Author's note: No reviews lately. Hopefully you guys still like this. Good news is the cold I have been fighting is about 75% gone, so I'm not quite so foggy in the brain and I can breathe. Yay! Now if I can just get rid of the random runny nose, I will be set. Usual thanks to Mofitiss (Happy Birthday, Mofitt), ACD, BBC, etc. Special thank you to my husband for pointing out a possible plot flaw in Chapter 20. His opinion is that Heather wouldn't be as upset as I made her about being attacked. He may have a good point. He may not. Your thoughts are always welcome. I made her that upset because the one time I was in a similar experience (without breaking a guy's arm/wrist), the powerlessness I felt stuck with me for a long time, but then I'm not my character, so it's up for debate. She's 38 and has military type experience and I was a shy 13-year-old girl and it was a friend (or so I thought). Anyway, onto the next morning …
Chapter 22
Heather woke up and stretched her arms. She rolled over and looked at the clock. "Ugh, 6 am. Too early." She heard a toilet flush, followed by the sink running, and Jim walked out of the bathroom. "Morning, sunshine," she said sleepily. "Come join me back in bed, but lose the clothes. I haven't been to the gym in a few days and need a good workout. Feel like helping me out, coach?" She winked at him and pulled the covers back.
"As you wish," cooed Jim.
"Keep wooing me with Princess Bride quotes and I won't let you leave ever," warned Heather, smiling.
Jim stripped off his shirt and pants and crawled into bed. He began caressing the soft skin of his lover's face before broadening his stroke down to her neck and shoulders. "Oh, Jim, that feels so good," Heather sighed.
"Roll over. I want to try something."
"Um, ok, I'm open to that, but can we at least play around a little first before we go there. I mean, I think I have some Vaseline in the hall closet, but you know … a girl likes to be wooed a little before we just go straight 'there.' Maybe some kissing, at least."
Jim looked at Heather a little oddly. "What do you mean? I was going to give you a back rub. Sebastian said that you get massages every 2 weeks for stress relief. I thought I would be nice and give you a quick back rub to start the morning."
"Oh, okay. No, that sounds great. I thought you wanted to do an- …. You know what, never mind what I thought. Yeah, a backrub would be fantastic. Thank you honey. I have some body lotion over here if you want to use it. You don't have to. It's just a thought."
"Ok. Yeah, hand me the bottle." Jim was still a little confused about what had just happened, but decided to keep rolling on. Heather handed him a bottle of vanilla scented lotion and he squeezed a small amount onto his hand. After rubbing his hands together, he began rubbing the cream into her back and shoulders. Heather sighed and moaned with his motions. He felt her relax under his hands and he smiled to himself. "Are you enjoying yourself? Is this good for you," he whispered into her ear.
"This is wonderful, Jim. Don't stop. If Consulting Criminal doesn't work out, you should become a massage therapist. You have magic hands." Heather smiled lazily. She felt herself just starting to drift off to sleep. She tried to stay awake, but it was becoming more and more difficult the long Jim worked. Before she knew it, she had fallen back into a deep slumber.
Jim felt Heather's body go completely limp and saw her breath slow and deepen. "Kitten, are you still awake? Did you fall back to sleep on me," whispered Jim. When Heather didn't respond, Jim closed the lotion bottle and grinned. He carefully climbed off the bed and washed his hands in the bathroom. He had to admit that the lotion smelled delicious, but rather decidedly unmanly. He got re-dressed and crept out of the room. He walked downstairs, following the smell of coffee. He found Sebastian in the living room, reading and drinking out of a mug.
"Smells good. Is there any left," Jim asked.
"No, it's single serve from the Keurig, but there are a few pods left if you want to brew one up for yourself," answered Sebastian. The front gate bell rang. Jim looked up at the security monitor and saw a police car waiting at the end of the driveway. "Uh, oh, cops are here. Go upstairs and hide. I've got this. Don't bother Heather. She's sleeping." Sebastian nodded and hustled up the stairs.
Jim buzzed the gates open and waited by the door for the officers. When they knocked, he opened the door. "Good morning, sir. My name is Officer Phillip Jackson. I'm with the Baltimore Police Department. Is this the home of Heather Weire?"
"Yes, it is. What may I help you with?" Jim kept the door close to him.
"May I come in, sir? I need to speak with Miss Weire regarding an assault last night. Is she home?"
"Yes, but she is sleeping. If you would like to leave your card, I can have her call you back when she gets up." Jim was business-like.
"Sir, that's not really an option. It would be best if I spoke with her now, sir. By the way, sir, what is your name and your relationship to Miss Weire?"
"Very well, please come in. I will go get Dr. Weire. Please wait here." Jim walked upstairs and into Heather's bedroom. "Heather, love, you need to get up. There is an officer here who needs to speak to you. I will be with you the whole time. What is your lawyer's name and number? I'll give him a call while you get dressed."
"What? There's a cop downstairs? For me? What does he want? Wait, weren't we just about to have sex? Why are you dressed? What the hell is going on?"
Jim closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, "Yes, there is a police officer downstairs who wants to talk to you about last night. At the club. I'll explain the other stuff after he leaves. You need to get up and get dressed. Brush your teeth. Pull your thoughts together a bit. Do you have an attorney? I will call him while you get ready. Okay? Let's get up now." Jim reached his hand out to her. "By the way, don't mention that Sebastian is here. I'll explain why later. Just trust me for right now, okay?"
"James Anthony is my lawyer. His number is in my phone under his last name. Glancing at the clock, "At this time of day, call his cell number. I have to pee," grumbled Heather.
Heather stumbled into the bathroom and got ready while Jim called the lawyer and briefly explained the situation, leaving out the murder part. The attorney agreed to stay on speakerphone for the officer's visit. He spoke briefly with Heather before they went downstairs, reminding her to be brief and honest. He said that he would object if the officer asked a question that he felt would not benefit Heather to answer at that time. He told her to come into the office at 10 that morning to discuss the case. He would call the detective she spoke to the night before and see what was going on.
Heather and Jim walked downstairs, and Heather greeted the officer. "Good morning, Officer. My name is Dr. Heather Weire. I believe that you are here to discuss my assault last night. Where is Detective Mathers? I thought he was in charge of this case. Just to let you know, I have my attorney on speakerphone and he insists on listening to our conversation."
"That's fine, ma'am. Detective Mathers asked me to come see you this morning, ma'am. He is busy on another case right now. May we sit down? Also, sir, you never did tell me your name or relationship with Miss, sorry, Dr. Weire." Heather lead them into the living room and gestured for the cop to take a seat in the wingback. She and Jim sat on the couch. "Officer, this is my boyfriend, Tim. He is visiting me from out of town for a few days. He was with me last night. That should be in the report."
"Thank you, ma'am. Ma'am, I regret to inform you that your assailant, Mr. Johnson has died. He passed away following surgery late last night. His family has been notified. Detective Mathers has decided that no charges should be filed in this case. We are closing it at this time."
"Oh my! He died? What happened? It wasn't because of his injury, was it?" Heather thought to herself, "I couldn't have hurt him that badly. There was some bleeding, but nothing life-threatening."
"It appears that he had a heart problem that resulted in a post anesthesia issue. The doctors said that it was just one of those unfortunate things that happen. His brother was with him when he passed. Although, he has not been seen since. We are investigating that. They were alone when the decedent suffered the complication and it seems somewhat suspicious that he disappeared so quickly."
Jim saw his opening. "Hmm, do you think that this brother might pose a security risk to Heather? Maybe he feels like she caused his death. Should she get some security for the time being? Unfortunately, I am returning home this evening, so I won't be around to protect her. She lives here alone and as a surgeon, has odd hours."
"That is a decision that only she can make, sir. It is unlikely that he would come after her and I do notice that she does have some security features up already, but truthfully, the world can be a dangerous place. Dr. Weire, do you have any questions?"
Heather was stunned by this turn of events. "No … no. I'm okay. I'm sorry that he died, obviously, but I am glad that this case is over now. Is there anything else you all will need from me? Any papers to sign or anything?"
Heather's attorney piped up, "Heather, they can send all of that to my office and you and I can review them and take care of them later. Don't worry about that right now. Officer, please tell Detective Mathers I will be calling him later this morning to discuss this case. Heather, unless you need to see me, you don't have to come into the office today at 10. I'll give you a call once everything gets settled and we can set up a time for everything, okay?"
"Yeah, thanks, James. I appreciate everything."
Officer Jackson stood up and Jim and Heather followed his example. They shook hands and Jim walked him to the door. "I'll open the gates while you pull out."
Heather sat back down on the couch. She was wide awake now. Jim let the officer out and closed the gates behind him. Heather sighed a heavy breath. "Jim, what is going on? That was not a fatal injury. This brother can't be found? And I can't talk about Bash? What do you know about this? Remember, honesty no matter what. Did you have something to do with this?"
Jim stared at her for a moment, weighing his options. "Yes, I ordered Sebastian to handle this. For you. For us. That man had no right to even speak to you, much less touch you, and he needed to know that."
Heather thought for a moment. "Jim, I agree with you that he shouldn't have touched me, but you can't go around killing everyone who upsets me. The world population would drop to like 4 people if you did. So, can we agree on no more killing unless I ask for it. Do you think that that would be reasonable? Thank you for defending my honor, really, but murder is a bit much. I appreciate the sentiment, I do, but it's a bit not so great long term. Second, I need you to give Bash permission to talk to me about it. I don't think he will unless you give the go ahead and he also must be able to tell me the whole truth. No secrets. Finally, is this going to cause a problem for you two leaving tonight? The hospital has security cameras everywhere, so I'm quite sure that there are tons of pictures and videos of him. Do you need to change your travel arrangements?"
"No, this won't affect our travel at all. We're fine there. Second, yes, I suppose Sebastian can answer your questions if you need him to. Third, I will try not to kill or harm everyone who displeases you. Accidents might happen, but I will do my best. I just hate seeing you upset. Finally, I wasn't going to discuss this with you now, but it's as good a time as any. I want you to hire some personal security and get a dog or two. I will of course pay for it all, but I want it done immediately. Sebastian can set up the personal security if you like and I will take you to look at dogs today. I would like for you to get at least two. Big dogs. Big, ferocious, man-eating dogs. No little lap dogs. Your parents have pit bulls, right? Two of those would be fine. Or Rottweilers, German Sheppard's, Dobermans, etc. Sebastian said that you prefer shelter dogs. That's very sweet, but not this time. I want trained guard dogs. I have a few feelers out for local breeders with trained dogs. We can go see them after breakfast. I can't be here, so I would feel a lot better if I knew you had more security around you."
"Jim, I don't want personal security. I am fine on my own. I don't need babysitters. And, I'm not opposed to a dog, but it would have to be okay with the cats and I really hate breeders. Most of them don't treat their animals right and there are tons of wonderful animals in shelters that need good, loving homes. What if I got one shelter dog, a big one, and hired a trainer? He or she could train the dog to defend the house and me. It would take a little time, but at least I would be giving a great dog a good home. I'm willing to meet you halfway with the dog issue. But it is an absolute hard no on the bodyguard thing."
"Nope, not going to work. Either get personal security or two trained dogs. I will give up one, but not both. You pick."
Heather pouted and thought for a few minutes. "Okay, I will get the dogs from one of your breeders. BUT, I get to pick the dogs and only two. No more and it's 100% my choice which two I get. And they go back if they can't get along with the cats. Can I please go talk to Bash now? Tell him of this Faustian deal I had to make with you."
Jim smiled and kissed the top of Heather's head. "Go ahead, kitten. I'll make breakfast and bring it up to you."
"Make pancakes. They better be fucking amazing pancakes, too. Like I better have multiple orgasms from these things. You owe me for this dog thing," grumbled Heather. She stood up and made her way to Sebastian's bedroom. She knocked on the door and opened it. Sebastian was sitting on the bed, reading. Heather flopped down across the mattress. "Bashie, you won't believe what Jim is making me do. I have to get two dogs from a breeder. It was that or get bodyguards. By the way, thanks for killing that guy for me. I mean, yeah, a bit extreme, but kind of sweet too, in a weird, twisted way. I know Jim told you to, so you kind of had to, but thanks the same. It's not every day someone literally kills for you, so yeah. Just out of curiosity, how did you do it? Jim said you could talk to me about it, so it's cool. The cop is gone, by the way."
"Seriously, Jim said we could talk about it? You're not just saying that?"
"Yeah, I asked him. He wasn't totally thrilled with the idea, but I kind of talked him into it a bit. I still can't believe you killed for me. You haven't done that since Afghanistan, but that was totally different. It was your job to kill there."
Sebastian thought to himself, "Um, it still is my job to kill, sweetie. And obviously, you don't know about the couple of other times I handled situations for you since then. And you never will know." Sebastian cleared his throat. "Short version of the story, I poisoned him."
"Ok, long version of the story …" prompted Heather.
"I gave him a massive dose of epi, followed by a massive dose of adenosine, then a massive dose of potassium."
"Damn! That would simulate a major cardiac event. Nice work! I'm impressed. I didn't think you were paying attention all those times I talked about different kinds of medications, but I was wrong. Where did you get the meds?"
"I have resources. Jim can get his hands on almost anything for the right price. I'm handy with more than just guns and knives." Sebastian looked down right proud.
"Can't say I approve of the whole murder thing, but hey, when you have a talent, you shouldn't waste it. I'm guessing you had a good time? You look a bit like the cat that ate the canary."
"Yeah, I do enjoy my work. Especially when it's personal like last night was. Even if Jim hadn't ordered it, I still would have hurt that guy. He had no right to touch you. You defended yourself beautifully, like I know you can, but I wanted a piece of him too. You gave him a compound fracture of both lower arm bones. You did good, kid. I'm proud of you." Sebastian hugged her.
"Thanks, dad." Heather rolled her eyes. "Jim's making breakfast, so I gotta ask. Is my kitchen safe or should I go ahead and put the fire department on standby? I asked for pancakes."
Sebastian snorted. "Yeah, you probably just get cereal. He's not really a cook. He knows it, so he doesn't really try. Do you want me to go check on him?"
"Let's go down together. If I'm getting cereal, then he's been in there for too long. Now I'm getting worried." They walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Jim had a carton of eggs open on the counter and was threatening Downey with a chef knife. There was a thin layer of smoke in the kitchen air.
"Jim, what are you doing," Heather asked as she turned the burner off and picked up the cat. "What's going on in here? Was Downey misbehaving again?" She stroked the cat's fur. "Mr. Downey, were you helping Mr. Jim with breakfast, baby? What were you guys making, pumpkin butt? Are you my silly little pumpkin boy? I love you so much, my furry prince. Where's your sister? Have you two eaten breakfast yet? Are you hungry little babies," she cooed to the feline.
Jim rolled his eyes. "That orange ball of fury tried to bite me. It kept jumping up and trying to get to the eggs and I kept putting it on the floor. The third time, I reached for him and he tried to bite me."
"Well, you shouldn't make him mad. Did you let him sniff you first? Did you ask him to get down nicely? Oh, wait. Did you touch his belly? Yeah, you can't touch his belly. He thinks you're attacking him if you touch his belly. He's a little weird that way. He's probably just hungry. Did you feed him?"
"No, I didn't feed him. He's a cat. He can wait."
"No, he's used to getting fed before I eat. Let me feed him quick. That's probably why he tried to give you a love nip." Heather mixed up the cats' food and poured it into their respective bowls. "Babies, breakfast is ready. There ya go. Eat up my angels. We don't eat the houseguests, guys. You know that." Heather washed her hands. "Jim scoot over. I'll make breakfast. Bacon and eggs good for everyone?" Heather scrambled together some eggs and threw some bacon in the microwave. "Serve yourself. After breakfast, I'm going to get a shower and then we can go out to look at the prisoner dogs, Jim. Do you know where these puppy gulags are? I have a map if we need it."
"They are high class breeders, Heather, not some backwater inbred hillbillies. These dogs come with papers, I'll have you know."
"Yeah papers and generations of inbreeding. Goodie, I get dogs from a family tree that just don't fork. Gosh, I hope they all have one eye and hip dysplasia. Those are the best kind of dogs," remarked Heather sarcastically. "Nothing wrong with shelter animals. Both cats are from shelters and look how great they are. All my cats and dogs growing up were foundlings or shelter animals and they were the best. But no, only fancy pants dogs are good enough for the great Jim Moriarty." she mumbled. "I hope I'm good enough. I can't trace my family line all the way back to the Mayflower."
"Heather, you are not a dog. I don't care about your family. I just want the best for you. If you would rather have bodyguards, then fine. If not, then it's the dogs. Final word!"
"Fine, dogs!" Heather pouted. Sebastian just leaned back in his chair. "I should diffuse this," he thought to himself. "Heather, do you want me to go with you and Jim when you go look at the dogs. These breeders are good people. They come highly recommended. They treat their dogs very well and train them themselves. I think you will like these people. Just don't judge before you see it for yourself."
"Fine, you can drive." Heather continued to pout.
After breakfast, Jim and Sebastian cleaned up and Heather went upstairs to get ready. She checked the weather and decided to wear jeans and her t-shirt from the most recent Polar Bear Plunge that benefitted the local Humane Society. "Silent protest," thought Heather. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and put on the baseball cap from the local SPCA. She looked in the mirror and smiled a satisfied grin. She walked downstairs. "Ready, guys."
