Ch 2. As Good As It Gets
"My cousin Kostya is a smug son of a bitch…always talking a big game but actually only compromising his way through life!" Oksana said with a grave tone as she sat in the plush chair and took a sip from the vodka rocks James had served her.
"How do you mean?" Teresa wasn't following.
"Yeah…how?" James chimed in leaning on his arms on the bar before putting the drinks away. "Finch declared him to be the greatest gangster there was…"
"Maybe it's time you told me what you owe to a gangster from Chicago…and why he is after Kostya…That might explain his obsession with my cousin and with the….Russian distro territories!" Oksana looked at James and then at Teresa signifying that her help couldn't just be expected.
"It's complicated." Teresa's hand went up with the intention of running through her hair in a familiar nervous gesture but flopped back on her lap as she realized her hair was still tied in a bun.
"I am not certain I can blindly go against my family…for a Chicago gangster and a promise to be my own 'master' in the future…I'm afraid of Kostya's temper, but it's not like I'm starving or worse…you know…and I owe it to him!" And she looked at Teresa pointedly.
"He is a lot more than a gangster!" James moved to the front and sat on the couch next to Teresa. "Did you know?"
"Did I know that the Russian state sanctioned the narco trade in the US and had a big piece of it? Yes, I did…" Oksana signed and drank her drink in one long shot. "So, this Finch is not a gangster only? He is Government, da? FBI? DEA?"
"CIA". Teresa said flatly, then turned to James in a low voice: "Could I …ahh…ask you to fix me a martini? I thought I didn't need a drink…but…".
James was on his feet before she had finished her sentence and as he pulled a glass out, he said looking at Oksana from across the room: "The CIA controls the narco trade in the US. They cannot eliminate it, but they control the main players. The Agency will never allow a foreign government…especially an Eastern hostile government…to have the power your cousin has amassed."
Silence followed for a minute and after he gave Teresa her drink and refilled Oksana's, he sat back on the couch: "If it's not us…it will be someone else. Your cousin has a target on his back and there's nowhere to run…unless he goes back to Russia!"
"You will be assisted in gaining access to the Embassy, da?" Oksana finally said and shivered with the thought of the danger this mission presented.
"I'm still looking for another way!" Teresa's voice was hard and forceful.
"The Embassy is huge… and I can get you blueprints and inside information when and how to enter…where to hide, close to Kostya's office…the timelines of the guards changing…but I can't see how you're going to be extracted." James was nodding approvingly as Teresa stood up in a brisk motion and repeated:
"I have not decided that this is HOW we will be attacking. James's life is valuable and if there is another way, I would rather not breach the Embassy!" She glared at both of them, which made James get up and head to the bar, while Oksana looked embarrassed, then worried and finally said through pursed lips:
"I told you…last year…that if you were alone, this life would be much simpler. Remember that?"
"I remember!" Teresa looked down. "Do you really think the risk is the lowest to hit him there, where …ahh…he believes he is safe?"
"Yes…I do! But not before we have an exit plan…and your Finch guy better be part of it…because extraction from a foreign country's territory isn't a simple matter!"
The door opened slightly and Chicho's head popped up: "Jefa, you got a visitor…It's Cedrik, not sure if Dumas sent him. Should I tell him you're busy?"
Teresa took a few seconds to think about Dumas having kicked her out of his office the day before and to realize that Cedrik's appearance could mean several things, one of which could be that Dumas was dead. She hurried before Chicho out of the room.
Oksana had retired to one of the guest bedrooms by the time Teresa came back to find James sipping a whisky and staring out the window.
"Don't get offended…You are good…the best in the field…but this is a suicide!' She said in a low voice.
"I will manage!" His voice was no different.
"You're saying this to make me not worry…but I cannot!" She was not giving up.
"Can't you just…trust me?" His voice was fighting his impatience.
"There isn't a person I trust more…and I learned it the hard way…but this is not about trust?" She was defiant and he knew it was fear with the impossible scenario they had been given.
"What is it about then?" He turned to her and their eyes met. There was anger in his and anger and fear in hers.
"I don't want you sacrificing yourself for me! I don't want anyone else dying for me! Got it?" She was raising her voice despite her effort not to. "What would I do if they kill you …or capture you?" Her voice was a little softer and her eyes were pleading with him.
James looked away and finally said: "Find someone else!"
Why was he even saying that? Was he assuming they were together? Because she was behaving like they were…despite that they weren't …and because of her this past month since his return to New Orleans had been hell.
Teresa's eyes were on fire. Her chest heaved: "Why do you think this would even be possible?"
He shook his head again and said not looking her in the eyes: "It will be…because… you're easy on the eyes, Teresa! Don't you know it? Men fall for you fast!" It made him a wreck inside to think of her with someone else.
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and sat down on the couch.
"What date is it today? " James said.
She looked at him weird: "Why?"
"I gotta write it down…It's the first time since I've been back…that you got nothing to say!" He pulled his buzzing cell out of his pocket:
"Oksana's people have provided Avi with blueprints of the Embassy…on the secure server. He wants me downstairs to compare to what Finch sent before…to see if there are secret renovations and tunnels the CIA doesn't know about."
Before closing the door behind him, James turned to look at Teresa, who was still sitting on the couch speechless: "Try to have some sleep, please! You need it!"
James walked silently up the stairs as it was very late. When he passed by Teresa's office, he saw the open door and looked inside: the upholstered chair, next to the table with a few books, some magazines, and all sorts of paper; her mug with a tea bag string dangling from it; the woolen throw draped over the back cushion. The office was cozy and lived in, projecting the coziness and the homeliness everything about her had!
He walked past her ensuite bedroom on the left, that was unlighted, catching a whiff of vanilla and thought it must be from a scented candle. The bed was made; he imagined it unmade with her in it and rumpled sheets. His reaction was instantaneous and imperative, an onslaught of mistimed lust. It was damn hard to put it in reverse and he swallowed hard.
That's when he heard her steps running up the stairs and turned to face her. He didn't mean to, but his eyes must have been burning as his gaze practically nailed her and made her stop in her tracks.
Her hair was down, and her white jacket gone. Only her white silk blowse hung loose over her white pants. Her high heels were gone too. Maybe she had been on her way to retire for the night!
"Look James", she ventured: "I've been unfair to you…I've been holding back…"
"You were in your right to hold back…to be cautious… in light of what my former boss wants from you…and in light of …ahh…how I left last time!" He took a step closer, his eyes boring down in hers.
"You left on winged feet." She said in a low voice as a tiny smile creeped up her face. Despite the seriousness of the few sentences they had exchanged, she suddenly didn't feel she could be serious with him just then.
"Yeah." He seemed to have caught her whiff as he picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. "Tonight, when you were out of the room, Oksana repeated to me that me being back 'with you' …under the circumstances…was weakening you… I guess if you apply enough psychology to it, it will seem like that."
Teresa put her forefinger on his lips: "I don't wanna talk about anyone else now!"
She felt the impulse to kiss him like she had done on that fateful night in Phoenix that had ended up being their first night together… or the way she had very recently kissed him in the hotel bar in New York.
But something in his eyes made her stop and stare into them. Then his fingers covered her finger that was still vertical across his lips and kissed it gently.
He slowly palmed her jaw and aligned his lips with hers. And then he was kissing her, his tongue sleek and searching, and she was lost, and she knew it. Paradoxically, she reveled in her misguidedness.
One intoxicating kiss evolved into another without any separation of their mouths. With a hand on the small of her back, he pulled her more securely against him and wedged his knee between her thighs. Her hands were on his back, but now one slid past his rib cage, into his jeans and down his yummy trail.
He caught his breath short as he whispered: "This month was pure hell." Then he reached down to his bulging fly and stopped her hand from moving. "Till now."
She looked up, then traced the rim of the deep triangle beneath his Adam's apple with the fingers of her other hand…then whispered: "I'm ready for you to take charge."
James took a second to contemplate things and their meanings: She telling him to leave less than a month ago, then deciding that she wanted him to stay but that they couldn't be together in this life, then fighting him over infiltrating the Embassy like La Jefa that she was…and now this!
But as her hands were still on his skin, touching him and driving him mad, he needed her to say more before he would take charge.
Sinking all ten fingers into her hair and pulling her face up to look at him, he asked: "Take charge of what?"
"Of this...of us…" Teresa's words came out almost breathless.
"I thought YOU liked being in charge…", his face was bare inches from hers.
"Not always...You know what I mean!" She felt he should have been kissing her by now, and because he wasn't, she kept talking.
"I know what you mean!" His hands turned her head up to him and his mouth silenced her.
Somehow, they had gotten in her ensuite bedroom and after having discarded some clothes in between kisses, James seemed to slow down deliberately.
His hand lightly skimmed her leg up from her knee all the way to the top of her thigh. He rested his warm palm on her mound. Just that, no more, before continuing the path upward. He drew a lazy circle around her navel as his eyes met hers with an unspoken question.
She took a deep breath: "Promise me it won't be the last time!"
"I can't…but I'll do my best!". His hand pulled on her bikini, whipped them off, and they went sailing.
She helped him out of his T shirt and heard herself whisper as her hands glided over his chest: "I want to look at you." He stopped moving and let her look.
Dios, he was gorgeous. Each muscle was long and toned, skin tightly stretched over his lean frame, a perfect dusting of body hair that bisected his lower torso and pointed toward his unbuttoned fly.
A few heartbeats later when he pushed her on the bed, she couldn't close her eyes as she felt fearful that she wasn't getting enough of him.
James's mouth and hands roamed over her body, and she was soon arching her back in an appeal for more. His fingers slid down to the vee of her thighs. Again, he rested his hand there, his palm radiating heat as he lightly ground it against her. Then he slipped his fingers into her, monitoring each stroke as though wanting to get it just right and make the most of each caress. It all left her in breathless anticipation.
He brought his gaze back to her face, giving her a lusty look as he settled himself between her thighs, and groaned her name taking her in one purposeful glide. She contracted around him, making him hiss.
"Please don't move yet, Teresa…If you do, I'll come, and I don't want to come until you've had it all …and I can't give it all to you until I've said this." He was whispering and she made an effort to slow herself down.
Forearms supporting him, James held her head between his hands. His breath was hot against her face, his eyes glassy with arousal. She could feel his heartbeat against her breasts as well as deep within her.
"If I don't come back, promise me to run far away and live your life!" He had trouble saying it, but he did.
Her eyes filled up, but he went on as he tipped his head toward the scar on his left shoulder. "We are fortunate we had this much in this Life…We may hate it but it brought us together. From the moment I looked into your eyes, I recognized you...my soulmate…innately. And when I was away I knew that we would be together again...like this!"
To illustrate his point, he flexed his hips. She reacted with a corresponding move.
He groaned, "Ahh, Jesus. I asked you not to move!" Before it became too late for both of them, he levered himself up and began to thrust.