Chapter 10

"Ranger was being set up, but why?"

VC POV

As I drifted off to sleep, my mind began to wander. Random thoughts roamed through my brain. They made no sense, but I've learned to relax and let my subconscious sort them out.

Stephanie had mentioned Ranger being hunted by the FBI.

Code for the attempted firewall breach had old FBI signatures.

Why were El Falcon and Juan Diego Escalante not in the FBI, CIA, NSA, or others?

Did Rangeman computers have information on the two and someone was trying to erase them?

Rangeman computers…..Hector?

My eyes flew open, time to visit Hector.

I was barely out of the elevator when he stepped out of his office door. His gang tattoos including the kill-tears did not intimidate me. Was I any worse years ago?

"Colonel, what are you doing down here so late? Are you lost?"

"I need your help, but first we need to clean up your computer prints."

"I run a clean system," he argued.

"You left smudges on your search on me and on Ranger's FBI files. We need to do a little dusting, then I need your larger system for some very illegal and dangerous work."

His eyes brightened, "Bienvienido a mi guarida!" (Welcome to my lair.)

He opened the door to two workrooms. One was his computer room. Down the short hall, was a tech's workroom. Normally, a techie's lab is messy with wires and components. Hector ran a neat shop. The mess was contained to hundreds of plastic bins arranged by his special system. "Desprecias el caos," I said simply. (You despise chaos)

"Si."

I nodded my approval. He was exactly what I hoped he'd be.

Returning to the computer room, I put my finger to my lips to signify he was not to speak and pulled out a device. His eyes showed surprise and concern. I flipped a switch, "It's a blocker. When did you last run a security check on your equipment?"

"Cada mañana." (Every morning)

"Total?" I asked twirling my finger around to indicate the entire complex; computer and tech lab.

"Si."

I was hesitant, what with the increasing sophistication of the listening devices, but I had to trust him. Moving in front of a keyboard and monitor, I asked, "Con su permiso?"

I understood his concern, his equipment was as personal as his body and Hector was extremely protective of both. Reluctantly, he agreed.

I began typing, humming and finally stopped, "They almost got you here, nice trap," lapsing into English to test his comprehension.

"Si, it was close."

"How many assaults do you get in a given timeframe?"

He wasn't going to answer until I showed him yet another assault on the firewall less than 20 minutes old. He wasn't yet aware of it. Looking a little ashamed, he answered, "Daily, but most are random attacks. For the last several months, I've been receiving more sophisticated assaults several times a week."

"If you ever need help building better walls, I might be able to help."

"Like the ones you designed for Silvio?"

Of course, he'd know. I just nodded.

I was looking at the new assaults. They bore similarities to what I saw in on Martha, the Rangeman main server in Miami. I wasn't surprised. My eyes also scanned Hector's coding. It was unique, nothing I had ever seen before. Not only was he not part of the security assaults, but he was also an excellent and creative coder. Pierre mentioned Hector also designed security systems. When this mess was over, I hoped to have many hours discussing systems with him. Once I was convinced his system was clean, I pulled out the laptop I had been sitting on. "I built this. Now, time to clean up your skills."

"Are you sure this computer is not infested with bugs? I will check like before," he deadpanned, remembering being called to my apartment for a scan for surveillance devices and finding the computer I was sitting on.

"There are no bugs in my computer or my ass," I smiled sweetly.

He laughed. "I like you, Colonel."

"VC, please."

For the next four hours, we tapped keys, read code, swore, laughed and generally had a good time. I showed him how to detect listening devices without using a detector, confirming this computer area was clean as well as his lab. It was how I discovered the initial Rangeman bugging. His eyes shone brightly. I expected a giant leap in Rangeman security technology in a year or so.

I figured his mind was racing ahead so I wanted to rein it in. "Continue physically sweeping the building as you've done in the past. This is not the time to change your routine."

He appeared surprised I was reading his mind. Nodding he said, "Si, it is best."

When we shut down, we went up to the fifth floor for coffee and whatever fruit and sandwiches the night crew hadn't eaten. He watched me eat the chicken.

"You are a vegan," he scolded.

"Not totally. I can tolerate a little once in a while."

Our next stop was the server room. When we were done, Rangeman's Trenton network was even more secure, Hector now had a nearly invisible system, and I had more answers.

Bobby was waiting when I returned upstairs. "You are late."

"I overslept."

"You overslept with Hector?" he asked with a smile.

"Ah, that won't fly, will it?"

He shook his head and chuckled, "No, it won't, but he's the one guy Tank won't go after. I assume you were down there playing computer games, probably Call to Duty."

"You know me well, Master," I responded.

Back in my room for my rest period, I actually stretched out on the bed and began thinking. I had eliminated only one name from the list I gave Ranger the previous week. The rest were either different people or one person using many different aliases: El Falcon, Juan Diego Escalante, El Contador, and El Fantasma. If they were separate, did they work together? Which one was Mr. X?

I thought back to the initial FBI code fragment I found when Silvio first contacted me. How many months ago was that? I was convinced the FBI was bugging Rangeman but the listening devices being used inside Rangeman now were modern, not old school like the original ones. The new devices were the type used by NSA and CIA. Hector and Silvio were picking up more than one active assaulter on the Rangeman systems.

Assuming the plan was to take over law enforcement as Pierre and I discussed at the county fair, did Mr. X's plans extend to other agencies beyond the FBI? Was this a military unit, government unit or a new cartel? Did it extend to other countries, which would account for the predominately Latino names? If this was a family unit, did they believe themselves a modern-day Genghis Khan, who fathered hundreds of children whose genetic-print is found throughout the world today? If it was, surely they weren't insane enough to believe in Eugenics, breeding superior individuals. If this was the case, why had Gaspar, Sebring, Burrows, and Barnhardt been born in New Jersey away from Washington DC or other large cities?

Why Rangeman? Were other major security companies also under attack but hadn't discovered the assaults? Ranger was involved in human and drug traffic intervention when he got the strange vibes. When I asked who his targets were, he was reluctant to answer. "Fine, it will take me time, but I know Aguilar Pablo Aguirre was one."

His eyes widened.

"I've told you, it is what I do."

He thought a minute and named seven more including El Tejón, Venganza, and Adelante.

"Adelante?" I asked him. "Is that a surname or political movement?"

He didn't know. He never got far in the investigation.

I had a program to list all current and past FBI employees for the past 40 years. Now, I needed to add other government agencies, plus review Rangeman employees for their ties back to all Feds. Throw in Ranger's names and the results would be thousands. How much storage would I need for all this? Storage? How much background has Rangeman already stored on their clients, hires, FTAs as well as Ranger's mercenary work? Over time, had they accidentally collected too much information?

It was time to contact Silvio. I used a phone I suspected was bugged.

"Hey Colonel, long time, how are you doing?" Silvio answered with delight.

"I'm not mentally ready to be a full-time Roller Queen but I may have to face the music." I was further along getting out of the chair than I wanted outsiders to know.

"Yeah, I can understand, but I suspect I can now beat you in a 5K."

"Don't bet on it, mister. I've got super wheels and I'm working on developing upper body muscles like Hal and Tank."

He groaned, "I hope not! Before I get into asking about the guys, what do you think of Stephanie?"

"She is taken, Silvio."

"No, not for me," he blustered. "I originally trained her."

"She's excellent, maybe better than her teacher. She is intelligent and has an amazing Sixth Sense. You know it's a girl thing, don't you?"

"Oh geez, now I'm going to start worrying you are training her to take over my job. Let's change subjects before I get depressed. How is it working with Bobby?"

"He's having too much fun pushing a senior officer. He is ruthless because he knows I will not complain. Others here think they are still in Special Forces training and I need to join them. I don't know how many times the ex-SEALs have threatened to throw me in the Delaware just to see if I can float. Nobody lets me slack off."

"What do you think of Lester?"

"He's entertaining. I'm surprised the others haven't pounded him into sand. Anyway, mentally he's too young for me."

"I'd make a comment about you being a cougar but you were my commanding officer."

"You know Tank loves felines," I shot back.

"How is Tank?"

I paused, how would I describe our relationship? For those here at Rangeman it was obvious there was something between us. Silvio had known for years about my fixation on the giant man but I didn't want that information going out on an unsecured phone. I tried to be discrete. "Attentive. Silvio, I'm calling to wish you a belated happy birthday. You know I try to check in closer to your special day, but I'm a bit out of kilter here. I apologize."

Silvio snapped to attention. This was a disguised message: I suspected I was being monitored…'out of kilter'. 'Belated happy birthday' meant I was looking into people. A 'special day' indicated I'd be sending an encrypted message within 24 hours. 'Apologize' signified the situation was potentially dangerous.

"Colonel, I was wondering if you forgot me," he said laughing. "My feelings were trembling."

'Forgot' means understood, 'trembling' was asking how dangerous.

"Trembling? Silvio, I've seen you face down the worst criminals. Are you losing your nerve? Don't worry, I won't tell." 'Don't worry' was code assuring him it wasn't too terribly dangerous. Actually, if what I suspected were true, the message and results would be darn dangerous. "Sooooo, apparently my forgetting hasn't made you hate me, how is your life?" 'Soooo' was the all-clear sign; the rest of the conversation was not in code.

"Other than my good friend and former superior forgetting my birthday, I've found myself a nice woman and am thinking about the big ring."

"Now I understand the trembling. It's about time, mister. You Rangemen are all slow to marry; must be a genetic disorder."

"No, it is pure fear. There is no marriage boot camp to prepare us."

"I hear you! Silvio, if you get that woman to say yes…..it is a woman isn't it?"

He laughed, "Yes, she's a she."

"Send me an invite. I can probably spring for a toaster or blender for a gift."

He laughed, "Probably from the dollar store. You were always thrifty. It's great to hear your voice and hear you laugh. We'll have to talk more often and maybe I'll schedule a family visit to Newark and stop and see all of you."

"I'm sure Hector is itching for another round of Call to Duty. From what I hear you two rewrote that program and took it to the outer reaches."

"Yeah, you should play a game with him."

"Only if I disarm him first."

Silvio laughed, "That's what takes the game to the outer reaches."

"Take care, Silvio."

"You, too, Colonel."

As I hung up, I flashed on Silvio and Newark. Immediately, I called up his file…he was from a big family, middle child, both parents still living. His maternal grandparents in Miami were still living, only one paternal grandparent was alive, in Newark. Then I remembered him saying how his parents kept him away from gangs because his cousin, Rick, had gotten involved. I called up Ranger's family history and found he and Silvio shared the Newark grandmother as did Lester Santos. Ranger was Silvio's cousin and Silvio never mentioned it in the Philippines. I was pretty sure Silvio was clean but I was going to have to discuss what happened years ago.

When I returned to my room and checked my computer running background checks on Rangeman employees, I found two anomalies. Somebody didn't quite disguise their past but Stephanie or Silvio didn't catch the problem. I probably have my Rangeman buggers, but I wanted to use a bigger computer in Miami to double check. My encrypted message went to Miami. Where was all private search files kept?

His reply came quickly, "Martha."

"OMW" (on my way) I shot back. I would ask Tank to accompany me. Taking Bobby made more sense, but, hey, I wanted alone time with Tank. So sue me.

Before leaving for Miami, Tank brought in several sizes of gold wedding rings. "We will be portraying husband and wife, let's see what fits."

I was surprised. I expected to be two coworkers traveling together. What's with the married couple business? I hesitated for a moment.

"What's wrong?"

I was wondering about the 'married' part. Just how married would we be? As a married couple, we'd be in the same bedroom. I didn't want him to know my concerns. I needed a quick covering answer. "I'm trying to remember which hand: Orthodox Christians wear theirs on their right hand, Catholics on their left..."

He smiled, "Mr. And Mrs. Leroy Green are Baptists. Left hand."

We had reservations at one motel, but went to another using the name Mr. and Mrs. Martin Rollins. We left my wheelchair in Trenton opting for the lightweight travel chair and hopefully not bugged for our clandestine mission. We also switched out our luggage at the last minute in case someone put tracking devices inside.

Mr. and Mrs. Green did arrive at the motel; a large dark-skinned man and his biracial wife in a wheelchair. They were Rangeman Atlanta employees acting the part. Fortunately, they were also husband and wife and would give any covert listening devices in the room or outside the building an entertainingly erotic earful either by pay-for-view from the motel TV or live action.

Tank and I changed clothes yet again in case something was dropped in our pockets. He lifted me into his arms and carried me down the stairs to a waiting limo. Silvio was the driver. "Colonel, good thing you've lost weight, I wasn't sure the big guy could carry you."

I laughed, "I've actually gained weight. But remember, he carried me down the stairs, we still have to get back to the room later."

Tank deadpanned, "It won't be a problem. I'll be motivated." Silvio laughed, I blushed.

On our way to Rangeman I casually asked the driver, "How long have we known each other Silvio?"

"Since the Philippines."

"Is there a reason why you didn't mention one of the drunks in Billabong was your cousin?"

He glanced in the rearview mirror. "It was embarrassing. Plus I hadn't seen him for ten years. At first I wasn't sure it was him. Then you handled the situation by knocking him out."

I turned to Tank, "Did you know one of the MPs that day was Manoso's cousin?"

Tank shook his head slightly, "Not until we were in Australia. Rick was furious at both of you."

Rangeman Miami was in an ultra-modern building designed and built for its purpose, unlike Trenton, which had been remodeled. The building was bigger, but the floor layouts were the same. Silvio took us to the server room where Martha sat humming away.

"She has grown," Tank observed.

Silvio smiled like a proud father, "She's getting smarter."

Apparently, the computing and storage needs for Rangeman were increasing.

For the next six hours, Martha gave up her secrets. I reviewed the hacking challenges and confirmed my suspicions formed when reviewing Hector's system. The hacking was being done by different individuals as each had their own style. The oldest attacks were with the old code and were easily repelled. Two were modern and bothersome. One came from Trenton, first from outside of Rangeman and later inside. The other originated from the Washington D.C. area. "The new security programs I gave you will hold these guys off until we can find them in real life and end their games."

Our results were copied to an auxiliary drive. We spent another six hours going over the results before Mr. and Mrs. Rollins needed to leave. We did not return to the motel. Pierre and I became Mr. and Mrs. Geraldo Jacquez and flew to New York.

On our way to the airport, Pierre reached over and removed my gold wedding ring.

I whispered, "Have we divorced already? I didn't get an 'I love you,' a kiss, or a honeymoon."

He had a strange look on his face I didn't understand. Was I being too playful? Reaching into his pocket, he then took my hand. "We are going to New York for rest. These are Bobby's orders. You have been working too hard both in the gym and on the project. Where we are going, a simple gold ring would be out of character."

Somehow, with his massive hands, he could slip the two rings onto my left-hand ring finger. I rolled the top ring over and felt what I assumed to be a CZ, fake diamond. "Something else: I know you speak French. Please only French or Spanish from now on. We are Caribbean. You are from St. Martin married to me, a wealthy Dominican businessman. I often come to New York for R&R as Mr. Jacquez. This is the first time his wife has come along."

"Je suis honoré mon mari. (I am honored my husband). "J'aime vous Pierre?"

"Non, Geraldo."

"Non, Pierre." I winked, letting him know I was referring to Pierre Sherman.

Silvio left us off at the airport. He tipped his chauffeur hat and said, "Me alegras que ustedes dos están juntos." (I'm thrilled you two are together.)

"Gracias por toda tu ayuda, Silvio." (Thank you for your help.) "Usted nos trajo detrás juntos." (You brought us back together.)

"Invitame a tu boda." (Invite me to your wedding.)

"Usted nos puede comprar una tostadora." (You can buy us a toaster.) I smiled and winked and Tank rolled me to the departure terminal. We were flying on a private carrier, but not the one used by Rangeman.

Once in New York, we were met by a limo driver and taken to a hotel in Manhattan. I've never been impressed with large cities so I was truly bored driving through the city. Yes, there's a difference in architecture but still too many people shoved into a small space.

Other cadets at West Point and Niko tried to get me into New York City when we had leave. Finally, an instructor explained I needed to become more social if I was to succeed in the Army. I forced myself to join others, but never on a boy-girl date. I felt safer in numbers, especially if Niko was present.

I held Tank's hand as we crossed into Manhattan, concentrating on his hand. He asked me several banal questions in French about my impression of New York. "Il y a tant de gens et voitures !" (There are so many people and cars!) I hoped I sounded like a Caribbean-hick seeing the big city for the first time.

We got to Central Park and I recognized the hotel, but I could only raise an eyebrow in question.

Tank chuckled, "Comme je l'ai dit ce n'est pas le Ritz." (As I said, it is not the Ritz).

No, it was The Plaza. While I sat nearby, my 'husband', Geraldo, checked us in. I did not speak and tried not the stare at the hotel lobby. Yeah right, it's The Plaza with its tall ceilings, marble, and large chandeliers. Hardly ho-hum.

We were shown to our top floor suite. I had to continue to act unimpressed. We were portraying a wealthy couple used to luxury. The room was exceptional, but I was so tired I only wanted to sleep. We had spent 12 hours with Martha plus traveling. I wasn't going to get my way, at least not immediately.

The suite had hardwood floors, not carpeting for my chair's easy movement. The sitting area consisted of a sofa and two chairs overlooked Central Park. There was only one bedroom and one giant bed. Uh Oh.

The bathroom had pretentious gold fixtures, marble floors, and counters, plus crystal chandeliers and sconces. What caught my eye was the extra-long and wide soaking tub.

After tipping the bellboy, Tank unpacked an electronic-detection wand and scoured the hotel room. He indicated I needed to be speaking so I babbled on, in French, about the view and how hungry I was. The latter was absolutely true.

Touching my ear, I whispered, "Sommes-nous en sécurité ici?" (Are we secure?)

"Oui." Switching to English, "Mr. Jacquez comes here several times a year, either directly from the islands or from Miami. The hotel staff knows him. I need a break from Trenton once in a while. I come up and catch a Broadway show, visit museums, catch a symphony, opera, or other entertainment."

"Does Mr. Jacquez come with a woman?"

"Never. Mr. Jacquez is married and would never cheat on his wife. Also, he is very private." Tank turned and picked up the in-house menu, "We need to eat and then rest, Sweet Lips."

I had seen several dining rooms off the lobby but all had steps. Usually handicapped people are shuttled into the dining areas through the service entries or service elevators. Tank knew how that grated on me. We'd order from the in-room dining menu. The problem was we were Caribbean but the menus were very heavy into American and Middle Eastern fare. Instead, we ordered Butternut Squash bisque asking if it could be made with coconut milk. Since both of us had African and Caribbean bloodlines, we were lactose intolerant. The kitchen should understand. The roasted beet and walnut salad was fine if they omitted the blue cheese. I ordered an additional small green salad and Tank ordered the seared salmon for himself. Bobby had approved a glass of wine for me. It was delicious but I only took a few sips. We spoke only French during the meal not knowing if the cart was bugged. After removing the cart to the hall, he said in French, "May I offer Madame a nice warm bath?"

"Oui, but Madame will probably fall asleep in the water," I answered also in French.

"You need a lifeguard to watch and wash your back."

Uh Oh. First of all, that means being naked and second, I still had scars from Egypt, Nicaragua, and most recently Syria. "Dear …" I couldn't remember what name to use. "Every fiber in my body wants to you to wash me. But some fibers also remember Egypt. I'm coming up to bat for the first time since then.

"Baseball?"

"Pierre, I don't want to strike out." I hoped my sports reference wasn't a put-off for him.

"Don't worry. I'm a good coach," he said. He ran the water adding lavender fragrance. He turned and kissed me, "May I help you undress?"

I must have looked apprehensive as he said, "I've seen your lovely body many times as I carried you to bed after your treatments. How is this any different?"

I was still hesitant, but he continued, "You have scars, I have scars. Life can be brutal."

He was right. Now was not the time to fall back and be modest.

"Where do you want to start undressing me, my beloved?"

He smiled, "Shoes."

Good safe start. We moved onto the trousers, blouse and then the undies. I've never had a drawer full of satin and lace undies but Stephanie and Ella have been resupplying me. Up until now, I was embarrassed to wear them. Suddenly, I felt sexy until I looked down and saw several keloid scars. Unconsciously, my hand went over them.

Tank bent down and lifted my chin to kiss my lips. "Please, don't be embarrassed. You are still beautiful outside as well as inside."

When I angled into the hot water, it was like heaven. I couldn't remember the last time I was in a tub, let alone one that was long enough for me to stretch out. Even modern hot tubs are not long enough to let me completely stretch out.

He chuckled, "Are you going to give me some room?" He had stripped down. I was speechless. I've seen my share of naked or near-naked men in the Army and none compared to what was waiting patiently for my answer. I had to play it neutral which was hardly how I was feeling. Sitting up, I said, "Maybe you should have used sandalwood or bay rum fragrance, not lavender."

As he slid in behind me, he wrapped his magnificent legs around me and pulled me back to his chest. He sighed, "I don't tell you near enough how much I love you."

"Pierre, my love, you don't need to use a lot of fancy love prose to convey your feelings. Your concern and care for me speak loudly."

I don't know what he was thinking but I was hoping this could continue for days. "What happens when the water gets cold?"

His abdomen jumped as he laughed, "We add more and more water until we turn into prunes."

When I was completely relaxed and seriously considering napping, his hand began to explore. "I'll go slowly. I know this is something new."

I was quite used to his body massages, but this was where he had never gone before. I rather liked the breast kneading especially his concentration on the nipples. Normally, I found the bumps to be bothersome, sticking up at the most inappropriate times. I was beginning to understand their purpose. When his hands went further down between my legs, I began to stiffen. I was falling rapidly back to Egypt. He softly cooed, "Baby, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't know what...what's happening to me," I whispered. I had an idea but had never been pleasured.

There was a pause, "You've never had an orgasm?"

"I've never...I mean I don't know, I was 13."

"You've never explored?"

"Everything about it was traumatic. I still have trouble with medical exams down there." I couldn't even use the correct anatomical names.

"You don't stimulate yourself?"

"No. The only tingles I have gotten are when I'm with you. You are truly the only man who has churned my butter."

He chuckled. "Relax, Elsie. Let me be your guide. I'll explain everything I'm doing and what you should be feeling. I will not hurt you and if you want me to stop, I will, immediately."

I didn't ask him to stop, but when he told me where his fingers were going I needed extra encouragement. As his right hand fully explored my southern half, the left hand stayed with my breasts and nipples. As I approached my first finger-induced orgasm, he whispered softly in my ear what was about to happen to remind me it was him, not ghosts from my past. A gentler coach I could not imagine.

We refilled the tub several times when the water cooled, and he washed my hair, back and pretty much the rest of me. I shyly offered to wash him, but he declined. Once we reached the finely pruned stage, I pulled myself onto the tub edge and he dried me with the big fluffy hotel towels. After toweling himself off, he lifted me and carried me to the bed. I was enjoying this primal experience being carried naked by a big handsome man. The other times he carried me naked I was too incapacitated by the spinal drugs to even be aware, let alone appreciative.

The bed was oversized, longer and wider than a king. This explained the giant tub. This must be the Godzilla suite or at least one for larger guests. I dare not ask if he knew who else used this room. Perhaps other giants like basketball and football athletes. Such an association for Tank would ruin the experience. The sheets were heavy but silken. The down comforter was thick yet lightweight. There were so many pillows of various sizes and shapes I wondered what to do with all of them.

When he gently laid me down, I asked, "No jammies?" He gave me the 'spare me look' and he crawled into bed completely au natural and pulled me close. Again I was warm, but this time there was no hot water. Suspecting the bathtub session was only the baseball game's first inning, I had to put my mind back in Alamogordo and not that hellhole in Egypt. This was Pierre, the man that I was infatuated with from the first time I saw him, or was it love at first sight? He now shared my heart, soul and soon, the rest of my body. I thought being stimulated by his hands was wonderful, but it didn't compare to other things he could do. WOW!

I didn't think about being a paraplegic as he seemed to know how to handle the wayward, unresponsive legs. His massive strength easily lifted and adjusted me for my pleasure and his.

Nothing was rushed. After demonstrating paraplegics could have intercourse and orgasms with a variety of loving positions, he held me to his magnificent chest as I lay flat on his back. While his hand rubbed circles across my back he asked, "How long since Billabong?"

"Twelve years, ten months and 27 days. Very nearly thirteen years," I answered without moving my head.

"You sure?"

"Why, what is your number?"

"Too damn long."

I agreed, a lifetime ago. I looked at the rings on my hand. "Mrs. Jacquez is, indeed, a fortunate woman."

"I am hoping you'll keep them."

I figured they were CZ. I must have hesitated for too long because I realized he was holding his breath. "Pierre, I don't wear more than earrings, why would I want flashy rings?"

"You don't like diamonds? I'll get you whatever you want."

"Diamonds! Why do you want to give me diamonds?" OK, I was a bit slow. Call it post-orgasmic aftershock.

"Do you want me to get out of bed, onto one knee, and propose?"

I guess I gasped and had the WTF look. Then again, I was rather hoping he would slip out of bed to propose in the buff. Every square inch of his body was chiseled perfection.

He thought I still didn't understand. "I assume you will be leaving the Army."

"Yes, only half of me can pass the physical," I sighed.

"Vassi, I'm being very possessive. I know there are government agencies that will want to snap you up, but I want first dibs. Nearly thirteen years is a long time to dream about the only woman I've ever loved. These past months since Tel Aviv, we've become close. I love you with all my heart and never want to be separated from you again."

"Ah..." If I delayed I might still get my view of his magnificent body...

"You said you are not into poetic, deep, heartfelt, teeming with numerous adjectives, cluttered prose. I love you...completely. Seeing you in Alamogordo was an answer to my prayers. When your brother came to Trenton, my heart was nearly crushed. Sitting beside you in the Israeli hospital I bawled like a child fearing you were slipping away permanently. I want to spend the rest of my life with you as your lover and husband."

I kept telling myself as much as I loved him and wanted to be with him, I wasn't enough for him. My mind couldn't get around someone actually loved me especially in my damaged form.

"What do you want to do?" He asked trying not to show impatience.

"Stay right here, listening to your heartbeat."

"For how long?"

I pulled back, "How long is your heart going to beat?"

He looked at me with questions in his eyes.

"Pierre, I never knew if I could ever love someone. You have shown me how much you care and that I can be a woman, a real woman, not some freak female warrior. I love you totally, but I figured I was too damaged for you, both emotionally and physically."

"Vassi," he warned.

"Am I enough for you? I'm soon out of a job, plus, I'm a cripple."

"Stop that now! You are a beautiful, remarkable, humorous, loving, intelligent..."

"What, now you are using adjectives?"

"Damn it, woman," he huffed. "I have been closed off since the Philippines. You have opened my eyes and heart. I've done a lot of research. I've talked with your doctors about your injury and the problems you might have in the future. We've discussed how your chances of walking again are improving daily. Even if you don't get out of the chair, it doesn't define you. I love you, not the chair. I also asked the doctors if you could have sexual intercourse and problems that might occur."

I didn't say anything. I hadn't even broached that subject with my doctors yet. I was actually embarrassed he'd been talking with others about our intimate lives.

"They warned about blood pressure rise but I was careful and slow while I watched you. I believed we could have a very satisfactory sex life. Normally, I would not have had made love to you before marriage. I'm not being hypocritical. I have had sex prior to now, but it was only a physical release. I have far more love and respect for you than to engage in fornication, casual sex. I love you with all my heart and soul. However, I wanted you to believe we could have an intimate life together and not have your past derail us."

"Well, if the past few hours are any indication, I'd have to agree with your assessment."

He got hesitant, "There is something we need to discuss."

"Priests?"

"I've talked with your priest."

"Mr. Sherman, you've been busy. What then?"

"Children."

Oh shit! "In your research, what have you discovered?" I inquired with disdain in my voice.

"Your internal injuries may have eliminated the chance, but there is uncertainty. That's why I used condoms. Plus, there are the chemical treatments you've been taking and their unknown effect on the rest of your body."

"Do you want children?"

"I wouldn't have brought it up if the doctors said no. They suggest waiting for a while. It is your decision."

"Would it negate the proposal?"

"No, not at all."

"But you want a family."

He moved his arm to his forehead, "I'll admit, it's never been on my radar until you moved into Rangeman. When I got to know you better, I realized I could see a family with you, not just companionship."

"Pierre, I'm older than you. I'm running out of time."

"I know. That's why it is optional. We could adopt if we both want children. I will not force you. I'm not sure I'm fully on board with a family yet."

My head was spinning. "Can we table this part of the discussion until we've slept on it, real sleep, contemplation, and a lot of prayers? Know that my answer to the first question, marriage, is an enthusiastic yes. I will marry you. The second question will take more thought." For a moment, I wondered what a 6'6" man and 6'2" woman would produce.

He kissed me tenderly, "One other thing...I want to wait until our wedding to continue our baseball game. I don't want you to think I ONLY want you for your body," he smiled.

"Mr. Sherman, I'm shocked," I kidded. "Delay of game, not a rain out? Thank you. So are we flying to Las Vegas tomorrow?"

His deep laugh reverberated around the bedroom, "No, altar first, then Las Vegas if you wish."

"Thank you."

I was almost asleep when I remembered something, "Pierre, what did my priest say?"

"No problem, but it takes a while for the paperwork."

Before we both nodded off, I was curious about the rings. "Are these real diamonds?"

"Of course. Are they too flashy?"

"If I was still in service or on a smaller hand, but they seem to suit my big paw."

"I'll need the wedding band back after we leave here. It's going to be hard enough getting the engagement ring past the men. We don't need a wedding band to further confuse them."

"I look forward to the day you place it back on my right hand. First, let's finish Rangeman's problem."

"Hopefully soon. Now sleep, Mrs. Jacquez, soon to be Sherman."

As I nodded off to sleep, I mused, at least Sherman will be easier to spell than Christofondodoulous.