara. What's up?"
"I'm afraid I've got bad news. The drug bust that was supposed to catch Angel Medina, the drug lord that killed Amanda's drug dealer, fell through last night, meaning that he's still on the loose. That also means Joey's not safe and won't be until we catch him," Sara told her surrogate older brother.
"Damn. Joey's in seventh heaven, too, 'cause Amanda called and left a message on our answering machine last night saying he could go visit her in rehab this afternoon," Robert said.
"Oh, well, that's good news that she's well enough to have visitors. But, Robbie, just to be safe, could you or Paula drive Joey to school?"
"Yeah, no problem."
"Good. I'm gonna meet him after school and escort him to Amanda's rehab facility. And I'll wait until he's done visiting her and take him home, too. Could I speak to Joey?"
"Sure, hold on."
Sara heard him call his son, and moments later Joey picked up the receiver.
"Hey, Aunt Sara! You'll never guess who left me a message on the answering machine last night!" the boy said excitedly.
"Your dad told me Amanda called, Joey. That's great news," Sara said. "Listen, kiddo, I want you to promise me you won't breathe a word of your visit with her to anybody. Not even your best buddies at school."
"Why, Aunt Sara?"
"Because the drug lord who killed Paco hasn't been caught yet, and that means your life is still in danger. The fewer people who know your whereabouts, the better. I'm gonna come pick you up after school and take you to visit Amanda, and then I'm gonna take you home. Under no circumstances do I want you to go there alone. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Promise me, Joey."
"I promise I won't say anything to anyone, and that I'll wait for you to come get me."
"Okay then. Have a good day at school, and I'll see you at around 3:00."
"See you later, Aunt Sara. Hold on a minute, my mom wants to speak to you," Joey said.
"Hello, Sara?"
"Good morning, Paula."
"Good morning. I just wanted to invite you to ride out the blizzard here with us. Joey and Gina Marie would love to have you, and so would Robert and me. The guest room is all fixed up already," her sister-in-law said.
"Gee, Paula, that's very nice of you!" Sara said, realizing this was the other woman's way of apologizing for coming down hard on her the other night, when Sara had informed her and her husband of the trouble their son was in. "You know what, I think I'll take you up on the offer. I've been meaning to go food shopping for days, but somehow never got around to it. This way, I don't have to!" Sara told her.
"I practically bought out the whole supermarket just the other day, so we're all set. I'm glad you're coming, and the kids will be thrilled."
"I'll come by after Joey visits Amanda. My friend, Ian Nottingham, will probably drop us both off."
"Great." Paula lowered her voice. "I know I don't have to tell you this, Sara, but that's one gorgeous hunk of man. We all instantly took a liking to him, too. And I think Marie is already planning the wedding."
"Yeah, I don't think she believed me when I told her we're just friends and professional acquaintances," Sara said wryly, "but, I swear, that's all we are."
"Maybe you should tell Ian that. I saw the way he kept looking at you during dinner. He's got it bad for you, Sara."
"Yeah, uh, well, thanks for the invite, Paula. I'll see you later," Sara said, hastily ending the call.
'This is definitely not good,' she thought to herself as she took a duffel bag out of her closet and began filling it with clothing. 'If the way Nottingham feels about me was that obvious to Paula, than it's probably true: He's in love with me.' She paused in the act of putting a pair of boxer shorts into the bag, wondering why this revelation caused nothing more than a slight feeling of unease in her. After all, the man was perhaps the world's deadliest assassin and her stalker, not exactly the guy next door. By all rights, she should have been running around her loft screaming in panic, instead of standing there calmly packing. Her alarm clock went off, and Sara saw that it was 7:30. Nottingham would be here in an hour, she thought, feeling a little flutter of anticipation in her belly. And then a wave of something close to panic did hit her as she realized that she was actually looking forward to seeing him again.
'No, no, no!' she reprimanded herself with more than a little desperation. 'Nottingham is a bad, bad man, Pez. You cannot have him.' That last thought freaked her out even more, and she tested her own forehead for fever, deciding something must be seriously wrong with her. 'Oh, shit, I'm a freakin' mess! Too many sleepless nights, too much stress, and now indiscriminate horniness to boot! That's it: I've gotta get laid. And soon.'
Minutes later, she found herself putting a kettle of water on to boil in preparation of making a thermos of peppermint tea for that very same bad, bad man.
'I sure hope that bastard Irons gave Nottingham that antidote, so I can finally stop worrying about him,' she thought, throwing an irritable look at the bracelet on her right wrist. 'Right. As if. He's Protector Guy, so I always get to worry, hunh? Gee, thanks a lot, Witchy. Could you at least help me catch the Medina brothers so Nottingham can go back to stalking me at a distance as usual? Wait a sec, I mean so I can stop worrying about Joey's safety!' Sara shook her head helplessly as she finished packing. She zipped up the duffel bag, depositing it by the door. After making the tea, she commenced to alternately pace and then stand at the window, watching for her Protector's arrival.
****
Ian Nottingham spent perhaps the most miserable 50 minutes of his life in the stainless steel tub in the physical therapy room of Kenneth Irons' estate. In the wee hours of the morning, he immersed his fever-stricken body in the ice-water bath for as long as he could stand it, which turned out to be only 20 minutes. When his lips turned blue and he started slurring his words, Dr. Immo insisted that he get out of the freezing water. But it had the intended effect: When he went into the bath, his temperature was 103.1; when he came out, it was 99.8. Shivering and stumbling with exhaustion, Ian had gone to his room, barely managing to take off his sodden t-shirt and underwear before falling into his bed. The last thing he remembered was pulling the blankets up to his chin.
Dr. Immo called him at 06:00 hours, requesting that he come down and have his temperature checked again. Ian had been awake since 05:00, which was when he had kicked off his blankets because they had become too warm. Unfortunately, it was not the blankets that had grown too warm; it was him. His fever had slowly crept up again during the few hours that he had managed to sleep. His slumber had not been at all restful, plagued as it was by vivid fever dreams, many of which had featured Sara Pezzini in various states of undress. Ian groaned as he realized that even while he was unconscious, his body responded to Sara, for he awoke hard and aching for her. Fortunately, his arousal subsided after he relieved himself and took a lukewarm shower. He would have expired from embarrassment had Dr. Immo noticed the evidence of his desire for the beautiful Wielder.
After showering, Ian had donned a T-shirt and a pair of loose, black cotton drawstring pants before putting the haphazardly discarded, sopping wet underwear from last night in the hamper. Then, mindful of Dr. Immo's advice that he stay as still and quiet as possible, he'd stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if Sara were awake yet, and, if so, was she thinking about him. His bond with the Wielder was slowly becoming stronger, but aside from occasionally anticipating her destination and sensing strong emotion from her, it was not nearly as powerful as it had the potential to become. He knew this from the glimpses of the lives of past Protectors that the Witchblade had shown him -- past lives in which the Protector and the Wielder had been far more than just allies. The call from the doctor interrupted his reverie. Putting on his robe, Ian headed down to the lab.
"102.1," Dr. Immo pronounced a few minutes later, shaking his head. "I had hoped it would still be lower than that."
"I will take another ice-water bath, Doctor. Maybe I can stay in it longer this time."
"Ian, that could be dangerous. You started to exhibit signs of hypothermia within 20 minutes last night, which is about ten minutes longer than most human beings would have lasted before showing symptoms, but still."
"Please, Doctor. I will need those extra hours if I am to prove to Mr. Irons that I am worthy of his employ as well as capable of protecting the Wielder."
Immo sighed. "Very well. Give me about ten minutes to prepare the tub. Why don't you meditate until it's ready? And feel free to use my computer, if you wish," the doctor said before hurrying off.
Ian sat cross-legged on the examination table and tried to meditate, giving up after a few minutes because he was too restless and feverish to concentrate. He wandered over to Dr. Immo's desk and sat down in front of the computer. On the monitor was a screensaver that depicted fluffy white cumulous clouds scudding across a scintillatingly blue sky. The words "Every cloud has a silver lining" scrolled slowly across the screen. Ian frowned as the phrase niggled at his memory, but a moment later he forgot about it as he did a quick search of the local newspapers' online versions to see if there was any mention of last night's drug bust operation. There wasn't. Next, he checked the weather forecast, which hadn't changed: a blizzard was taking dead aim at the Big Apple. The snow was expected to start late that night or early the next morning and to continue for the next two days. Idly, Ian wondered if he would be alive to see it. If both Sara and Dr. Immo were right about the rate at which his temperature was rising and he did not receive the antidote in time, he realized that he would probably be dead by early Friday morning.
A few minutes later, Dr. Immo came back and announced that the bath was ready. This time, Ian managed to stay in it for nearly 30 minutes. Only his head remained above the freezing water, although, as before, the doctor insisted on placing a towel-wrapped bag of ice on top of it. By the time he couldn't endure it any longer, Ian was so thoroughly chilled, he needed the doctor's assistance to climb out of the tub. However, his temperature was 98.9 when he exited the bath, which pleased the doctor. As Ian sat shivering on a nearby bench, waiting for sensation to return to his extremities, Immo brought him the clothing he had worn yesterday, along with his overcoat.
"You forgot to take these with you when you retired to your room last night, which is understandable. You were exhausted," the doctor said.
"I am st-still weary, D-doctor. I d-did not sleep v-very long, or very well," Ian said through chattering teeth.
"Fever dreams?"
"Yes."
The doctor studied the younger man's pale, drawn face in silence for several moments. "This assignment has not been easy on you, has it, young Nottingham?"
"Sara works long hours," he admitted. "She is very dedicated to her job. However, I do not mind. She needs my protection."
"But it must be difficult for you to be constantly exposed to such an attractive young woman, especially since I know you are unaccustomed to it."
Ian shrugged. "I am coping."
"Are you? Your recent lack of concentration and inattention to your duties suggest otherwise."
Guessing where this was going, Ian attempted to stand, but found that his legs still wouldn't obey his brain's commands. They were burning and tingling quite painfully as circulation returned to them and the ice crystals that had formed in his blood melted. "I do not wish to discuss this subject, Doctor," he said, frowning at the older man in what he hoped was an intimidating manner.
"As I said before, Ian, you are a healthy young man and she is a beautiful woman. It is perfectly normal for your body to react to her. You needn't be ashamed of it."
Ian felt his face flush. He decided that silence was the best tactic. Maybe Immo would stop talking if he got no response from him.
"I've noticed that you've been on edge lately," the doctor persisted. "Having no experience in this area, you have probably underestimated the power that repressed desire has to distract you. Your sex drive is very strong, young Nottingham. That was one of the side effects of the enhancements that were done to your genetic makeup, I'm afraid. Have you tried masturbating? Ejaculation is nature's way of relieving sexual tension."
Ian closed his eyes in mortification.
"It would probably help. I can e-mail you some literature if you are not sure how to go about --"
With a gargantuan effort, Ian lurched to his feet. "Thank you, Dr. Immo, for preparing the ice-water bath for me. Hopefully, the next time I see you, I will be allowed to receive the antidote."
"I hope so, too, my dear boy. Remember what I told you: physical exertion will only drive your fever up faster. Try to stay as calm and quiet as possible."
"I will try. Good day, Doctor." Ian staggered from the room and returned to his quarters. He dressed himself with hands that were still clumsy from cold, and then put on his fur-lined coat. But at the last minute, he changed his mind, deciding that the heavy garment would make him become too warm too fast, negating the 30 minutes of frozen torture he'd just put himself through. He donned the overcoat Dr. Immo had returned to him, tossing the clothing he'd worn yesterday in the hamper along with his wet clothes.
Ian discovered that he still had absolutely no appetite, so he just had a cup of peppermint tea, which he drank in solitude in the dining room, as his master had apparently decided to sleep in that morning. Or maybe he was still disgusted by that lamentable display of weakness in the study. Whatever the reason, Nottingham was glad of Irons' absence. He was almost positive that his face was still burning from the unwanted lesson in sexual education Dr. Immo had given him. Little did he know his master had been privy to the entire humiliating exchange.
Before he left the estate, Ian remembered to put in a call to the grocer that Kenneth Irons patronized and arrange to have a delivery made to Sara's loft that afternoon. He stopped by the armory on his way to the garage and selected a few items to fortify his already formidable stockpile of weapons, just in case. As he got into the SUV, anticipation filled him at the prospect of seeing the beautiful Bladewielder again. Much as he hated to deceive her, Ian had already decided to lie about having received the antidote to the poison in his system. He didn't want her worrying about him when she should be concentrating on catching Angel and Joaquin Medina and keeping young Joseph safe. Hopefully, she would have accomplished this by the time it became obvious that he was still feverish.
As was his habit, Ian parked a few blocks from Sara's loft and did a perimeter check. Thankfully, it wasn't bitterly cold outside, but there was a brisk wind and the sky was heavily overcast. The smell of snow hung in the air, and he imagined he could feel the city holding its breath in expectation of the severe wintry blast. His unremarkable reconnoiter completed, he got back into his vehicle and pulled up in front of the Wielder's building. But before he could get out and go upstairs to knock on her door, Sara came out of the building carrying a duffel bag.
"Good morning, Nottingham," she said, as Ian swiftly got out and took the bag from her.
"Good morning, my Lady," he replied, going around to the back of the SUV, opening the hatch, and stowing the bag in the trunk while Sara got into the passenger seat.
"How are you feeling?" Sara asked him after he got back behind the wheel, noting that although he was no longer flushed, he was pale and still looked exhausted.
"My fever is down," he said truthfully.
"Let's see just how low it is," she said, pulling the digital thermometer out of her pocket.
"Are you planning on going somewhere, Sara?" Ian asked her as they waited for the device to become ready for use.
"Yeah. Robert and Paula invited me to stay at their house during the blizzard, and I accepted. Open up." She placed the device under his tongue.
It beeped 90 seconds later, single beeps instead of fast double beeps.
"Hey, look at that, 99.1. That's hardly a fever at all!" Sara said with satisfaction.
"Dr. Immo said the antidote is fast-acting," Ian murmured, starting the car.
Sara dug into the knapsack that she'd also brought with her. "Here," she said, extracting the thermos, "I made some peppermint tea for you."
"Thank you, my Lady." Taking it from her, he placed it in the storage area between the two front seats. "That was very thoughtful of you."
"Don't mention."
"Are you sure you want to stay in Brooklyn, Sara?" he asked her. "In all likelihood, it will take several days for the city to dig out from the storm. You will probably be unable to make it in to work until Tuesday, or possibly Wednesday, whereas if you stayed at your loft, you would most likely be able to make it in on Monday."
Sara shrugged, looking out the window. "I've got some vacation days coming to me. Where better to spend them than with my family? Besides, you could really use the time to rest up and fully recover from the effects of the poison your shithead of a boss injected you with, Nottingham."
"I would not rest easily unless I could be certain you were safe, Sara," he said quietly.
"I'll be fine at Robert and Paula's house. Mother Nature is about to make pretty sure of that."
"I suppose you are right," he reluctantly conceded. The four, possibly five days he would be forced to go without seeing her stretched before him like a prison sentence. He realized that he would miss her terribly, but he got the feeling that she did not feel the same. In fact, he was fairly certain she would welcome the reprieve, and this crushed him.
"You should be back to full strength by Wednesday, or close to it, which is a good thing, because you'll need to be strong to deal with Thanksgiving with the Siri family," she said, smiling at him. And just like that, Ian's spirits soared.
"Do you think you could meet me at Amanda's rehab facility and take me and Joey to Brooklyn later this afternoon?" Sara asked him.
Nottingham nodded. "It would be my pleasure. I assume you spoke with him this morning."
"Yeah, I did. I made him promise not to mention his visit to Amanda to anyone at school and to wait for me to come escort him up there."
"So, he is aware that he is still in danger."
"Yeah. So are his parents. One of them is driving him to school, and I'm gonna pick him up in an unmarked car with Danny riding shotgun for the trip to the rehab facility in upper Manhattan. Danny can drop the car off after we see Joey safely there."
"What did you tell your contact in narcotics when you reached him earlier?" Ian inquired.
"I told him that I had leaned on an informant, who gave up the new location of Angel's base of operations, and that Detective Fuller was there and was being watched closely by Medina's men. He was very relieved to hear that Fuller was okay. Turns out, he knew contact had been lost, but he felt he couldn't risk telling me about it until the bust on the docks went down. I also told him that Angel's drug shipment had been delayed by the weather, and that my informant would call me if and when Angel gets in contact with him. He's gonna wait until I let Captain Dante in the loop before he tells his C.O. about my connection."
"Your captain is not going to be pleased that you violated his orders to go track down Mr. Brown, Sara."
"Tell me something I don't know," Sara sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly.
'I love you with all my heart and will until the day I die, which is probably tomorrow,' Ian thought, glancing at her weary face. She gave him a sharp look, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought he'd accidentally spoken out loud.
"Turns out the Dominican Star was smuggling something illegal: about three dozen stowaways. INS was on the scene processing them when I finally got through to my contact in narcotics," she told him.
They pulled up in front of the 11th Precinct. "So, the operation was not a total loss."
"No. As soon as Alonzo calls you, you'll call me, right?"
"Of course, my Lady. Here is the beeper number that Mr. Brown uses to alert Angel to danger. It may come in handy," Ian said, handing the slip of paper to her.
"I suppose you've already memorized it, hunh?" Sara asked, eyeing him.
"Of course."
"Hmph. Well, if you haven't heard from Alonzo by the time I have to go get Joey, I'll call you and you can meet us at the rehab facility. It's on 172nd and Broadway. Try to stay warm, Nottingham."
"Have a good day, Sara. I will see you later," he said.
"Oh, um, I'm just gonna leave my knapsack here in the backseat," Sara said, opening the rear passenger-side door. She quickly grabbed the plastic bag containing her tampons and tried to surreptitiously stuff it into the backpack, but when she glanced up, distinctly amused hazel eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. Face reddening, she slammed the door and marched into the precinct.
More to come. Thanks to everyone for their ultra-encouraging feedback. You are my inspiration for continuing this saga.