Chapter 15
A/N: Continuing on. Sorry for the delay. I got stuck, then ended up reorganizing the ending in a way that made more sense. There are 2-3 more chapters after this one.
About that cliffhanger here, yes…I'm working on it.
x x x
She's 150% done with this asshole.
Olivia grips the wheel and floors it, causing the tires to slip a little on the wet road surface as they round the corner and pass the convenience store.
She follows James onto I-70, heading west. As long as she's got a visual, she's not stopping.
Not that this shit doesn't terrify her.
The good news is that the quarter-sized hail is letting up. The bad news is that she's driving straight into a mix of small hail and heavy rain, and visibility is looking worse up ahead.
She'll tail him until there's an opportunity to get ahead of him.
Can't use lights yet, or this jackass will do something stupid. She won't risk any more lives.
x
Before they reach the interstate, Elliot grabs the radio and tries to contact the agents. He doesn't get a reply and assumes it's because of the weather, so he tries to reach them on their phones, and it goes to voicemail. It's hard to hear the message prompt with the wipers and fan on, but he leaves them an update.
He's also trying to keep an eye on James's path, but the visibility sucks. Wipers can't keep up with the amount of water. The lines on the road are barely visible.
The daylight isn't completely gone, but the thick clouds reduce the remaining traces of sunlight. Lightning illuminates the clouds off to their left. Thunder sounds a second or two after the flash.
They're a few miles inside Indiana, and that's all he knows about their location. He's checking both sides of the highway in case they need to get shelter quickly, and it doesn't look like much.
Along the highway, they pass open fields, industrial buildings, highway signs, and billboards advertising food, hotel, gas, or some local event that happened months ago.
The tractor-trailers soon slow down and put their hazards on, prompting other vehicles to do the same. Most of the traffic isn't moving faster than 45 mph.
Elliot shifts his leg, which causes the ache in his knee to return. It takes a moment for the pain to ease off. It doesn't help that he's cold, wet, and tired from their last stop.
He steals glances at Olivia.
He'd like to reach over and touch her shoulder, maybe help her relax, say something to make her smile or laugh, offer to drive, or do something to help besides sitting and staring out the windows.
She'd tell him she's fine, which she isn't.
He hates this.
They've been at this for days. There's no plan for catching this guy. James is driving like an asshole with nothing to lose.
Elliot resumes staring through the windshield. Wind gusts cause the two tractor-trailers to sway into the lane in front of Olivia. She slows to stay out of the way, and James moves another couple of car lengths out of their reach.
After another mile, some of the drivers pull onto the shoulder to wait this out. One advantage is that it reduces the number of vehicles on the road, making it easier to isolate the one prick they need to stop.
Olivia finds an opening and passes one of the tractor-trailers in the left lane. Their target is still in the center lane. She slows down to about 35 mph as the visibility gets worse.
The radio sounds another weather alert siren, causing them to jump in their seats.
An upgrade follows the alert… Tornado on the ground.
Fuck.
She turns the defog fan down to hear the announcement and cracks open the window. She's already soaked and doesn't care about a little rain getting in.
"Elliot… Did you catch that town name?"
He shakes his head. "Four miles southwest of…somewhere." He begins checking through the car's side and back windows. Rain is coming at them sideways. Tiny pieces of dust, dirt, or whatever from the highway mixes with the rain.
"This area looks like shit, though," he adds.
Olivia nods her agreement.
Almost out of nowhere, the wind gusts get higher and visibility drops to zero. Keeping the car on the road proves difficult as heavy wind gusts, rain, pieces of gravel, rocks, hail, and whatever else hits the windows and sides of the car.
"What the hell?" says Elliot.
"Shit," Olivia groans, and slows her speed to about 20 mph. Her only option is to pull onto the shoulder and she's in the left lane.
Both shoulders are narrow, which doesn't give them much room. The right side has a guard rail and she can't tell how far it goes.
She checks the mirrors, but the defogger isn't keeping up and she's not sure it's safe to move over to the right shoulder where there's more room. She still sees headlights behind her. She opts for the left side shoulder, pulling as far over as she can get out of traffic, and turns her hazard lights on.
Traffic comes to a stop.
The semi they've just passed skids to a stop in the center lane, but jack-knives to avoid hitting the back of the semi in front of them. Two SUVs trying to get onto the shoulder end up colliding. The sound of brakes and horns and fender benders temporarily dampens the sounds of the rapid wipers, heavy rain, and the wind outside.
Elliot tries to call in the accidents, knowing it'll take time for anyone to show up, but the call gets cut off. Bad signal. He hopes he described the location well enough for a bus to get there.
The winds get higher, causing the vehicle to rock. It's almost like having two to three strong people pushing on the sedan from one side. The rain falls heavier,
Despite having bulletproof glass, she flinches each time a piece of hail hits the car. She needs it all to stop.
The Crown Vic is now all they have for shelter, and she's kicking herself.
She should have stopped. Miles ago.
"El, I'm sorry."
"S'alright."
Elliot lifts his left arm and props it on the back of the seat, then reaches for her shoulder. The collar of her shirt and the skin along the back of her neck are damp from sweat. He's massaging her shoulder, wanting that combined look of fear, anger, and dread to leave her eyes.
Olivia tries to slow her heartbeat.
She should have stopped. She should have fucking stopped!
They've seen enough in the days leading up to this.
She's lightheaded all of a sudden and isn't sure if it's from the stress, the air, or something else. She has managed to keep herself from throwing up, but it's still a possibility.
Elliot searches for something to distract her. "We could be sitting at our desks right now. Munch would be rambling on about government conspiracies. Cragen's re-telling a story from homicide. Fin's rolling his eyes at both of them."
He watches the corner of her lips lift just slightly. She's picturing it. "Yeah….I miss that."
Elliot grins in response.
Thinking about New York and SVU helps for about a minute or two, then she's looking out the windshield and worried again.
"We took a shot, Liv." He continues the massage, hoping it helps.
"And it got us nowhere," she sighs. "If we had ended up in an accident with injuries, we're just another problem for the highway patrol."
"I don't blame anyone except James," he replies.
A few minutes later, the wind gusts finally start to die down. Rain slows to a steady shower. Through the rain-soaked windshield, she can make out the shapes of vehicles, the guard rail, and the outline of an overpass about a quarter of a mile ahead.
They hear sirens approaching, with a flood of red and blue lights flashing. Soon a half dozen emergency vehicles weave through traffic to tend to the accidents and injuries.
She's parked close to the guardrail which prevents her from opening the driver's side door. So Elliot gets out, and she follows him through the passenger side. She walks slowly with him over to identify themselves to the local PD and see if they need backup. They're told it's under control.
A local cop asks them to move the Crown Vic to make room for another bus, so they return to the sedan.
Olivia glances over at her partner. He's walking with a limp but he keeps up with her. He'd never admit it if his knee gets worse.
He picks up his phone and tries to get ahold of the Feds. A short conversation later, he ends the call.
"So, where to?" asks Liv.
"They don't know. They'll have to regroup and make a new plan anyway. I say we get a bite to eat and if we don't hear from them, check back into the hotel."
"Okay by me."
x x x
Heard from the TV in the hotel lobby.
"...Showers and thunderstorms may continue through the overnight hours, with wind gusts up to 35 miles per hour still possible with a few of these storms. Tomorrow morning, fair, with a temperature of 71 degrees. Currently, it's cloudy with a temperature of 66. Winds are out of the southwest at 10 mph…"
x x x
Elliot steps back from the hotel counter while Olivia chats with the clerk.
The feds told them to check out of the other hotel, so they're at a Sheraton a few miles from Indianapolis.
He glances around at the lobby area. Pretty damn nice for the room rate. The lobby and main floor take up a city block and include a lounge area, a restaurant, some conference rooms, and halls leading to a fitness room and an indoor pool. In Brooklyn, it'd probably go for at least a couple hundred a night.
They've already eaten, so all he cares about is electricity, a shower, and a bed.
He's cold from his wet clothes and his knee is numb, except when he has to move it. He popped an Advil an hour ago. He and Olivia ate at some Italian place downtown that was decent, so at least he's full.
He's fucking exhausted. Olivia is too. They both need showers.
The mid-twenties hotel clerk chews on the end of a pen while searching for an available room. He had laid a sketch pad on the counter with a stunning drawing of a dancer. Olivia peers down at the sketch pad makes a comment about his talent, and he smiles but keeps his eyes on the screen.
A moment later he peers up at them. "I've only got one room, but it's a double."
"We'll take it," comes out Elliot's mouth before he gives it any thought.
Olivia shoots a glare at her partner. NYPD will be expecting separate room receipts.
"The man said he only has one room, Liv." He leans toward her ear and whispers, "I'll tell Cragen I slept in the sedan."
She rolls her eyes at her partner. "Let me know how he takes it when we're back in New York."
While the clerk takes down their vehicle information, someone walks up behind them.
"Hey…. You're the detectives from New York, right?"
Elliot and Olivia turn around to see Matt, the storm chaser they met the previous day.
"Whatcha doing out here?" asks Elliot.
"You have to ask?" he chuckles. "I chased it out here. The storm's finally losing steam. I found a motel parking lot just over the border of Indiana and took some stills of the storm that rolled in a couple of hours ago. It messed up I-70 traffic for a while. I'm crashing for the night, then probably headed home. How about you guys?"
"We're here for tonight," Elliot remarks. "You mentioned a storm on I-70? What was that? We were just wondering."
Matt shrugs. "From the radar, it could have been a microburst. Umm…" He sees their puzzled looks and explains. "A microburst is basically a downward wind gust from a thunderstorm, that causes sudden straight-line winds. It can seem like a tornado. I saw it on the radar, and while it's not been confirmed, that's my best guess."
Olivia and Elliot exchange a look. "Sounds about right," she responds.
Matt's shaking his head and grinning. "Oh don't tell me… You guys were on I-70? Oh my god… You two and your timing! You should be storm chasers!"
"Oh, we've been through enough."
"What exactly did you see?"
"Visibility wasn't great. Lots wind. Several accidents," says Olivia.
"Glad you made it out of there. I suspect that stretch of highway was delayed for hours."
"Something like that." Elliot picks up their keys, makes eye contact with Olivia, and steps back from the counter. "Well good luck with your storm hunting."
"Hope you get back home soon."
"Thanks. Same to you."
x x x
Olivia opens the door to the hotel suite and they walk in together. She hits the light switch on the wall beside the entrance to the bathroom and they drop their bags on the floor.
They both look around, seeing the typical hotel room layout—two queen-sized beds, a nightstand between them, a table in the corner, dresser drawers, a desk, and an entertainment area along the wall.
A well-stocked bar fridge that could get some use.
"Not bad," says Elliot. "We've got a spare bed, in case you get tired of my ass," he teases.
Olivia grins back, then wanders over to the window. She pushes the curtains back and gazes out. She's mostly surveying the area until flashes of lightning off to her left catch her attention.
"What do you see?" he asks, stepping up behind her. He's close enough to lay his chin on her shoulder. He follows her gaze.
"More lightning," she responds.
"Hmm." He follows her eyes to the parking lot. "Any sign of him?"
"No. Not yet anyway." She looks back over her shoulder at him. "I need a shower and you should probably ice that knee."
She sees the ice bucket on the table and grabs it. "I'll get the ice."
"Liv…?" Elliot steps in front of her. Blue eyes almost shimmering. He raises his brow and smirks. "I could use a shower too."
x x x
The ice bucket drops from her hand as she reaches for him. It bounces twice on the tiled floor and rolls under the table.
In the next breath, her lips are on his.
Unlike their make-out frenzy in the hotel hallway, they settle into light, almost teasing kisses, while she's grabbing his arms and pulling him against her.
The years of only admiring his toned body have cheated her out of what was really there. The man is solid.
She's drawn to the feel of his biceps. Her fingers want to touch and hold all of him at once and it's not possible.
She moves on to his shoulder, his chest, and then she's tugging the bottom of his shirt to remove it.
Then he's steering her toward the bathroom, both of them toeing off their shoes and leaving them in the pathway between the table and bathroom. There's a brief pause for Elliot to hit the bathroom light switch, then they're on each other's lips again. Taking in each other's breaths.
They tease each other's lips, and brush tongues and their heartbeats are quite possibly falling into a perfect sync.
She's definitely falling.
Then he's removing her shirt and unhooking her bra and the first contact of skin against skin is so good she's losing any ability to reel them back until Elliot pauses and sucks in a breath because their need to get as close as possible causes him to turn his injured knee just enough.
Of course, he refuses to see a doctor.
They shouldn't be starting this.
"El…"
"I'm fine," he groans. He reaches for her face and pulls her back to his lips again. Yes, he needs a shot of something to kill the pain.
He needs her worse.
She has her hands on his chest, his biceps, his back, then his abs, and nothing and no one is ever going to top what this woman does to him.
The door's locked. No one else's calling or dropping by. No one's crashing their alone time.
They're just getting started.
x x x
Olivia's too warm for obvious reasons. Her breaths get shallower. While still lip-locked, she reaches down and begins unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. The side of her finger brushes up against him.
Elliot breaks the kiss to gasp, then looks up at her. Her lips are a little swollen, breaths coming through fast, eyes staring back at him with heat and arousal, and he has to talk himself down or this will end too soon.
He begins trying to get out of his pants but is working slowly to keep himself from aggravating the knee.
Or worse, making her worry about it.
Olivia checks out his blue briefs, but just for a second…or two…or ten. Then she's noticing the red swollen area over his knee.
"El…"
He reads her concern and shakes his head. "Liv, I'm fine. It hardly hurts."
"You're such a liar."
"It'll be fine by morning."
She opens her mouth to say that it probably won't and that it'll change color and might even be too swollen to walk, let alone run, while they're trying to catch their perp.
But he climbs out of those blue briefs and she's unable to form words.
He grabs the door to the shower and looks back at her. "Join me?"
x x x
TBC…