Caged: Reclamation

Chapter 24

Mark dumped his bags in the other cottage, number 4, made more than a few trips back and forth, dragging clothes, boxes… stuff. It made the most sense, moving here to Pedro's place so they could switch out more easily when needed. Pretending to be another person was kind of a logistical nightmare even though Todd might argue he'd been pretending to be someone else his entire life, yeah? Easy-peasy, yeah.

Not like this, asshole.

Todd sat watching the laborious process on a bench outside his own cottage, leaning back against the plaster wall and smoking a much-needed cigarette. Flicked ash into a clay ashtray next to him that looked like something a high-schooler might have made in ceramics class. Maybe one of Pedro's kids did it some ages ago, kids all grown now, kids not wanting to have anything to do with Pedro these days according to him. Safe and distanced from my life, he'd say.

Abram also kept watch, his big head moving as Mark passed him by. Todd didn't offer to help. He might have, might have jumped right up with fraternal eagerness... but…every time he thought the parade of belongings was over, too late to be any help, it wasn't. As he watched the back and forth, he found himself sinking into thoughts about how little he relied on things anymore. He was adrift, a ghost of a person, needing nothing but the energy of the universe to subsist… and the occasional bite to eat. He thought this low reliance on things started in Cuba but actually it started way before that on Sixteenth Street where he only needed access to food and water and dope. One set of clothes and boots and he was a-okaaaaay. He needed even less after the shooting, after being left at the beach house in Havana with his dog and Gloria. He easily moved to Sylvia's place because he had barely anything to move. Now all he had were the clothes and Bible from the convent.

A ghost, a goddamn ghost.

A stuffed animal passed by, a Panda specifically, a collection of vinyls, actual records, and at last a stereo system. "You movin' in for good?" Todd snarked when Mark emerged from the cottage, appearing to be blessedly done.

Chuckling, sweating a little, Mark smiled and sat heavily on a lawn chair near the bench. He cracked open a bottled water and chugged half of it before saying, "My place is being painted—might as well get comfy." He petted the dog, Abram letting him, patient as ever with new people in his midst who weren't obvious threats.

"You still like… teddy bears?"

A wistful smile crossed the bodyguard's face. "A girlfriend's gift… gotta show m'loyalty by keeping it near." He laughed softly, shaking his head, utterly unaware that maybe his words could be a mockery of Todd's obviously fucked-up love life, fucked-up family life. Todd knew it wasn't. Mark was a straightforward guy, a straight shooter, pun intended. Meaning no jokes, no sarcasm that could be misinterpreted. He was very good at being a bodyguard, used to calling out directions and those directions being followed. Not that he didn't have a sense of humor… sure he did… but so far, he didn't much show that.

In fact, Mark proved to be a real bastard of a teacher. You not aimin' proper! Eye on the mark! Faster! Faster! Don't do that, your charge would be dead! Slower on that! Move! Get down! Get in front of her! Yeah, training that morning had been intense and goddamn frustrating and the King of Hell learned he wasn't that good at guns. When they finished, Mark gave him a long gaze and said, we got more work to do.

Well… shit.

He checked the time—shift started at three. An hour to go. He had eaten a good lunch and everyone was ready for the first test of the undercover operation, point being for Todd to get an inside look at what Téa was facing out there. Jed had run off to deal with Jed-activities and Rolon went on ahead to Method headquarters, a gorgeous old farmhouse, according to Mark. Everyone ready…

Except the king himself.

He could only think about seeing Téa. He had to get on the ball, get into being the information guy, calling out orders like Mark from the shadows, the way he used to with Pedro, but he couldn't seem to get into the mental space for it. And he told nobody. Just didn't have the words. He faked his commitment, nodding knowingly at the confidence of Jed and Rolon. But Mark didn't project that same confidence.

We got more work to do.

"I texted you kind of a map of the house," he said, "descriptions of people to wave at. Follow Tony. Him kinda my team partner. Sent you a pic so you recognize him."

Again with the Jamaican accent… him my partna'. Todd hadn't noticed it the first time he met Mark but it was undeniable now.

Todd studied him a minute, trying to figure him out, still slightly worried about how trustworthy he was. He puffed on the cigarette. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"How did you fall in with Chicago Posse? You're not… um…Jamaican, are you?"

Mark laughed, "Like how you're not Cuban?"

Todd nodded.

There was a little shine of humor at Todd's question, a flicker in his light brown eyes. "And you be askin' because me notta Black, ya?"

Oof… that Jamaican talk made Todd roll his eyes at his own ignorance, realizing his gross assumption. "You're Jamaican."

"Ya, Kingston-born to White mom and pop, long time ago European transplants. So when we come here, we get a place in a Jamaican neighborhood on the South side…we was most at home there. When me and my friends got to the right age, we were in. Brothers. I come out here to help R.J. It what I do. Security for dem dat need it."

The whole thing was rattled off in a heavy accent, no effort at countering his real heritage.

"How come you keep it so…"

"So White?"

"So American standard English."

"I don't want any MK soldier questioning my loyalty to Téa, or to the MK soul of Method Makers."

"Hm." His instinct was probably right. MK and Posse had a long but fraught relationship, no assistance from Todd over the years. "Where'd you learn how to… guard? You're good. Like technical… good."

"Army. Served four years, mostly military police, protecting my guys. It's second nature. I been protecting m'whole life."

Todd puffed the unfiltered, his favorite Camel cigarettes, eyes on the smoke dissipating into the summer air that carried a touch of spring and fall in it before glancing at Mark who seemed a little nervous. Because of course. He knew Todd's nervousness. He certainly must have felt it when he touched his hand, shoulders, when adjusting Todd's grip of the pistol and stance when shooting. That knowledge was in that long gaze.

"How long ya think I'm gonna last? Pretending? I don't talk like you— can't do Jamaican."

A sigh. A glance into the distance then right at Todd. That knowledge again in his visual hold. No sense of humor here. "I don't use Patois much… like I said, I keep it straight when workin'. But how you talk ain't gonna be the thing to give you away. It's gonna be that attitude you got goin'."

"What—"

"You have to be more…" A pause. "You gotta be more a worker bee than a…"

"A queen bee?"

A shy duck of his head, "You know what I mean."

Todd squinted at the afternoon sunshine and shook his head. Then, "I'll try."

"I know you'll try... not sure you can do it." Honest eyes landed on Todd's. "Have you ever been a worker bee, Blanco?"

Todd quirked, hissed a quiet curse. Of course not! Not in his entire goddamn life had he ever been truly loyal and compliant to anything or anyone. Even in his most deferential moments to Pedro and MK, he delivered that submission with a highly visible middle finger. When he played football he was a captain. When he got abused by Peter and turned into a seductive whore… he did it with a fuck you attitude that ultimately only fed Peter's underlying hatred of him. Don't even get him started with his refusal to be a good worker bee in Llanview after the Marty nightmare. Blair? He chose her specifically for her refusal to conform or bend. And Téa too. God, Téa being a fuck-you force with law as her weapon was exactly what drew him to her at all.

Can you pretend to be… a worker bee?

Uh… the answer is no, sir. No, nope, no way, no how. That is actually impossible.

Which says I am completely and totally fucked. This little effort is as obviously a joke as a marionette show.

They all mentioned it to him, too, telling him to be real stealth-like, act like a worker, act like he was part of the visible invisible team that guarded Téa while he gathered the information he needed to help her. Don't get noticed. Observe. Over and over they said it.

Don't be a king but… also be one.

"I'm thinking we need Tony in on this," Mark said quietly, obviously agreeing Todd could not actually pretend to be a worker.

"Look, too many people know. I'm fine. I'll be a fuckin' worker bee. Bzzzz…"

Mark didn't laugh, standing up instead with a huff, rasping a "yeah." Todd scoffed and drank more water, rolling his eyes in irritation. Of course he could do the bee thing.

Of course.

For about a minute, Mark stood by in a ruminating quiet. Then he grumbled, "I don't know... maybe you can."

"'Course I can."

"Sure… that is... if you weren't such a lazy piece of shit, a fuckin' batty boy, a chi chi man, a fassyhole—

Wide-eyed at what be heard, Todd knew enough Jamaican Patois from Statesville to know Mark had just called him a "faggot" and that did it. Hits with an icepick to his soul, a hundred memories of being called those names by guards, by inmates, by his father... it completely set him off. Once that last insult rolled off Mark's tongue, Todd was on his feet, inches from Mark, one hand on his throat, his other balled up and about to ram through the bodyguard's dirty mouth.

Nahhh… you don't get to talk me that way, nobody does. Who the fuck do you think you—

Mark's expression though was not fiery mad, not the look of someone about to be pummeled… no, Todd saw disappointment. He froze and then breathed, looked at his fist ready to fly. Shit. What a fucking idiot he was. He huffed and stepped back, letting go hard and fast, Mark totally and utterly proven right. Todd didn't just have an attitude problem, he had a self-control problem and he wasn't going to last ten minutes pretending shit much less a couple of weeks.

"I think maybe we need to get Tony in on this," Mark repeated, his voice soft and resigned. Unflustered.

"I'm uh… I… um…."

"You can't react to being pushed, man. I knew that was in you. You'll get her killed…pretending."

Todd closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Embarrassed. The fire still raged though, body shaking with it.

"You have to listen to everybody around you for the threat to her. That is your only point of judgement. I know you all think this the best way to get that information you famous for… but there ain't no you in this. Do ya' understand? There's only Téa. La Reina is everything. Her… she… is your only goddamn job no matter the other plan."

Todd shook his head, grunting a concession. Yes, yes, this fucker was right. Yeah, he had to evaluate the politics, the points of negotiation, the open squares to move pieces, do his reconnaissance… while protecting Téa. While being Mark. He couldn't calm. He was humiliated. Furious with himself. He wondered if his lack of self-control was actually worse than before… never thought about it in the convent… didn't go all madman on Rolon the night before... but maybe… um… maybe that bombing not only stole words, but also his ability to maintain any kind of cool. He thought of the guy in Miami, the sister in the convent that got him all hot and bothered… he meant what he said to her. Had she not left, he might have forced the issue. Not like before… but…had she touched him in the slightest… he certainly couldn't… wouldn't have... stopped anything. Not for morals, not for her place in heaven, not for anything.

"If you can't be a worker bee with the ONE JOB, you gotta try this another way, Blanco."

Nodding, Todd couldn't talk. He turned hard and walked to his cottage to get prepped. He marched right to the bathroom and kicked the door shut. Slammed the goddamn door. He paced the tiny room to slow the want, the desire to punch walls, to throw himself over and over against the cell doors, the bars of the prison. One goddamn job. He stopped finally at the sink and stared at himself, at the slight bruising Rolon had caused on his cheek.

"Get your shit together, Blanco… get your shit together."

The fire finally reduced to smoke and he took a needed piss. Brushed his teeth and watched his face and hands. He had a few minutes. Decided to shower to cool his nerves even further.

Fucking hell.

He should just stay here another day, work on the training…

Téa was out there though. A train headed straight at her. No. He couldn't wait. Plus…

.. .he wanted to see her. Wanted to be near her. Feel her aliveness again. He wanted to do this because he couldn't bear another moment without her. Without being close to her. To save her. To protect her. To make up to her for blowing up their beautiful life that had been a fraud from the get-go. Yeah… he had lied to her about who he was all five years of Statesville and every minute after, all the way to that moment she shot him. With a bitter huff, he shook his head. Her gunning him down was the most real, the most honest thing ever to happen to him.

She really didn't deserve this lie he was about to play at, yeah? But… he's a selfish cunt, yeah?

Fuck.

After the fast-as-light shower, he dressed in the bodyguard-like clothes Mark brought him. Once he got the holster on right, he secured the piece, slipped the light jacket on to cover up, and pulled on the mask. He certainly looked the part. Looked like Mark. But he really needed to BE him, not just act like him. Mark proved the plan was bound to fail. No matter though. He needed to do this.

Fuck!

Back outside, Mark nodded in approval at Todd's appearance, not denying the eeriness at the through-the-looking-glass physical similarity. They shared a powerful resemblance… on the surface. The illusion though disappeared as soon as Todd took the mask off, not just his distinct features destroying the picture, but his expression. He was anxious as hell and gleaming with repressed eagerness to tear shit up.

"Be a bee," said Mark. "A calm bee."

"A worker bee," Todd said softly, a tone at odds with the energy radiating off him.

"So… like I said earlier, drive up, park next to Rolon's truck. Head to the crew that hangs out front. You'll see Tony leaning on the right side post. Just nod your head and sit on the step. And start watching the entrance, the property, listen to the guys. We wait for word she's going out. Like I said, that's our main gig—watching over her when she's out. Wear the mask. She wants us in them whenever we're visible. Sometimes though… she'll call us inside to talk, we'll have our own meetings… no masks."

"And I'll call you… if that happens. I'll uh… make an excuse to leave."

"Yeah… tell Tony you got a quick thing to do, fake a toothache or something.. and… just split like you know what you're doing. You're not asking, just doing. Which is totally doable for you…um…and for me. Attitude will help with that."

"You ever offer comments to what they say? I don't plan on talking much."

"Sometimes, not often. Look, I'm the heat for Téa, I stay by her, I do what I'm told. We each have our job so we don't need a lot of talk anymore. We operate tightly these days… we do what Téa wants and protect her at all costs."

"I gave you my keys to the Jeep, yeah?"

"Yup."

"I'll need more work," Todd grumbled.

"If you don't feel—"

"I'm going."

Mark handed him his keys to his grey pick-up truck. Eyes firmly on Todd's. "I really think Tony can know this. He's protective of Téa… we all are. And you need someone to cover you. If he knowingly treats you like he treats me… nobody will see or notice a thing. You trying to make her safe? That's ok. That's good. He'll understand."

"Fine," Todd said, exasperated. "Call him. Tell Rolon that Tony knows."

Mark nodded, relief obvious.

After a second, critical eyes on Mark, Todd then asked, "Is she reckless?"

Mark returned that look of scrutiny, looking at that mythical man who seemed like just another man, strong, sure, dangerous, absolutely... but not as unkillable as MK soldiers made him out to be. There was a strain of fragility to him, hard to say how, but it was definitely there… yeah, too much he reminded Mark of a junkyard dog. Been beaten to hell, would rip a man to shreds, but goddamn, that dog would go down fast with one bullet between the eyes. "Yeah," Mark said thickly, "she is. Stay goddamn vigilant. Stay CALM."

Todd nodded and walked away after telling Abram to stay. One last look at his pup. He sniffed and glanced at his unfamiliar clothes as he headed across the meadow-like expanse towards the house and driveway. Mark had shopped early in the morning for his favorites for work: long sleeve black polo shirts, black chinos, good sneakers to let him run when he needed though he chose to wore his black boots instead. Basic. Todd wore a similar size, luckily. The two men shared a similar body type but there were distinctions anyone really looking could catch, differences the mask didn't cover up: the slight limp, body language, his voice, eye color, the shape of his eyes and bridge of his nose, and... his hands. They had very different hands—Todd's being larger and… he studied them as he climbed into the truck.

Yeah, hands covered in unseen blood. Mark wasn't a cold-blooded killer. He just wasn't. All through training, he emphasized defense… defense… defense. And all Todd had been, for forever was offense and retribution. Get to the enemies first… and last. That...attitude... was impossible to break. Couldn't wash away the blood. Couldn't stop wanting to pull that trigger the moment he saw the enemy coming at him. A little name calling and he was setting the place on fire.

Wait until that threat is undeniable. Wait. Téa is your only job. There is no you.

He gripped the steering wheel, squeezing it, jaw tight, wondering how the glorious fuck he was gonna do this when a knock on the window pulled his attention. Pedro. Todd rolled it down, nodding at the former king. He knew what they were planning, he had to know in order for Mark to stay here.

"Stay safe, my son."

The phrasing had become familiar now, not irritating as much. His tolerance wasn't from affection… just indifference. He grunted an agreement, a promise. "I'm trusting… you won't tell anyone." It sounded childish, far-fetched. If you want a secret to stay a secret, don't fucking tell. Too late now.

"Yes, of course. I wanted to say… do not forget who you are. Apply all you know about the MK men, about their wish for honor. About the desire for legitimacy. It is still there."

Todd turned though, eyed el padre… "They had legitimacy with Téa. And they… uh…" The word disappeared. He used his hand and made an exploding motion, fingers bursting outward. "They threw it away. It doesn't mean shit anymore."

"For peace. Children dying again. They needed control of the streets. I know these men, so do you."

After a raspy grunt, Todd turned the key, the truck coming to life.

"Take care of my dog."

Then he drove away.

Can you feel me coming, Delgado?


The office had grown too warm so Téa got up to open a window, letting in yet more humid air. Despite late summer heat, a current of cool air slid in anyway. She leaned on the sill with her hands, looking at the open space, at the trees through which young people maybe roamed or chased or ran hard and heavy away from oppressors. Slaves maybe. This was Pennsylvania after all.

She closed her eyes and breathed the scents of the grove, thinking of her house on the hill, her own acreage of forest. God, how the children loved the mysterious place that honestly scared the crap out of her. Now. These days. Too much land to watch over. A stream that would remove a stalker's smell, that would ruin a hound dog's chase.

She pulled her long hair off her neck and let the sweat there cool her skin with the sight breeze from outside. Today she planned to attend a meeting with a complaining dispensary that suffered a serious drop in customers thanks to interference by Los Muertos. They wanted direction. It was the most direct-facing contact with gang-life she had to do. Up until now… she'd let the men handle things. Let the rain fall where it may. But the reservoir was overflowing now. They needed a real leader now.

La Reina in the flesh. Show your claws now.

She pulled out the MK ledger she got long ago. It laid out where people were… the territories, the players, the wrongs that made MK the force they were in Pedro Moreno's careful handwriting. Unfortunately, her own game playing made this plan… obsolete.

Old law.

She closed it and stuffed it back into its little hidden drawer in her desk. She was going to just listen and respond by instinct. That's it. She stood up and grabbed her long-strapped purse. A fine piece from Paris, a beunperfect, hip, stylish, plain. Her summer dress was sheer and flowery, the split skirt dipping below her knees but open as she walked, a cut up the side that teased a view of her tanned legs… the low cut dip at the neck, showing cleavage. It wasn't sex she showed, but power. She wielded enough of it to show her sexuality without fear.

Try it. I dare you.

She took the stairs and headed down, passing the offices emanating chirping sounds of workers, the house a large nest of industry. It covered up the truth of the war that Method engaged in, the fight for dominance of the streets. She didn't intend it. It just happened. She breathed and ignored him.

He followed her down, steps matching hers, his slow voiceless chuckle causing a shiver down her spine.

You thought you were better than me. You blamed me. You thought I should have fought MK off. Heroin. And yet here you are. I never pegged you as a hypocrite, Delgado.

"Fuck off," she muttered. "This is on you, you endless bastard. You should have come home."

Gloria popped out of her office, catching Téa by the wrist, Téa turning sharply on her sandal-heels. "What," she spat, a sharpness Gloria had grown used to.

"Don't forget tonight."

"What's tonight? What?"

A pained look crossed Gloria's features. "It's Lucia's birthday?"

Téa's heart clenched, a blanching of her face.

"It's okay," Gloria said.

"No, it's not. How… I uh… left without saying anything…"

The ghost eased up behind her, whispering, how could you?

"Can you… "

"It's all arranged, bonita, everyone will be there. Cake, food. Just be on time. 7:00 tonight. She's very excited…"

Téa pulled out of Gloria's hold, "I'll be there," rolling off her lips as she headed down the remaining flight, sick to her stomach, mortified really. Of course! Lucia had been talking of the party for days, Téa half-listening, Viki helping plan, Jed making arrangements with Gloria. Double digit birthday!

My god.

It had completely vanished from her head with her growing anticipation of today's meeting with the dispensary. Like magic. Poof. She paused in the foyer of the farmhouse, looking up at the top floor, Todd's ghost gone while his mockery of her stung still. Rolon's criticism of her had weight. Well, nothing to do now.

She opened the front door to her security team, fully looking their intimidating selves the way she liked. They were always ready and always on guard. Big men who meant business with guns at their sides. She had hated it before, but she had grown to appreciate them, the strength of them. She didn't dare tell Jed or R.J. who had advocated for them, insisted. Refused to give them that.

Tony straightened up and got right next to her while the others snapped to position, following her to the two SUVs they drove in.

Tony confirmed, "Northern quarter?"

"Yes," Téa said, "unhappy operators. Rolon is meeting us there. This isn't a normal tour visit."

"Ok… still on schedule with dispensary 13," he called out to Victor and Lanzo getting into the second SUV. A change in drivers.

"You're in my car now?"

"Yeah. Just switching things up. Me and Mark with you, the rest of the team behind."

She reached out to open the rear passenger door when Mark's hand got there first. It took her by her surprise, making her step back as she heard a ragged, "I got it" as the door pulled open. She turned a little to glimpse him, eyes catching the black of his mask, neck tattoo she remembered covered up now. She smelled him as he moved back, waiting for her to climb into the truck, before he would shut her door, before getting in to sit shotgun, soapy, clean, dryer-fresh…

Once situated in the back seat, she stared at the back of Mark's head as he watched out the side-view mirror, as they began to make their way to the dispensary. The soapy scent stuck to her. No reason, nothing about the scent itself, simply a market-purchased soap anyone on the street might use, except she never noticed it before. And after a second she understood why. He'd never stood as close to her before. Never came up behind her that way before. Usually he got to the door first, opening it well before she got to it. Today there was some fumbling that waylaid him. A mixup she sensed. The switch in drivers. Curious. And then there he was… behind her. Brushing past her. An aura she could feel. A raspy voice that… wait… didn't sound like himself. It wasn't as… full-throated as usual. It was… scratchier than normal.

"Do you have a cold, Mark? You sound different."

He sniffed, cleared his throat, and shook his head, a hand waving it off. Croaked, "Allergies."

Tony turned, chuckled, "Allergy to tying one on last night. Too much rum maybe."

Another shake of his head. Eyes on the side-view mirror. She could see his leg bouncing a little, a tension that seemed unlike him. He was a cool cucumber, usually. Not today. Which made her think it wasn't an aura she felt, it was energy, the kind that affected people nearby, that separated seas so men could walk across the waterless floor to the other side, to freedom. Her gaze caught on his knee, then his thigh, the black fabric of work pants, reflexively imagining a naked leg, an expectant cock, the feel of firm muscular legs intertwined with her own, the sound of his words, got it, cigarette-touched-mint in the breath at her ear. She couldn't see his hands… the one on his left was dug into his jacket pocket, the other out of her visible reach. She wanted to see them… wanted to imagine them on her body, on her breasts... she didn't know why she'd gone there, thought up such a masculine sexual presence, she' sworn off all men for all eternity, preferring the safety of Gloria, the connection she had with Todd.

She needed nothing else.

He shifted in his seat, focusing on something in that mirror, the act breaking the spell of her imagination. Mark. R.J.'s man from Chicago's Posse. Probably a goddamn spy. He was lying, she decided. Allergies weren't affecting his voice, no, most likely hung over just like Tony said.

She settled back and watched the city go by out the window, a memory of soap in her head… the smell of Esperanza after her bath, wet and hot in her towel, kisses to her neck and sweet smiles coming from her. Her beautiful wildling was finally pulling away from her constant crying and becoming a regular nine-month old. Behind that though another recollection forced its way into view, soap in the air, Todd sitting naked on the tiles of the shower, misty water pouring down, a towel peeking out from beneath Lucia in his arms as he cried hopelessly, deep sorrow…despite being high on heroin. She had pulled Lucia away from him, took her weeping daughter, leaving him to his misery. He had finally been busted for lying to her about using dope all his time in Statesville and the three years since he got out. She calculated ten years of it… nearly eight hiding it from her. Hiding MK. Hiding his use of whores to help deliver that heroin high he needed. Until Bo Buchanan pulled away the curtain of secrecy.

He'd been using heroin all the years Lucia had been alive. What a birthday.

Nothing but lies.

Not about everything, preciosa.

Go away, she breathed. Get thee back to hell.


Jesus mother-fucking hell… which one is TONY?

Todd had driven up to Method Makers headquarters, stomach in his throat, and discovered a monster of a "farmhouse." Three stories of 18th century-landowner-colonialist plaster, brick and wood, surrounded by tons of acreage, iron gates and fencing, all to ram home the power Téa had. It was impressive. The place buzzed, too, with lots of worker bees and right out front was the pack of guards, her bodyguards, yeah, yeah, only three, but all of them were sitting on the steps in full regalia so he literally couldn't tell them apart.

Fuck!

He climbed out of the pickup and immediately realized every muscle screamed his 40 years of age after a long morning of bodyguard school and stress and nervousness and goddamn, he could not control the improved-but-not-that-much limp. He broke into a sweat at the effort and had to really focus on being…chill. It was fucking hilarious.

He walked up to the guys and someone not Tony stood up and gave him an up and down, snipping, "So what… you fuck a wrestler last night?"

Todd made a what-the-fuck show of hands, the smart-ass then clarifying exactly what Todd hoped wouldn't be noticed.

"You're limping? What'd she do... kick you in the balls?"

Fuckin' funny, he wanted to growl but he had noticed Mark rarely cursed, so instead, he chuckled audibly and rasped, purposely trying to make his voice more breathy than usual, imagining he could claim allergy or whatever as a reason for him to sound a little different, "Tripped, running."

Another bodyguard walked right up to him, looking at him with uber-hard eyes… meaning this HAD to be Tony. "You sound hung over. Are you… hung over?"

Hands out again, mea culpa, "Caught me. 'm I late?"

"Amazingly, no."

The other men got up fast all of a sudden and turned, one of them saying, "Hup-to. Lady's on the floor," and Todd realized Téa was coming through the massive front door. He saw red-painted fingernails as her delicate hand pushed the door open, her hair… long and sleek, her dress… cut up the side, showing her leg, flowery silk like the other dress he saw… only this one was bright red, fiery orange, pale green. He saw high-heeled sandals… toenails in matching red…the red that made him want to get to his knees, to kiss her feet, to lick all up her leg to the core of her...to bend to her. To be everything to her. Jesus Christ… he almost felt dizzy at seeing her, sick and euphoric at the sheer reality of her nobility, La Reina, the Mad King's woman at his side, always at his side... she didn't just radiate power, she held off the air, the birds, the goddamn sky, as she stepped off the porch.

Delgado.

Yeah… there she was.

He could hardly breathe, his eyes sliding up her height and catching her gaze but he couldn't stay that way and he turned and looked for Tony and watched the others as she stormed past him, inches from him, and suddenly he wasn't sure which fucking truck he was supposed to go into… Tony, Tony… right… and he felt a hand tighten on his bicep, a whispered command, "You ride passenger side in the car with me. I know who you are… we'll talk. Today's a real test of this insane plan-"

"Let's hit it," she snapped.

She stepped closer to the truck and Tony hissed, "Get her door," as he sprinted ahead to talk to her, calling out something about the north side to the other men, and then moved to the driver's side.

Todd also sprinted to move right up behind her, scenting her perfume, close enough to feel her, reaching for the door to the back seat. He stood in a way as he lifted the handle, in a perfect way to catch her if she fell, a way that would encourage her to fall into him, to back into him…she had always been a perfect height for such a move, the two a perfect pair, bodies that let them fit like a hand in a glove, always had been.

But he simply opened the door, rasping, "I got it," and moved away, waiting for her to climb in before he shut it without looking at her, eyes down, because if she caught him, if she looked directly at him, she'd know.

He got in front, panting ever so slightly, working to control his stress.

When he sat heavily on the seat, he dared a look at Tony whose eyes showed a slight seething, a narrowing of dark eyes that did not look friendly. Todd was certain he was pissed that such a shock of a replacement happened without warning, without a plan. He turned to the side-view mirror, watching the road outside, watching the neighborhood, his heart racing…

What the hell did he get himself into?

To be continued...