1

The Downtime Woman

by Riley

ONE

Another horrific mission, forty-seven days of negotiations just to end up armed and in
combat mode but blessedly, it all turned out well. His mind recited the statistics like a
grocery list.
Case number: 6799-08
Hostage: Corbin Roswell, American Tourist
Captivity Duration: Fifty-two days
Location: Columbia
Result: Negotiations, failed. Extraction, successful
Hostage Condition: Excellent
Casualties: One. Terrence Thorne; muscle laceration, chest
Prognosis: Excellent
Just another day at the office for Terry Thorne. Another day? Hardly. Nothing seemed
normal or regular ... but what else was new? Hed gone directly from the hospital to his

2
office where he showered, changed his bandages, dressed in the suit always hanging in a
dry cleaners bag in his closet, and went to work. There were reports to write and staff
meetings to conduct; strategy evaluations to review and a budget report to examine.
Exhausted, Terry rubbed his eyes and spun his chair to view the city outside the massive
wall of windows. His watch said seven PM but his body was screaming for sleep. He
gathered his jacket and left for home.
New York City. Home. It was as illusive a concept as normal to him. But why was he
surprised? Sixteen years in London didnt make it feel like home, how could he expect
eight months in Manhattan to do it? Life had certainly taken a strange turn in those last
eight months, since Dinos accident.
No, it wasnt a hostage extraction, wasnt even a case. Dino got his sorry arse fucked up
on Rt. 405 in Los Angeles, speeding to meet a client in his rented Ferrari. But it wasnt
actually his fault. An eighteen wheeler jumped the median and nearly put Terrys partner
six feet under. It would take years for Dino to fully recuperate. For weeks, it wasnt even
sure the man would walk again, and without a doubt, hed never do fieldwork again
either.
Terry wasted no time. As the London office had served mostly as a satellite, he promptly
closed it and moved to the States to run things, and be close to his partner and best mate
at that time of worrisome need. His new apartment looked and felt eerily like the old one.
Even the floor plan matched to the square footage. Perhaps hed subconsciously chosen it
by design. After all, in eight months hed spent a combined six weeks in the place and
was comforted by its ugly familiarity. Even the doorman was unsure of his name. Hed
met two of his neighbors, one he had yet to talk with. To say he was a lonely man when
not on a case was a gross understatement.
He unlocked the door and tugged off his jacket. Stretching his tie loose, he pulled it over
his head with a groan and yanked the tails of his shirt from his trousers. Hed eaten a
burger at four, his stomach still on Columbian time, but he wasnt exactly hungry. Opting
for coffee over a beer and deciding that in a few short hours hed down pain meds and
crawl into bed, Terry began the shitty job of fielding through the mountain of mail neatly
stacked on the counter. His mind slipped from the return addresses to the agenda he
wanted to implement. He had to call his son, but would rather do it in the morning. After
that hed head to the rehabilitation facility and have a visit with Dino, check on his
progress. Beyond that, he hoped hed see more of the inside of his eyelids than anything
else until Monday morning.
A knock at the door brought a scowl. What the fuck? he growled and pulled it opened.
Jesus, hes actually home! laughed Marty Shiller, Terrys neighbor across the hall and
only true acquaintance in New York City. Beside him stood Genna, Martys platinum
blond bombshell of a girlfriend. Both were dressed to the nines and glowing with
borderline inebriation.

Terry leaned against the doorjamb and chuckled. Gday.

Genna pushed the door wider. Hi, stranger. Ohhh, you look delicious, in a rumpled,
displaced Aussie sort of way. I thought you might be home. Come on, were taking you
to a party.
Ah thanks, but not tonight, mates.
Shit Terry, Marty snorted, walking past him into the drab apartment. Youre never
home. Its fucking Friday night. The least you can do when youre in town is have a little
fun. Come with us Jesus, what the hell? He reached out and tugged at Terrys opened
collar exposing the top of the taped bandage and grimaced. Damn. For an insurance
man, you sure get your ass into a lot of scraps, buddy. What was it this time? Bar brawl?
Somethin like that. Im gonna take a rain check on the evening.
You cant, meowed Genna like a pampered cat. Its just downstairs and you really
look like you can use a few drinks and a few laughs.
Tenant on the sixth floor is throwing a little holiday bash to meet the neighbors. At least
show your face. Itll be fun. Marty added and lifted Terrys jacket from the sofa.
Im knackered, mate. I wouldnt be much fun, I guarantee ya.
Genna pouted. Then at least come down, say hello, have a glass of wine then disappear.
You do look tired but trust me, you need this.
Diamond earrings sparkled at her ears and the black silk of her dress swooped
dangerously low at her ample cleavage, hinting at the edge of a darkened areola. The
nipples were already present and accounted for, pointing right at him, demanding he
come out and play. If he could do his social duty and escape free and clear within an
hour, it wouldnt be so bad, would it?
Lemme put on a fresh shirt. Terry rolled his eyes and turned toward the bedroom.
A tie too shouted Marty. Hide that damn bandage unless youre looking for a
sympathy fuck.
Aint possible tonight, mate, Terry called back with a grin. Just aint bloody possible.
Entering the apartment with Genna and Marty was like walking into another world all
together. The floor plan was exactly like his, but this environment clearly stated the
personality of the tenant. Their host had great taste. The energy was festive; the dcor
sparked with flashes of brass and silver and occasional bright color. New York chic, at
least what Terry imagined New York chic to be.

What he knew of the host was what was offered during the short elevator ride. Her name
was Tamara Fillmore. She was happily divorced. That was it, nothing more. By the look
of her apartment, Ms. Fillmore just might be happy because shed gotten a hefty divorce
settlement, probably had a man-choking pre-nup too. Already he was forming a negative
opinion. He was tired and irritable, but even so, he didnt like women who enjoyed
wringing an ex-husbands balls and draining them for all she could get no matter what
the bloke did. He didnt like men who did that bloody shit either. Divorce was nothing
more than closing an unfinished, unsatisfying book and moving on. At least, it was in his
experience.
At the bar he asked for a bourbon on the rocks. Throughout the cleaning and stitching of
his wound hed refused pain medication and the misery was building across his chest.
The bourbon would relax him, keep him from tightening against it. When the drink was
gone, hed make his way upstairs to his prescription and his bed.
The place was hopping but not overly crowded. Comfortable. Nothing too loud, people
chatting pleasantly in groups, light laughter. Music wafted over it all, a jazz rendition of
Winter Wonderland. He sipped and gazed at the Christmas tree, glittering with white
twinkle lights and what looked to be expensive ornaments. Everything around him looked
expensive.
Genna was flirting with a bald man wearing a tux and Marty was nowhere in sight.
Checking the French doors out to the balcony, Terry was pleased to see them unlocked.
He needed a cigarette, bad. The crisp cold was sharp enough to take his attention from the
aching pull of stitches beneath his shirt. No one else was out there, but a large crystal
ashtray sat on the broad stone railing, welcoming the few and far between smokers. He
lit, drew in a drag and groaned delight. Maybe hed have a few bites of those copious
hors doeuvres before he cut out; would beat the hell out of making something at his
place even though his cupboards and refrigerator were well stocked. For the first time
he wondered what happened to the food when he wasnt around. Hopefully his maid, a
sweet Hispanic woman, took it home and enjoyed it. He shrugged. What did it matter?
All he asked was that it was there when he got in, whenever that would be. But he made a
mental note to assure that she understood to take the groceries rather than let them rot just
because he was off somewhere for God knew how long.
Manhattan glittered and pulsed over the balcony; flashing colors and vibrating the air all
around. London had its energy Sydney had hers but New York was a creature
unlike any other and Terry and seen more cities than he could list in one breath. The
bourbon slid warm down his throat, melding with the flavor of tobacco. Heaven. Pure
bloody heaven. He glanced back through the windowed doors. It was a nice party and he
was almost glad hed come.
He lit another cigarette, realizing that hed probably be taking a powder before he even
met the lady of the house but things didnt always work out like he thought they
might.

You must be Terry Thorne, the musical voice rolled over his shoulder and he turned.
Im Tamara.
Not what he expected. Hell, not nearly what he expected. Hed imagined a woman in her
fifties, a little plump with puffy cheeks and eyes that crinkled from appropriately smiling
all the time. This woman could have graced the cover of Vogue Magazine. Long, shiny
deep red hair, peaches and cream complexion, eyes that sparkled brilliant blue even in the
dark. She smiled and he took her hand. Gday. Thanks for having me.
She stood beside him and they looked out at the lights, Terry stealing sideway glances at
the gorgeous woman and forgetting completely about his exhaustion or his pain.
Im glad you came. I understand you just got in from out of town. Its a monumental
effort to go socializing after traveling, I know.
You travel a lot?
Some, she sipped white wine and looked into his eyes. Im a buyer for Bergdorfs.
Ah, he sighed, turned and leaned back against the stone, his mind racing with a
thousand things hes like to talk to this beautiful woman about. Again, things didnt
always work out like he thought they might.
Tam, Charlies here, called one of her guests who added with a shiver. Christ, its
freezing out there. How can you stand it?
Ill be right in. She raised an apologetic expression. Sorry. I need to greet Charlie,
hes my dad.
Terry chuckled. Its fine. Again he took her hand but that time there was no shake, that
time he just held it warmly. She didnt flinch, didnt pull away, simply looked into his
eyes.
We can talk later?
Uh Terry sighed.
Oh, I know. Youre probably too tired to even be here. Perhaps Ill come across you in
the elevator sometime, Mr. Thorne. She slowly freed her hand and turned to leave.
No, Terry said, quietly, almost hopping she wouldnt hear but she stopped to listen.
No?

6
I meant, he cleared his throat. Perhaps we can manage lunch together over the
weekend, maybe?
What the bloody hell was he doing? Terry had a loaded itinerary over the weekend. For
all he knew, a case could blow up and hed have to leave again. Besides, hed just asked
for a fuckin date! What on earth would make this goddess want to have lunch with him?
Lunch? Tomorrow? Noon is good. Just come by, Ill be ready. Her smile was brilliant
and it took an entire third cigarette before his heart slowed.
***
She never did that, never encouraged and certainly never instigated such interest
especially from a man as handsome as Terry Thorne. Tamara had suffered a long, selfimposed dry spell, vowing that until a man crossed her path that truly deserved a decent
woman, shed wait. What made her think this man was that sort of man? All she knew
was that he traveled a lot. Marty told her Thorne sold insurance, was almost never
home and seemed like a nice guy. Not a lot to go on. She was moving on instinct,
something she never seemed to possess before. Maybe it wasnt instinct, maybe it was
her libido maybe it was his eyes. Or perhaps it was the intensity of what was hiding
behind his eyes.
Tamara chose not to concern herself. The man had the sense to invite her to lunch, not
dinner. The chances of intimacy were little to none. It might be pleasant, but more than
that, it might be a chance to understand what about him had stirred her so. If it was a
fluke and she didnt like him as much as she thought, she could just end it there. After all,
the man travels a lot. It should be easy, right? But what if she discovered that she did
like him? The man traveled a lot. It could present a dilemma. Nothing could be
determined until noon the next day. She sighed, looked up from friends to see Terry
Thorne quietly slip out the door. Something in her soul silenced the moment he was gone.
After it was all said and done, she sat with her father on the sofa, her legs curled up under
the hem of her dress and she sighed. The party was her dads idea.
Charlie Hartford was a military man, a retired army general but Tamara had luckily (or
not so luckily, she was never sure) escaped the rigors of growing up as a military brat,
traveling around the world and moving, sometimes twice a year. Mom had left him long
ago. But for a whole blessed three years, she lived close to her father. He was stationed in
Virginia where she and her mother were residing. She was thirteen at the time. Tamara
adored him and he made her feel like a princess, special beyond reason. Mom and the
General could hardly be in the same room without the threat of World War III, but when
Tamara had time with him, it was heaven. Her sweet sixteen birthday party took place on
the base and shed never gotten so much attention from men in her whole life. Dad told
her she was a beauty and even though mom never said such a thing, she started to believe
it. Dad told her a lot of things.

7
It was the General who warned her about men, told her about life and showed her the
hard facts of it. Mom was always a lost spirit, never helpful with the tough questions. The
woman floated aimlessly though life and was currently molding her fourth husband. It
wouldnt last, it never did. Tamara was sure that marriage never lasted.
A case in point her own failed marriage. She met David Fillmore in Dallas during a
marketing seminar. He came from old money and quickly charmed the silk panties right
off of her. The wedding was elegant and massive, Texas style, but marital bliss lasted no
longer than the Hawaiian honeymoon. David swiftly showed his colors and they were
dark. Everything about him became rough, dangerous and raw and two years into it, he
took his first swing, knocking her lights out and putting her into the hospital. He never
got another chance, she never returned to him.
With the Generals help, she quickly filed for divorce and eighteen months later, it was
finished. Common property was divided evenly, the prenuptial agreement hed insisted
upon offered her far more than she needed. Before she even signed the final papers,
David was in the newspapers, sporting another beautiful woman on his arm at a
charitable fundraising event. Tamara thought to warn the poor girl, but never did.
She was too busy with her own adjustments to worry about her ex-husband and his lover.
Tamara had stumbled into a buyers position with a large chain of high fashion stores in
the Dallas, Fort Worth area. It was a surprisingly interesting job that she discovered she
was very good at. In June, the offer came for a position in New York. Dad was in New
York it was a no brainer.
So, Charlie sighed and lit his cigar.
Tamara slipped into her shoes and collected the ashtray from outside. She thought to toss
out the spent cigarettes, but Terry Thorne had been the only guest to use the ashtray. His
Marlboro butts mocked her, taunted. At the kitchen trash can, she fished one from the
crystal before throwing the others away, hiding it covertly behind the toaster with a grin.
Why she wanted it, shed never know. It was a nasty thing to keep, but it was his. For
now it felt like it held magic. If Terry Thorne turned out to be a schmuck, shed enjoy
throwing it over the balcony; until then, it was something she felt compelled to hold dear,
like a diamond chip, a gift he left behind.
She set the ashtray on the coffee table and resumed her comfy position, ginning at her
father and holding her silly little secret tight.
He smiled, his thick white brows raised and blue eyes sparkling. Nice party, honey.
Yes it was, wasnt it? she sighed and pushed long hair behind her shoulder.
Exactly what I wanted for you. A chance to meet your neighbors, make a few friends.
Youve been doing nothing but working since you got here, it was time, Tamara.

8
She nodded, sipped wine and blushed.
What? You met someone? The General sat at attention.
Sort of. I have a lunch date tomorrow.
A date? Well Id say it was a successful evening, wouldnt you? Who is this man?
Tamara shrugged; her blush intensifying as embarrassment rose. She was a thirty-four
year-old woman; she shouldnt be so damn excited about a lunch date. I just met him
tonight, dont know much about him. He travels a lot I understand.
Tam, the old man groaned. Maybe you should have talked a little more before you
accepted a date. The man could be married.
He could be, I guess. Its just lunch. No big deal.
His hand patted hers. Be careful, honey.
I try to be, her eyes lowered, watched the few drops of wine remaining in her glass.
David wasnt your fault, grunted the General, setting his cigar in the ashtray.
I know.
You better know. Now, maybe we should start cleaning up this mess.
Tamara, usually thrilled to spend any time with her dad, instead stood and pulled his coat
from the closet. Holding it up and she tilted her head. The housekeeper will be here in
the morning. Between the two of us, well have it done in no time. Go home and get
some sleep, dad.
Alright. I know when Ive worn out my welcome. Sleep sweet, honey, he kissed her
cheek and left the apartment.
Tamara was alone with a hundred half-filled glasses of booze, the scent of her fathers
cigar and the knowledge that Terrys cigarette butt was behind the toaster. Why did that
comfort her? She slipped the thing into a zip lock bag and walked through the rooms,
switching off lamps along the way and yawning wide. Hiding her little treasure in the
nightstand, she stripped and crawled beneath the sheets. And she tried to ignore her
excitement over a stupid lunch date that could turn out to be a disaster.
***
A half pain pill and the residual effects of the bourbon had done its job and Terry slept
like a baby. It wasnt usual for him after a case; his mind and body reacquainted with the

9
rigors of a difficult assignment, accustomed to light cat naps during the dry periods
awaiting contact or the tense hours during reconnaissance. But that night, he simply
dropped like a rock and he dreamed.
Dreams require reaching REM and a deep level of relaxation. Surprised hed gotten there,
he strangely knew he was dreaming too, and it was a good one; the kind sure to end up
wet and sticky.
Heated flesh under his palms, soft curves and rolling orgasms. He could even taste the
musky fluids in his mouth as one moment he was at his dream lovers core and the next at
a quivering breast. It was pleasant, it was intense and satisfying. And it was Tamara
Fillmore. He knew even before the confirmation of her hair, that ocean of dark copper
that seemed to caress and embrace him. He woke with a start at seven AM, just as he
expected wet and sticky. Terry actually chuckled before even opening his eyes.
He started his day on a positive note; he called his son and talked casual as any father.
Henry was at uni, doing well and making him proud. But, Henry was also just a young
bloke.
You sound bloody relaxed dad, never hear you like that much. Everything go well In
Columbia?
Yeah, very well. I even met a pretty sheila last night. Gorgeous redhead Im takin to
lunch.
Henry laughed. Better be on guard, dad. Redheads can be a handful, got one myself.
Just one?
Yeah this week.
Plans were tentatively made for the New Year when Terry hoped to fly across the pond
and visit, but plans were always tentative and Henry had come to accept and expect
changes.
Just let me know if youre off again, the young man said. Dad?
Yeah, Henry?
You okay? I mean, ya got through this one unscathed, right?
Im fine, mate. Ill call next week.
Or sooner if youre goin off to parts unknown dad I worry about you.
Terry grinned sadly. Makes us even.

10

His next call was to the rehab facility and included a long conversation with Dinos
therapist. Progress was being made, but slowly. Dino was booked until evening with a
series of new x-rays and tests to do a quarterly analysis of his recuperation and Terry
wouldnt be able to visit until then.
He might not be up for company, you know, Mr. Thorne. Its gonna be a rough one for
Dino.
Wont stick around long, mate. Just wanna see his shining face.
Im sure hell be glad to see you too. But honestly, tomorrow would be better.
Terry discounted the therapist. Ronald Griffin was a good bloke, worked Dino hard and
took extraordinary efforts to assure his patients progress. But he didnt know Dino that
well; didnt know Terry that well either. Terry was going to see his partner right after
dinner, rain or shine. He needed it, and so did Dino.
At eleven he showered and noticed that the stitches were drying, pulling miserable at
bruised flesh. No matter, meds were not in the cards that day. Splashing aftershave his
mind started to wander. Tamara Fillmore was a delight to look at and his suspicion was
shed be just as entertaining to talk with. If he played his cards right, close to his
damaged chest, he could get through the lunch. He knew no women in New York hed be
interested in perusing intimacy with. She was the first one hed stumbled across that had
taken his fancy. If they hit it off, he could find enjoyable time with a new friend during
his downtime. If he reached her mind, it could be stimulating. But, if he reached her heart
well then it could get complicated. In Terrys life, it was always best to draw the
line carefully, keep a woman just far enough to protect her from his work, but close
enough to find mutual satisfaction.
At her door he hesitated, instinct telling him that this woman was going to test his
resolve. But his decision was made. The less she knew and understood about his life, the
easier it would be to maintain at least a good friendship. He wanted that; compromise
would only make it hard. He sighed and tapped.
Terry, youre right on time. Her voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, the slight lilt
of a southern accent. Her smile, so inviting, he almost reached out to taste it.
He grinned, hoping too much of his deep pleasure wasnt showing. Here to escort you to
lunch, love.
He entered as she gathered coat and purse. The apartment was clean as a whistle. One
would never guess a party took place there less than twelve hours earlier. The
housekeeper came from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish cloth. She was older, grey
with a motherly mannerism. Mum wanted to know what was up, but Tamara managed
with finesse.

11

Ill be gone for a few hours, Carla. Your check is on the desk, just lock up when you
leave.
Yes, maam. Sure you dont want me to wait? I can; got nowhere else to be this
afternoon, she said, eyeing Terry suspiciously, making him grin again. Tamaras father
was an important guest at her party, and now the housekeeper was openly protective. He
was beginning to like this woman more and more.
No, no. Enjoy your day, Carla. Tamara turned to Terry, flipping a long silk scarf over
the shoulders of her coat. The silk was printed with elegant, intertwined swirls, all
picking up the colors of her hair and brightening her face. Im ready.
But was he? Terry cleared his throat and turned a smile to the old woman before they left.
Lunch was more than he expected. What she said didnt seem to matter; the fact that their
conversations rolled and vacillated, covering a wide variety of subjects and emotions,
told him more about her. She was very intelligent, soft and strong at once, as brilliantly
beautiful talking about happy things as exploring serious issues.
He found himself far more animated than usual, easily sliding the conversations from
subject to subject and enthralled with her responses. Oh yeah, they were on the same
page. They had similar work ethics and backgrounds, although Terry was careful to keep
his slightly vague. Their values were common. Both had suffered a rough marriage and
divorce. Both passionately loved their work at least Terry was passionate about his.
There were so many sacrifices involved he could hardly say he truthfully love it. He was
good at it. It was what he did.
So, Tamara sighed over a second glass of wine. Insurance.
Yes. Terry felt his gut tighten but her smile was so enticing it lit in her eyes.
You dont strike me as a nerd, Terry.
Ah, then my cover is successful. Fuck all, he didnt want the meal to end but it had.
Check in hand he raised a brow and shrugged to which she chuckled.
We have been here a long time. I guess its time to go back. Have you things to do this
afternoon?
Terry was holding her coat, thankfully not facing her or surely shed have seen the hope
in his eyes. It was an invitation. Pure and simple.
Not till this evening, visiting a mate in rehab.
Drugs? she turned concerned eyes.

12

Ah no. Physical rehab. An accident, eight months ago. Hes got a long, hard road
ahead. Just wanna check up on him.
Since youre in town so little, of course, she said softly.
Was she disappointed hed be busy that evening? Or concerned for Dino? Tamara was a
conundrum. Either she was masterfully manipulative or unnaturally opened, so
transparent he wanted to shelter her from everything. They walked out of the restaurant
and Terry raised an arm to hail a cab.
It happened so fast he almost didnt have the chance to correct it. A purse snatcher
charged the moment he released Tamaras arm. He slammed into her, scooting off with
the purse and Terry was on a feverish sprint after him. The bloke was brutal once he had
him by the arm, swinging hard and catching Terrys chest with a harsh blow. They were
less than fifteen yards from Tamara and Terry freed the man into the custody of the
restaurant doorman and scrambled back through gathering onlookers.
Tamara was on her butt, one of her shoes had flown across the walk. He retrieved it,
lowered to one knee, handed her the purse and slid the shoe onto her lovely small foot.
She was breathless. It was just a purse, not worth all that thank you thank you.
He let her sit a moment and looked into her eyes. You okay, darlin?
No, not at all. Just, she shrugged, embarrassed, I guess. She reached a hand for him
to help her up then gasped. Oh! Oh Terry! Youre hurt!
His overcoat and jacket were opened and a line of blood had oozed from behind bandages
and right through his pale blue shirt.
The promising, casual relationship had just gotten very complicated unless Terry
could manage some crisis control and bypass her intensely obvious worry.

13
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

TWO

Lets get ya home, love. Youre a little shaken. Terry helped her to her feet. An
uncharacteristically kind New Yorker had hailed a cab for them and they climbed in. He
said nothing during the fifteen block ride. What was there to say? He held her trembling
hand, hoping with all his might that she was shaking about the attempted purse snatching
and not the silly blood on his shirt. At her door, she quickly unlocked it and went inside,
pulling his arm to follow. She shed her coat, dropping it carelessly on the sofa and
reached to remove his.
Tamara, its nothing.
Youre bleeding, let me at least clean and cover it for you. Her fingers moved fast,
unbuttoning his shirt and he grasped them tight, looking at her concerned expression with
a sigh.
Ill do that up stairs. Come on. Its nothin.
She wasnt taking orders, no matter how gently he was giving them. His jacket and shirt
were off and she had tugged his tee shirt up, pulling it over his head. Bloody hell, this
wasnt how he wanted to be undressing with her. Fuck no, not even close. His body had
gone still, permitted her what she demanded and finally, spying the large blood stained
bandage she gasped.
Oh good God!
Another attempt to stop her hands but he couldnt seem to fight her. It wasnt that she
was strong or determined it was that she was so bloody gentle. She pulled at the tape
and finally exposed the entire wound.
Jesus! This is ten stitches?
Twelve, he groaned. She was intent on taking care of it and he was resigned, following
her to her bathroom where she pointed to the makeup chair and he sat. Peroxide in hand
bloody hell, he hated that shit she drenched a cotton ball and carefully, tenderly
cleaned the blood away. He looked down.
See, nothin. One pulled loose, nothin more. Not even bleeding anymore.
She continued her ministration and he sat still. The scent of her mixed with the peroxide
almost intoxicating him; he clenched his fists on his knees to keep from gripping her,

14
pulling her close and kissing her the way he wanted. Everything in him buzzed to touch
her. Not a good idea. Not now. Maybe not ever.
She finally taped new bandages over the stitches and went to work on his blood stained
shirt. Hed replaced the tee shirt, a red spot bold over his heart as she rushed water
through the fabric of the dress shirt then tossed it into the dryer conveniently hidden
behind the door in her master bath.
Come, Terry, she said, not looking at him. I need a drink.
He was feeling like a bit of a sad dog, walking at her heel to the lounge, accepting a
bourbon then sitting on the sofa. It wasnt until after she sat and sipped half her glass that
she finally cleared her throat. Perhaps now they could get on with it. Perhaps now he
could find a way to make a graceful escape, call it all a wash, begin the process of trying
to forget about the beautiful woman living on the sixth floor. It didnt go down like that.
She didnt throw him out or demand answers. She danced around the subject, slithering
so close to it he thought he was going blind; she was good, clean, direct in ways he didnt
expect.
You dont sell insurance, do you, Terry.
Yes, I do sell insurance. Its well I also take care of the insured. Good, he
thought. Evasive but not a lie.
Her brilliant blue eyes met his. Her face was slightly flushed and she bit her bottom lip.
What you do is it legal?
One side of his mouth raised a lopsided grin. Yes.
Tamara nodded. And doing your insurance selling work you sometimes get
hurt?
He had no answer, none he wanted to give her. How the bloody hell did they get to this
point so fast? Usually he could get at least a few dinners in, perhaps a roll in the sheets
before a woman bothered to ask those questions. He looked off into the distance. Its
just a cut, darlin.
And, she said so quietly he almost couldnt hear her. The old wound in your shoulder?
A bullet?
His chest deflated and Terry huffed, rubbed his eyes and figured hed try just a little
harder to save this. It was something he wanted to save. Tamara I dont really wanna
talk about this shit. I dont like talkin about it when Im having some quiet time. I dont
get much of it and when its like this, his eyes captured hers, I just kinda look for
I dunno normal. I know thats a lot to ask.

15
No. Actually its pitiful little to ask. Im prying and Im sorry. Its just that I like you,
Terry. I like you a lot. I have no right to think this, but I feel like I know things about
you. Something about you is good right.
She sighed, struggled with her thoughts and Terry was desperate to hear what she had to
say. Was he waiting for the axe? That point where she subtly told him to hit the road,
buried somewhere beneath compliments? Was it his ego that needed to hear nice things?
Or was it just her voice that seemed to hypnotize him. She was settled at one edge of the
sofa and he at the other, his knee drawn up, giving her his undivided attention.
Not a saint, love.
No. No one is. But, she curled her legs up and faced him. I like that you want to visit
your friend, recovering from that terrible accident even though thats not really being
normal. I like that you would come to meet a neighbor at a silly party, even though you
were so tired last night it was written all over your face. I like I like that you would
chase a purse snatcher that you put my shoe back on. It all feels, she shrugged,
noble.
He relaxed on the sofa. Let her ramble on and on.
I dont have many friends in New York; Ive only been here as long as you have. Im
I guess Im lonely and I feel so comfortable with you. I sense that youre lonely too. So, I
wont pry anymore. I just, she said, blinking as her eyes glowed with mounting tears. I
just
There are other things to talk about, ya know, he grinned. For example, I got a son.
Hes in university, back in London. Im very proud of him.
She smiled and frowned and listened as he talked of the rough road between him and
Henry, how theyd managed to work around the fact that he was basically an absentee
father, working all the time. He spoke of his amazement that Henry could forgive him for
that. And he talked about missing the important milestones in the young boys life.
I never had a chance to have a child, Tamara said when he quieted. Id have loved that
though.
He bit his tongue and she read his thoughts.
You can ask, its okay.
Alight, love. What happened?
We were married three years. It just never seemed like the right time to consider having
a baby; always something big going on in Davids important life. And me? I was just a

16
middle management marketing executive. It was a disconnected life for the most part.
Then he hit me. Hard.
Bloody hell, Terry hissed.
She shrugged. I left him. End of story. End of marriage. But its really hard not to
feel that failure, you know?
You didnt fail, Tamara. He did. It was the end of his story, the tosser.
The dryer buzzed and she left, returning with his warm shirt. He stood and pulled it on,
smoothing it down his chest, tying his tie and finally reaching for his jacket and coat. I
should let you go. Been takin up your whole afternoon.
She smiled. It was fun. She wanted to ask him what he was doing for dinner, if she
could cook for him; anything to hold him from leaving.
Gotta get to see Dino. Ill pick up that shitty fast food he likes, sit with him a while, see
how hes comin along. She was standing so close he thought hed jump right out of his
skin. His hand took hers and held it, wanting to pull her into an embrace, still unsure of
where they stood. Can I call ya later?
She brightened. Yes! I like having a friend in the building. Id like it if you call later
or you can stop by if you like.
His hand cupped her face. Terry couldnt hold himself back another second. His mouth
lowered, could feel the heat of her lips and the doorbell rang. He sighed, stepped back
and she blinked. The spell was broken. She reached around and opened the door.
Daddy, she ginned wide and the old man entered, eyeing Terry from head to foot.
Daddy, this is Terry Thorne. Terry, this is my father, General Charles Hartford.
Dgay, General, Terry said respectfully, shaking the mans hand.
Retired army, Thorne. Nice to meet you. He looked to Tamara. Im sorry honey; I
thought your lunch would be long over. I can pop by another time.
No worries, Terry grinned. I was just leaving.
A pleasant lunch, I assume? The old mans bushy white brows rose.
Very sparked with a bit of purse snatchin to keep a bloke on his toes. Im sure
Tamara will tell ya all about it. Gotta run, love. And he leaned down, pecking a chaste
kiss on her cheek. Ill call later.
***

17

After changing his shirt, splashing cold water on his face and wondering if a cold shower
was in order, he hailed a cab and headed for Dino. His mind was disjointed, clacking
about in his head. It had all started with a not so positive impression of the party host and
had since vacillated into something else all together. Tamara was a conundrum, an
enigma. Every moment spent with her pushed him into areas of his locked heart he hadnt
seen in years. Was it wise to continue? To want this so much? He groaned, watching
Manhattan slide past the window. What he dared to think he wanted was sure to crash
and burn. His marriage had, every relationship he ever had did that. Friendships were
rare; real friendships, the kind where a bloke could talk freely and let out frustrations
about work and women, life in general. The lack of those sort of interactions left Terry to
feel incomplete. Beneath the word friend was more when Tamara spoke it, much more.
Could he handle more? Oh yeah, he wanted it, but was he up to the task?
Task? He huffed and shuffled in the cab. It was a woman, not a case not a test of his
mettle. Or was it?
Over MacDonalds burgers and fries, he sat and chatted with Dino, swallowing down the
terrible food along with his observations of his once physically powerful best mate. The
damage was deep, far deeper than a snapped spine. Yes, the therapists were working
miracles and Dino was proud to say he actually walked holding strong against two
railings but it was vertical mobility, all the same. And all this after only eight months.
Eventually, eventually, Dino grinned, stuffing fries into his mouth.
How can you eat this bloody garbage? Terry chuckled, pushing his meal aside and
looking around. The facility was top notch, the best money could buy but there are things
money cant buy. They hadnt once talked about the business since the accident. Hadnt
explored the obvious new dynamics theyd need to put in play. He and Dino were the top
negotiators and primary field operatives, taking the lead with every important case,
bringing about positive results at a staggering eighty-eight percent rate. But with only
one of them working the serious case load, things were bound to deteriorate. Why the
bloody hell hadnt they taken this sort of possibility into consideration? Of course, he
knew why. To think about failure was to invite it. Neither partner was good at inviting
failure.
Alright, Dino pushed his wheelchair back and turned it. Push my sorry ass, Im beat.
We gotta talk, buddy.
Terry positioned himself behind the man and gripped the handles. A wave of misery
pummeled him, disappointment, fear bordering on devastation. They shouldve planned
for such a thing; it could have easily been him and not Dino in a bloody wheelchair.
Things should have been prepared; its a contingency any smart businessman would have
considered. And now? To have put it off for so long? It was almost laughable. The
lounge? he asked just outside the dining room.

18
Nah, my room. It was s silent trip up in the elevator and into the room.
Terry braced himself to lift the man onto his bed. It wouldnt be the first time, and after
the rough day Dino had, it seemed only right.
Dont fucking coddle me. Sit down, Terry. We need to talk.
Sure. Sure, mate. Sup?
Stupid question. Dino eyed his partner and Terry sighed. You got through the Roswell
case unharmed?
Yeah, I did.
Youre a fucking liar. I might look like a goddamn cripple but I can dial a damn phone.
Enough with this shit. Im not a woman you need to protect from the details. I already
know the details. And I know it shouldnt have happened.
Terry shrugged, stood to look out the window. Dino continued, he was irritable from all
the tests and manipulations, and he was on a roll. No point in even trying to stop him.
Were getting old, Terry. Carrying double duty just isnt smart and thats what youve
been doing. A knife wound to the chest? Jesus fucking Christ, man. Where was your
goddamn Kevlar?
Terry didnt answer. The extraction came hard and fast. He had his Kevlar, but it
wasnt even strapped on. He deserved the lecture and hed take it. Needless to say,
coming from Dino it hurt more than the bloody wound.
Things have got to change. Dino continued. Weve got several damn good negotiators
and at least six field operatives that are ready to move up. Bring Dancer in from London,
that guys gotta be looking for work, hes an adrenalin hound and damn good. Utilize
Wallace and Simpson.
Terry turned to look at his partner. His hands were animated as was his expressions.
Whatre ya sayin mate?
Im saying youre grounded for a while. That casualty should have never happened.
Youre overstretched, buddy. Good for nothing but a disaster in the making. Ive
instructed the office to keep you out of the field for a while.
A while?
Yeah. Six weeks, two months, whatever it takes to get your head and your body
sharpened again.

19
And, you made this decision alone? I own the bloody business too, Dino.
I said he turned the wheelchair and managed in one flip of arms and nearly dead
legs to mount the bed. Youre grounded.
Why are ya doin this, mate?
Friendship practicality. You need some fucking downtime. Im not going to risk you,
Terry. End of story. He shuffled and tugged sheets over himself. Beside, if the tables
were turned, youd do the same thing to me. Buck up and take it. Now, whos the
woman?
Terry blinked, lowered into a chair. What makes ya think theres a woman?
I can smell it all over you. Dino grinned. Who is she?
Just met her. He was suddenly protective of a relationship he didnt even have yet.
Ah, I see. I got an interesting phone call just before you got here. A General Charles
Hartford.
Bloody hell, Terry groaned, realizing that any good father, especially a military father,
would nip this thing in the bud without a second thought. Her father.
That explains her attraction to your ugly mug, Dino chuckled. Army brats like
soldiers.
She doesnt know what I do, Dino. I guess she will now.
Nope. The Generals an up front sort. He asked the questions than said he wouldnt say
a word to his daughter. Thats your job. But, I dont think hes gonna like it much if you
wait too long. She pretty?
Realizing that sex was a remote possibility for Dino unless a miracle happened, Terry
avoided elaborating. Yeah, real pretty.
Good, get some for me. Now you sticking around New York or what?
Thought you gave me an order, Terry teased.
Answer me, you sticking around?
Yeah.
At least six weeks, right?

20
Terry blinked, realizing there was an ulterior motive at play. He cleared his throat. They
schedule another surgery?
Yeah, another magical mystery tour through my spine. The men were silent, looking at
their hands. Finally Dino spoke quietly. Youre the only friend I have, Terry. Got no
family, no wife. Be nice to know someones going to be here when I wake up.
Ill be here.

21
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

THREE

Terry wasnt tired when he got home. He tossed on a pair of sweats and sat, then lounged
on the sofa, aimlessly switching channels on the telly and checking his watch. If he could
sit tight until ten, it would be officially too late to pop down and visit with Tamara, but
perhaps not too late to call. Her number was tattooed on this brain, rolling and repeating
like a mantra over the stupid movie playing on the screen, driving him mad. At ten to ten
he stood, unaware of what he was actually doing. A pair of jeans, fresh shirt and shoes
miraculously mounted his body and he was in the elevator pushing six before he realized
he was going to her.
Knocking on the door he suddenly felt the need to turn and run. Facing her meant telling
her everything and his imagination was playing out a scene of innocence, of purity.
Talking it all out tainted that vision, altered it into something far more precarious. Before
she opened the door he made a conscious decision; see where it goes, say what he had to
say only if he had to say it, and just hope for the best. Her smiling face calmed his racing
heart and sped his pulse at once. His body buzzed with the confusion and an
extraordinary need he hadnt felt for years. Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat and
attempted a smile.
Hey, love. Ya said I could just stop in.
Yes! Of course. Have you eaten?
Some. Thought maybe a drink?
But he didnt finish his thought, his lips found hers and they stood at the opened door,
tight in a frantic embrace that burned every inch of his flesh. Terry drew in a deep breath
and broke the kiss with a gasp.
Too fast? Sorry darlin. Sorry.
No. Dont say that. Im not sorry and I dont want you to be sorry. Terry, I dont want a
drink I want you.
It had been months since Terry had touched a woman, months since hed felt the charging
rush of his blood at the sensation of soft flesh beneath his fingertips. Slow wouldnt fly
here, and Tamara was moving with him, fast and desperate. Clothes dropped as they
embraced, moving, spinning toward her bed. One hand worked the clips of her bra as the
other gripped blankets and swept them away. Naked, trembling, he pressed her onto the
mattress. His lips sought every warm surface of her, every wet place. He lapped and

22
sucked, begged reaction that came at his slightest command. Tamara sighed and moaned
and finally cried out.
There was no way to hold the moment, his body demanded everything and demanded it
now. Pressing into her he watched her face. Such a beautiful face, her eyes glowing, her
cheeks flushed, soft mouth panting. Another dive for a kiss to carry him over the edge.
His hips pounded hard, slamming against her softness. His tongue dove and thrust to
match the rest of him. A gasp, a grunt and the explosion was there, full, copious and
almost immediately wanting more. He pressed deeper, hissing through his teeth.
Jesus! Bloody hell! Dropping over her they slid, sweat against sweat but he held close,
releasing the last few drops of his offering with a groan of agonizing pleasure. Terry
quickly caught his breath and kissed her mouth, suckled a breast until his heart smoothed
to a normal rhythm and he relaxed at her side.
Wow, she sighed and Terry chuckled.
Cuddling her tight to his chest her fingertips slithered over the bandages and he felt his
heart tighten, but Tamara asked nothing, demanded nothing. She snuggled closer and
softly kissed his shoulder. How is your friend? Her voice came like a whisper.
It was a wave of relief he did not expect. Was it possible this was a woman who
respected his wishes? Most didnt; they turned requests into demands that were destined
to crumble everything. Tamara seemed to comprehend the fragility of it all. How could
he ever repay her? He marveled that his desire to show her the same respect made him
want to tell her everything he was hoping to hold private. It was a conundrum Terry
wasnt quite prepared for. He found himself grinning, looked down into her face.
Dinos doin as well as can be expected. Had a tough day, so irritability was the name of
the game. Been working with that bloke a lot of years; used to his irritability.
She shuffled, watched him talk. How bad is it, really?
Terry shrugged. At first they said hed never move again, now he can lift himself from
wheelchair to bed, gettin stronger that way. His legs cant quite hold his weight yet, but
theres a possibility he will walk again. Terry shrugged. Most we can do is pray and
hope for the best every time they go in again.
How many operations has he had? Her face was pale with concern and it made Terrys
heart ache.
Three. Another one is scheduled for next month.
Oh dear. His family is close?
Uh no family, love. His parents passed years ago, no wife.

23

Tamara sat up, pulling sheets to cover herself. Good God, what if youre out of town?
Who will be there for him? She blinked, pushed back loose dark red hair. If you think
he wouldnt mind, Id be happy to check in on him every few days.
Terrys head tilted and he shuffled to lean against the headboard. Youd do that? Ya
dont even know Dino.
Tamara shrugged. Hes your friend, important to you. It would be my pleasure.
It was one of the most unselfish things hed ever heard and all this after knowing her
less than forty-eight hours. What had he found in this woman? Could it be real? And
was there a chance he could tell her more? Not everything, not yet. Knowing what he did
for a living tended to scare women away or make them demanding harpies, insisting
he stop doing what he did best. Maybe he could say just a little? Maybe not.
Thatd be great, Tamara. Dino does adore beautiful women. But Ill be sticking round
town until after the surgery, probably six weeks.
Her eyes widened, the sheets tightened at her breasts. Oh uh I sort of I thought
you might be leaving town again soon I uh
His heart sank. Hey, no worries love. Dont plan to monopolize your time. I got work at
the office, you got work. Friends. Obligations. Just sorta hoped I could see you
occasionally.
Occasionally? Her face brightened and she chuckled, lowering her face to his chest for
a sweet cuddle. Jeeze, Terry. I want to see you more than occasionally. Its just that if
I knew youd be home and not rushing off again I might have been well a little
less wanton, you know.
He laughed, kissed her brow, his eyes twinkling. I thought it was me bein so
wanton.
***
Henry knew better. He had to know better; his father was very clear on traveling as safely
as possible; having a clean itinerary providing distinct ways of being tracked. That meant
letting someone know when he was leaving, where he was staying and exactly when hed
be back at uni. But this time it didnt go that way. It was fast, his best mate coming into
money and wanting a little play time in Amsterdam; a weekend holiday of mushrooms,
naked women and fun. Irresistible. Dad would definitely not approve oh, not the fun
part, fun was permitted within reason and nothing would be illegal. It was the super fast
plan that Terry would have bulked at. Henry rationalized; he wouldnt even talk to his
father until the next week and by then, hed be home, back to classes and well recovered.
A brief flight out, two days and nights of pleasure and home, clean as a whistle. But,

24
Henry couldnt help but feel a bit of guilt at doing it that way, even considered calling to
get his fathers approval.
But then again, why? He wasnt a child, didnt really need permission. And besides,
Terry couldnt possibly think he deserved a constant update on Henrys choices. The man
had so little to do with his life for most of his life right? The real guilt didnt set in
until Henry climbed on the plane, not having notified his mother about the little jaunt
either.
Bloody hell. He shook it off. He was a grown man, a rational man with plans to enter the
Royal Marines in two short years. He wasnt about to do anything to jeopardize that or
disappoint his parents not to mention his grandfather, the General. It would be fine,
just fine.
He leaned back in the seat and relaxed, forcing a grin and trying to get into the spirit of
the adventure ahead.
***
Terry sat at his desk and turned from the threatening correspondence in his hand. He
swiveled the chair and sighed, viewed the city outside the window and marveled at how
similar yet different things had become. His life had taken on the form of overlaying
images that had somehow become blended, meshed, creating new points of view hed
never actually considered before.
Beneath his work was Tamara. For a week theyd been nearly inseparable. Sensations of
stability and surety had crept into his work hours, softening the inevitable blows that
came with every moment, every new case, every decision that had to be made. His
secretary had actually commented earlier that morning that he looked like a rather
pleasant man for a change, that his edge had softened and that shed love to have a
little of whatever had changed Terry Thorne. He grinned, it was an entertaining thought,
one of those lesbian moments all men let slither into their psyche every once in a while.
But as much as he liked his secretary he wasnt about to even imagine sharing
Tamara.
The softness comment had concerned him a bit, though. His business wasnt the kind
that allowed such weakness. The letter in his hand confirmed such things. A threat, clear
and simple. Terry had pissed off more than a few kidnapping rings in his day, but things
were getting rougher since Dinos accident. With Terry handling most of the major
negotiations, he was getting easier and easier to peg and apparently track down. If
they knew where his office was and knew he was there what else did they know?
He had a few options. He could move, take Tamara with him, get them both into a more
secure apartment building. He could follow the intelligence, trust that the threatening
letter was just that, a letter with no intent behind it not an assumption he was likely to
accept. He could beef his own security up. Make sure he had a tail at all times.

25

Now how the bloody hell would he explain all that to Tamara?
Six nights in her bed and he had yet to tell her what he did for a living. Being grounded
didnt seem to change the dynamics of his job; there were still threats; he was still needed
at all hours of the day or night to advice his negotiators around the world; he still looked
for ways to worry and protect. And now, he had another person to protect. If he hadnt
fallen in love with Tamara, he was well on the way so much so, there was no way to
stop it even if he wanted to.
He tried keeping it clear in his mind. She was a Downtime Woman, nothing more
surely after he did head off for another case, shed be gone, on to another more stable,
opened man and Terry would be alone again. It was the basic dynamic of his life. Period.
Falling in love was not the wisest choice if he had a choice that is.
He didnt.
He spoke with two of his men, top intel and already prepared to answer his questions
regarding the letter before they entered the office.
Thorne, forget about it. Its an empty threat, although were ready and staffed to put
security on you and your female friend
What? Terry grunted, shocked they even knew about his private time on the sixth floor.
Were good at what we do, sir, chuckled the nerd wearing thick glasses. Shes pretty,
thats for sure. But like I said, were prepared for cover you both if youre really that
concerned.
Terry shuffled in the chair and rolled his neck. He didnt like that they knew about
Tamara, but he hated it even more that the possible danger would obviously extend to
her. Forget watching me. Watch my female friend. Starting right now. He tossed the
correspondence to the desk and turned his back to the men. Watching the lights
brightening the New York skyline against the growing dusk, he listened to his guests
leave.
Maybe it was time to start explaining things to Tamara. Just not that night, or the next.
Sunday night would be best, give them both the buffer of their workweek, offices and
associates to ease the blow. He was already beginning to see the weekend as his last
hurrah with the women hed already let too deep into his heart.

26
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

FOUR

He had an ego, but there were areas in Terry Thornes life that still maintained a healthy
level of humility. Lovemaking is an art he was never really sure he had mastered. Sex
was a tentative thing with his lifestyle. Hit and miss at best and he seldom stayed long
enough with a woman to really get the hang of her rhythm. He knew he was good, but
was he good enough? Of course, Tamara made him feel like the king of her bed her
sofa her bathtub her floors and countertops. The weekend was spectacular, as were
all the weeknights hed spent with her previously. She had a shyness that counterbalanced
a saucy boldness a tenderness that seemed to come from a tigress a softness that
sufficiently sheathed her steel sturdy backbone. This woman had it all.
And she had Terrys heart. Good, but not so good.
Several times over the past few days, hed caught a glimpse of the tail hed assigned to
watch over her; the covert bodyguard that stayed far enough away to respect that Terry
would handle her protection when he was around, but close enough to scrutinize even a
cab driver who picked her up for work when Terry wasnt. It was a comfort, and a
reminder that he had some unfinished business.
Unfinished business? Hardly. This was business Terry should have faced and taken care
of long ago. It was time to tell his lover about the dangers of his life and explain how
they were possibly spilling over into hers. Now didnt that sound like a delightful convo?
He thought not; so much so that there he was, three days past his self imposed deadline
and still un-confessed.
He rolled over, his hands soothing her trembling flesh and his body demanding
connection. Sex with her was addictive and Terry had become a willing addict. There
were times, alone in his office, when he could close his eyes and taste her come on his
lips, smell her scent, feel her energy. She had become opium for him, soothing, enticing,
intoxicating. The reason he hadnt fessed up was simple. He knew he might never again
get another fix. Would he starve without her? Quite possibly. But rationally it was
time.
He groaned and pulled away, padding to the bathroom for a badly needed cold shower
and a dash of brilliance that just might get him through it all. Thats when he realized, the
addiction was mutual.
Her hand slithered into the shower stall and twisted the faucet knob. The water heated to
steam and Tamara swiveled around him, preparing to lower to her knees and clean him
before taking him into her hot, luscious mouth. Desperation pressed his gut and he

27
gripped her upper arms, pushed her against the tile shower wall and kissed her madly. It
was hard and brutal; it felt animal and just as needy as it was. One more time, just once
more. To love her deep and passionately once more before she looked at him differently.
He took full advantage.
When finally he carried her to the bed, kissed her tenderly and pushed back the soaked
strands of her hair, Terry sighed. She was exhausted. Timing is everything and such a talk
at three AM just wasnt optimum. He too was bone tired. It would have to wait until
morning.
Relief drenched through him, seeping into his muscles and mind and he crawled in to
snuggle at her side. Together they dropped into a deep dreamless sleep, intertwined arms,
legs and fingers beneath the sheets.
***
Yes, timing is everything, and it was not working for Terry. At exactly three-thirty five
AM his time had run out.
He jerked awake, hearing the muffled sound of his cell phone screeching the emergency
alert ring from somewhere under his clothing in the corner. He dropped to his knees from
the mattress, reaching in the darkness, his eyes still unfocused and his heart racing.
Locating the cell he turned to see Tamara sitting up.
What is it? she asked. He stood and left the bedroom.
Yeah?
Terry, its me.
Dino? What the fuck? he glared at the cell phone. You okay, mate?
Yes, Im Im okay. Terry, Im sorry, You gotta get to the office and you gotta get on
a plane.
Terry sighed, leaned against the wall outside the bedroom door and rubbed his eyes. Even
good plans go wrong. Who was he kidding, thinking he had six whole weeks of rest? But
he did have two. He glanced toward the opened door. Two weeks of the restless kind of
rest every healthy red-blooded bloke needed. What have they got for me, and why are
you calling? Alert triggered in his gut, making it roll painfully. Dino? What the bloody
hell has happened?
He listened as Dino drew in a long breath and let it out real slow. It was what he did
when he was gearing up for passing on bad news. For a moment, Terry thought hed go
mental. Just spit it out! he hissed, still very aware of his lover, just inside the opened
bedroom door.

28

Alright. Terry Henrys been taken.

When? Terry found his mind moving into automatic pilot. If he let this shift from his
head to his heart he might simply drop dead right there in the hall.
Two days ago. Amsterdam. But I dont think thats where theyre holding him. Get to
the office; the guys are ready to brief you. Terry?
Hed slid down the wall; hit the floor with a thump of his arse. He cleared his throat.
Terry? You okay?
Fuck no. And he hung up.
Tamaras hand reached down to him and Terry took it, stood with a miserable groan then
snapped instantly into action. He turned to rush into the bedroom but Tamara stopped
him.
Here, I have your clothes, she said calmly, watching him dress. His eyes never met
hers. Finally she left for the kitchen.
Terrys intention was to run out, leave her and the untold secrets behind and get to Henry
as quickly as possible. The smell of brewing coffee pulled his mind and emotions to the
next level. He sighed and moved close behind her; not touching her, taking in the scent
and warmth of her back. His fingers twitched and a tear glazed his eyes. I gotta go, he
said.
She turned, looked up into his pained expression. I understand.
But she didnt and it was his fault she didnt.
Tamara, this is what I do. I sell kidnap and random insurance and when when
when a client is taken hostage I go He couldnt finish.
She nodded numbly. I see. Then you have to go. When will you be back?
I fuck darlin, I dunno. Could be soon, could be he almost choked. She pulled out
a chair and he willingly lowered into it. They got my son.
Jesus!
***
I understand they call it downtime, General Hartford said gently to his daughter.
Tamara had actually called off sick from work; she had taken a cab all the way to the

29
country club on Long Island just to track down her father. And she had asked the
questions Charlie Hartford didnt want to be answering. He thought hed made it clear to
Mr. Thornes partner that it was Terrys responsibility to explain things to Tamara.
Perhaps, under the circumstances any soldier might let an order slip but it was still a
goddamn order. Granted, he wasnt Thornes superior but a modicum of professional
respect was certainly expected. Then again, if he was a young man embarking on a
promising new relationship, would he have held off as long as possible? Possibly.
Probably. Yeah, most likely he would have done the same thing with the same results.
Downtime? Tamara was crying, her face wet and hair wild. They were alone in a
private dining room; it was the only place the General could think of for a private
conversation with his distraught little girl.
Yes, downtime. The lull between cases. But men in that profession dont usually get
much downtime, honey.
She sniffled, pushed a ratty Kleenex across her cheek. So, what youre saying is
Charles shifted in his chair and gripped her hand. This kind of work is difficult, Tamara.
When things get rough, only the toughest men can see this through. It can take weeks or
months; some have worked years to gain freedom for a hostage. The hostages are in dire,
life threatening situations. I will tell you this much, men who do this are hard core,
dedicated and committed to seeing it through. It starts with negotiations
Years?
He ignored her with a huff, a sign that she needed to pay attention, follow the program
and listen carefully. Tamara knew that signal and quickly blinked, then nodded for him to
continue.
It starts with negotiations. Sometimes thats all it takes, but if you say they have his son,
I can assure you itll take more. A lot more. No matter, he rolled his neck, glad hed
done his homework on Thornes business. This particular company has a low tolerance
level for screwing around with numbers. Its why theyre so damn successful.
What happens if negotiations break down? Terror was in her eyes but he couldnt
break, someone had to tell her the truth of it all. He tilted his head and she gasped.
You know what happens, Tamara.
Oh, she said softly, thinking about the ugly slice across Terrys chest; imagining how
bad it could have been and envisioning how he must have received the bullet wound scar
on his shoulder.
Honey, Charles ran a thumb down her wet cheek. Maybe this isnt the man for you.

30
There was no hesitation. Her head shook and eyes widened. Oh daddy, its too late. Way
too late.
Way too late. Of course it was. He leaned back and tried to change the heavy mood. He
winked and grinned. Why dont you go on to the ladies room and fix your face. Ill take
you for some breakfast, hows that sound?
She sighed, shrugged and left the table. If nothing else she could get in a few more good
sobs alone in the ladies room. She had makeup and a hairbrush in her purse so she could
at least look presentable within a reasonable amount of time. What Tamara didnt have in
her purse was the assurance that she could get through the trials ahead; the concerns for
Terry, for his son, and for his struggling friend facing surgery again soon. The best she
could hope for was that Terry knew she was standing at his side if not physically, most
certainly emotionally. The look in his eyes before he left her was horrifying. He needed
all the strength he could get to manage it all, it was obvious.
***
Before she turned the bend the General was dialing his cell. The first call was swift and
efficient. But the second call? He huffed and fingered the phone, easily locating the
phone number and counting to ten to control his temper before pressing dial.
He was adamant with the secretary, stating that it was imperative that General Charles
Hartford speak with Mr. Terrence Thorne immediately. When finally Terry answered,
Charles had full control of his anger.
General Hartford, Terry said brusquely but Charles could hear the misery behind his
words. How can I help you, sir?
How can I help you, Thorne? You need some assistance?
Obviously Tamara had run to daddy and obviously Terry was expecting something other
than an offer of help. Uh, he said blankly. Yeah. Watch over her, sir. Ive got a covert
guard on her.
Yes, I know. The Country Club is private and they wouldnt let him in.
Terry was silent.
Oh, dont worry, he got in. So, who is our new friend? he said, spotting the strange
non-member sitting and pretending to read the newspaper right outside the ladies room.
His names Allen Patrick, sir. Former military police.
Good, Ill be buying a coffee for Mr. Patrick. No need to keep him a secret any longer.
Now again, do you need assistance, Mr. Thorne?

31

Sir, Terry rubbed his eyes. His team was talking around the conference table, making
final preparations and handing Starbucks coffee cups around. I wont put you in harms
way. Youve done your time, General.
Charles snorted. Not me, you fool. You know, Thorne he said thoughtfully, maybe
youre not the right person for this particular case.
Theres no one else, General, Terry sipped coffee and looked over the flight itinerary.
Last chance, do you need assistance?
Terry blinked. Hed be doing this alone. Perhaps he should hear what the General had to
offer. Yeah, I can use assistance.
Good. I have a man, black ops, covert expert. I can have him up there
Ah, sir, Im leaving in ten minutes, Terry said, disappointed that help was so close and
yet so far away.
Again Charles grunted a chuckle. Hes in your lobby waiting. His name is Andy Wilder,
but call him Wildcat. Youll figure out why soon enough. Youll recognize him or
hell recognize you. Good luck, Mr. Thorne.
General Tamara tell her
Tell her what?
Tell her I tell her Im sorry.

32
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

FIVE

Ten minutes rolled into twenty feverish minutes of planning and covering possibilities.
Everything was standard, tried and true procedure, but something didnt feel right. Terry
shook it off, gathered his kit and heaved his duffle. In the lobby he headed straight for the
revolving doors.
Mr. Terrence Thorne?
He turned to see the man General Hartford sent. Not a massive man but definitely sturdy
and strong enough. Only inches taller than Terry, Andy Wilder had the look of former
military. He wasnt old but he wasnt a kid either. His eyes were clear and intense. Dark
eyes, almost black. Matching that was very dark hair just a tad longer than regulation
army. But he was groomed, well groomed and sharp as a tack. Terrys guess was that
Wilder was most likely a former Marine. His face was broad and his nose showed signs
of several battles, a few of them surely in pubs.
Mr. Wilder, Terry grunted and shook the extended hand.
Wildcat, sir. Are we ready to go?
Yeah, yeah we are. Terry eyed the mans duffle. General Harford really must have a
stable of standbys just sitting, packed and ready to jump at his call. This was strange but
so was everything else about the case. Hed take what he could get.
They climbed into a cab and Terry directed the driver to a private airstrip north of the
city. He drew in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. So, Wildcat. Well have a briefing
on the plane.
The General has giving me an outline. Tell me, Mr. Thorne. Do you have a photo of
your son on you?
What? Now that was an odd question that nearly knocked Terry off his bearings. It
wasnt tough enough to be dragged from normalcy back into the trenches of a hostage
crisis situation this one was complicated with personal ramifications.
Just a picture, sir.
Wildcat looked calm, like maybe it was some sort of technique he used when working to
free a captive. Some K&R operatives do that too; go as far as carrying the photo of the
hostage their working to save in their wallets, right next to the wife and kiddies, old Aunt

33
Bertha and the dog. Terry rolled and tugged his wallet from the hip pocket. He flipped it
open; he had several photos of Henry. The one he chose to show Wildcat was taken most
recently, just before Henry entered uni.
Did he give that picture to you?
Yeah.
He handed it over but Wildcat didnt really look at it. He drew in a deep breath and
closed his eyes, the photo flat between his palms. After a silent moment a grin tugged at
one corner of his mouth that was almost immediately replaced by a scowl and knotted
brows. His eyes opened and he handed the photo back. Where are we headed, sir?
Terry didnt immediately replace the photo. Amsterdam.
Wrong way.
What? Terry shifted to look at the man.
A contrite expression painted Wildcats features and he shrugged. Wrong way. Listen,
Henrys okay right now, but hes not in Amsterdam. Actually, hes not even in Europe. I
suggest you call your pilot and tell them youve got a change in destination.
To where? Bloody hell, was he really listening to this bloke? Did he have time to waste
like that?
Egypt. Im seeing someplace near Giza. Maybe Cairo.
What the bloody hell are ya talking about? Terry was losing his temper. He was taken
in Amsterdam less than seventy-two hours ago.
And the flight from Amsterdam to Cairo takes less than five hours.
Terry blinked. Stop the bloody cab, he hissed and the cabbie pulled over. Get out.
Listen, Mr. Thorne. Maybe General Harford should have told you a little about me
its nothing bad, he only calls me in when he really thinks I can help. Im fucking
psychic. There. Use it or dont. Aside from that Im a damn good soldier and Id be
honored to fight on your side to get your son free.
Psychic. Youre fuckin kidding, right?
Sorry, wish I was. Its helped in some pretty tangled cases. But if it bugs you, I can keep
it to myself, sir.

34
Cairo? Terrys mind swam and spun then suddenly clamped down hard onto
something, a case that gone pretty bad for the kidnappers less that a year ago. One where
Terry was seen and identified. The hostage was rescued and most of the kidnappers
caught or dead. Not all though. Terrys cover was destroyed for that area. And as the
threatening letter had stated, revenge was being leveled big time. Shit, it makes
sense.
The cabbie was back to speeding along the New York winter highways and Terry was on
his cell, letting his office and his pilot know this newest development. What the fuck
else do I need to know about you before we get on with this? he grunted after hanging
up.
The rest unfolds as we go, grinned Wilder.
Former Marine?
Yes, sir. And the General tells me youre former SAS. Im guessing well get on just
fine.
Long as you dont start telling government secrets in your sleep, well be bonzer. Terry
sat back and relaxed. Whats your association with a retired army general?
Wilder snorted and grinned. Ever seen his daughter?
There was no more conversation.
***
Being left behind is tough, Dino was saying as Tamara rolled his wheelchair to the
common lounge. They chose a place far from the television and sat quietly.
Her father had brought her, spoke briefly and privately with Terrys partner then left her
to visit. It was strange, she truly didnt know what to make of Dino and he knew it.
But he was trying. He sipped a cup of tea and smacked his lips, hoping to get a grin and
getting a lovely one. This crap is always better with a shot of Southern Comfort.
Good to know, perhaps I can smuggle a bottle in next time.
He watched her face. The poor woman had been blindsided. But then again, so had Terry.
Nothing about the situation was easy and it held no promise of getting easier.
Why didnt he tell me? Her lovely eyes rose and Dinos breath caught. No wonder his
partner had fallen head over heels for this one. Hell, he would have too. Still might.

35
Listen, honey. He wanted to; I know that for a fact. Im thinking he was just hoping for
enough time to make things solid before he dropped the bomb.
But years? My father told me that some K&R operatives work on a case far from home
for years.
Not us, sweetheart. But, it could be months. And, it could be
Deadly. How on earth can you people have a normal life?
Dinos head tilted and his brows cocked. We cant. Dont know of one working
operative with a strong relationship, much less a stable marriage or even steady
girlfriend. You need to understand the reasons we do this, Tamara.
Understanding the reasons is the easy part. Figuring out how to make something
impossible, work? Now that seems much harder.
So youll try?
She nodded, determined not to let even one tear fall. Of course. Will he call me?
He may not. This can be intense. On a normal mission, there might be some quiet
moments to touch base with home, but the closer things get to action, the less likely it is
hell call. It has to do with keeping your head in the right place. Distraction costs lives
could cost the hostages life, could cost Terrys. Hell focus. Really focus.
And this is his son. My God, how can he do this? Hes got to be losing his mind.
Dino shook his head slowly. I know Terry. Hes saving his mind for the important
things. Dont think for one minute youre not in his head, youre just tucked away
someplace dark and safe and quiet. Ive seen him do this before. The problem has never
been his intentions not to follow through and have a real relationship the problem has
always been well
The woman? Hes come home and the woman has left him? Why on earth would she do
such a thing?
Its hard being left behind. Thats all I can say. Real, real hard.
I can cope, she said quietly.
Fuck, honey I hope so. But if you cant you need to be fair to yourself. Hell manage
no matter, Im sure. His first concern is going to be that youre okay.
Im okay. Ive got that body guard, she grinned sadly. Ive got my work, my father
you.

36

Me? Well sweetheart, we wont be going dancing for a while.

Tamara tried to keep the deep concern from her face. When is the next surgery
scheduled?
Next Monday. They moved it up. Never told Terry. Nothing for you to worry about.
Ill be here, Dino. Ill be right her waiting for you.
***
So many things about Andy Wilder were odd; Terry could hardly wait to get some intel
on the man. The moment they checked into their hotel rooms, smack dab in the center of
Cairo, Egypt, Terry sat down and called his office.
Get Manning to do a bit of research for me, he was saying and his private assistant
interrupted.
Is this concerning Mr. Wilder?
Yeah.
I have General Hartford to speak with you.
Sure, Terry grunted. Patch him through.
Oh, hes here, at your desk. One moment please.
At my desk? What the bloody hell?
Thorne, before you get your Aussie panties in a twist, let me explain why Im in your
office.
Appreciate that, General. Why the bloody hell are you at my desk? Security at his
office was maximum; everything about this case was high security. How could a retired
army general find his way into the inner sanctum?
Tamara and I went to pay your partner a visit. Hes given me clearance to work with
your people, help where I can, take the load off you.
After a hard swallow, Terry nodded. Fine, now tell me about this bloke you gave me.
Hartford chuckled. Yes, Andy Wilder is interesting, thats for sure. Hes a man I only
call in on the most difficult cases.

37
Cases? Terry groaned. General, have you done rescue cases?
I have, Thorne. More than I like to count. Granted, these were soldiers Ive rescued, but
all the same Im sure you can see how I can help you. Wildcat is extraordinary even
without a rifle.
So I gather. This psychic ability. How does it work?
The General hated that question. He spun the big office chair and looked out the window.
Damned if I know, but almost a hundred percent of the time, hes on the money. Cant
explain it, but I sure can use it and hes willing to offer it. Hes kinda sensitive about it
though, so dont be asking him about some woman in a bar.
Not likely Ill be doin that, sir. His background? Terry had stretched out on his bed;
exhaustion was setting in behind his eyes and building into one bonzer headache.
Ive had your secretary download Wilders records; you can access them through your
files. Former Marine, decorated, hasnt been out of the field more than three months, in
fact, still sharp as a knife.
Why the hell would he do this if he just left active duty? Is he some kinda glory hound
or adrenalin junkie?
Glory hound? No. Adrenalin junkie? Probably. But mostly, he owes me a favor.
Has it got anything to do with your daughter? Terry was rubbing his eyes.
He might think so, but no. Nothing to do with Tamara its something else. Where are
you, Thorne?
Cairo.
Ah, so hes already sniffing things. Enjoy reading over Wilders files and get some rest.
Were all praying for you.
***
Tamara walked into her quiet apartment, showed her bodyguard to the spare bedroom
then read a note left near the phone from her housekeeper. Carla didnt like Terry one bit.
She had often complained that she felt he was not good enough for Tamara. Of course,
Tamara took it in stride, thinking the woman was joking. But the note was no joke. It
seemed just plain mean.
Dear Ms. Fillmore,

38
I write this as I would write a letter to my own daughter. Having found your bedroom in
such a state this morning, I clearly see that your Mr. Thorne has compromised you
greatly. Please understand that I say this out of care and love for you. He is no good. You
are worth far more. I have not changed or made your bed this day. Perhaps you will call
me to talk this over, then I will happily complete my duties and finish cleaning your room.
Sincerely,
Carla.
Anger burned in her veins and Tamara quickly flipped through her numbers to find her
soon-to-be fired maids number. How dare you, she gasped when the woman answered
the phone.
But Carla was crying. I was so upset when I saw the bed; I did not know what to do.
Please, oh please let me come and talk to you.
Carla. Tamara had had a rough enough day; the last thing she needed was a sobbing
maid with a superiority complex. Yes, do come over. We should talk and perhaps it will
be our last talk. She hung up, half expecting the woman to never show her face again.
Thats what she got for taking care of herself for once, for allowing a man to love her and
allowing him to be important to her. Usually, Tamara was careful to make her bed in the
mornings, feeling that Carla had enough to do twice a week without making a grown
womans bed too. But that morning, Terry had left in such a terrifying rush then she ran
out to find her father. Needless to say, not only was she embarrassed that the aftermath
her love life had been seen, but now she had to take a reprimand from her maid! It was
infuriating.
When the knock came at the door, Allen Patrick was the first to reach it. Carla blinked
then gasped. Tamara simply said, Let her in. Thanks Allen. Were fine.
The big man disappeared down the hall and Carlas mouth dropped.
I suppose you imagine Im a loose woman now, dont you? Carla was silent, had yet to
lower to the sofa. Tamara continued. Well, not that its any of your business, but that
gentlemen is a body guard, placed here to protect me.
From Mr. Thorne? whispered the maid with a glint of rude pleasure.
No. Carla he was placed here by Terry. Terry has had to leave town.
He is doing something illegal! I know it. Send that man away.
Tamara rolled her eyes as Carla ran for the phone.
Im going to call your father.

39

Be my guest. He can explain this to you or I can. Either way, Im unsure youll continue
working for me any longer. Tears poured from the womans eyes and Tamara finally
sighed. Please, Carla. Sit down.
I am so sorry. I should not have said anything. Im not supposed to say anything. But I
am so afraid for you. Never have I worked for such a good woman, such a fine lady with
a good heart and good morals. This Mr. Thorne has ruined you.
Christ, Carla. Did you think I was a virgin? No one has ruined me.
Then where is he, why doesnt he marry you. How can he turn you into such a
Im not a whore! Im in love with a remarkable man! And Tamara proceeded to explain
everything she knew of Terry Thorne, what her father knew, about his partner and his
work and about the abduction of his son in Amsterdam. She said it more to hear her own
voice repeat the words than for Carlas benefit. And when it was done, Allen was
standing at the hallway.
Carla pressed her hand to her heart. Oh, that poor man. Will he be alright?
I dont know. It was Tamaras turn to sob and she found herself tight against Carlas
ample chest. Her heart was breaking as she released everything shed been holding in
since Terrys hone rang last night. I just dont know.
Allen cleared his throat. Listen, Thornes one hell of a good man, a good boss and a
good operative. Hell get his son back safely and hell be home before you even know it.
And Tamara wondered for whose benefit Allen had spoken.

40
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

SIX

The files General Hartford sent on former US Marine Captain, Andrew Wilder were
indeed entertaining. Terry read through them not once but twice, marveling at the mans
tenacity and courage and at his animal-like instincts that were most likely a side effect of
well honed psychic abilities. He began to like Wildcat more and more aside from the
mans obvious interest in Tamara, of course. But that was an aside, a sidebar to be filed
away deep in his hearts vault along with Tamara herself.
They had a suite, he and Wilder. Before dawn, both were sitting at the tiny kitchenette
counter, sipping fine Egyptian coffee and looking through the newspapers. Terry read
Egyptian and was damn impressed that Wildcat too had a fair understanding of the
language, although neither spoke it with any proficiency.
Ideas sparked in Terrys mind that needed to be more formed before he really considered
them. Would Wilder make a good addition to his company? The man was retired military
and obviously still willing to do the work, right? But why had he left in the first place?
That decision would have a definite impact on whether an offer was made or not. And
was Wildcat the kind of man who preferred the money and rush of renegade
assignments? Hartford did say he was an adrenalin junkie. Food for thought. Food for
thought. Terry flipped another page and perused the headlines.
There was a reason for their interest in local news that had little to do with comfortable
morning coffee and the sports page. Somewhere among the stories there might be a clue,
a dropped comment that seemed irrelevant or disconnected, a political, social or
incidental event that could connect with Henrys abduction or possible hostage location.
Neither Terry nor Wilder mentioned the possibilities, but they had both begun
voraciously peeling through the three local newspapers without comment.
Terry struggled with comprehending the impact Wilders unique skill might have on the
case. Was it an automatic flowing of information or was it random? Did it require
physical effort on the mans part, like when he held the photo of Henry; or did images
just slip into his mind undetected until they made sense to him? And how would Terry be
sure the right tidbit of premonition or insight was being explored? After all, he couldnt
be walking around inside Wildcats brain, now could he?
Another sip of coffee and it hit, slammed into Terrys chest like a fist. All the terror,
worry and fears a parent faces when a son or daughter is taken hostage grew and swelled
and bruised like a wound. He gasped, blinked and shook his head hard. This wouldnt do,
it just wasnt acceptable. Visions of Henrys face, battered and bloody blazed behind his
tightly closed eyelids. Broken bones, cries of horror. Terry didnt emotionally return to

41
the counter and stool, to the coffee still lying on his tongue until Wilder placed a calm
hand on his shoulder grounding him shaking him into the moment. Terry
swallowed, nearly gagged on the sharpness of the coffee and groaned then forced his
heart to steady, his mind to roll rationally, his soul to stop shaking.
Wilder said nothing, just returned his attention to the paper and Terry found himself so
grateful he could have cried. They had a rough day ahead of them. It was vital that the
kidnappers know he was in Cairo, waiting and ready to talk. That required becoming
highly visible. Hed eat at outdoor cafs, walk rather than take cabs, perhaps loiter in the
square. Whether Wilder was using his special talent or just moving on the same train of
thought, Terry would never know.
Cant be goin alone, Wildcat grunted. He poured himself more coffee and dumped
several overflowing spoonfuls of sugar into the glass. The way these things work
Henrys the lure. Its you they want. Looks like well be palling around a lot.
You got your own shit to do, mate, Terry said, still shaken by his fearful episode.
All done, stated Wilder. He shrugged. Dont sleep much, sir. All the equipment is set
up and truth be told, I got my suspicions they already know youre here. These dudes are
damn tech savvy, you said so yourself. You were on the roster for the private jet
passenger landing, used your charge card for the suite even used your cell phone last
night.
How the bloody hell did you know that? Terrys brows rose.
Wilder grinned. Im high tech savvy too. You called your office and somewhere else.
What else do they need to know youre here? Oh oh fuckin shit. Look at this, he
snorted and passed the paper over, pointed to a nondescript personal ad.
Terry squinted, mentally translated.
Daddys little boy looking for satisfaction? Fathers honor might be questionable but
vengeance will prevail, now or tomorrow. Sunset in the shadow of the gods, blackened
blood and the path.
Fuckin Christ, how the bloody hell did you find this? Terry turned a gawk, wondering
even more about Wilders psychic powers.
The man grinned. Hell, I was looking for Single Egyptian goddess seeks good time with
handsome American. Gives good head, I wasnt expecting this and look what else I
found, he shrugged. What can I say, I like oddities.
The ad in another newspaper altogether was for the Shadow of the Gods gift shop, less
than three blocks away. Terry flipped to another page. Sunset, five fifty-three today.

42
You cant go alone, just not smart, Wilder calmly stirred his coffee, the spoon clinking
against the glass.
Yeah, I can. I know these blokes. They like the cat and mouse game. Today, lets get our
ducks in line, mate. Ive arranged for a holding place and a stash of weapons. Time to
get a few more soldiers in our army.
You cant use the cell.
Terry glared, he wasnt an idiot. There were other, covert ways of communicating with
the New York office.
***
Sunday evening Tamara was back at the rehabilitation hospital. She was worried about
Dinos upcoming surgical procedure, but he seemed cool as a cucumber, laughing and
joking and pulling together a poker game in the lounge. It included Garrett Tillman, a
large black man learning how to walk with a prosthetic leg; Tamara, whod never played
poker in her life, and rounded out with a fourth; a woman Garrett and Dino lovingly
called Nurse Cratchet, off duty and relaxing with her boys. Linda Geary had been a nurse
most of her adult life, at first caring for elderly parents of her own, then studying and
getting her degree in Physical Therapy. But at the facility, she was just a nurse and happy
to be so. Life got tougher and her body rebelled as she reached her mid fifties; she wanted
only to be of some comfort to her patients at that point in her life. Hauling the dead
weight of a paraplegic around was now a fading memory. She was widowed and living
alone and especially liked the fact that she had a lot of time with her patients, since they
stayed quite a while at the facility. Her life was filled with ex-patient friends and holiday
greeting cards.
Whatre we playing? Five card stud? she asked, shuffling the deck like a Vegas dealer.
And, what are we playing for? Tamara asked, knowing she had little change in her
purse.
Garrett shrugged. Cheez-Its?
Oh hell no, the nurse growled. The cleaning staff with have your balls. Ive got
something. She bent down and reached into her big purse, a cloth bag the size of a
grocery sack embroidered with Grandma loves me best!. Linda plopped a full bag of
sugar-free hard candy, the kind wrapped individually in clear plastic twisted at the ends.
All noses curled but the candy was divvied evenly and the cards were dealt.
How do I know if Ive won? Tamara asked, rearranging the cards in her hand.
Linda leaned over, pointed then winked. Youll know, but its not likely. These two
cheat like hell. Whatll you have, Dino?

43

Two.
And the play went on. Game after game, sometimes Dino scooping the candy to his pile,
other times Garrett rising triumphant. Linda gave a constant litany of exactly how the two
were cheating; slight of hand, hidden high cards, misdealing. Dino just grinned and
seemed to be enjoying himself. At nine-fifteen, Linda dealt the last hand.
This is it for the night, guys. I need to get home and you, her eyes speared at Dino,
have a tough day tomorrow.
Dino shifted cards and eyed them carefully. Ill take one.
Garrett took three and folded, Tamara asked for two and the dealer took two. Betting
began and soon it was down to Tamara and Dino. Linda leaned to take a look then pushed
several candies into Tamaras pile.
I have a full house, Dino announced. What have you got, Tammy?
Just a pair, and she displayed her two aces with a king of hearts, a jack of spades and a
five. All mouths dropped. What? Did I win? They nodded and she excitedly bounced in
her chair. I won! Oh man, I won! One more game?
Nah, Dino stretched his arms high. I need a little talk with you before you leave
tonight. Take your winnings and lets go up to my room.
Are you hitting on your best friends girl? Garrett asked opening a red candy and
popping it in his mouth. Dino gave a wicked grin and Garrett almost choked. Oh no, you
di-nt! That Thorne fellow will castrate you!
He aint got the balls to go after my balls.
A sugar-free lime green candy thumped off his head and he gave a shocked glare in
Tamaras direction. Hey! Im an injured man.
Get your rest, Dino. Linda stood and heaved her big bag onto her shoulder. Make sure
he gets to bed soon, she sighed, looking at Tamara, real concern in her eyes.
Promise.
Tamara pushed Dinos wheelchair along the hall and into the elevator. They were silent
and she wondered if his casual attitude was just covering his real fear. Itll be fine, she
said, patting his shoulder and he placed his hand over hers.
Itll be whatever it is, honey. In his room, Dino got himself into the bed and gripped
her hand tenderly. Listen, Tammy. I heard from Terry last night. He watched her

44
expressions vacillate from pleased to surprise to disappointment. Yeah, he called me
not you. But there was a reason, sweetheart. Im going to break a few rules here not
promises because he said nothing about not telling you anything just rules. Its not
common practice to tell an operatives significant other how a case is going, but I think
you have a right here. Besides, with your body guard and you father sitting at Thornes
desk, Im thinking it wont be a breach of confidence or a risk of information leak.
I wont tell anyone anything you tell me. Is he alright? She had sat at the edge of the
mattress, her heart racing and her hand gripping his tight.
Honey, I dont think so, but hes holding up. Thereve been a few odd developments.
Hes not in Amsterdam hes in Cairo.
Egypt? Tamara blinked, trying to understand it all and remain calm throughout.
Right. Listen, I know that images of the Middle East bring up all kinds of worries for
you, but trust me, on cases like this, Cairo is the same as Amsterdam and the same as
Boston. Theyre all dangerous. Hes keeping his head screwed on as tight as possible, but
I think its getting to him. Lucky for Terry, youre dad sent someone to help out. Former
Marine Wilder I think.
Wildcat? Daddy sent Wildcat? Thats a really, really good thing. Hes a good soldier
and a really smart man. Did you tell Terry Im scared for him? That Im thinking about
him all the time?
Dino sighed. No. I didnt. And I wouldnt. He doesnt need to know that stuff, he needs
to hear that youre strong for him. Thats what I told him even though he didnt ask.
Tears glittered in her eyes and he squeezed her hand tighter.
Honey, I told you, its not that youre not in his head.
Right, right. I understand. Henry has to come first. When will you hear from him
again?
Dunno, he shrugged then yawned wide. Didnt tell him about tomorrows surgery. He
may try to reach me, but he can always reach the office. Im sure well hear something
soon. Now, he tugged her hand and kissed her cheek. Im falling asleep here.
Ill be back at five thirty tomorrow morning. Youre operation is scheduled for six thirty
and they said I might get a few minutes with you before they knock you out.
Ahh, the best part of surgery, the knocking out part. You dont need to be here so early.
Ill see you when I wake up. He neglected to tell her that might be two days from now.

45
Five thirty. Tamara hugged Terrys dearest friend and planted a tender kiss on his
brow. On the dot.
***
Sunset in Cairo. The light is different in Egypt. It glows a tawny gold and bounces from
the dessert, reflecting back on any wispy clouds brave enough to paint the brutal, clear
skies. Wilder went with Terry but he didnt argue about it. Maybe the man knew
something, maybe not. Either way, two heads were better than one.
They entered the tourist trap gift shop and walked down an aisle. Terrys eyes scanned
the items. His mind bounced between being loud and attracting attention or forcing his
imagination to wonder where the hidden information might be. Then he noticed
something curious. Wilder was moving with casual purpose toward the stationery section
of the story. Terry remained silent, sticking close and watching from the corner of his
eye.
Wilder touched a few items and turned, spoke softly. You have to buy something.
Terry grunted. There was nothing in there he wanted. Was Wilder suggesting that a
message would come through the cashier? Imitating the mans behavior, Terry ran his
hand over items, lifted a few and examined them; a faux-gold pen, a box of postcards, a
package of markers.
Wilder had stopped, his palm lay flat over a stack of books and Terry moved closer. They
were blank journals; the kind people make notes in, record thoughts and ideas, even
feelings. God forbid, feelings? Some covers were adorned with pictures of the pyramids,
others collages of ancient Egyptian gods. Wilder worked methodically through the stack.
All were sealed with clear plastic and outrageously priced. He lifted one and placed his
palm over it, closed his eyes. His hand jerked away then he gripped the book and handed
it to Terry.
It was more expensive than the others, a whopping eighty-five American dollars for a
bloody blank book, but the cover was fine brown leather and gold leaf embossed with
hieroglyphics. Terry glanced to his cohort. There was more in that book, way more.
Perhaps even his sons life. He moved to the counter and uneventfully made his purchase.
In an effort to appear oblivious, he tucked the thing in his jacket pocket and together he
and Wilder went to a restaurant and had dinner. After that, a few drinks, then finally they
retired to the room.
The plastic wrap was uncompromised and Terrys heart dropped as he examined it. A
quick slit with his penknife and the book was free. It smelled of good leather and looked
as though it had never been touched by human hands. Wilder sat quietly on the sofa and
watched.

46
Terry carefully turned the book over and shook it. Nothing fell out. His disappointment
escalated. Then he lifted the cover. There, on page one days, time and radio frequency.
He sighed and ran a hand down his chin, refusing to be further amazed at the benefits the
Generals Wildcat was bringing to the case.
Were on for Thursdays and Saturdays, seven PM sharp. It was Monday.

47
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

SEVEN

December twenty-third and Tamara was walking into the hospital. They must have
shuffled Dino from the rehab facility in the middle of the night through the bitter New
York cold and she shivered at how uncomfortable he must have been. Five thirty-five
AM and she stood beside his bed. The expression of delight and relief on his face told her
that yes, he had in fact been putting on a big show. He was afraid. As afraid as she was
for him as afraid as she was for Terrys son for Terry.
You made it. Its the butt crack of dawn, Tammy, Dino slurred. He was already drowsy
from the pre-surgery preparations and the chemicals dripping into his vein.
Of course, she smiled cheerily. I told you Id be here.
Listen, his voice was soft and she leaned down to hear. If I dont get through this, you
tell Terry I I fuck, I love that Aussie asshole. Tell him that for me.
Tamara snorted. Youll make it. Youre a tough egg. And besides, she thought. He
knows you love him. God knows he loves you. But does he love me? She sighed and
Dino gave a lopsided grin, already his eyes were glazing over.
Do me a favor, when you see him tell him you love him too. Terrys the kinda guy
who needs to hear that stuff. Now Im gonna check out for a while see you on
the flip side, Tammy.
Shed gotten no sleep. Oh shed tried, even considered a sleeping pill but was afraid
shed be unable to wake on time. She watched the nurses roll Dinos bed away then she
sat in the waiting room with other, nervous, worried people; a family huddled together
and silent, the middle-aged woman wearing an ugly bright red vest with sequined
Christmas trees on it, her two grown children whispering quietly and nodding. To the
side, a bald man was silent, all alone and obviously praying hard, his eyes tight and
mouth moving without words. They were all like tiny concentrations of energy,
independent but together in their common concerns. She wanted to ask around, hear their
stories, but how would she explain hers?
Shed known Dino OLeary just a few days his dearest friend, Terry was in Egypt
negotiating the release of his son from captivity she was in love with a man who never
once mentioned he worked as a kidnap and ransom crisis consultant and operative, a job
description shed never heard of before and now she was sitting, praying and waiting
for his best friend to survive another dangerous operation. No, she couldnt share all that.

48
Those people around her were genuinely terrified for the ones they loved going under the
knife. Not that she was any less terrified for Dino she simply felt like a misfit.
It was strange, after all. Under normal circumstances, shed have given Dinos surgery
today a passing well wish and nothing more. Her life just didnt filter out that way
anymore. At seven she left the heaviness of the waiting room and went to the hospital
cafeteria for breakfast.
There was a Christmas tree in the hallway and for a moment, Tamara stared at it,
wondering why it was there. Was it possible Christmas would actually happen this year?
With everything hurting in her heart, she simply couldnt imagine it.
Pretty, huh, Allen said, walking slightly behind her.
Tamara blinked. Her bodyguard. Another thing she forgot all about. For such a large,
muscular man he was so quiet and unobtrusive, there were times he was simply invisible
to her. Together they slid their trays along the shelf and made their choices; oatmeal for
her, a cinnamon roll for him. Together they found a quiet table and together they ate. But
that was all they did together. They didnt talk or share their thoughts or ideas. They
didnt even really look at each other, although Allen was constantly alert and watching
over her. With her father working again, this time at Terrys office; her lover across the
planet; her new friend being reassembled by surgeons and her maid gone home to
Virginia for Christmas Tamara had no one except Allen.
She sighed and eyed him closely. The man cleared his throat, looked a little nervous.
Obviously Allen was more used to being invisible than being noticed. He was actually
handsome in a meaty, brute sort of way. His eyes were golden brown, his hair thick and
dark. His nose broken, probably several times but it added to his charm. Shed seen
him smile and it was endearing, like a little boy looking for approval. Shed seen him
scowl and it was terrifying. No one dangerous was getting close to her, she was sure of it.
So, either that left her totally alone for Christmas, or it left her alone with him.
Where are you from, Allen? she asked with real interest and his thick brows rose.
Uh Houston why?
Do you get snow for Christmas in Houston?
Allen Patrick knew exactly what was happening. Hed seen this before. Often he was
stationed to watch over the wife or daughter of a hostage, especially if the hostage was
politically important. They were scared, they were lonely and they were even desperate.
Lovely Tamara was all those things, but she was also the boss woman.
Allen had never met Dino OLeary. Thorne hired him last July and he was currently in
training to become an operative. This little assignment had put a kink in his advancement,
but it was what it was. He knew of both Thorne and OLearys success records and

49
wanted to be a part of all that. Allen had no family and was at exactly the place in his life
where adventure was the name of the game. What he wouldnt give to be at Thornes side
right now or better yet, there instead of Thorne. There was no way that man should be
negotiating for his own son. It smelled really, really bad. He looked at Tamara, still
waiting for an answer, and realized that this was in fact a very important assignment. If
things went as expected, she would be the important significant other belonging to a
captive. Everyone knew a trade was where the case would go and no one had a clue
what Thorne would do about it.
This lady was a very special case. It was never his job to understand those he was
charged with guarding, but everything hed seen and heard so far indicated that Tamara
was as much a victim as Henry Thorne and his father. Tamara had no clue what was
ahead and Thorne was a moron for not warning her. How hard could it be? You tell the
woman what you do for a living, eventually leave for a nearly impossible case promising
no sure return and hope shell still be there when you get back. Ah. Okay. Maybe he
did understand. If Thorne cared about this woman as much as she cared for him Allen
got it. Clear as a bell.
He knew he was capable of guarding her with his life, even if he was kind to her. It was
time to stop being invisible.
Ah Houston? Nah, no snow for Christmas. But once I was stationed in Greenland for
Christmas. Talk about snow.
***
Henry Thorne had never been so scared in his whole life. His abduction was so violent
and terrifying, hed pissed his bloody pants. Hed been an idiot! How could it have
happened? He knew better. As Terrence Thornes son, he damn well knew better. His
mind struggled and strained to remember anything hed ever learned about such a
situation.
First off, say nothing and he did that real good. He had no choice; duct tape had
been slapped over his mouth as well as wrapped around his wrists and ankles.
Second, cooperate when it looks dire. Hell, it looked dire to Henry from the moment he
was dragged from the pub. Hed have willingly cooperated, but even when he tried, it
didnt pay. He was broken and bloody, had at least one cracked rib, scrapes and cuts and
split flesh here and there that stung and was surely infecting. His inner clock said hed
been captive at least two days, he knew hed been taken somewhere on a plane. Where,
he had no clue.
All his captors wore masks. There was something frighteningly bizarre about seeing
plastic kids Halloween faces staring at him. Tinkerbelle was the most brutal, but he had
to watch out for Dumbo. The man was sumo huge and blinded by the small eye holes;
Henrys biggest fear was that the flying elephant would fly right into him and kill him on

50
impact. His kidnappers were Disney fans. At least they seemed to have a sense of humor,
even though Henry wasnt laughing.
Two days became three. The food was minimal and disgusting but he recalled his father
explaining that it was vital for a captive to keep up his strength. It never pays to play the
martyr card and attempt a hunger strike, mate. One never knows the limits of a hostages
value to his kidnappers. It just might be easier to let this one die and go off for a better,
more profitable and cooperative one. So Henry ate. The food gave him no clue as to
where he was; burned unidentifiable meat, crusts of bread, water. Nothing more.
He was no longer bound and gagged but held in a filthy cell, a ten-foot space, a lumpy cot
and a toilet that didnt work. It stank so bad that occasionally hed vomit. On the forth
day, they took him to a different cell, just as small, just as dirty, but at least the plumbing
worked.
Keep your head on straight, his father had instructed. Henry couldnt lose his mind. It
had only been a few days; he might need to deal with this for months. It was vital to keep
his mind sharp and clear. Usually a bit of a scrawny bloke, over the past year Henry had
bulked up impressively, spending most of his free time working out in the gym or
working out with a woman. At twenty-two, his newly molded, muscular physique made it
easier to get the women. Obviously he couldnt have sex to keep his mind clear, so he
pushed his body. He worked out as much as his stamina would tolerate, squats, push ups,
anything he could think off to keep his muscles sound and his mind clear. Granted, there
were no women to impress, this was about survival.
But there was one woman he didnt know about. That morning, the sixth morning of his
captivity his wrists were again bound, he was slapped bloody then dragged down the long
hall. Henry was dumped to the cement floor in a larger room. Nothing in there but a chair
and his gut began to shake. What the bloody hell did they have in mind for him now?
There were six massive men, all looking stupid in their masks and one woman. One
remarkable looking woman.
And suddenly he got an idea of where he might be being held.
The woman was tall and elegant. Her face was beautiful but older, he estimated
somewhere in her late fifties. Her eyes were black as night and her flesh the color of
warm honey. Her black hair displayed two white streaks, one at the top and the other
coming from her right temple. It was all swept back and coiffed beautifully in a swirl
near the back of her neck. She was dressed impeccably in a black silk business suit, the
tight skirt exactly the right length to emphasize her perfect, shapely legs. His eyes
dropped to her shining black shoes; high fuck-me heels that looked like a more dangerous
weapon that Dumbo. She eyed Henry intensely, making him cringe. The woman had
power over every man in the room. They followed her like a queen and that was in fact
what his mind was conjuring. That bird looked exactly like Nefertiti. Was he in Egypt?
And why the hell would he be there?

51
Sit, she ordered and Henry lowered to the chair, looking every bit as terrified as he was
and adding his little-boy-lost expression into the mix.
What do you want with me?
She glared. She was chillingly gorgeous and even as scared as he was; Henry found his
mind wondering what it must be like to shag a woman like that. Her face hardened as if
she knew his thoughts.
Its not you I want, little boy. Her accent was thick, confirming what he suspected.
Am I in Egypt?
A cruel grin pulled at the edge of her perfect lips. You are astute. Interesting.
Why am I here? Henry knew hed pushed a little too far. Hed obviously been brought
to her to listen, not ask questions. She gave a sharp nod; a fist came from nowhere and
plowed at high speed into his already damaged rib.
Henry howled, grunted, spit blood from the lip he bit during the assault, then he
straightened and glared. Waited.
Young man, do you truly imagine I would kidnap the son of Terrence Thorne and not
take full advantage of that power?
Tears burned Henrys eyes. It was one thing to foolishly be kidnapped when his whole
life was surrounded by the knowledge of such things but completely another thing to
have gotten snagged with the vile intent of hurting his father. Theres ransom money,
he choked. Lots of it,
It is not money I desire. She turned on those very high heels and walked out, leaving
him with a few very pissed off cartoon characters and his prayers.
***
Terry wasnt supposed to think about her. Hed told himself it was counterproductive,
distracting, dangerous; and for most of his waking hours hed been successful at
following his plan. It was Wednesday. Tomorrow he would have his first contact with the
kidnappers holding his son. Tomorrow he would begin the process of gaining freedom for
Henry. There was no room for thoughts of Tamara.
But they were there, thick as caramel and just as sweet. His mind was at twilight,
hovering on the cusp of sleep. That day hed gone for a long run. Hed worked
extensively with Wildcat on a strategy he was hoping he would not need to implement.
Hed pressed his mind and body as far and as hard as it would go. Now both had taken
control. He was on his bed, so close to slumber but seeing Tamaras smile, her flesh, the

52
way the light caught in her hair he was smelling her scent, the musky waft of him and
her mixed, perfume, sweat coffee drifting in the air, the smell of her bath soap. The
sounds and sensations of making love to her under the spray of her shower. Terry was
lost in it all. Lost in a beautiful place he could not escape.
Sleep dropped like a bolder over him but not until he had reached climax, imaging his
hand to be her mouth; imagining a lifetime beside a creature so loving and willing and
tender. Tamara. Was she perhaps the only thing that would get him through this and he
was denying her? Was it wise to break like that? These and many more questions would
be pondered the next morning. For now, he was dreaming and it was delicious, comfort
food for his withering soul.

53
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

EIGHT

Dawn broke over Cairo and Terry let his eyes open slowly, take in the soft light, the
shapes of the furniture in the room. And his mind went quickly into gear. Yes, he had
a plan; a good, strong one that was tried and true and had proven successful for years.
Needless to say it would not work this time. No way, no bloody how. This was one of
those situations a man like Terry Thorne usually refused to even recognize. Had he
already failed by accepting the inevitable? Was he set to botch it all just to see it come to
fruition? And, to what end? Simple to THE end. Period.
He groaned to his feet, showered and left for the hotel gym only to find Wildcat already
working a treadmill at a run. No words were shared; both men simply pushed as hard as
possible in order to keep their minds as clear as a bell. Having Wilder along could prove
problematic to Terry, but hed do the best he could. Henry was the focus the only
focus.
Breakfast was silent, the men sipping coffee and eating without discussion. What was
there to say? If Wildcat was really psychic, he already knew the score. Already knew the
outcome.
The first contact with the kidnappers would occur that evening. There were things Terry
had to do to be prepared. His mind and body had to be sharp his plan had to be perfect
his heart had to be well tucked away. Quiet. Safe. Silent as death. Even Tamaras
name couldnt come seeping through. Only Henry. Nothing else.
For most of the day the men paced, Wilder watching Terrys every move and obviously
wanting to talk it through. There was nothing to talk through. There was no other way.
Andy Wilder could see a lot of things other people didnt see, but it didnt take a psychic
to know what Thorne was planning. Hed covertly contacted General Hartford to discuss
the matter. The old man wasnt surprised, as apparently no one in Terrys own company
was surprised. Between them they began speculating, evaluating, calculating. Six
operatives were on their way to Cairo, able men loyal to Thorne and prepared to do
whatever was needed. Of course, neither Hartford nor Wilder explained any of this to
Thorne. Understandably, if he knew there was an army standing ready to back things up,
it might all get a little muddy. They were playing a game with Terry who was playing a
game with death. Somewhere in the center of all of that, a young man would be freed and
a kidnapper would get some satisfaction. Some, but not all, Wilder was hoping,
struggling to pull psychic images that refused to come forward. This was going to be
rough.

54
Wildcat guestimated that whatever was going to come down would take a few days to
orchestrate. He proposed that the General keep the new operatives hidden at another hotel
and wired for immediate action. It was agreed.
Again he looked at Thorne. Terry sat, still and so silent it was frightening. Even the
mans knee didnt bounce, it was the first time hed ever seen Thorne so still. Had he
already accepted the certainly? Mentally taken to all the way? That couldnt be a good
thing. Would he be sharp enough to pull off the initial negotiations? Wilder considered
moving to the table and the radio but thought better of it. A true warrior was like a tight
spring and Terry was a warrior. There would be consequences.
Seven PM neared and both men sat at the table. Terrys hands were calm, Wilder
couldnt sit still. Visions were suddenly pummeling him. All the images he was hoping to
astrally gather earlier, charged him at breakneck speed. If the radio hadnt crackled, he
would have taken a moment to read them more clearly. As it was, his attention had to be
on Terry.
Seven oclock, came the voice; a deep, saucy female voice and Terry never flinched.
Fuck all, he knew it. He just knew it. His breath released in a rush.
Rehema, he said, speaking the name perfectly and hiding his distaste with monumental
effort.
Ah, so we will not play with fictitious names, Terrence Thorne. I see you know me I
know you. Shall we move ahead?
What do you want for my son?
Wildcat winced. A breach of standard protocol, big time. Terry was supposed to wait for
the demand. This was dancing to a completely different song; a tune neither he nor the
General expected.
Such a foolish question, the woman sighed. You have murdered my husband, two of
my sons, my third and favorite son rots in prison. What do you expect I would want?
Terrys eyes squeezed tight. I want a proof of life.
I am sure you do, Mr. Thorne. But you do realize there is but one way to get that. May I
assume youre not alone?
Wildcat shook his head hard but Terry ignored him. Im not alone.
We are black and white, the sun god and the demons of hell, understood?
Understood.

55
Now Wilder was nearly beside himself. What the fuck were they saying? He closed his
eyes and drew in a long, deep breath, begged the answers to filter forward. Waited. The
comments were being recorded; he could confirm the words later. For now he needed his
senses to take over.
Rehema was making arrangements for Terry to collect a proof of life less than a mile east
of the little gift shop. She was spelling out a simple exchange of information that could
easily be made over the internet, but she was an old fashion kinda gal. She asked him to
come at dawn. Assured that he would find the proof of life more than agreeable and they
could move ahead with their negotiations in private. To Wilders horror, Terry agreed
and the communication ended abruptly.
Are you motherfucking crazy! Wildcat hissed in Terrys face. What the fuck just
happened? Where are we finding the proof of life? What was that shit about the
internet?
Terrys expression was blank. He drew in a calm breath and slid a sheet of paper to
Wilder. A few simple lines. The location, the time, the scheduled future contact. Wilder
held the sheet, felt the energy flow through him and shook his head.
This is all bullshit. Its ass backwards. Exactly the truth, man. Right now, cause you
know Ill figure it out.
Terry walked to the kitchenette and pulled a bottle of water.
Wilder gripped Thornes shoulder and swung him around. What the hell are you trying
to do?
Im trying to get my son free. This is how Ill do it. You can go back to the states as
soon as hes released, take him to New York.
A slight relief slithered along Wilders spine. Youll keep him with you? While he
recovers?
It was Terrys turn to wince. Get him to my place. Be ready to leave at dawn and stay
the hell out of sight.
Wilder felt the rise of so much irritation he stomped out of the suite, leaving Terry alone
and jogging down the stairs to the lobby. Stay out of sight? Thorne wants me to stay out
of sight? Well, Ill fucking stay out of sight as of this moment. He glanced at his wrist
watch. Seven-thirty. He may need to wait hours, but he was waiting, goddamnit. Fuck, he
hated when he knew what was coming. Especially since he couldnt possibly stop it.
At the suite, Terry pulled paper and envelopes. He wrote three letters and set them on
Wildcats bed. He knew hed sufficiently pissed off his partner, exactly as hed intended.

56
No one, even a freak of nature with the ability to see the future was changing this. No
one.
***
Hes resting but it will be quiet a while before he returns to his room. Perhaps another
day or two. Ive shifted him to the ICU, the surgeon said, his eyes red and tired after so
many hours.
So, hes alright? Tamara asked tentatively. Something about the mans expression
made her fearful, escalated her concerns.
He may be. May not be. Miss, I need to tell you, we nearly lost him this time. Mr.
OLeary has had far too many operations in far too short a time. I will tell you right now,
I refuse to try it again for at least twenty-four months. After this episode, Im unsure it
should ever be tried again.
Tamara blinked, feeling as though shed just been reprimanded. It wasnt her idea, it was
Dinos. When will he go back to the rehab?
The doctor shook his head. Shrugged. Three weeks, maybe more. Well work with him
here when hes strong enough, for now, his heart is my concern. We have three
cardiologists watching this case now.
Cardiologists? Jesus, Allen grunted.
Yes, cardiologists. The mans heart has taken enough strain to kill a bull. Hes down for
a while. I suggest you take this lady home and let her get some rest. Well call if theres
any change. And the surgeon walked away.
Some bedside manner he got, grunted the bodyguard as he gripped Tamaras arm.
Lets get outta here.
Should we go? I mean really, if Dino has a heart problem and almost died on the table
should we really go?
Sweetheart, he needs his rest and so do you. Lets go.
***
Dino was dreaming. The dreams were memories that never happened Cairo ... Terry ...
poor Henry, bloodied and almost dead and a man hed never seen before at Terrys
back. Not beside him at his back. Something bad was going down and Dino struggled
to get up and run to Terrys side. Of course, he couldnt.

57
The man behind Terry was huge, massive, moving like a cat. It was obvious he was there
to protect and defend but Terry was paying no attention. Dinos drugged mind knew the
simplicity of it all. A trade was going down, probably right at that moment. He tried to
shout, get the mans attention, tell him that Terry was tenacious, wouldnt see logic under
the circumstances, that something different had to happen if it was going to work out
well. But to his amazement and knowing he was dreaming, the man turned to Dino and
mouthed the words
Dont worry. I got this one. Dont worry.
Yeah, like that was gonna happen.
The ICU nurses were bustling like bees, trying to stabilize Dino. Was it another coronary
episode? The crash cart was rolled in. The cardiologists came at a run. And Dino simply
opened his eyes.
Cant you guys give me a little fucking quiet here? he groaned.
They checked the monitors, amazed at the sudden smoothness of the patients heart rate.
Might have been a nightmare, said one of the doctors.
You have no idea, sighed Dino just before he drifted back to sleep.
***
Dawn, my ass, thought Wildcat as he spied Terry leaving the hotel at sunset. The man
walked right past him through the lobby and hailed a cab. Lucky for Wilder, he was able
to catch a cab right on its tail. Just as hed suspected, everything in the message was
opposite, designed to throw Terrys partner off track. Knowing the man would do
anything to protect the life of his son, mistress Rehema assumed hed go alone,
undetected and without backup.
But did he really have backup? What the hell could Wilder do to stop the whole thing?
Then the answer slammed into his brain. He wasnt supposed to stop it; he was supposed
to witness it. There was another way, a different way to work this all out. Pieces were
starting to fall into place. The cabs went west for ten miles and instinctively, Wilder
stopped his cabbie a full block behind Terrys. He leapt from the car, checked his
shoulder weapon and hid in the shadows. Then, a message so clear it could have been
over the fucking phone. It was Terrys voice, still unnervingly calm.
Soon as they release Henry, get him to New York.
Andy Wilder wasnt a telepath and the message shook him to the bone. He knew he
couldnt mentally send an answer and wondered how Terry had gotten through so clearly.
Fuck, if the man survived this, maybe they should think about working together. They
could be unstoppable. Then, another message that made Wilder pop his head around the

58
corner of the building and look right at Terry looking right at him. The message was
simple and damn clear.
And mate, keep your bloody hands off Tamara.
Wilder blinked then slipped back into the shadows. The bastard could have promised
further information that might save his own stinking life. But no. Instead he throws out an
edict like that into the universe.
An hour passed. A large limo arrived. Terry was taken at gunpoint into the car. It sat for
nearly ten minutes before the door again opened and Henry was tossed out, nearly
unconscious and bleeding from a gunshot wound to the leg. Before the car was around
the bend, Wildcat was on his cell, calling in the backup and holding Henrys head on his
knee.
This bloody sucks, the kid groaned.
Ya think? Wilder spat.

59
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

NINE

When Terry stared into the barrel of a pistol, nodded then calmly entered the limo, he
knew the score; knew that Henry was in there, probably wounded and sure to be released.
He also knew that there was no controlling anything after that. It went down exactly as
expected but not quiet exactly.
Inside, he was slammed back against the leather seat, two men gripping him tight as a
needle pressed into his neck. Ah, a surprise, he didnt expect to be drugged so quickly, he
thought theyd have their fun with him first. Whatever they used wasnt extremely
powerful or caustic, it was a smooth working but strong sedative. He felt his muscles
melt but his eyes were sharp on Henry, sitting in the seat across from him and
bleeding.
Henry, he gasped.
Dad! Oh fuck! Dad! Im sorry!
Terry took in every detail of his grown son, but beneath his vision was the boy he loved,
the one hed neglected as a father, the one hed struggled to know. Memories of Henrys
disappointments overlapped the terror on the young mans face the hundred times
Terry had to apologize, leave, climb onto a plane and miss the things important to a son.
All in an effort to save someone else, save a stranger it had come full circle and he
was pleased to save his son. It had balance. He owed Henry much owed him
everything.
Henry, he slurred and everything went black.
Dad! Henry had lost blood, the gunshot wound was just above the knee and he didnt
even remember them shooting him. He was sure theyd done it when he was unconscious
but what sense did that make? The only thing that mattered was that hed brought his
father to this. Dad! tears streaked down his filthy face and the men shoved him out of
the vehicle before speeding away. On the pavement he wanted to crumble, sob like a
child but anger seeped into every single poor. A man came to his aid.
This bloody sucks, he groaned.
Ya think? the man spat. Lets get you outta here. Your father wants you in New York;
Im thinkin we stop at the local hospital first. Then Wildcat felt his breath catch. No,
hell no, not a good idea. Maybe New York was a long trek for a wounded man. Maybe
something closer, maybe Greece, maybe Sicily. It was time to talk to the General.

60

Wilder dialed his encrypted cell and General Hartford answered instantly. Yeah?
Just like we thought got the kid. Wounded. Im thinking not a good idea to seek
medical care here in Cairo.
Youre thinking sharp, Wildcat. Athens. A plane is standing by and a few of the boys
are on their way. Theyll escort him. You get your ass back to the hotel.
Yes sir. Already a car had pulled up and a man who identified himself as Danny
Simpson rushed out to assist. Young Thorne recognized Simpson and with little fanfare,
they were quickly inside and racing to the airfield.
Report? Simpson grunted, applying pressure to the wound and hushing Henry.
Theyve taken Thorne, Wilder began.
They drugged him, gasped the kid and the mens brows rose. In Wildcats eyes, it was
falling right into place, exactly as unexpected, just like everything else in this mess.
Terry wants Henry taken to New York.
I dont wanna go to bloody New York! Im sticking around, I can help!
The men ignored him, continued their quiet conversation as the driver sped along the
dark highway.
New York it is. Has Henry been debriefed? He got anything that might help before I
shoot him full of this pain killer? Simpson lifted the syringe.
Wilder looked at Henry, placed a hand on the kids shoulder and closed his eyes.
The kid struggled against him. What the fuck?
Shh, Wildcat commanded and Henry stilled, staring at the stranger and wondering what
the hell he was doing.
Who the bloody hell are you? I know everyone working with my dad and Ive never
seen you.
Wilder shot a glare, sighed. Might as well deal with this first or the kid might never be
quiet. He was having a tough enough time reading the situation without nervous
questions and agitation floating on all the misery poor Henry was suffering. Dont work
for you fathers company.
You work for her? scowled the younger man, painfully pulling himself further away.

61

Fuck no. I was helping your dad out.

Fine job you did of it! That was followed by a howl of agony. Wallace prepared the
injection but Wildcat waved a hand, asking for one more moment.
Relax, Henry. I need you to relax. Again he set a hand on the kids shoulder but Henry
wasnt in a cooperative mood, not after everything hed already been through.
Turn this fuckin car around. Im sticking around. Just cut the damn bullet out. My dad
can handle it, so can I.
You aint your father, Simpson groaned, getting more and more irritated by the minute.
Henry, Wilder said quietly, pressing now with both hands to hold Henry still. Just
give me one minute, okay. Be quiet and calm for one minute.
Weakness was washing through the kid and finally he had no choice but to cooperate.
Wildcat closed his eyes and the images poured in. He had a general idea of the kind of
facility Henry was held captive within, a clear idea of his captors, at least the number
Henry had seen, and he was getting a sickening sensation about the kidnappers plans.
He nodded to Simpson who injected the meds that sufficiently put Henry out of
commission.
Listen, Simpson, Wilder groaned, rubbing his eyes. In Athens, make sure the doctors
do a thorough search of the wound. I got a bad feeling about this.
A feeling, snorted the former Marine. We work on facts, buddy. Not feelings.
Maybe thats why we have this fucking mess, Andy Wilder spat and turned away. Hed
spent his whole life dealing with this shit. Now wasnt the time to be defending himself.
Soon as Henry was on the plane, he had his own work to do back at the hotel. He
mentally shut out the sleeping recovered cargo and Special K&R Crisis Management
Operative Danny Simpson, looked out the window and let his mind do what it did best
wander.
***
General Charles Harford called an emergency meeting. Thornes staff had come to
clearly understand the retired Generals skills and the particulars of managing this
specific case. They stood around the conference table, knowing full well the meeting
would be brief. It was.
Terrys been taken in exchange. Henrys been recovered. Young Mr. Thorne will
receive immediate medical care in Greece then brought here to New York at Terrys
request.

62

Why? several voices asked at once.

The old man shrugged. Not sure of his reasoning but I have a vague clue. I need to make
a stop before I leave. Sweetheart, he said, apology in his eyes, he never could quiet
remember Terrys secretarys name. She smiled, accepting. Get me a flight to Cairo
ASAP, and notify the rest of the team there to get over to the hotel and start setting things
up with Andy Wilder. Everyone else, hold down the fort. Wouldnt want Thorne to get
back and find the place has fallen, would we?
Do you think well ever see him again? Miss Sweetheart asked quietly as she tucked
airline itinerary into Hartfords briefcase and handed him his coat.
Yes, we will. Were going to get him and youre going to pray. Its how it works,
honey. Um whats your name again?
She grinned, hiding the deep concern behind her eyes. Melanie. Melanie Sharp, General
Hartford.
He sighed. Miss Melanie Sweetheart was a real looker; granted, thirty years his junior but
still, serious stimuli for an old man. He patted her shoulder and spoke, half in jest and
half in hope. Well, Miss Sharp. Maybe after this is over after we have Terry Thorne
behind his own desk again and have a few moments to breathe, maybe maybe you
can call me Charlie and I can call you Melanie.
A faint blush rose on her pretty cheek. I was beginning to like you calling me
Sweetheart.
That can be arranged to, and he leaned down and pecked her cheek. Ill get your boss
back safe. You just remember to
Pray.
***
Allen Patrick was sound asleep on the sofa; as sound as a bodyguard can sleep, anyway.
It was late morning and theyd just spend the entire night awake, awaiting word on
OLearys surgery. But even in sleep, every sense was on point as his muscles slacked
into the cushions. The knock at the door was sharp and he was on his feet in the blink of
an eye.
General Harford? He grunted as he checked the peephole. Opening the door his gut
sank. This was gonna be bad news.

63
The General took in the disheveled appearance of the usually dapper goon; wrinkled
sweats, mussed hair. But the mans eyes were sharp, making him hide a grin of approval.
Hows OLeary.
Not good. The case?
Not good. Hartford walked toward the hallway. Tamara, he called.
Hey man, she hasnt gotten much sleep. Can this wait?
No. Tamara!
She bustled from the bedroom, snapping a knot into her robe and pushing back wild,
tangled hair. Daddy? What happened?
Sit. Listen and Ill answer questions later.
Of course, his daughter wasnt about to do something shed never done in her life thus
far. Did they get Henry? Is he okay?
Yes and no.
She was trembling so hard Allen gripped her arm and steered her to the sofa. He stood,
watching and waiting. Were listening, General.
Terry did the trade. Henrys wounded, getting some immediate care then
Trade? They traded money, right? Poor Tamara was slogging through exhaustion and
still not fully awake. Allen set a hand on her shoulder to quiet her and Harford continued.
After Henrys wound is cared for, hell be coming here to New York. Im heading to
Cairo to lead the team.
Lead the team? Is Terry coming with Henry? Her voice had raised three octaves, the
sound of a scared little girl. The men knew she was catching on to the dire nature of the
situation, but her mind wasnt grasping the fine points. The General was pure military
under the circumstances, mincing no words.
Tamara, the trade was Terry not money.
Amazing to everyone, she held on, not even a whimper. Her head nodded like a
controlled robot. And?
I need to be in Cairo to manage this thing. I need someone who can handle Wilders
unique skills.

64
Huh? Allen said, his head tilting.
Andy Wilder is kind of special. It wont be easy for regular men to understand or handle
what he brings to the table.
Thorne and OLeary dont got regular men, sneered Allen and Hartfords head bobbed
agreement.
Thats correct, Mr. Patrick. The men are extraordinary, elite in the industry but
theyre still normal human men.
And this fucking Wilder isnt? Allen was ready to fight.
No, hes not. Wildcat is extremely psychic. Ive worked at least twenty covert cases
with him and theres a way to identify the information he gathers and use it to our
advantage. I simply dont think the team Ive put together over there will be able to grasp
it.
Psychic, like what he can see shit?
I never knew that about Andy, Tamara whispered.
Well, he likes to keep it kinda quiet.
How accurate is he? Even Allen was getting curious.
Usually, very accurate. Hes also a bit empathic; hes getting messed up a little in the
emotions of the situation. But hes still worth utilizing and theres no better weapon in
tight corners.
Psychic empathic? Daddy, how do you know about all this? She was beginning to
wonder what else she didnt know about the men she loved.
Trust me, honey. You work with a man like that for seven, eight years, you find yourself
doing a little research. Actually, a lot of research. You tell me, Mr. Patrick, he shot a
glare. You think for one minute those men I sent to back things up in Cairo are going to
handle Wilders qualities well?
Allens head shook. Thorne and OLeary taught the basics; the statistics and the practical
stratagem of K&R scenarios. And even though Thorne was known for having a sixth
sense where his instincts were concerned nothing was ever broached that remotely
resembled working with a psychic on a case. Looks like youre goin to Egypt, General.
I can cover things here.

65
Tamara was starting to crumble. Images of Terry, captured, hurt, in pain it all
pummeled her like a dumped bucket of icy cold water. She gasped, let tears roll and
gripped her knees tight.
Buck up, girly. This is no time to fall apart, Harford said, wishing he could do this a
little kinder. This was his baby girl, not a soldier. When Henry gets to New York, Im
putting him right in your hands.
Mine? She wanted to protest. Wanted to spend all her energy worrying and crying for
Terry but in a quick flash, she realized the blessing of Dino and Henrys situations for
her. A focus that helps Terry know everything is fine. Know that all he had to do was
survive until he could be rescued. She could do that for Terry. Shed do anything for him.
A sad grin pulled her lips and she blinked tear filed eyes. And all I was supposed to be
was his Downtime Woman, she whispered.
Not anymore. Youre now his lifeline. Dont screw it up, honey. Mr. Patrick, can you
handle them both or do you need help?
Im cool.
Im gone. Kiss your daddy goodbye and do what this big mug tells you, you hear.
She stood and wrapped her arms around Charlies neck. Please, no more trades. Come
home safe and bring Terry with you.

66
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

TEN

There was no serious surgery in Athens; the bullet in Henrys thigh was deep, but
retrievable. A local anesthesia, pain killers and antiseptic was all deemed necessary with
a demand that the wound be inspected upon arrival in the United States. Misery
permeated every sinew of his body but it was his heart that hurt most. Simpson and a man
named Johnston had accompanied Henry to Greece, but he was being sufficiently passed
into another set of hands from there.
Hey, hey! Simpson. Dont do this, mate. Let me go back and help, the kid gasped,
unaware of just how ludicrous the request was.
Henry had no training, he had no strength hell, all he had was terror to add to the mix
and Simpson knew, the team had more than enough of that to deal with. He didnt even
try to make sense with the young man, simply handed him over and winked. Just
following orders, Henry. Go to New York and get healthy. With a little luck, well have
your dad back in no time. And Simpson walked away. No point in letting Henry see the
hopelessness of the situation. Simpson was a field operative; he had no strengths where
dealing with a hostages family was concerned. There would be no benefit for the kid to
see it on his face.
Johnston grunted into the car and they were off to their own private flight back to
Cairo, to a new team leader and that strange Andy Wilder. What do you think of him?
Wilder?
Simpson shrugged. Truth? Fucked up. As fucked up as this whole thing is.
You know, OLeary and even Thorne do let us draw the line when we think its plain
old suicide.
Ever done it?
Hell no, Johnston grunted, resenting that hed even brought it up.
So why do it now? Whatre the options? Let Thorne rot without even trying? All
indications are this will fail no matter how hard we work at it, but ...
Johnston huffed and parked the car. They stepped out and onto the tarmac, the jet already
fueled, revved and ready to go. Thorne saved my life once. He even made sure my
daughter was taken care of when things got bad with the marriage and all.

67
Simpson, nodded, said nothing. His mind was on Charles Harford and what the hell hed
be expecting from them all. He explored his curiosity about what a retired Army General
was doing in charge of such a vital case. Did the man even have a clue about how these
things work? OLeary had put him at Thornes desk, so there must be something to him.
All he and Johnston could do was wait and see.
***
Henry slept most of the way to the States, vacillating between consciousness and the
horrors of the horrific experience hed just been rescued from; worrying for his father and
wondering how the team would bring him home safe and alive.
Home. Home for Terry Thorne used to be London. Dinos accident changed all that but
in truth, since his father had moved to New York, hed heard from him more than he ever
had when they lived in the same country. Oh, Terry wasnt in New York most of that
time, anymore than he was in London most of the time. But since the move, Henry heard
from his dad regularly and was even able to contact Terry when he wanted to chat.
Something basic seemed to have shifted in his old man, at least as far as Henry could see.
He didnt like to admit it, but he was in seventh heaven with the change. All his life he
wanted a closeness to his father, some confirmation that he was important to Terry. He
wasnt an idiot; he rationally understood the reasons behind the long, miserable
estrangements. Henrys father was a hero, a savior, a man people in the worst situations
on earth could count on. And he was there for Henry when he faced the same condition.
But this time, Terry made the ultimate sacrifice. Never once had Terry Thorne traded
himself for a hostage. Guilt flared in Henrys chest. Leave it to a foolish son to bring
about the worst. Was his father already dead?
These thoughts slithered in and out of his mind, some in a dreamlike state, others startling
him when he was lucid. There was no controlling it. And there he sat, in a wheelchair and
being deplaned helpless to do a damn thing to help Terry.
Allen Patrick and Tamara had made special arrangements to meet Henry at the gate.
Security was a bit suspicious and three guards actually stood with them. Allen, as usual,
was armed and Tamara had an underlying fear that somehow, something was about to go
wrong. Luckily, she wasnt psychic like Wildcat and she was wrong. Nothing erupted and
when the wheelchair came into view, moving into the terminal before any other
passenger, her heart gripped with something else.
Terrys son looked little like him except for a few shocking features; the cleft in his chin,
the bulk of his shoulders and the intensity in his eyes. The kid was obviously young, in
his mid-twenties, but the experience hed just endured was written on his face, clear in
lines that shouldnt be on a boy so young. Without warning Allen or the guards, she
stepped forward and knelt before the wheelchair. Her eyes dove into Henrys and tears
threatened to blur her vision.

68
Henry sighed. You must be my dads redhead, he said with a half grin that also looked
too familiar to ignore.
She nodded, tears dripping to her chin. Are you okay?
No.
Their first stop was the hospital. Henry was examined and released and suddenly Tamara
had another thing on her mind. Um Henry?
He turned a blank stare.
I was planning to take you to my apartment, but perhaps youd rather stay in Terrys
place. Its a few floors above mine and we can arrange another guard to stay with you.
He blinked, not a word formed.
I understand this might be uncomfortable for you, you dont even know me.
What are you doing, maam if I can ask? Henry almost squeaked.
Tamaras head tilted. Pardon?
What are you doing? Most women run like hell when things get ugly around my dad.
What are you doing?
Not running, Henry.
Youre sticking with him? Pure disbelief darkened Henrys blue eyes.
Yes, I am. I have no choice. I
Henry sighed, stared out the window as Manhattan passed by. You what? Love him?
When she didnt answer he turned, his eyes examining her expression intensely. Bloody
hell, he groaned. You do.
All Tamara could muster was a nod, she turned and sat quietly beside him until Allen
parked the car in the underground lot and tugged out the wheelchair from the trunk.
Where would you like to stay Henry? I really want to respect your privacy.
I dont wanna be alone, maam. If its not too much trouble, Ill stay with you. We can
bloody worry together.
Allen gave a huff and helped Henry into the chair as Tamara pressed for the elevator. He
rolled his eyes when she turned, indicating that the kid was a little too drugged up to

69
listen to. But to Tamara, it made sense. After all, what else could she and Henry do for
Terry?
***
Terry woke with a start; nothing in his mind was lost except the time after he was
drugged into oblivion. Whatever they gave him didnt mess with his memory, although it
must have been far stronger than he first suspected. His body rebelled, demanding
movement, stiff and aching and bound tight.
He opened his eyes; the view was a filthy plaster ceiling. Beneath him was a mattress
not too uncomfortable, but his ankles and wrists were bound. He let his vision widen. An
intravenous drip pegged to his vein. The sheets were clean, smelling of bleach and
against his full nakedness. Shit. What else? A catheter. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How long had
he been that way? Had they fed him more and more of the drug through his vein? And for
Gods sake to what end? Monitors were attached to his chest and temples. Pretty hightech torture was planned, but why hadnt they begun yet? By his inner clock, hed been
out for days. What was the point of torture a victim didnt feel? He fought for total
stillness just until he could get a grasp on things, but the vision of Henry, bleeding and
terrified, raced through his heart and his finger twitched. Within thirty seconds, the room
was filled with soldiers, all aiming rifles at his heart. Terry chuckled.
Rehema entered, stood at the foot of the bed. Her face was serene, as beautiful as it was
the first time he saw her, fifteen years ago. But being beautiful and being brutal were one
and the same where the lithe Egyptian woman was concerned. He knew better than to
push it, but considering the circumstances, what could it hurt?
Did you undress me, Rehema? his brow rose.
I did. I was not impressed.
Well, that hurts.
A small grin pulled her perfect lips. She nodded and several of the gunmen left the room.
Those remaining slung weapons over their shoulders and proceeded to set up a laptop and
projector. The lights then dimmed and a picture appeared on the wall.
Do you recognize this?
He snorted. Of course he recognized it. A Russian AK-74, originally designed in the late
sixties, the specimen on the wall looked like it had gone through a mess of developments
since. The scope was extended, the revised optics were probably Chinese; the trigger
longer, more distinct and most likely far easier to manage. Even the metal of the barrel
looked upgraded, lighter, making the weapon more portable than the original. Yeah,
Terry grunted. The picture changed.

70
And this man?
No, Terry said with convincing nonchalance. The man in the photo looked older,
puffier in the face, there were grey streaks at his temples but there was no doubting who
it was. Rollier Kashi was American special ops when Terry was active S.A.S. Hed never
met Kashi, but he knew of him well and would bet his bottom dollar, Kashi knew of
Terry too. Three years ago, Kashi disappeared. The man was a CIA weapons expert at the
time, a miracle worker with anything that shoots; he never carried a weapon not of his
own design even in the service. What the fuck was the bloody bloke up to? And what
would make him turn, as he had obviously joined the bad guys. Who is he? Terry
squinted.
The lights came on and again Rehema positioned herself at Terrys feet. He is a man
who is holding six hundred of those rifles, hidden in a warehouse in Saudi, Arabia. I want
those weapons, Mr. Thorne.
So, get them.
Her grin was so evil he thought for a moment hed jump out of his skin. No, you will get
them for me.
And how the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?
That my friend is for you to figure out.
Fuck off, he hissed and Rehema nodded across the room. Terry managed to control a
flinch as he was sure a rifle butt was heading for some tender part of his body. He stared
into her face, his expression frozen and eyes hard as nails.
Instead of an assault, one of the men placed something very tiny into her palm. Her smile
widened. Fuck off, you say?
Woman, why dont you just kill me and get this over with. You and I both know, there
is no way Ill get those bloody weapons for you.
She fingered the tiny object in her hand. Mr. Thorne, you do realize you owe me.
Two of my sons are dead.
And, I am grateful that you spared my son. He glared, his mind becoming tight as a
spring about to snap.
Now her eyes were narrowed to ugly slits. I have not spared him. Do you know what
this is? she held the small metal piece between finger and thumb.
Terry could not control the sweat that beaded at his temples.

71
I see, you think you do. Let me elaborate. This is a very sophisticated tracking device. It
is dialed in to my own satellite and at this very moment, I know that Henry Thorne is in
New York City, with a rather pretty woman by the name of Tamara Fillmore. How very
sweet, your lover caring for your son.
They are both very well protected, he scowled and struggled to sit up. No go. The
straps were tight and he was nearly immobile.
You would think, would you not? Well, this is far more than just a tracking device. If
course, we had to be careful and not risk detection when it was implanted. She watched
his eyes, tilting a sour grin as realization washed over his face. Yes. The gunshot wound.
Poor, poor Henry. The doctors in Athens were so focused on the bullet and the bleeding,
they never thought to search just ten inches higher where we entrenched this little
monster. And, do not believe for a single moment that it isnt a monster.
You see if you do not get those weapons, I will detonate this tiny thing and your son
will die.
Terry swallowed hard.
If you fail or refuse, he and your lover will die. He by the poison imbedded in his groin
Miss Fillmore by a far more brutal means, I assure you. If you succeed? Well, we shall
see. Either way, you are already in the history books, Mr. Thorne. Dose him, she
turned to a nurse. Not too much, he must be able to think when he wakes.
This time he felt the drug take affect, it seared the inside of his veins and he struggled not
to cry out. This time Terry really knew the score. All he needed was a clear enough
head to figure out the game. It would not come soon.
But after the excruciating pain the chemical induced, after the numbness of his very soul,
after all the inner turmoil of body and mind, Terry didnt find himself thinking of self
preservation or survival, he wasnt devising the machinations required to protect Henry
from the wicked witch of Egypt, he wasnt even facing the guilt that his son and his lover
were in extreme danger because of his career choice he had only one image holding
him together.
Tamara and Henry, standing together and hoping for him; taking care of each other;
supporting Dino and knowing he loved them all. It was fluff. It was a dangerous
reflection in the scheme of things but it was all he had at the moment.

72
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

ELEVEN

Andy Wilder stood at the back of the suite, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and
pretty much pissed off. Hed made his full report on the events leading up to Thornes
abduction and he was waiting for General Charles Hartford to take control. In the room
were six men whod worked with Thorne for years. They saw no reason to listen to the
two strangers among them.
Charlie Harford was a soft spoken kinda guy. He seldom used typical military
intimidation as a tactic, but as the meeting rumbled out of control, Wildcat was
wondering if this would be the time the General finally snapped. Thornes men were
talking among themselves, had never even pretended to show respect or interest in what
Harford might have to say, and obviously didnt like the way the case was going. Experts
all flawed; each and every one of them, but experts with successes under their belts all
the same.
Wilders eyes took it all in like a plotting animal, but he had no intention of moving in for
the kill. Hed had enough of justifying himself, explaining things people didnt
understand. It had been a tough road, meeting and being so physically near Thorne.
Wildcats empathic nature had taken on all the weight of Terrys emotions, all his fears
and concerns for Henry. Now that he was no longer in close proximity to the man, his
head had cleared again and his energy was flowing. But flowing to what? Would this case
be a battle of wits and unproductive prejudices? He wanted no part of that. If he could,
hed have walked off the damn case, left for the States and returned to his attempts at a
normal life. It was what he was doing when he got the call from Harford. Trying to live a
normal life. Maybe that just wasnt in the cards. Maybe he just liked Thorne and wanted
to assist. Maybe a lot of things were keeping him there, although he was hard pressed to
clearly identify any of them.
Finally, the General spoke.
Gentlemen, he said softly and Wildcat felt a half-grin rise on his lips. His head tilted in
amazement. It was just like Hartford to quiet a mob with a near whisper. The men
silenced as if under a spell and the old man cleared his throat. You need to know my
qualifications, he offered before they made the demand. I have had the luxury of
studying each of your dossiers but I understand you have not seen mine, so, he sighed
and shrugged, we will waste a little valuable time doing this.
He stood, paced, eyeing each man present and continued. I am retired, as Im sure you
all know. For twenty years, until December of 2007, I was black ops but with a
specialty. I rescued American soldiers from captivity. Two were returned to American

73
soil dead thirty-two were recovered alive. Its a damn good track record, Im sure even
you agree.
Mr. Wilder here was an integral part of nearly twenty of those rescues. I wont bother
explaining his special skill. It would take years to understand and even I dont have a sure
grasp on how it works. All I know, gentlemen, is that it works. No point in fixing
something that isnt broke, correct? Wilder and I have worked together longer than many
of you have worked together. You have your procedures and techniques and we have
ours. Our objective here our vital objective is to find the perfect hybrid and bring
Terry Thorne from captivity. Its our only objective. Wildcat, he said, looking to Andy
and all eyes turned. Is Thorne alive?
Yes, he said without hesitation. Until that word fell from his lips, even he wasnt sure,
but suddenly he was as positive as he was that he was a man and had brown eyes.
Positive as anything he ever knew. Then, as all attention slithered reluctantly back to the
General, a sensation gripped him. A gnawing, but not in his gut, not from the Egyptian
street food hed eaten earlier, not from the exhaustion that sucked at his energy. It was a
thrumming of his soul, a psychic hooking that was pulling him and pulling hard. Without
a word he slipped from the suite. Andy Wilder needed to be alone.
As he left he heard several snorts from the men and he heard the General continue
speaking as though nothing had occurred to interrupt the meeting. What was being said
wasnt important to Wilder at the moment. What was trying to call all of his attention
was.
He walked the hotel hall until he located the stairwell to the roof. At the top, he stood
alone, looking out at the city. The sun was setting over Cairo, whispering golds and
echoing the colors of the dessert all around. It was as though the earth was holding its
breath, waiting to breathe again. For several moments Wilder observed, sensed the
impact of his inner energy and the peacefulness of everything around him.
The inner demand tugged harder. It was unrecognizable but there were several odd things
happening to him since his work began with Thorne. Long ago hed learned to let the
images flow, let them take him where he needed to be. Standing with feet planted, hands
clasped behind his back, he let his eyes drift closed. What was coming was going to be
new, different. All he could do was let it come.
The ominous, mellow smoky feeling encased him and he slowly opened his eyes. To his
right, in a field of nothingness reflecting the sunset afterglow his physical eyes had just
taken in stood the image of Terry Thorne. Andy quickly scanned the man. Terry was
physically unharmed but his mind was in turmoil. As he focused to receive any piece of
information he could glean from the captive, he had the sudden sensation of being tugged
from his left. Turning, he almost gasped, almost shook himself from the vision when he
saw her. What the hell was Tamara doing in this scenario? Had he mixed his own
emotions with Terrys? But Andy held strong. He was nothing if not courageous and
damn curious.

74

With a sudden jolt of understanding, he controlled a sigh and returned his attention to
Terry. Thornes eyes were glued to Tamara and hers were unwaveringly on him. Andy
moved a hand to get their attention. He knew one thing worked because it had worked the
moment before Thorne was taken. They could communicate psychically.
Terry, Andy said and Thorne looked over. Are you alright?
Terrys head shook and he groaned. Do I look alright, mate? Tamara? Tamara, love?
No Terry, Andy chided, desperate to control the clairvoyant event. Talk to me. Seems
you and me can communicate. Later Ill convey what you want to her, for now getting to
you is way more important, buddy. Concentrate. Talk to me.
Tell her Im alive.
Andys lips twisted. Thorne didnt take direction well. He turned to Tamara and felt the
ache she was suffering, right in his heart. Tammy, sweetheart. Can you hear me?
Yes.
Terry is alive.
Tell him
At least Tamara was getting how this thing worked but Wilder couldnt take the time to
pass along sentiments at the juncture. Against his desperation, he listened. After a brief
silence she continued.
Tell him Henry is here and hes fine.
Andy turned to relay the news; figuring that one thing off Thornes mind might help the
man concentrate. But Terry did something even stranger than the whole experience had
been so far. His intricate brain had picked up on things, was calculating, deciphering. He
squared a glare at Wildcat.
Thought you said you werent telepathic. How we doin this if you arent telepathic?
Andy shrugged. May its you whos fuckin telepathic, Terry. Maybe its just the mix of
you and me. Who knows? Tammy says Henrys fine.
No, hes not. Agitation made Terrys ethereal form vibrate with a red pulsing light.
Tell her to get him to a hospital, make them remove the implant. Deadly. Tracking and
poisoning device. Near his groin.
Andy blinked.

75

Tell her! Terry shouted.

Carefully, so as not to panic her, Andy repeated Terrys words and watched the woman
tremble. She nodded.
Okay, done. Now Terry. Where are you? Tell me everything you see. Wilder was
sensing a closing, desperate to get everything he could from Thorne. It was strange, not
seeing the mans surrounding like he usually did even stranger, holding a
conversation, which had never occurred during such visions. The only clear bit of
information coming through Wilders usual channels was that Terry was not far from the
very spot where he stood. Not more than five miles away. Tell me everything you see,
Terry, he repeated, knowing the mans focus was on Tamara.
Tell her I love her.
What? Dont be ridiculous. This isnt gonna last long and we may not get another
chance. Tell me where you are!
Tell her I love her, Wilder.
Andy huffed, turned. Tamara had lowered to a seated position, legs crossed, her face was
in her hands and she was sobbing. Damn, he didnt want to pass on the message. Was it
because it was unimportant in the scheme of things? Or was it because he too loved the
Generals daughter?
Tell her! Terry shouted.
Tamara, look at me, honey. Look at me. Her eyes rose and he felt his heart clench.
Terry says he loves you.
I love you too, Terry. I love you too, she gasped.
Whipping his head to the right he saw it; a flickering, melting of the vision. She loves
you too. Fuck Terry, tell me where you are! Help me, man! Times running out!
Terrys form was fading but his voice was clear. AK74s. Saudi. Moving out.
And the strangest psychic event of Andy Wilders life was over. His eyes fluttered
opened to complete darkness and he made his way back to the suite. He didnt have much
to go on. Weapons. A country not far away and some sort of activity. If Terry was
leaving his present location, there wasnt much time to hook onto it and follow.
Otherwise, theyd be searching all of Arabia and the Middle East.
***

76
Tamara woke with a start, trembling and gasping for air. Shed fallen asleep in the chair
next to Henrys bed. Theyd talked until almost simultaneously drifting off to sleep but it
was dawn and more than the sun was reaching Tamara. She quickly stood and checked
Henrys condition, placing a cool hand on his cool brow. He stirred.
Nice way to wake, love, he mumbled and his eyes again slithered closed.
She ran across the hall, tapped on the spare bedroom door until she realized that either
Allen Patrick wasnt an easy man to wake, or he wasnt sleeping in there at all. Her
search was frantic, ending in the kitchen as he was pouring coffee.
Morning, Ms. Fillmore. Everything okay?
No no. She took the mug from his hand and dumped it into the sink.
Hey, he groaned, watching the almost comical expression on her face. Oh yeah, hed
seen that before, a cross between madness, disbelief and panic and it usually came the
moment a family member realized their loved one was kidnapped. But this wasnt news
to Tamara. Sit down, he gripped her upper arms and led her to the chair. Tell me
whats going on.
She gulped, tried to calm. We have to get Henry to the hospital.
Allen was charging toward the bedroom, Tamara at his heel. He pushed opened the door
and stood at the bed, looking down at what looked like a kid peacefully sleeping off a
weekend drunk. He looks fine.
We have to take him now. Somethings implanted in him. Something dangerous, its
tracked him here and its going to kill him if we dont get it out!
Tamara, calm down. What makes you think all this? Shed thumped to sit at the edge of
the mattress and by this point Henry had pulled himself to sit against the headboard, eyes
wide.
I ah this is going to sound crazy, but I had a dream.
A dream? said the two men at once and Tamara instantly squared her shoulders for a
fight. Yes, a dream like none I ever had before. Terry said that whatever was planted in
Henry is deadly. He said its near his groin.
Henry winced and looked to Allen. The big man ran a hand down his face. He had a
scared recovered captive and a terrified woman on his hands. Tamara, we dont work on
dreams. We follow orders and we stay calm.
She shot to her feet. If you wont take him to the hospital, I will!

77
Just relax, theres no need for any of this. Henrys fine, look at him. But Henry didnt
look so fine. Hed gone pale as a sheet making Allen huff with even more frustration.
Youre fine buddy, just a little disoriented after
No, it makes sense, Henry shuffled on the bed, his brow set in a determined crunch.
Henry, calm down. Tamara, sit. Lets try to make some sense here, okay?
Why dont you bloody listen, ya wanker! It does make sense!
Fine, fine. Lets all calm down. Ill hear you out, Henry. Just Tamara, come on and
sit down. Shed been pacing relentlessly and showed no sign of stopping. Go on,
Henry. How does a dream Tamara had, sleeping in an uncomfortable chair make
sense?
Allen, Henry began, struggling to keep his voice even. I do not remember getting shot.
It had to have happened right before they took me for the trade, but I dont remember it at
all. Theyd strapped me to a hospital bed and pumped drugs into me. I was out cold,
woke in that bloody car, shot and hurting like hell. Maybe they did plant something in
me? Maybe while I was
Allen held his breath. Sure, it did make sense. If theyd knocked the kid out cold and shot
him in the leg, they had an opened wound to use, something that wasnt going to draw a
whole lot of attention. But to get the sucker planted near Henrys groin meant they really
worked the wound. Maybe that explained the bruised muscle tissue the doctors couldnt
explain. Bruises that seemed to make sense to Allen, considering what Henry had just
endured but now?
Get it out of me! Henry swung his feet to the floor and Tamara passed him clothing to
wear. Those fuckers are using this bloody thing to threaten my father. Then suddenly
all motion stopped, everyone held their breath, but Henry was the first to voice their
thought. That means hes alive. If theyre using me as leverage, they must want
something from him. Dads alive, Tamara. Hes live.
Allen reached for his cell phone. Well, get your ass dressed, we need to find a way to
keep you alive. Tamara, call a cab. We need to get him to the hospital and I need to call
in a few experts and see what we can do about this damn implant if its there if
theres even a safe way to find and remove the fucking thing. Hurry.
***
When Terrys eyes cracked opened he was still strapped tight to the bed and completely
alone, but he knew better than to express his feelings. None of it would have fazed him if
not for one small detail. Just before he was taken, he thought something to Wildcat.
He told the man to get Henry to New York. Rehema had confirmed that it was exactly
where Henry was. Whatever special skills Andy Wilder had, Terry was beginning to

78
believe it just might help him live through the ordeal ahead. He let his eyes close again
and fell into a beautiful dream. A dream of Tamara, her flesh, her heat, her voice her
welcoming body.

79
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

TWELVE

When Wildcat entered the room, all eyes turned, some irritated, a few curious. The
General waved to a chair, seeing that the exhaustion of whatever Andy had just
experienced was taking its toll.
So?
Andy Wilder was used to this part the part where even General Hartford struggled to
get a grip on what was about to be imparted. He ignored everyone else and simply spilled
the beans. Drawing in a deep breath, the words fell out surprisingly in order.
I have confirmation Thornes alive. And theres more. Hes conveyed that Henrys
been implanted with not only a tracking device but the damn thing is deadly. I kinda
suspected such. He shot a glare at Simpson who had insisted that his suggestion to have
Henry thoroughly examined after recovery as unimportant, thus sending the young man
home dangerously monitored. Its looking grim. Theyre threatening Thorne with taking
Henrys life.
Why? Simpson said. Hed broken ground that moment. With his question, the others
eyes suddenly became seriously interested in what Wilder had to say. Simpson was the
leader of the pack, if not that, the one with the best leadership qualities and finally the
rebels were ready to get on the same team.
The message I got from Thorne was simple. AK74s. Saudi. Moving out. Andy pulled a
hand down his jaw and looked to the General. Sir, I also have a strong sensation that
right this minute, hes less than five miles from where we sit.
What the hell does all this mean? one of the men snorted, attempting to create dissent
but Simpson gave a growl.
AK74s, Simpson eyed the General directly. Intel stated last month that a stash of
AK74s went missing sometime in May, stolen from Afghanistan. Maybe Thorne knows
there in Arabia?
Maybe, Charlie Hartford sighed. Get the brain synapses sparking, gentlemen. What do
these missing weapons have to do with Thorne or his captors?
You said the contact was a woman, right Wilder? Simpson was now pacing.
Rehema?

80
Correct.
Okay, I think I got this. I think I got this. Heads leaned closer over the round table in
the suite but before Simpson could launch into his theory, the General raised a hand. He
promptly made contact with the home office. After a moment he grinned.
What? Andy asked and the room went silent.
Allen Patrick, the operative guarding Tamara and Henry? Heads nodded. Office says
hes taken the kid to the hospital. Had the presence of mind to call in a few CIA experts.
The device is in fact there. Looks like Henrys gonna be out of the woods. Well get a
report when the procedure is completed. Now Simpson, youve got the floor.
***
Terror gripped Tamara as she held Henrys hand in the small emergency room
examination cubicle. Allen had been extremely clear that nothing was to begin until the
CIA specialist arrived and the wait seemed to take years. Nearly two hours later, Henry
shifting uncomfortably on the mattress and Allen shuffling from foot to foot, the space
too small to do an actual pace, the curtain was pushed aside and in walked a man.
He wasnt alone. With him were two armed police officers and a lovely young woman.
She was small and dark and obviously of Middle Eastern decent, which one, Allen
couldnt quite determine. She was dressed smartly in a dark brown suit, a bright pink and
gold scarf tied loosely at her neck and drooping down, obscuring whatever cleavage
might be showing at the top of her white silk blouse. His eyes took her in. Damn pretty
little thing, that was sure, but even as he considered, he discounted her. Too young. But
one look at Henry said that he sure didnt think she was too young for him. The kid was
almost flirting, a garish expression trying to cover his fear.
The man quickly put a finger to his lips and handed his card to Allen. Felipe Gomez.
Allen was impressed, hed heard of Gomez. At least the CIA was taking this thing
seriously.
Get the doctor, Gomez spat and one of the cops disappeared, returning almost
immediately with a white-coated ER physician. Another card was handed out and this
time, only Gomez eyes told the man to zip it. I want this man in a private room,
immediately.
Uh we wanted to do a consultation before we admit him.
Immediately.
And it was done. Henry was shifted onto a gurney and he and his entourage were hustled
upstairs. At the room, the police were stationed outside the door and they all remained

81
silent as the young female agent scoured the room for bugs. Her nod started the ball
rolling.
Gomez was a short, broad man with a balding head and an air of importance no one dared
question. He was dressed as dapper as can be, starched white shirt and his tie perfectly
knotted at his thick neck. He looked to the doctor. This young man has been implanted
with an extremely dangerous device. All suspicions are that the item was set in place
through the bullet wound in his left leg and now firmly lodged near his groin.
Henrys face went red and his eyes dropped from their admiration of the young woman.
Here are the sticking points, doctor, Gomez continued. If this device is what we
suspect it is, nothing can be done the way youd normally do it. No x-rays, no MRI. Any
procedure you do that might trigger the sensitivity of the device can not only end Henry
Thornes life, but cause repercussions you cant imagine. Any suggestions?
The doctor was in way over his head and he knew it. He cleared his throat then suggested
he bring in a vascular surgeon as well as the head of the department. This met with
Gomez approval and again they were left to wait.
How ya doin, kid? Gomez asked, but with little open concern.
Just bloody dandy. How the hell are they gonna get this thing out if they cant even be
sure where it is?
Gomez had no bedside manner whatsoever. Its not gonna be easy. Right now, your
pulse is racing under the stressful circumstances, which will hopefully translate as the
result of an infectious condition. They know youre here, itll be assumed for treatment.
Anesthetic will alter your current heart rate, slow it and thus send a signal to the bad guys
that were messing with it. Gird your loins, buddy. This wont be a pretty process.
And Tamara saw black slipping in at every corner of her vision before she fell
unconscious in Allens arms. Gomez waited for her to wake, be settled in a chair and
sipping water before he continued.
Once removed, the device will need to be stored in a gel-like material, rigged with a
vibration to imitate a normal heartbeat and held at a temperature of ninety-eight point six
or thereabouts. Well have it kept here, guarded of course, to make the kidnappers think
Henry Thorne has remained as a patient. He looked down on Henry whose face had
gone ashen. Ready?
No, the kid squeaked. What about my dad?
Gomez glanced at Allen. Mr. Patrick, Ive had an encoded conversation with the team in
Cairo. Ms. Solome will be joining them within twenty-four hours. Shes an expert on that
particular geo/political location and can assist most effectively. Finally, with the first

82
sign of humanity, Gomez patted Henrys shoulder. Were gonna help get your dad
home, kid. You just grit your teeth and bear whats ahead.
***
When Terry woke, he could do nothing but wonder at what he knew. What he believed or
at least what he wished to believe. His wrists and ankles were unbound. Clothing was
folded on a nearby chair and a tray of food sat, still steaming on the table. He rose slowly,
fighting off the residual effects of the drug, dressed and sat to eat, his brain still clacking
and snapping.
It wasnt until Rehema entered that Terrys confirmations came. She stood at the opened
door, hands on her hips and a wicked grin tugging the corners of her perfect mouth.
Terrys brow rose.
What?
She sauntered in, gazed down at his empty plate and waved a hand to have it removed.
Rehema was a woman of wealth. The operation was most unpleasant for a woman of her
standing, but she appeared ready and willing to bear the inconveniences. After all,
holding Terry Thorne at her mansion would not do. That day she was dressed in a silk
suit and jewels that would easily equal the value of Terrys own K&R policy. Those were
real diamonds encrusting the band of her wrist watch, a real ruby nestled in the hallow of
her neck. Her hair was flawless and Terry grunted, shifted to give a glare of disapproval.
She chuckled.
You have six hours to formulate your plan, Mr. Thorne. Then we will meet and you will
leave.
Duration of the operation? Terry asked with direct practicality.
Seven days, not a moment longer. She turned to leave then shot a gaze over her
shoulder. Oh, perhaps you would like to know that Henry has been moved to a New
York Hospital. His heart rate is soaring and it looks as though he will remain there a
while. Perhaps an disease? her smile of malevolence made the beautiful face hideous.
He may die before I can command it. But should you succeed; I may consider
passing the word of our little implant. It depends on how quickly and efficiently you can
deliver those rifles. Are we clear?
Were clear. But Terrys face broke into a massive smile the moment the door closed.
His message had gotten across. Hed have to trust the experts to not only protect Henrys
life, but assure that Rehema and her minions get no indication of the tracking devices
removal. Now, on to other important things.
He closed his eyes and began to think his plan. The issues?

83
Rollier Kashi, American Special Operations weapons expert and apparent turncoat. He
tried his best not to imagine what would shift the loyalties of a man like Kashi. All he
could focus on was the fact that according to Rehemas intelligence, Kashi had a stash of
six hundred Russian refitted AK74s. All Terry could focus on was how he could appear
to get them for her and all he could pinpoint was how to sidestep the whole damn
thing. Now, with Henry safe, he had a bit of wiggle room. No way he was delivering. No
fucking way.
His brain moved like smooth honey over everything he knew of Kashi, the disappearance
of the weapons nearly eight months earlier, and exactly what hed use to make the right
connection with the man.
At first it would need to appear innocent, but did he have time for that? One week was all
he had. Surely Rehema had no intention of loading cash into Terrys pockets to make it
appear to be a black market purchase. That alone would raise a red flag in Kashis mind.
If he knew as much about Terry Thorne as Terry knew about Rollier Kashis career, the
man would be suspicious and hard pressed to accept the approach. Terry needed to devise
the perfect ruse to bring Kashi out in the open but keep the bloke alive at the same time.
But why? What did it matter? If Kashi was a traitor, what need was there of protecting
him?
Instinct.
Terry suddenly knew that Rollier Kashi was in the same bloody boat he was in.
Everything he knew of the man pointed right at it. Kashi was a family man, had a wife,
three kids and grandkids. Someone was threatening them, sure as the sun would come up
tomorrow. With a little luck and a lot of savvy, Terry just might be able to pull off a meet
something that got him and the thief face to face enough to read what was right
behind their eyes.
Now who was manipulating Kashi and what was the American government doing
about it or was the American government behind it? Equations few and dashed
against the walls of his mind. Saudi was an ally, at least had been a big supporting
American ally. Saudi was pristine, isolated, nearly untouchable. No place better to hide
stolen weapons. Who would get near enough to find them?
Then, the question of Afghanistan? How the theft fit into this scenario left little for Terry
to think on. Unless
Unless the entire thing was subterfuge; unless the rifles were never really in
Afghanistans possession. Unless someone wanted to plant intelligence to attract
Rehemas attention. Now it was starting to make sense. Not make things easier but at
least it was starting to make sense.

84
Bloody hell, Terry sighed, stood and slammed a fist against the closed door. The clank
confirmed it was locked and a soldier glared in at him. Paper and pens, mate. Now. And
tell your mistress I wont need six bloody hours. Ill be ready to move in three.

85
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

THIRTEEN

Tamara was in her bed. What poor Henry had endured had drained her. She had refused
to leave his side even though her personal bodyguard was insistent. The bones in her
hand ached from the grip Henry had pressed on it. And her heart? It was in turmoil. At
least the kidnappers had been kind enough to shoot him in the thigh and implant the
devise while Henry was unconscious. Unfortunately, it couldnt be removed the same
way. It was bloody, it was painful and it was disturbing as hell. And it was more than
that.
If the people who took Henry could do such a thing to the kid who knew nothing, what
were they doing to Terry? Tears wells and dribbled onto her pillow. Terry. He was
suffering, she could feel it. He was worried for Henry and worried for her worried for
himself too she was sure. But, he was also well versed in these sorts of things. She had to
trust that he could handle it all.
Hours earlier, riding back from the hospital in the official CIA vehicle, Henry finally
drugged and sleeping off his pain at her side, she had closed her eyes. She overheard
several things being discussed by the pretty woman, Mr. Gomez and Allen. They spoke
of things most people didnt realize about the world, the ugly underbelly, the network of
espionage that kept the world safe in spite of itself. She had listened carefully, still and
silent, hoping the speakers truly believed she was asleep. But of course, they didnt. Any
real secrets would never be divulged in her presence, she clearly understood that. What
they said might be common knowledge among their peers or those more well versed in
world affairs. It was shocking to Tamara, but important all the same. She needed to know
what Terry was up against.
Kashi? Allen Patrick had said quietly.
Under. Deep under for nearly three years.
So you know where he is?
Exactly, Gomez sighed. Ms. Solome is an expert in this area. Gila?
Yes, said the soft voice, very feminine and very intelligent. Mr. Kashi has set a trap
for our target. We have only been waiting for it to spring. This is a critical time and an
extremely significant turn of events, Mr. Patrick. We can assist Mr. Thorne or we can
permit him to fumble into the lair along with Rehema.

86
Allen huffed, obviously irritated at the CIAs attitude and Tamara struggled to hide a
grin. At least someone was on Terrys side. Listen, lady. Thorne is fucking important. I
know you people, you use and you abuse just to get what you want.
What we need, Mr. Patrick, corrected Gomez. Rehema is dangerous on a global level.
You must know better than to imagine we would sacrifice a good man for anything.
Thorne is an extraordinary man. Trust me, he knows exactly what hes up against and the
last thing he works on is emotion. Hes brilliant and sharp and I have no concerns about
placing Ms. Solome exactly in the right place and getting our requirements across to the
captive.
Its our experience that Rehema is far more the user and abuser. Shes sending Thorne
alone, theres no doubt about it. She wont risk a connection to those weapons. Your team
in Egypt is setting up headquarters in Bahrain. Ms. Solome will work with them until she
can get close enough to contact Thorne.
And how the hell is she gonna get into Saudi? snapped Allen.
No answer came but Tamara could feel the energy shift. It seemed even Allen was getting
the drift of how this was all going to happen, even if Tamara would forever be in the
dark. What shed learned during that drive tainted her rest and brought on terrible
nightmares.
She rolled over in the bed. Her mind slithered to everything she knew of the Middle East.
Desert. Soldiers. Flashing lights in the darkened Baghdad sky. Like most Americans, she
had little to go on, only the images on the CNN screen or in movies. Why was Bahrain
going to be the headquarters? And where the hell was Bahrain? Was it close enough to
where Terry was? Or where Terry was going to be? And how did undercover agents in
this case a deep undercover agent named Kashi fit into all this? Logic put together a
simple puzzle; a childs puzzle with big pieces and little detail. But it was enough to
show her exactly what her place was is within it all.
Terry tried to explain, but very little before he left. Let the experts do their job. Gomez
was an expert. Allen Patrick was an expert. Terry was an expert. So were her father and
Andy Wilder. The only thing she was an expert at was taking care of Henry, and that
came from an inbred, female nurturing quality every woman had. Shed do her part to the
best of her ability.
She climbed from the mattress and looked at the clock. Seven PM. Far too early to be
hiding in bed. She splashed water on her face and dressed, but before she could leave the
bedroom to check on Henry, the phone rang. She had picked it up just as Allen did the
same from the living room.
Give me everything, Dinos voice said and Tamara lowered the receiver, unwilling to
eavesdrop but desperate to know. She joined Allen and sat on the sofa, watching him talk
with Dino and hoping she wasnt doing the wrong thing.

87

He wants to see us, Allen announced and she blinked, glanced toward the spare
bedroom where Henry was resting. Ill get someone to cover here. Get yourself pretty,
Tammy.
She shot to her feet but Allens voice stopped her.
Oh, by the way Dino said he actually walked this morning. A walker, but he did it on
his own. The idiot thinks he might get his ass to Bahrain before this whole thing goes
down.
He cant be serious? Tamara thought as she put on a little makeup. He just cant be
serious!
When another burly man arrived to sit with Henry, Tamara and Allen rushed to the
underground garage and into his car. Whats going on? she asked, suddenly even more
afraid for Terry than shed been.
Dunno. Gomez is with Dino. The lady agent is already on her way to Bahrain. He
shrugged. Were all in the dark right now, honey.
***
Dino was not in much pain. Funny, with each surgery they told him the pain would
lessen, that he would walk and it would be fine. They were wrong until now. Odd that
this time it worked; it was like his body knew Terry needed him. But he was weak,
weaker than hed ever been. They said something about his heart but so what. Things
were moving fast and he had to heal just as fast to be of any assistance with rescuing
Terry.
Rescue? Now that was a laugh. If the man survived this one, hed be rescuing himself.
No doubt in Dinos mind. Hed gotten everything from Gomez. Knew what they were all
up against. Suspicions were high that Rollier Kashi was playing both ends of the deal.
Dino had met the man several times, actually had dinner with him a few months before
he went undercover. He wasnt so sure about Gomez suspicions, but had to take it all in.
Kashi was the wild card that could cost Terrys life.
How much does Tamara know?
No more than necessary. How much could she even comprehend? Generals daughter or
not, theres no way she can grasp all this. Gomez shrugged, crossed his legs and
watched Dino move across the room slowly, pushing the walker and shuffling his feet.
Damn remarkable. Hed understood that OLeary would never walk again. Hell, doctors
could repair a damaged spine, but experts couldnt put Rehema behind bars where she
belonged. Behind bars? No. The woman needed to be dead. Period. Gomez knew the
score.

88

Rehema was an enigma. Shed risen to power from a far fall into poverty. She and her
sons had gained enormous wealth through strategic, well-planned kidnapping. They were
once important supporters of Sadams efforts, sidestepping all other politics along the
way. Theyd backed the wrong horse, were even responsible for hiding the bastard. All it
took was one lucky American soldier to bring everything down. The execution was the
last straw. Then Rehema took her sons to an all new level. They werent prepared for the
likes of Thorne. Now two of her sons were dead and one was rotting in prison at least
until something could be done to put out that bastards lights for good.
Rehema was single-handedly rebuilding her strength, power and wealth and this was the
plan of her life. CIA efforts were savvy. They knew the perfect lure and planted the
enhanced AK74 cache. Unfortunately, Thorne had fallen directly into the hornets nest.
Dino grunted into a chair for a breather and ran an arm across his sweating brow. You
might be surprised what the Generals daughter can handle.
Well, Im hoping she can handle a lot. Ive got a plan and I need her cooperation. Thats
why Im here. Your assistance will be invaluable in pulling this off and I need you to help
me convince her.
Ah, shit, Dino hissed. He didnt like the sound of that one bit. Spit it out, man.
A ruse. If the girl can act, itll be even better.
Dinos brows were knotted tighter than a vice. His heart, the one he was supposed to be
handling with kid gloves, was twisted and his mind was already formulating arguments.
But hed hear the man out. Go on.
Since no contact has been made from the kidnappers and no arrangements made for
ransom negotiations, Rehema is thinking well play fair. We wont. The secrets she
thinks well keep will help add pressure.
And? Ah fuck, Dino knew where this was going. Now his original rebuttals were
seeking reasons to go through with it, convince Tamara to play the game. Poor girl had
no idea how hard this game really is.
Tomorrow morning at six-thirty, we will release an announcement that Henry Thorne
has died from the release of poison into his system triggered by his original kidnappers.
Now that we know the specifics of the implant, the news story will be plausible. We will
also announce, through a press conference staged by the CIA, with Tamara there to add
emotional color and answer questions that Terrence Thorne was captured in his efforts
to negotiate his sons freedom.
Thats going to fuck everything up, Dino said slowly, quietly, knowing the impact
Gomez was looking for and knowing it would tighten the screws on Rehema but also

89
that this would put Terry pretty much out of work. This kind of exposure would include
photos; AP wire press stories shot around the world at the speed of light; generate overall
political and military panic. Terry would never be able to do his job again. His face
would be as well known as President Obamas. Fuck, some goddamn novelist will want
to write a book!
When Gomez said nothing Dino again grunted to his feet and began a shuffle across the
room. Having reached the man, he glared. How much you planning to expose?
Everything.
Weakness overcame him and Gomez quickly evacuated the chair but knew better than to
help Dino sit.
Everything?
Yes. The story will be that with the death of Henry Thorne, Terrence Thornes long time
lover, Tamara Fillmore, panicked and contacted the CIA for help. Press releases are
already written and speeches are prepared. Ms. Fillmore is just the icing on the cake.
And, youll make her a fucking target.
Gomez grinned. We can handle that. At this moment Henry is being covertly taken to a
safe house. Weve got a nurse there; hell be in good hands.
And the device?
Itll be detonated at six-oh-three tomorrow morning. Everything will be in place by sixfifteen and a press conference is scheduled for six-thirty. Were moving fast with this.
And Terrys career?
Gomez shrugged and walked to the window, leaned back on the sill and sighed. Thorne
has had a long and illustrious career.
You really dont give a fuck about him, do you? Dino was fighting the urge to leap
and grip the mans throat but that wasnt happening. His mind though, was buzzing. As
ludicrous and dangerous as the whole thing was, it was also fucking flawless for the
CIA objectives.
Actually, Thorne may not be able to work the field any longer, but he has a lucrative
business. He can run it from the office.
Dinos snort was laced with disgust. Terry was never a man to sit in an office.
Actually, Gomez continued, we have designs on him. We can use a man like Thorne.

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Like hed ever do that.

Well, chuckled Gomez. Most entrepreneurial types dont join our ranks, but
Dino rubbed his eyes. And Kashi? If hes really doing double duty, hes the loose
cannon here.
This will show his colors and expose him. Well be killing two birds with one stone.
With Thorne in the fucking crossfire!
Gomez said nothing, even his eyes were blank.
You know I dont like this one fucking bit.
I know. You gonna help with Ms. Fillmore? If you choose not to, Ill be force to tell her
that Henry Thorne has in fact died.
You cant do that. Jesus! Give the woman a little dignity, for Christs sake!
Then you will assist in convincing her to follow through.
Yeah, yeah. You know youre a class A prick, Gomez.
Yes, I am. Ah, here they are. Come in, Mr. Patrick, Ms. Fillmore. Please, have a seat.
Weve got a lot to talk about.
***
Terry was as ready as he was ever going to be. One set of plans down on paper and
another, very different and meticulously designed to appear similar, in his head. Rehema
wasnt impressed. She simply tore up the sheets and growled.
How you do this is of no interest to me. The rifles must be delivered to the designated
position by midnight, seven days from now the sooner the better, of course or your
son dies. I think theres no further discussion to have. Dont you agree?
Fine by me.
Suddenly four armed men entered the holding room and Terry was bound at the wrists
and ankles, blindfolded and gagged. Everything that happened after that was only visual
in his imagination and based on the sensations of movement, scent and touch.
They were rough but he expected such. He was tossed into the bed of a pickup truck.
From there, he bounced, rolling from side to side as the vehicle rushed to its destination.

91
Then, a cargo plane. It was a quick flight and he visualized distance and mentally ticked
off time. Exactly as expected the plane landed with a rolling thud. Now the surprise.
Terry was literally tossed to the tarmac, still bound and gagged, helpless as the plane
immediately rolled away and took off.
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes and finally he heard another vehicle nearing. This one was
luxury. Jammed into the passenger seat he could smell the leather and residual Cuban
cigar smoke. He sensed two men in the front seat and remained still and silent after
grunting to sit up.
This drive was long, an hour, perhaps more. Far longer than he expected. When the car
stopped, he was dragged out. All was silent; it was deep night, possibly nearly dawn. Just
as he was being jerked up onto a curb, there were two shots, the ringing hiss of a silencer
burning in the quiet. Terry braced to feel the pain and possible experience the end of his
life.
But instead his two escorts grunted and thudded to the pavement, Terry unharmed but
falling right along with them.
Hands were quick, a small knife slicing through the ropes, whipping off the hood and
loosening the gag.
Terry blinked in the darkness. He was near an alley, between tall buildings, deep in a city.
And it appeared his savior was a young boy. The kid nudged his chin and Terry
followed stealthily.
Through the alley, up into a window and finally up to a rooftop. They crossed over
several connecting buildings then finally lowered by rickety ladder into an abandoned
room. Terry turned to see the boy and immediately he knew it wasnt a boy at all.
Who the bloody hell are you, he hissed.
The person rifled through boxes and passed a stack of fabric into Terrys outstretched
hand. Change your clothes.
No. First you tell me who the fuck you are, lady. Terry reached out and tugged off the
white cotton cap. Long dark hair cascaded down to cover her shoulders and she casually
went to work, twisting it and tucking it again into her disguise.
Terry Thorne, my name is Gila Solome. Her voice was soft and quiet and amazingly
intense. I am a CIA operative and Im here to help you. Now, quickly change. Before
the sun rises we go to Mosque. Hurry.
Terry turned his back and yanked off his shirt and jeans. Hed turned because he was
going commando; seemed Rehema liked him that way. With a snort he donned soft
cotton pants and tunic, loose and bloody comfortable as hell. Men like him liked to call

92
Middle Eastern garb pajamas. But Terry knew the advantages of the clothing as all
soldiers did. Lots of room to hide a weapon. Speaking of such
Weapon? he said, turning to see her reach out a pistol.
Come.
He followed. Mosque?
Where we will make contact. Hurry.
He pushed to her side, the pistol under his tunic, his sandals flopping against his heels in
whispered rhythm. As the sun lightened the dark sky and the cries of prayer rose from the
towers, they entered a mosque. Solome picked her way through the gathering crowd,
Terry tight at her side until she found her place and they lowered to their knees.
A sideway glance told Terry more than he wanted to know about her. Gila was tiny, frail
and amazingly beautiful, but she could easily pass for a boy of thirteen. Her complexion
was the color of golden sand and her eyes were big and dark as night, lashes full and lush.
Together they endured morning prayer, bowing and groaning sounds, Terry in perfect
unison and raising no suspicion from those around them. Behind a lattice wall to the back
of the space prayed the women and he wondered how pissed off Muhammad would be to
know Terry was beside a woman among men.
God help me, he prayed silently. Cause my bloody plan has just gone out the fuckin
window.

93
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

FOURTEEN

Prayer droned on and on and Terry, bowing beside Gila Solome, waited patiently. He had
a thousand questions, questions he may or may not get a chance to ask. As the crowd
solemnly stood and milled about, readying to begin the day, a rotund man nearly plowed
Gila to the ground, casually gripped her arm and swung her back to her feet then walked
off.
She led Terry back into the streets where they moved casually, choosing food from a
street vendor for breakfast then slinking back into the alley. In the ugly cramped room,
they sat with backs against opposite walls and Terry watched her carefully. Oh yeah, she
was CIA, through and through. But the hair? She should have shorn it unless
unless there was a plan for her again to appear as a woman down the road. He was just
going to have to trust her. Or
Now what? he asked in a whisper.
Now, we wait. Word will come, Mr. Thorne. For now, you should get some sleep. This
will be a marathon, perhaps three days before we can rest again. Sleep.
And you?
I will take the first watch.
He crossed his arms and slouched lower on the floor but his eyes would not droop, much
less close. What she had just offered was far more than a simple chance for him to catch a
few winks. If he was still alive at the end of her watch, shed be placing her life in his
hands next.
My son?
Gilas eyes softened when she looked at him. He is fine. No matter what you hear, he is
fine, I swear it. Now sleep.
Gila Solome knew things even the CIA did not know. Things about Thorne, things about
Andy Wilder and things about Rehema.
Gila had seen Rehema several times years ago as a child. Rehema was a brutal woman,
cruel to her frail husband and vicious with her three young sons at the time. Gila was only
an awkward eight year old girl then. Her family was living in Cairo after a mortifying
banishment from Saudi, Arabia. Arabic by blood, Gilas father had chosen alcohol and

94
self-medication over prayer and he had lost all the familys wealth; two strikes against
him in a pristine and secretive country that only gave two strikes. Although her father
was a perfect recruit for the likes of Rehema, he was rejected. But the memories of the
woman never left Gila.
For hours as the day became hotter and hotter she sat, watching Thorne pretend to sleep
until she could no longer hold her own eyes open. It wasnt sleep; it was a recollection
that took her. The sight and smells of her native land had permeated her heart; the flavor
of the food, the intensity of the sun, the sound of prayer in the Mosque. It was the first
time since girlhood that she was again in that place, a place she loved for reasons, and
hated of other reasons. After moving to Egypt, her father had begun his trek toward
revenge and approached Rehema. He did it with his little daughter in tow; sure nothing
bad would come of him under those circumstances. He was wrong.
Gila had watched Rehema command that her fathers hands be taken and they were, cut
off with a blade that sparkled sharp in the sunlight and glinted painfully in her eyes. It
was not enough for Rehema; she the demanded the mans feet removed. Gila didnt recall
screaming but she was sure she had. When her father was then beheaded, the next thing
Gila remembered was roaming the streets, hysterical and confused.
When her memory returned and she told her mother of her fathers death, the woman
whisked her children to America where Gila grew and eventually became an American
citizen. At twenty-six, she presented herself to the CIA as a possible expert in the Middle
East. She was trained and had faced many perils, all in the name of freedom. Working
under Gomez was her first big break. She was twenty-nine years old and supposedly
prepared for this all important mission.
But Gila was not prepared, not by a long shot. She was covered with sweat and shaking
with silent sobs when her eyes open again. Thorne had moved close and was holding her
trembling body as she moaned quietly into his chest.
Sokay, love. We all crack sometime.
She pulled away and squared her shoulders, presenting a glare that should have warded
him off but instead he chuckled and tugged her close again.
The trick is not to crack too far. Otherwise were bloody useless. Now, how bout
we stop playin at rest. No ones doin any sleepin in this heat. Its gotta be over a
hundred-ten degrees in the fuckin room.
She nodded, grinned sadly. I havent cracked, Mr. Thorne.
Of course ya havent. Why dont ya just tell me whats goin on here. Fill me in.
She blinked and he scowled.

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Ms. Solome. Trust me, theres no one in this whole bloody building. Ive done a
reconnaissance. Tell me what did that bloke in the Mosque say?
He said not yet.
He pulled away and moved to his own wall again. Love, can ya give me a little more?
Gila tilted her head, her eyes narrowed. Yes it was hotter than hell but she felt like a little
self indulgence. Tell me something first, Mr. Thorne.
Shoot.
What do you think of female agents?
Terry rubbed his chin, shrugged. Ive seen some good ones, seen some great ones. Seen
a few not-so-great ones.
And what do you think of Andy Wilder?
Wilder? He CIA too?
No, hes not. Just answer the question. She loosened her hair and flipped it, hoping for
cool air to reach the back of her neck, but it wasnt happening in the stifling space.
Wilders ah the bloke kinda gives me the creeps, but he knows his business.
Why?
Mr. Wilder and I face the same kind of discrimination.
Terrys eyes widened. Youre psychic too? Is that what he is? Psychic, telepathic,
somethin like that?
He is but no, I am not. Gila stood and continued to flip her hair up and down. But I am
a minority too. He knows things, so do I, only a little differently.
He chewed on that and sighed. Maybe she was putting female intuition on the same level
as Wilders weirdness. Fine by him. My turn, Terry looked up, watching her pace, her
face flushed from the heat, eyes red from her sobs. Why were you cryin like that?
Not your business.
I see. So only I have to answer the questions, then? Good to know. But, this one you
gottta answer. What the bloody hell are you doin here and whys the CIA involved?
What did that man in the Mosque tell ya that has us sitting in this oven? What did he
mean not yet?

96
Gila sat, cross legged in the center of the floor mainly because she had deluded herself
into believing a breeze was dropping from the opening in the ceiling, the only entry into
the room.
The CIA is involved because Kashi works for us at least we think he still works for
us. Hes been deep cover here for years. We placed the AK74s specifically to draw out
Rehema.
Terry nodded. Go on.
Your team has headquartered in Bahrain.
My team? Whos my team?
General Hartford, Simpson, Johnston
Wilder? Im guessin he took Henry to the States.
Gila sighed. No. I left the team early to attempt to intercept you here. Andy Wilder is on
his way.
Terry snorted but his nonchalance was cancelled by the alert in his expression. Here?
Entering Saudi Arabia was near impossible through regular avenues. Terry was amazed
he was there. Rehema has some serious connections. Obviously so did the CIA. How the
bloody hell is he getting into the country?
In a body bag.
What? Now Terry was also on his feet. Explain.
She slowly removed a fabric packet from her pocket and unraveled the cloth to reveal the
answer. A syringe, already prepared. Without words Terry knew the score. Crazy Wilder
took the plunge; let them drug him to slow his heart to near silence, his breath to a
shallow apparent standstill. Terry ran a hand over his hair, shook his head. It wasnt a risk
the bloke had to take not on his behalf. His mind went on overload, struggling to think
clearly. Time. Time was of the essence. How do we get to him?
He will come to us, Gila was now avoiding his eyes.
How much bloody time have we got?
Until just after sunset. Her eyes rose to the opening above. The sharp shadow showed
they werent far from the end of the heat.
Lets get ready to go then. Terry slid a crate beneath the opening but Gila gripped his
hand.

97

He will find his way to us, she repeated with force. Mr. Thorne, this is under control.
The man in the Mosque is my uncle. This safe place is in a building belonging to him.
I as a woman and direct relative have a visiting visa. And he is retrieving Mr.
Wilder. He will bring the body bag here.
Does he know the fuckin time limitations?
He does. But he must raise no suspicions and I suspect we will see him after evening
prayer.
Jesus! Terry paced. Having Wilders death on his shoulders was something he didnt
want to even think about, but he couldnt think of anything else.
Please, trust me, Mr. Thorne.
Ms. Solome! Youre fuckin asking a whole lot of me and Wilder, for Christs sake!
She slowly smiled and he blinked disbelief. What the bloody hell was so funny?
We all crack sometime, she sighed and sat on the crate. The trick
Terry groaned. Is not to crack too far. Fine. Well wait.
***
Tamara had let Dino and Mr. Gomez believe that shed bought the idea, lock, stock and
barrel but she had her doubts and a few aces in the hole of her own. Five minutes
before she was to stand before a room full of anxious international reporters, she casually
turned to Gomez.
Do I look alright? she asked.
His eyes barely skimmed her. She looked disheveled, minimal makeup, hair limp and
dull, even her clothing was subdued. Exactly as he had required. You look perfect. You
got the statement?
She fingered the loose leaf lined paper on which she had rewritten the carefully crafted
statement. She would be reading it verbatim. Im ready.
Good. Two more minutes and itll be all over.
Then I will see Henry.
Gomez sucked in a breath that almost emptied the room of air. His glare was intense.
Weve been through this, Ms. Fillmore.

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I dont care. I make no statement; play no pretend games for you unless you guarantee I
will see Henry, face to face, this evening.
Weve been through this, he hissed.
Yes, and I dont like it. Henry was placed in my care. Its important that I
Are you stupid or simply a little dim, woman? By putting him in our care, he is safe.
Completely safe. Dont you understand? This this is the only way to protect Henry
and get Mr. Thorne back alive! There is no other way!
I will see Henry, at least for five minutes or I say nothing.
Gomez actually slapped his own brow and it was humorous in the midst of a very serious
situation.
Five little minutes. I need to see that Henry is really safe. Five minutes and you
have everything you need. Is it so unreasonable? Tamara was shaking with a mix of
anger and fear. If he refused, could she really refuse to make her little speech? Could she
possibly damage Terrys chances like that? Beneath her scowl she was terrified. The last
time she saw Henry, he was sleeping comfortably in her apartment. After meeting with
Gomez and Dino at the hospital, there was no sign of the kid anywhere. It was as though
hed disappeared in thin air. The bed was empty and the guard had nothing to say. She
was no fool; she couldnt deny the fact that Henry was quite possibly safely hidden or
quite possibly really dead. She needed proof.
Gomez was pacing as she stood firm and seemingly calm. Her head tilted. Well?
This was a fly in the ointment he didnt expect. OLeary did alert him that Tamara
Fillmore was a tough egg, but this was not in the plan. Fulfilling her demands placed
everyone in danger Henry, Thorne, even the CIA. He glared hard.
Mr. Gomez, if you do not guarantee that I will see Henry, face to face I will not make
this statement. Ill make a completely different statement, something you surely dont
want exposed to the media. If you lie to me and dont let me see Henry, Ill simply make
another statement on my own, detailing the truth. Its just a simple request, she sighed,
batting her pretty green eyes.
Its blackmail, snorted Gomez but already his mind was configuring a solution,
something safe and within her requirements. Fine. You will see Henry, but not this
evening. By tomorrow evening at the latest. Do we have a deal, Ms. Fillmore?
She reached out a hand and he shook it firmly, his eyes intense on hers. Deal, she said
and was led to the podium.

99
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

FIFTEEN

Over the next few hours, Terry, his body and mind in combat mode, found sleep. He told
himself fifteen minutes and exactly on time, his eyes popped open and he grunted,
nodded to Gila who then did the same. The darkness grew and his mind wandered to
Henry, to Tamara and to crazy Wildcat who was taking a risk far greater than necessary.
Andy Wilder, who may just already be dead. Terrys fingers twitched over the pistol in
his lap.
A softness whispered at the edges of his sharp thoughts. Just beneath recollections of
Rehema and her demands, was Tamaras warm flesh. Under his curiosity about Gilas
assistance and Kashis possible double play, were Tamaras tender lips. Sighing like a
melody beside his concerns for Henry was Tamara and the gentleness of her voice.
Terry shook his head hard. This had to stop. It was counterproductive under the
circumstances but somehow reassuring. It proved he was still human, still a man; still
determined to get back safely. She was the pull calling him home.
But to what? Terry had been in this place before. The spot where he was almost willing to
hope it could work out, be perfect. But pounding like a sledgehammer were the facts.
Cant fuck about with facts. There was only one constant in the experiment that was
Terry Thornes life, and that was Terry himself. The outcome was always the same
would always be the same. He blinked back a surprising tear. Bloody hell.
Women are not built to be molded and remolded for the life Terry led. He was alone and
would forever be alone. For the next few seconds he tolerated the agony of imagining it
might actually be different this time. But like his brief, restful sleep, he woke from the
dream and swallowed reality. He would lose her. Tamara was extraordinary, but this
particular situation was even more extraordinary. It was as though the universe, seeing
the possibility of happiness, upped the ante and exponentially intensified the danger and
pressure for them both.
He forced his mind onto the moment at hand. Rehema Kashi a stash of stolen
AK74s Henrys life. Gila had explained the removal of the murderous tracking device
and the maximum protection being provided by the CIA, but still Terry worried for his
son. He wondered what part Tamara was playing if any. Had she been dismissed? Had
she already moved ahead with her life, begun to forget him? Perhaps all for the better.
But there was a hook sticking in his mind, something almost painful. Gila was
withholding information like a good CIA agent. Shed feed it to him bit by bit, as she felt
he needed it. Granted, this was about getting him free of Rehema and back to the States
but it was also about solving a CIA problem. It was about getting a good read on their

100
very deep agent and eliminating the threat they may have created themselves. Then
another thought slammed him hard.
Was Tamara dead? His mouth opened to wake Gila and demand an answer but a sudden
sound of nearing thuds moved across the roof. By the time a black shadow nearly blocked
the opening in the ceiling, Terry was already on his feet, aiming the pistol braced on his
left wrist, Gila at his side, a mirror image of readiness.
Hel lo? came a low grumbling voice that squawked just before the shadow leapt
back from sight.
It is my uncle, whispered Gila.
Tell him dont shoot me, gasped the hidden man and Gila grinned.
Dont shoot him. Come, uncle. You are safe. Terry and Gila tucked away weapons and
hurried to pull a trunk and crates to help reach the high opening.
Again the broad shoulders and bald head appeared, the full moon grazing off the polished
skin like a second planet. I have your man. Come up, it is safe. No one threatens. It is
better than dropping him down in that pit. Come up. Hurry. He feels dead. The man
babbled as they scrambled up into the cool evening air.
Terry rushed to the body bag, dropped to his knees and quickly tugging the zipper down,
noting the blueness of Andys lips in the sharp moonlight. They moved swiftly, pulling
away the thick rubber and twisting Wilders head to expose his neck. The needle stabbed
sure and Gila pressed the plunger, forcing adrenaline.
Terry began briskly rubbing Wilders arm as Gila moved to his legs.
I am Haithem. You dont shoot me, said the large man as he worked on the other arm,
rubbing hard.
No worries, mate, Terry whispered, pausing to check for a pulse. It was a struggle to
tune out his own pounding heart, but finally he caught the thud beneath his fingertips. It
was dangerously slow but steady and gaining strength with each heartbeat.
Suddenly Andy Wilders eyes popped open and focused on Terrys. To his surprise,
Wildcat gave a wicked grin and winked. A slight shift in focus told Terry why. Gila had
been vigorously rubbing Andys thigh and moving closer and closer to his crotch.
She stopped and leaned over his face. Wilder! she hissed. Wilder!
With a snap of his arm, Wildcat gripped the back of her head and pulled her face to his.
The kiss was hard and sloppy and enough to make Terry swallow back a chuckle.
Haithem grunted and slammed a knee into Wilders ribs and the kiss finally broke.

101

Ow, whined Wilder but his grin grew.

Terry shook his head then helped the man to sit. Gilas uncle wrapped a blanket around
the shivering man who just came alive from a body bag, his mouth moving in prayer or
fear or possible disbelief.
Nice way to wake, pretty Gila, said Wilder as he shivered.
Her eyes narrowed in a vicious scowl as she ran a wrist across her lips. No time for
foolishness. Can you walk?
Hell no. Gimme a few minutes. Whats the plan?
All eyes turned to Haithem. Two oclock. Everything you need is in the trunk. The man
shifted toward the edge of the roof and looked down before turning. Gila, your auntie
would like to see you before you leave.
I will try, uncle. Now please leave. Be safe. You have done and seen nothing.
I have done and seen nothing. God willing, you will succeed. And he was gone.
***
She did it. Even Gomez was impressed with Tamara and how convincing she was. The
tears were real, the tremble in her voice was real, even the way her eyes held the focus of
each reporter was real. She was desperate for Terry and desperate to have the world
believe the dire situation.
Dino waited in the wings, sitting in a wheelchair but holding two canes. It was a recovery
for the books. Now if they could only pull off pulling the wool over Rehemas eyes and
the carpet right out from under her. The international reporters in the crowd were diverse.
Africa. Mexico. Israel. Perfect. Whatever the Israeli news reported made a direct beeline
into Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Hopefully Gila had prepared Terry for the shock ahead
and the truth of it.
Gomez had briefed Dino on his little talk with Tamara before the press conference.
Before the news broke on CNN that a K&R crisis management man negotiating his own
sons ransom, was captured and being held by a kidnapping ring originating in Cairo
that the same kidnapping ring had implanted a killer device in the son thus murdering
him before all that hit the airwaves, Dino had to convince Tamara to back off on her
demands. That left him like fifteen minutes? Maybe? The moment she walked
toward him they rushed to a waiting limo and were alone.
What do you think youre doing, Tammy? This isnt a game you wanna play,
sweetheart.

102

Her crystal emerald eyes turned cold on Dino. Who says Im playing. I want to see
Henry. See him and touch him and know hes alive. She leaned closer to him on the seat
and whispered. I dont trust them.
Gomez? Honey, you can trust him. Trust what hes doing and you gotta realize, this is
bigger than just Terry.
Not to me, it isnt. Im trying to reach my dad. Hell know what I should do, she huffed
and crossed her arms.
And, how long have you been trying to reach him, sweetheart? Hours? Days? You really
think hes just too busy to return the call to his little girl? You really think he doesnt
know what you want to talk with him about? Jesus, Tamara do you really think hes
not in on this? Christ, it was his idea, girly! You need to back off. Henry is fine.
Have you seen him?
Dinos expression didnt change, he didnt even flinch.
What if somethings wrong, Dino? What if hes really dead? I mean what if it all just
fell into the CIAs plan perfectly? Tell me something, how are you going to face Terry if
his sons dead? How are either of us going to do that? I need to see Henry. Either
help me or get out of my way, because I will not back off.
Dinos head dropped back and he snorted. His body ached like hell and he was supposed
to get his miserable ass back to the hospital. Sure as hell didnt look like that was
happening anytime soon. Okay. Hey! he shouted to the driver who lowered the glass
partition.
Yes sir?
Back to Gomez.
Sir? I have instructions to
Fuck your instructions. Get us back to Gomez or someones going to be real sorry.
Yes, sir. The glass whispered back in place and Tamara sighed relief.
Gomez climbed into the facing seat in the limo and scowled. What?
We see Henry or we stop supporting this sham, buddy. Dino glared, hoping it had the
impact required.
And Terry Thorne?

103

What about him? Dino shifted his feet, reveling in the ability to do that. You back out
of assisting; hell manage to get out himself. Youve already fucked up his whole career.
You think leaving him high and dry is going to make an expert ally out of him? We want
to see the kid. You prove hes alive and well and you wont hear another squawk out of
either of us.
You saying you dont trust me, OBrien?
I havent stayed alive this long trusting too many people. Take us to see Henry.
Gomez jaw clenched and Dino suddenly felt that wash of instinct. It almost made him
vomit.
You motherfucker, Dino hissed and Gomez tilted his head. Henry isnt a fucking
bargaining chip. Release the kid into my peoples care or I swear to God, Ill fucking cut
your throat out.
Tamara was sideswiped by the sudden change in energy. The space inside the big limo
was suddenly stuffy and choking. She tried to assimilate the words Dino had spoken.
They werent designed as an empty threat. They had far more power to them and far
more fury than she suspected a man in his condition could display. She blinked, squared
her shoulders and added her glare to Dinos.
The government is providing security for Henry Thorne. Gomez voice was empty.
So, Im right, Dino spat. This whole thing was about assuring leverage to get at
Rehema. If your little girl agent cant accomplish the goal and Terry ends up back in
Rehemas grip, you plan to toss Henry back into the mix. If that fails, its Tamara or
maybe even me.
Maybe. Gomez shot a vicious glare at them both. OLeary, you know this game. You
know the costs. You know what has to happen.
I know this just aint going down the way you want. Thorne isnt stupid. The minute the
news reaches him, the minute pretty Gila tells him Henrys not dead that, my friend, is
the minute youve made an enemy of Terry Thorne. Trust me, you bastard you dont
want that. We have to come to some kind of compromise here. Some agreement. And
you have to let us see Henry.
***
General Hartford looked at his phone. Six messages from Tamara and he felt sweat
gather at his temples. Beside him, his men sat, watching the breaking news on CNN. Yes,
it was his suggestion to fake Henrys death. It was his suggestion to send Wilder into
Saudi Arabia, close to death and possibly looking at the real thing. And it was his idea to

104
hold his team tight in Bahrain, ready to move on Rehema or Kashi at a moments notice.
He should have known better. With his suggestions, hed dropped the entire operation
into the CIAs hands. He closed his eyes and tried to send telepathic messages to Wildcat,
something, anything to warn him what was ahead. If Wilder was still alive, maybe he got
the messages. Maybe not. Its not an exact science. That was the part of Wilders gift
Harford hated most. It sure as hell wasnt an exact science.
Life as they all knew it was about to change. He was about to break the newly formed
chain of command and push his team off on their own agenda. Thorne was what
mattered. Thorne and protecting his daughter and young Henry. What had begun with
one enemy had grown into several Gomez, Gila Solome, possibly Kashi playing
double agent.
He thought to lift the phone, but didnt. He imagined the turmoil Tamara was going
through and calculated the time it would take for OLeary to also shift gears. Hell, for all
he knew, it had already happened.
Thats your daughter? Woo hee, pretty, said Simpson and the old General blinked.
Keep your eyes and gutter mind in check, Mr. Simpson.

105
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

SIXTEEN

Rehema stood, still as stone and just as cold as she watched. The torture was entertaining,
but the slow, agonizing final death was most satisfying. Her medical technician had failed
miserably. With the sudden, unintentional triggering of the implanted device, it appeared
her ace in the hole was dead. The international news of the incident and Thornes
kidnapping wasnt bad enough; she was named. Rehema was going into hiding. Rehema
didnt like hiding.
Irritation prickled at her flesh. This could all fall through if things didnt start going her
way. Her people knew to execute Throne the moment he set foot on Egyptian soil
unless she could get her hands on another hostage that would bend his knee to her so she
could use him again. But already she had confirmation that her plant in New York had
turned tail and run. Capturing Tamara Fillmore wasnt looking like a possibility.
Thornes partner, OLeary had disappeared from the hospital where hed recently
undergone spinal surgery. Either shed accomplished bestowing massive fear upon them
all or
She longed for her sons. Mishaps like this never happened before and the realization that
Thorne was the reason her best soldiers were dead or imprisoned, fired her hate for him.
Things had become extraordinarily complicated. Yes, she wanted the weapons, yes she
wanted to see Thornes head on a silver platter but her flexibility was suddenly
limited. What she could accomplish from hiding was far less effective. Best to stick with
the original plan.
Hopefully Thorne will not hear the news of his sons death. The man was extremely
focused and slithering along the underbelly of a country that will kill, export and expose
him should he make himself known. She was sure he wasnt a guest of some wealthy
Saudi, sipping tea and watching television. She had no delusions; Thorne read Arabic and
could easily access a newspaper. The Cairo newspapers had even displayed a photo of
him. Was it time to walk away from this? Perhaps. Would she? Never. Best to stick with
the original plan. When the weapons were delivered, she could do her deals from hiding.
For now, she would lie low. Wait it out. Stick to the original plan.
***
Weather gone ugly. Change of course.
It was a text on Tamaras cell phone and her brows curled. She had no clue who had sent
it, had never seen the number the text came from, and assumed it was simply a misdial.
Her finger poised over the delete prompt when Dino snapped the phone from her hands.

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Whats this? he whispered, eyeing the message suspiciously. He was comfortable on

her couch. Hed had his pain meds, a low dose to keep sharp of course, and Gomez was
pacing in the dining room, talking on two cell phones and pretending to make
arrangements for them to see Henry. Dino squinted. Most texts were cryptic
simplification of words texters cant be bothered to spell out. The message was sent by
someone either wanting to be extremely clear unfamiliar with the youth dynamic of
texting or simply reaching the wrong party.
His eyes rose to Gomez, now switching between phones for the umpteenth time and
thought Weather gone ugly. Change of course. Weather gone ugly. Change of course.
What the
A laugh leapt right from his chest and he covered it with a cough when the CIA goon
scowled his way. Quickly deleting the text he returned Tamaras cell and shrugged.
Probably a wrong number, honey. Oh hey Gomez?
The big man raised a hand for quiet so Dino simply grunted himself to his feet, canes in
hand and moseyed over. He tapped one of the canes against the moving ankle and Gomez
kicked it away. Another tap nearly tripped the man. Gomez, enough with the bad acting.
Keep your day job. Put away the phones. Plans have changed.
The cell phones were snapped shut and a look of indignation swept across the CIA
directors face. Oh hell no.
Oh, hell yes. Buddy, we either work together on this or you bring Henry here and get the
fuck out of my way. Am I being clear? Dinos leprechaun grin had gone ugly and the
men stood nose to nose. Ive got enough on your under-the-radar activities in the Middle
East to qualify demanding you off this case. You got it yet? Were standing out. Your
agenda isnt ours and frankly, we dont need your fucking help. You want ours we talk
terms and this show has a new director.
OLeary, who the fuck do you think you are?
The man about to expose everything youve done. Whatre you gonna do, kill me? Lock
me in a room? General Harford has already started this ball in motion. Either play or get
creamed, Gomez. Ive got a friend in danger; I dont fuck around when things get this
serious.
The guard blinked several times. Just a lackey and he obviously had no clue what was
going on. Dinos accusations had made enough of an impression that the young mans
very body language indicated disapproval of Gomez. Dino privately grinned no doubt
the guy would make a nice new recruit for the company. First things first.
Henry. I want him here immediately. Tamara, call my office, say the words go loud
and were in motion. Gomez, shall I call the press or are you ready to play fair?

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Ill have you imprisoned, you bastard!

Im guessing thats a no. He turned to the guard. Whats your name, buddy?
The man cleared his throat. He was probably twenty-five, twenty-six and right out of the
military. Navy Seal was Dinos guess.
Correll, William Correll, sir.
You like working for this man? Dino stood, hunched over on canes next to the robust
Gomez but still appeared far more powerful, his eyes watching Correll and determining
just how far he could push the situation.
No, sir. I do not.
Good. Youve heard everything here. Youre a witness. Now if you please, escort this
man out of the apartment.
Gomez pulled his arm free then left the place in a schoolyard-bully huff. Uh, said
Correll, shifting from foot to foot. Guess Im out of work. Can you use a little security
until your people arrive?
Sure, thanks. Get us some coffee and lets talk, Mr. Correll. We might be able to get you
gainfully employed again, real fast.
Tamara had made the call for Dino and was sitting, open mouthed and amazed. What
just happened?
The text was from your dad. Hes moving on his own, probably already heading into
Saudi to assist in getting Terry out safely.
And that man, she pointed to the kitchen. You trust him?
Dino grunted down into a chair at the dining room table and waved for her to join him. I
do.
Why? He could be a spy, right?
Tammy maybe you havent caught on to this yet but were all kinda like spies.
What do you think Terrys doing in Arabia? Besides trying to get stolen weapons, gain
his freedom and protect Henrys life if he even knows Henry is still alive hes
spying, seeing what he can see, learning everything he can that might help the world next
time this shit happens.

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Correll joined them at the table, dispensing three overfilled mugs of coffee and silently
sat while Dino continued.
Ive seen some intelligence today that blew my mind, Dino sipped, his eyes avoiding
Corrells as he spoke. The weapons Rehema wants were planted by the CIA to trap her.
Thats fine, common practice, kinda like playing tennis close to the net, you know. The
problem comes with the fact that they also planted a man named Rollier Kashi, hes an
American Special Ops weapons expert.
The intel confirms something thats been bugging me since the minute I met Gomez.
Turns out, Kashis kid mysteriously disappeared three years ago. No contact by
kidnappers, no demands for ransom then suddenly Gomez offers Kashi the assignment
to play undercover games in the Middle East. I started putting two and two together and
got three hundred.
I dont understand. Tamara shifted in her chair. She wanted to understand, after all,
shed been blind to these sorts of things her whole life. So this was what her father did?
And all this time he was just daddy, the army general.
Dino leaned in and both heads moved closer. A player like Gomez whos climbed the
ladder so fast it makes a decent agents head spin, he whispered, eyed a nodding Correll
and continued. Well, a guy like that plans his plays way ahead of time. He either staged
the kidnapping of Kashis kid or used the hell out of it. He probably fed Kashi
fabricated reports that Rahema was behind the kidnapping and made an offer a terrified
father couldnt refuse; a chance to bring Rehema to justice and gain revenge all in one
fell swoop.
Wow! Tamara was astounded, totally enthralled with the explanation.
Theres more, Dino sighed. Im thinking Kashi, spending all this time making deals
and stealing guns in an effort to make the big score and bring Rehema down has
learned a few things too. Like maybe Rehema had nothing to do with his kids
disappearance. Like maybe he was being used. Like maybe it wasnt the best deal for
him, maybe there was something better out there
Double agent, groaned Correll and Dino snorted agreement.
So, Tamara interrupted. Exactly what is Terry facing?
Dino grinned. Well, smart, pretty lady I think thats why your father sent Wilder to
help Terry in the first place. The guy knows things. If the General has successfully gotten
Wilder to Terrys side in Saudi this might all work out after all.
And if not?
Both men turned to Tamara. Leave it to a woman to state the obvious.

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Then were at square one, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred bucks.
Its not a game, Tamara huffed and gathered empty mugs.
Oh yes, girly it is.
And what about Henry?
Dino tugged a prescription bottle from his shirt pocket and pulled little boy lost eyes that
sent her running into the kitchen for water. He quickly turned to Correll. Youre
thoughts?
You hit the nail on the head with the threat about the press. Gomez has built his career
on manufactured good press. Maybe you can turn the tables more than just a threat
you know. Hit close to home, force the issue? Just a thought, sir.
Damn good one too. Dino flipped open his cell and called his office, instructing that a
new pro bono case be opened immediately.
Case number: 79660-09
Hostage: Possible: Christopher Allan Kashi, current age, 12
Captivity Duration: Three years, twenty-two days
Location: Suspected: Evidence strongly suggests captive is alive, most likely being held
in the Washington, DC area, within three hundred mile radius.
Result: None to date
Hostage Condition: Unknown
Insured: Uninsured, pro bono
Status: Top Priority, Crisis Management Team dispatched
Actions: Immediate press exposure
That should put skid marks in Gomez shorts.
One hour later Henry showed up, alone and unguarded at the door. Already eight of
Dinos men were gathered and strategy had begun.
***
Two in the afternoon and the sun was unbearable. Terry and Wildcat moved slowly
through the crowd in the dusty open market smack dab in the center of a modern Saudi
cityscape. They struggled with the heat, ignoring the streams of sweat slithering down
face or back or butt crack. It was tough, but Terry felt worse for Gila.
She had donned her appropriate womens attire, draped and swathed and covered from
head to toe in black whereas the men at least wore white, wonderful, sun refracting white.

110
They were dressed to blend in with the solemn and middle class and envied the wealthier
native men, milling about in shirtsleeves and flip flops.
Several times he was compelled to take Gilas arm and steer her away from oncoming
foot traffic or the occasionally ambling, equally hot and sluggish, stray dog. But being
mindful of the culture, he reduced his protectiveness to grunts and bumps that could
easily be mistaken for normal jostling among the throngs. She kept her head down as did
Terry; he to hide his pale eyes and she to hide the work she was doing with the
communication system they all wore. The devices were faulty, Wilders almost
electrocuted him once and Terrys buzzed an irritating whirr in his ear.
Now? Can you hear me now? Finally her voice rang soft and clear in the mens ears
and they all sighed relief. Gilas step quickened and they were hustled to keep up with
her. They werent far from the meet point. The plan was for Gila with Wilder as her
escort, to approach Kashi. She would pass a note from Terry while the Wildcat stepped in
as close as possible to see what he could get on his unique radar. Good plan it wasnt
going to work.
Kashi, a man with all the right looks and having spent several years in Arabia, was
surrounded by friends, fifteen of them in fact. A woman mixing with so many men was
not going to fly. She stood tight with Terry and Wilder and whispered, plan B,
gentlemen.
Gimme the note, Wildcat hissed but she turned away, strolled toward a small open
vendor stand. Terry shot a nod and followed Gila.
What are you up to? he mumbled. To his growing irritation, she ignored him and
casually fingered purses and bobbles on a display. He looked over his shoulder. Whatre
they talking about, mate? Wilder was deep in the group, almost lost among the white
clad, dark haired men.
Hell if I know, came Wilders soft voice. After several moments he spoke again. Oh
yeah. Hes gone sour. Double all the way. But something something isnt right.
Wilder detached himself from the Arab Social Club. He returned to Terry who was
moving fast to keep pace with his female partner. None of this was the plan. The note
never got to Kashi and time was running out. The communication was simple. Kashi and
Thorne knew each other. It would have opened a line of dialogue. Now it was all a moot
point. As the three turned a corner and the street became fairly quiet, Terry gripped her
elbow.
What the hell are you playin, woman?
Her eyes flashed. Dont touch me. Just walk with me and keep quiet, you idiot.
Gila couldnt be walking the streets alone and in a desperate effort to retain their
secretive reasons for being in the city, Terry and Wilder hustled behind her. When they

111
reached the alley to their hiding place, Wilder sped ahead and blocked her path to the
ladder leading to the roof.
Its you. Youre whats not right. Spit it out, lady.
She pushed past him and twisting her loose clothing at her waist, climbed like a monkey
with two rather angry apes at her heels. From the roof they all lithely dropped down into
the stifling hot room.
Spit it out, Wilder repeated, watching her remove her extra layers and stand wearing a
pair of jeans and a white tank top. No bra, he knew that without checking for
confirmation. The girl was soaked with sweat, stoked and ready for a fight. Even her
nipples were launched for an attack.
Like I spit out your kiss? she growled.
Enough. What the bloody hell is going on? Do we have another meet time? Terry
paced, eyes firm on hers. Best to ignore the breasts that had all of Wilders attention.
No, no meet time. No meet time was set for today either. She reached into the trunk
then boldly, speedily stripped in front of the men, redressing as a young boy and twisting
her hair up tight and high to hide under her soft cap. I have what I came here for. You
gentlemen are on your own. She tucked two pistols under her tunic and sighed. Sorry.
Youre gonna bloody kill him? Terry gasped. Theres gotta be a reason for this, Gila.
Youre an intelligent woman. A good man doesnt turn like that, not over anything. He
may have something else in mind.
Hes a turncoat, Terry. A double agent and my assignment is to get evidence and take
him out. Gomez instructed me to take Wilders word as evidence, so she shrugged.
I knew it was you! said Wilder, his finger pointing accusingly. I could feel it the
minute I saw you.
That and your hard on? she replied with a glare.
Yeah, but thats beside the point. Terrys right. This things a lot bigger than Kashi or
the goddamn AK74s or taking down Rahema. How long you been working under
Gomez?
Why would that matter?
Oh it does. You think for one minute you came under his wide and sweeping wing just
because youre good at your job?
Gila blinked.

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Without that perfect Arabic, those big brown eyes and that skin tone, youd be useless to
him. Im guessing you just got assigned. Am I right?
Terry stood back, leaned against the wall and watched the conversation. Hed heard
enough. Tie her up.
Dont you dare! She pulled a pistol.
Wilder raised his hands but Terry simply stepped to her, took the weapon from her grip
and reached under the tunic for the other.
Sit the fuck down or we will tie your pretty arse up. He pointed and she lowered to the
floor. Lets have some truth, Gila. Theres not time for any more bloody lies.
Her lips were a tight, straight line across her face. Her eyes stared ahead. Her hair
drooped in waves from the cap and she finally tugged it off, permitting the dark thickness
to cascade over her shoulders.
Agent Salome, Terry began. Maybe Gomez has no clue how good you are but I do.
Theres no bloody way on earth youd let me take your weapons like that unless you
know were right. Lets get our arses on the same page or we may all die in this fuckin
room. You know where Kashi is because you were leaving to kill him. Where is he?
She looked at Terry and her eyes welled with tears.
Just just talk to me, Gila. Lets get this thing done right, shall we?

113
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

SEVENTEEN

The rousing welcome for Henrys return lasted less than a minute and the kid knew he
should get the bloody hell out of the way. He tugged Tamaras arm and they sat in the
corner of the dining room while her lovely apartment became HQ. Eight men and their
strange communication equipment crowded the space and vats of coffee were made.
Flurries of discussions ebbed and wafted over their heads and Tamara blinked back tears.
Im so damn confused, she whispered and Henry chuckled.
He put and arm over her shoulders and cuddled her close. Yeah, he knew she was his
dads woman, but hell, after everything hed been through, even Terry wouldnt begrudge
him a little comfort. Seemed she needed it to. One tight hug and a kiss to the top of her
head and he sighed.
Heres what I can tell you, he said quietly. Now, I cant say Ive ever really been so
much a part of this kinda activity before, but heres what I know. From what Dino said,
General Hartford has begun counter moves against the CIAs plan. The bloke he sent to
work with Dad is some kinda psychic or something. Hope that pans out. Theres been
contact between the team now on Saudi soil and that man, Henry pointed. Gary Asher.
Good bloke. Been workin with Dad and Dino for years. He shifted. Now that over
there, he nudged a chin toward a large flip chart on an easel right in the middle of the
living room. Thats Dinos way of working through things. Dont try to follow what hes
drawin and writin there, just watch the others faces. After they light up, we can start
tunin in. Trust me; its the best time to get your mind tangled into it after theyve all
gotten on the same bloody page.
She turned, smiled sadly. You have seen this before, havent you.
Henry shrugged. Twice when I was twelve, and once just before I left for uni the shite
hit the fan just like this. I sat quiet in the corner and no one demanded I leave. Guess I
wasnt causin any trouble so they forgot about me.
Nope, said Dino, glaring right at Henry from across the apartment. That wasnt it at
all. We all thought just maybe a smart kid like you might have an idea or two to add to
the mix.
How can I do that when I got no idea what the bloody hell youre trying to do? Henry
was embarrassed. He didnt expect to be called out like that, much less overheard. Hed
been a bit more cocky than he intended, all show for the lovely lady.

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Get your sorry ass over here, Henry. Youve got inside information we need; about
Rehema, about things you might have seen even though you might not even realize you
saw them. Tamara, maybe you can start something for lunch?
Hell no. Call in for Chinese. Im staying right here.
Dino grinned. Good. You know things about your father we might need too.
The day was long and convoluted. Often another text arrived, signaling the Generals
whereabouts and activities. That made Tamara grin. With all the technology cluttering
her apartment, her father was suddenly text savvy.
It seemed Andy Wilder was indeed with Terry and they were about to make contact with
Mr. Kashi. Andy was in good form, thank God, doing his own kind of extrasensory
texting. Tamara was amazed. All this was happening with little real, traditional contact
between the three parties involved. Her mind spun. Were they all psychic or telepathic or
just in sync? Or were there bigger elements at play? Dino seemed to know without
question what Terrys next move would be. Familiarity obviously played a big part in
these scenarios. She found herself praying Terry wouldnt veer from the normal path of
action; that Wildcat would stay sharp and do his thing to help them all and that
somehow it would all end soon.
And there was that last, frightening variable. Gila Solome. Where did she stand? In
Tamaras eyes the bad guys were Gomez and Rehema. But maybe there were bad guys
everywhere even in the room with her. She slid a suspicious glance at William Correll.
She should be satisfied that Dino trusted the soldier boy, but that didnt mean she had to
trust him.
***
Just talk, Terry groaned, the stifling heat of the room pressing every nerve. You think
for one minute Gomez is still runnin this bloody show?
Gila blinked then glared viciously. You think for one moment hes not?
I know hes not, Wilder chimed in, sitting across the space and loading a pistol.
Both Terry and Gila stared.
Wilder shrugged. Just came to me. What can I say? Looks like the games changed
drastically. We might be on our own, we might not be. The way I see it, Terry, we can get
the fuck outta Dodge or follow through with the original plan to trap Rehema.
Terry ran a hand down his chin thoughtfully. Shook his head. Kashi. Whats the scoop
with Kashi?

115
Wilder rolled his neck. He hated when it got this mixed up. You dont just wanna make
a run for it?
Kashi? Terry said flatly.
All right, Wildcat grunted into a more comfortable position, leaned his back against the
wall and groaned. Heres what I got, and before you get all crazy, I need to tell you
Im getting crap from several sources. A few Im not sure I can even identify.
And? Terry spat.
Wilder closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. His body vibrated and he found
himself mentally shouting for some sort of organization. Information was flowing so fast,
he didnt know where to look first. Sweat gathered at his temples and finally images and
words formed. He spoke them slowly, knowing that by doing so, the thoughts would slow
to more clarity.
Kashis kid taken hes desperate to get at Rehema but
Has Gomez got somethin to do with it? Terry interrupted and immediately regretted
speaking. He watched Wilders face tighten then smooth again and this time he just
listened. All the clues might be coming, just not the way Terrys liked to be hearing them.
The Generals on the move someones looking for Kashis kid my mind is saying
its you Terry, but it aint
Dino, Terry thought, holding his breath.
Wilder drew in another shuddering deep breath. Henrys safe, really safe now
Rehemas not hiding the bitch should be but shes not Kashi fuck Kashi
His eyes popped opened, wild and focused on Terry. Kashis near. Hes right outside
this fucking building! He turned to Gila and she cringed. Hes talking with an old
friend of ours, isnt he lady?
Terry was on his feet. He tightened the ear bud of the communication device and tucked a
pistol tight against his back. Tie her up, he snapped as he climbed to the roof.
Energies are converging, called Wilder, snapping rope around Gilas wrists. Careful.
Watch your back!
***
Tamara couldnt listen any longer. Her apartment had become a hotbed of possibilities
and contingencies, revealed dangers and probable outcomes she didnt like. She left the
living room and thought to hide in her bed. Hell, what she really wanted to do was hide
under her bed. The final straw was hearing that there was a less than twenty percent

116
chance Terry would get out alive, even with all the support heading his way and all the
intelligence coming to the surface. The strange thing was that Dino didnt seem all that
concerned. Even Henry was strangely calm, contributing when he could and relaying his
worries by repeatedly pointing out that his father had done this sort of thing before. That
it would work out.
Hope was never a good strategy, even Tamara knew that. She opted for the outside chill
over the darkness of her bedroom. Out on her terrace, she stood and let the cold January
air slam her awake, awake in a way she hadnt been since Terry left her bed weeks ago.
The last time she stood on that balcony was the night she met him. The night of her
Christmas Party. He was smoking. He was handsome. He was everything a woman could
want. Perfect and flawed, damaged and resilient. She simply could not accept the fact that
he might never return.
For the first time she understood the depth of commitment men like her father, Dino and
Terry had; the power of their dedication to something bigger than them all. Love grew for
her daddy, a man whod spend all of her life protecting her from it. It grew even more for
Terry, whod go so far for his son.
The convoluted case had unfolded like an erupting volcano right in front of her eyes,
blasting then oozing ominous reality all over her apartment. What began as a need to
negotiate a ransom and release for Henry was now an international monster. She had
stood and lied to the press. She now stood alone in the cold and cried because she had no
idea if shed done the correct thing or not. Her biggest fear was that Terry would believe
his son was dead. The pain such a lie would cause him was more unbearable to imagine
than the danger that lie had put him in. Why couldnt life be simpler? More honest and
true? Dino was correct; they were all spies in many ways. Even Tamara. She was in love
with a man too deep in a shit storm of world-wide espionage to even know how far shed
go for him. Did he even remember she was there? Waiting and worrying for him? That
shed do anything for him? Shed played the covert liar for Gomez. She felt like a secret
agent sitting and listening to the teams plans and discussions. She pushed away tears and
sniffled. She really had no place in all this.
Where was her place?
Her vision suddenly opened, encompassing the lights of Manhattan below and a million
stars above. She was captured and dazzled by it all. Reality. To her left, the absence of
the World Trade Center. To her right, the Statue of Liberty. That was truth. Someone had
to protect. Someone had to be protected.
Where was her place?
She turned as the sliding door whooshed opened and moved to help Dino out. Its cold
out here, she warned and he shrugged.

117
Im fine. Whatre you doing out here?
Thinking. She dragged a cushion-less chair over and he lowered to sit. Wind kicked up,
lifting his grey and orange hair and waffling her thick waves. She lowered green eyes to
his blue and sighed. Im not willing to accept those odds, Dino.
Good to hear. What are your plans?
Plans? What are you talking about?
Your plans regarding Terry.
She blinked, squared her shoulders and scowled. If I knew how, Id be in Arabia right
now bringing him home myself, damn it!
Pull up a chair, Tammy.
They turned as the door slid open again. Henry hobbled out, carrying two heavy coats
and two mugs of coffee. He looked at Tamara, his eyes filled with hope, hope for his
father but a different kind of hope than she had welling in her heart. Something in
Henrys expression told her it was more than his dads near-impossible safe return that
was hurting.
Youre a good boy, Henry Thorne, Dino teased, snuggling into his coat. Uh maybe
you wanna join us?
Um no. He left without another word.
Tamaras heart skipped a beat. Oh God, is there bad news?
Nope. Actually, good news. Dino grinned. Gomez has been removed from his
position. Hes under investigation. With a lot of luck, that news will reach Gila Solome
before the shit hits the fan.
Nothing on Terry?
Tamara, he sighed. We need to talk about that. Its time maybe well past time
for me to give you a little Terry Thorne 101 education.
She wrapped her coat tighter around her chest and sipped steaming coffee. All right.
Honey this is Terrys life. This is how he lives it. His work is well everything.
Can you understand that?
Of course. People need help and he helps them.

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Right well, it goes deeper. Ive know him way longer than I like to say. Weve fought
together and played together, fucked women together and risked our lives for each other.
Terrys an enigma. Not easy to figure out. But one thing I do know about this life we both
lead its not an easy place for a woman.
She didnt nod, didnt even blink.
This time its going to be worse for him. See, if we get him back, hes gonna be facing
some shit he never dealt with before. Thanks to Gomez, his whole fucking field career is
over. His face has been plastered across newspapers around the globe. Hell be
recognized anywhere he goes, especially among the scum we deal with when we
negotiate for a hostages freedom. His hands are going to be tied and that thats not
going to make for a happy man.
Well deal with it.
We?
Terry and me. Well figure it out.
Dino sighed, his breath steamy in the frosty cold air. How? I mean, take a serious look at
this situation. Even if he could continue with the field work and trust me, hell do
whatever it takes to get that back how the hell are you going to deal with things? Cope
with them? Months on end alone? No word from him? What makes you think you can do
that?
I said well figure it out! Why is this your business, Dino?
Its my business because I want whats best for everyone here. If he comes home
when he comes home you cant be wearing blinders, woman. Things are going to be
very, very tough.
No one said life was easy. She stood, glared down.
No one said it has to be hell either. Sit your pretty ass down and hear me out.
She thudded back onto the chair.
Terry isnt some fucking experiment. Trust me, hes tried this before. Marriage didnt
work relationships are impossible. Oh fuck yeah, hell try. Try as hard as a man like
him can but Im not looking to see him lose his career, everything he cares about
and a frivolous woman who had no clue what shed be facing all at the same damn
time.
She was seeing red, her fists were clenched and she wanted to crack a slap across Dinos
face. But Tamara held still, grit her teeth and let him finish.

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All Im trying to say is honey you need to consider that maybe the best thing here
is to make an exit now. Before the blood flows and the pain starts. Do it before he gets
back. Trust me, after this hes expecting it. Hes probably already accepted it. It will
save everyone a lot of agony down the road.
Her voice was smooth, her words slow. Are you finished?
He nodded, sipped coffee. Watched her closely. She didnt explode but the next statement
slammed like a motherfucker.
Dino OLeary, you are a royal asshole. Let me tell you something about me. I dont run
and hide. I dont give up what I want and I never, ever give up on someone I love. I love
Terry. He may be expecting Ive turned from him he may be expecting the worse
but what hes not expecting is me. Me. He has me as long as hell have me, you damn
idiot. Im not stupid, you know. My dad told me about this downtime woman thing you
guys do. I am not Terrys downtime play thing! I am his woman.
Uh-huh, Dino squelched a grin. You think its gonna be that easy?
I think itll be hard as hell. I think you have a rude awakening ahead of you. Just
because you say it cant be done easily doesnt mean it cant be done. Terry didnt
stumble across a bimbo looking for a few good times!
All right, all right, he chuckled and her fury rose. She stomped a pace and he shook his
head. Honey, Im not laughing at you Im laughing at me. I thought well I
kinda hoped this was the way youd go. Now, if you please, let me prepare you for what
might be coming home.
Dino proceeded to describe any number of wounds or injuries Terry might endure and a
plethora of emotional issues he might be facing. Again, Tamara listened then said, this
time softly Are you finished?
Yes, Im finished.
A lone, thick white snowflake drifted down and landed in his hair. She brushed it away
then took his cold hand in hers. Her eyes welled with tears and she sighed then kissed his
cheek. Thank you. Ill be ready.
Youll have Henry and me too, ya know.
I know.
And remember, he may come back determined to ruin what you two have. Hes a
man. We do that shit too.

120
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

EIGHTEEN

Terrys movements were stealth, silent as a cat. It was his forte, something he did well
and had perfected over years in the field. Something he was known for. He blinked, lost
in that thought for a split second. Known for? What were the real advantages of being
known for his covert skills? Of course, it exponentially raised his chances of survival in
critical field situations. And yes it gave him a certain advantage over not only his
prospective enemies, but his own men. But really? What was the advantage after the
case? After the gunshots after the blood is cleaned up, the wounds stitched and the
chance finally arrives to drop into his own bed? There was, after all, life after a case.
Well, sort of.
Not the time to let Tamara into his mind. Not nearly the time. He shook himself alert and
continued.
His feet silent, breath held and nerves on high alert, he slithered down the side of the
building and to the edge of the alley. He could hear the argument, growing more and
more heated, not far away and inched his face to the edge.
Of course, Wildcat was dead bloody right. Kashi shouted, advancing the near violent
discussion with Solomes sweet, rotund Uncle Haitham, who bravely attempted to block
the mans passage into the alley. Terrys mind swiftly translated the threats and insults. It
seemed Kashi was to have met with Salome, gotten instructions for the delivery and
received word on the safety of his young son. Terryd heard enough.
Theres no word, mate, he said, stepping from the shadows, the pistol aimed and ready.
Kaski, we gotta do some talkin.
What followed was so comical it could have been in a Laurel and Hardy film. Haitham
charged at Kashi who smoothly deflected the larger, older attacker. Terry swept one arm
around Kashis neck, holding him secure while tripping the already falling bolder of a
man to assure hed drop close enough to hear a whisper the command. Everyone, Terry
hissed. In the alley.
Then he heard something. A click? A footfall? Behind? In front? Before he could gather
his assessment and release his burden, Terry felt the heat of a nearing man at his back
and everything went black.
***

121
It slammed into his psyche as hard as a brick to the head! Wilder reversed his movements
and swiftly loosened ropes at Gilas wrists. Tying her, he was following orders from
Terry but suddenly it was a moot point.
Um, she gasped at the abruptness of his action.
Andy Wilder freed her, stood, looked right, left, then up at the opening. The sun was still
blasting out there but a sensation of gloom and danger streaked the air around him. Hed
been holding his breath as he gathered every weapon he could and reached to get out.
Wilder? Gila whispered, reaching a hand to his arm.
Help me or get the fuck outta my way, he hissed and disappeared onto the roof.
She was at his heel. What? Whats going on?
He turned a glare.
Ill help. Is Thorne in trouble?
Too late. Were all in trouble. No, dont go that way, he snapped and led her over the
rooftops until they found a different passage down to the street.
***
General Hartford was just fifteen paces away but still too far. Two of his men were down,
bleeding. Kashi was unconscious and left for dead; the Generals hope was for more
information from the turncoat. He watched them take Thorne as he nursed his own
gushing bullet wound to the shoulder.
You motherfuckers will pay for this, he hissed and crawled to gather Kashi and his men
together. Without Wildcat and Gilas magical appearance, theyd have all been dead.
The assassins just kept coming. Bullets rained from above, from windows and doors. Gila
stopped a split second to acknowledge her uncles dead body. Suddenly a vehicle boldly
sped along the exploding street, the brakes squealing, tired burning in the heat. The
blazing sunset obscured a clear view of the driver.
Hartford managed to grunt to his feet and aim his rifle just as the car doors swung open.
A woman was driving, a Saudi woman, covered and sobbing. Hurry! Hurry! Bring my
husbands body! Hurry, my niece!
Eight bleeding men and Gila rushed into the car and the old woman sped a turn and
managed an escape just as government soldiers and police poured into the street. People
screamed and ran, the sun danced like a blood orange ball at the horizon and Andy

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Wilder shut it all out, closing his eyes tight and begging for a vision. They needed
answers.
***
He heard it, loud and raspy and vibrating inside his own ears, meshing with the searing
heat under his flesh and agony ripping from his guts out. It took several moments before
Terry could identify the sound of his own screams.
His eyes opened to darkness in a room filled with the stench of urine and filth. Human
filth. Most likely his own. As suspected he was bound tightly to a cot. Gauging by the
weakness that held him to the thin, stinking mattress, hed been like that for days.
Confusion twisted like a coiling snake inside his mind, knotting tight around his soul and
threatening to squeeze the life out of it.
Several long, deep breaths, gasping against nausea and the stench all around him, and
Terrys brain slowly began to function. This was the time a soldier fears most; the
moment of confirmed failure, and the prospect of an eminent dismantling of his medal.
But before he would consider if this was the worst, the closest to the gaping pit hed ever
been, he had to get control to think to learn how he got there and what held him to
that painful place so near to giving up.
Sense by sense he worked himself. Slowly sliding his fingers, the ruined, bloody pulp his
fingertips had become were still receptive to touch. His mind hooked onto it like a
drowning man to a floating, slimy piece of wreckage. To focus his eyes was too hard, so
he moved elsewhere, slithered his tongue along the inside of his mouth, tasted the
metallic, acrid flavor of blood, noted a missing back tooth, the anguish gained by moving
his jaw. Broken.
Legs. Accomplishing even more pain, he shifted each one, one knee more damaged than
the other but still both strong enough to respond to his mental command. Neither leg was
shattered. Feet, the same; most likely swollen but moving, toe by toe, although the flesh
at the soles was shredded like it had been dragged across a grater. His ankles were bound
less lightly than his wrists and this made him fearful.
Fear, not something he could relinquish himself to. What theyd been doing to him was
far less important than who was doing it. Unrelated names slammed and bounced around
inside his head and he knew it wasnt yet time for that, for thinking. Not until he could be
confident he was doing it clearly. It was the power of torture, taking away a mans ability
to think so that all he does is react. Terry was determined to find his footing around his
situation before he faced the reality of it. Bit by bit.
Gripping pain twisted his gut and he attempted to roll to the side. Again the heavy,
shadowy air of the room resonated with his own voice. A howl of pain soared from his
center across every inch of his flesh. Sickness like none hed ever experienced wracked

123
him and luckily his face could reach the edge of the cot as vomit burst from his mouth.
Already his chest was crusted with it, the mattress soaked with it. Was there blood? Most
likely. A horrible revelation but it brought an answer he needed. Terry had been
poisoned.
Now, with the suddenness of a dropping roller coaster, his brain was sparking, snapping
with clarity and questions. Rational thought was like a brilliant light and he gasped,
gagged, calmed and relaxed his body against the shudders that followed the episode.
Poison. But how bad? For how long? And most importantly to what end?
Torture had a purpose. Otherwise it was far easier to kill a captive whos outlived his
usefulness. Now that was the downfall of who Terry Thorne was and what he was
capable of doing. That and that alone would prolong his life and extend the pain. It made
him a prize to break and use. This wasnt his first time at the brainwashing rodeo.
But what drug were they using that it had fucked up his guts? How were they
administering? His last experiences with Rehema was a rather sanitary one. Her
physician was knowledgeable and the drug was tolerable. Whatever she was using now
was likely to kill him if he didnt re-hydrated and soon. Were they waiting for him to
beg? Would he?
Again his jittering mind shifted. Again names. Names. Tamara. Wildcat. Rehema. Gila
Solome. Who were the bad guys, who were the good? He wanted to sleep, to hide from
the growing tension in his belly and lower back, from another bout of nausea. Sleep.
Hide. No. No. Names. Explore the names, his mind demanded.
But instead his body lurched and again he was sick, so sick that for a moment he truly
thought he might die. He couldnt catch his breath, he was choking then he heard a
voice, soft a soothing and coming from inside his heart. Yes. Yes. He listened. He
obeyed. He calmed and groaned. His head throbbed and ached like he was experiencing
the mother of all hangovers. Was he still in Saudi Arabia? No. Instinct clearly said no.
So, where was he and how did he get there?
His feet and fingertips hurt more than his gut. Hed fought, fought hard. Where were the
memories? What drug had they given him? Again his mind heard gentle words. And
names. All the names came and he knew who they were. Was it possible that whatever
poison theyd given him, his body was refusing? Purging? That he would survive it? Why
else would his mind gain such clarity?
Unless
Unless
Unless he was dying.

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Tamara, he whispered, afraid to say her name lest he pull her mysteriously into the
agony he was experiencing. No, no time to think of her! No time for that. No but.
If there ever was a time to think of Tamara it was now, the moments before he met his
maker or the lucid moments as he sought his courage. Now was the time. Now.

125
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

NINETEEN

The nightmare was horrific. She was standing in the center of a large room and totally
engulfed in flames. Tamara repeatedly screamed for Terry but no one came. She gasped,
the heat and fear were unbearable and suddenly it all shifted, altered as dreams are wont
to do. It was the smell that alerted her. Odd, she never remembered smelling anything in
a dream, but now the space she occupied smelled distinctly of hospital; dangerous, lifethreatening, desperate hospital smells that nearly gagged her. Terror soared through her
heart. Who was hurt? Who was dying? Pressure slammed like a tornado, shaking her to
the soul and again she cried out. Terry!
Dino and Henry, both gimps, one with crutches and the other a walker, still reached her
bedroom before the others. Both could see the obvious. She was not coping with it all
very well. Ill take the first shift, son. Go get some sleep.
Dino sat on a chair dragged near the bed and held Tamara close while she sobbed. Now
how sure are you about living this kinda life beside him, Tammy?
All I care about is that he still has a life, she sniffled. One step at a time, okay? Ill
deal with this. I will.
***
Of General Hartfords original ten man team, Gila Solome found herself now a part of a
rather paired down band of hopeful rescuers. Seven were seriously wounded and on their
to the American Military hospital in Bahrain. Her uncle Haithem, dead. Kashis wounds
were surprisingly minor; three bullet grazes, two across a shoulder and one across his hip;
torn clothing and a little blood, nothing more. The General and Wildcat had escaped
injury all together. Gilas only wound was her pride.
Shed spend years studying law enforcement, international law and training for the field.
A solid and committed CIA employee, shed sacrificed everything to be a field operative
and she believed it had finally happened when Gomez noticed her. The fact that he took
her to bed during her second interview was a big red flag, but sometimes a woman had to
take every foothold available to her in that business. This one did not pay off.
She was lied to and duped, a pawn used simply for her ability to look and speak Arabic.
She trusted her superior who was obviously one of the bad guys and suspected her peers
who were the good guys and one of those good guys had a curious psychic skill. Her
eyes shot up to see Andy Wilder not only watching her from across the room, but

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grinning like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Decision time. Would she hate him
for it, or accept him for it? Under the circumstances, she had little choice.
So what, she hissed.
Right, just so you eventually end up on the right team, baby. Wildcats grin was
maddening and she stood to sit in another chair, not quite in his direct line of vision. She
wasnt sure if it would help. The man was psychic for Christs sake. He probably knew
what everyone in the room was going to be doing in the next eight hours, what theyd
choose for dinner and whether theyd survive the mission or not. Hell, he knew what was
going on with some people far outside that room too.
They were in her deceased uncles house, hidden tight in a private wing along with her
mourning aunt who was a real trooper. She fed and cared for everyone and only let out an
occasional sigh of profound sadness. Did Andy know what was in store for her auntie?
Probably not. They were all hoping he could focus on Terry and Rehema at the moment.
Gila leaned her head back and blinked away a tear. She liked her uncle Haithem a lot.
Next year, Wildcat said quietly, looking directly at Gila. When she lives with you on
the Upper East Side, youll see shell be happy again.
Gila moved to sit at his side. You see that? What else do you see?
Wilder leaned down to whisper in her ear. I see me in your bed but that could be just
wishful thinking.
She slammed an elbow into his rib and returned to her chair just as Hartford grunted into
his.
Gentlemen and lady, the old man groaned, shifted and leaned elbows on knees to eye
them all. Weve got our work cut out for us. And, were way undermanned so lets get
to it. Griffin, he pointed his chin to the quiet hulk of a man. Griffin was years younger
than Wildcat, even younger than Gila. She suspected hed done one tour of duty,
probably in the Middle East then moved directly into K&R, thanks to a generous offer
from Thorne and his partner. Griffin squared his shoulders and looked for a moment like
hed leap from his chair and stand at attention.
Yes, sir!
Gila watched Andy Wilder do something shed seen him do before. He simply stood and
walked out of the room. The General made no comment. She understood that sometimes
Wilder needed space and quiet, distance from the activity to do his thing, but werent
there important strategies to work out? Strategies he should hear? Hartford simply
focused on Griffin.
Get communications set up. I want contact with Dino at HQ, like yesterday.

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Yes, sir.
Ms. Solome, sorry to say, Im gonna need to use you the same way Gomez did. You
have to be my eyes and ears outside this house. You do the marketing with the cook
today, do everything to appear like a house servant. Dont be seen with your aunt and
dont leave or enter through the front door.
Yes, sir. She nodded. At least Hartford was up front about his intentions. And if I
learn something?
I know you want to move on it but unfortunately, were too small a team not to play as a
team. So, you report and we jointly decide on a plan of action.
And Wilder? she said, a bit harsher than she intended. When does he have to play on
the team?
Hes doing it all the time, girly. What Wildcat does is complicated but he never acts
alone. Like you, grinned the General, hes out collecting intelligence. He just does it a
little differently. Now, the leaders eyes shifted, Kashi. You in or what? I have to know
how strong this team is, how many arms I have, how many eyes and how many
committed souls. Where are you?
In, General Harford. You say Thorne has Dino looking for my son Im in. You say
Gomez is behind this whole scam Im in. You say I was set up to look like a double
agent and I have a chance to prove otherwise Im so in it fucking hurts. Uh, sorry Ms.
Solome. Im in as deep as you need.
The injuries?
Scratches.
Wait, Gila interrupted. How can we trust him?
Kashi scratched his balding head and sighed. Gomez used me just like he used you,
lady. He lied and manipulated. He kidnapped my son and hes the reason your uncle was
murdered. Id think youd trust me. We have a common enemy. The government will
handle Gomez, we can put Rehema away for good and get Thorne free. Gomez fucked
him too, you know.
Solome? Hartford asked, knowing full well if he didnt have trust on the team, he had
nothing he could count on.
She rubbed her temples and thought hard. Everything he hated about Kashi came from
Gomez. What basis did she have not to trust them man? Fine with me, sir. What now?

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We wait. The General turned toward the door Wildcat had exited. We get prepared
and we wait. Solome, get out on the streets. Kashi, I need your input with these maps and
Griffith
Yes, sir!
Hartford fought a grin. Stand down soldier. Keep doing what youre doing. I need to talk
to HQ, and I need to do it now.
***
Clean him up and bring him to me.
Terry recognized the voice. Rehema. Was he back in Egypt or had she really screwed the
pooch and stepped foot in Arabia? Nothing about the woman surprised him. She had
more balls than any bloke hed ever known.
His eyes were swollen shut. Hed received a beating per hour as far as he could count. If
they werent slamming him around like a rag doll, they were force feeding him food so
rancid and spoiled he couldnt swallow it or keep it down. Cheap poison. If it wasnt that,
it was worse. They dispensed physical and mental anguish like candy. Trick or treat, your
son is dead, see the headlines. Trick or treat, weve had a hit man on Dino; hell never
step foot out of the hospital. Trick or treat, Tamara Fillmore is being held captive; raped,
damaged, bleeding. Trick or treat, bend over and meet your new lover. Trick or treat
again and again and again. It was a blur of torture, back to back and each round more
creative than the last.
And suddenly, with a few words from Rehema, it all stopped. He was dragged from the
filthy cave-like basement and into the light. From there, up a flight of elegant stairs and
into a bathroom so big and shining white it hurt to look at it. He was bathed and his open
cuts were treated, but he was denied water to drink. When he opened his mouth to catch
the shower spray, an elbow to the nose sufficiently completed the swelling and bruising
on his face. Now he was completely unrecognizable, so said his reflection in the mirror. It
wavered and blackness crawled in from all corners. He was down.
Terry woke on a velvet sofa, stretched out long and comfortable, wearing clean jeans and
a black tee shirt. His fingertips were wrapped with gauze as were his feet to the ankles. If
not for the raging hunger and thirst, hed have felt pampered. Rehema was reading a
book, seated across the room, her spectacular legs crossed. Terry blinked and groaned his
way up to sit.
What the bloody hell are you doing? he said, his voice strong and clear, even though
his muscles quivered with weakness and his body swayed until he leaned against the sofa
backrest. I was this fuckin close to getting your goddamn rifles. Is my son dead?

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Rehema slowly closed the book and removed her diamond studded reading glasses. You
were about to betray me.
What? Are you crazy? Is my son alive? Is Henry alive? Terry was playing it for all
he was worth. He believed Gila and Wildcat that Henry was safe and well, but it was
important to make Rehema think he was still willing to do anything to save Henrys life.
Your son is dead. They showed you the papers. I want those rifles or you will find
others you love joining young Henry in the graveyard.
The images that swept though him drew tears. Real or imagined, he couldnt bear much
more of this. He had to get his arse in gear. Who?
Does it matter?
Terry rolled his neck and rubbed a hand down his damaged face. No.
Where are my rifles? Her voice was like soft tar, cushioned with ominous blackness,
laced with evil. It was time for Terry to put his plan into play.
Of course he had a plan. It was how he held himself strong against the assaults, against
the lies and the thirst. His plan and love for Tamara, Henry and Dino were all rolled into
one impenetrable suit of armor. All he had to do now was call that plan from the recesses
of his melting mind and spit out the words. He rubbed his aching eyes harder, stood to
pace but couldnt put weight on his soles. So he walked, back and forth on the sides of his
feet. It worked. Slowly all the details floated to the surface. It would be tricky, but he
knew it would work. All he had to do was THINK the plan to Wildcat. At least, that was
his hope.
I know where the rifles are.
She stood, glared eye-to-eye with Terry. But you had no time to speak to Kashi.
Kashi isnt the only one who knows where they are, Rehema. Have you ever known me
to trust the most predictable resources?
She blinked. Continue.
I know where they are. Feed me, give me water and meds for whatever fuckin food
poisoning youre soldiers gave me, then Ill simply go in and get them all.
You think me a fool, she chuckled. You were with a CIA operative, and that young
man who was with you in Egypt, Andy Wilder.
So? You think CIA and Army dont like profit as much as the next bloke? Terry was
trembling but he stood strong, staring her down.

130

What profit? I pay you nothing but the safety of those you love. It is you who is the
fool.
Perhaps, Terry turned with an impressive swagger and lowered to the sofa as steady as
can be. AK74s arent the only bloody hidden weapons in that warehouse, Rehema.
And so his elaborate lies continued, piling one on the other and convincing her all the
same. Warehouse? He spied one smack in the middle of Ryiadh, if he was lucky and
Wildcats radar was working, maybe hed have backup there. More than rifles? Seemed
plausible. Why the hell not? It wasnt like dealing weapons was a picky trade. He could
tell by how shallow her breath had gone that she was buying it all, lock, stock and barrel.
Shed gone silent, her eyes focused on the profits she could gain. Time for his next move.
I get these rifles, were done, right? Everyones safe, right? No need to worry if he
sounded pitiful enough, he knew he did. His voice was shaking as hard as his hands.
No. These weapons were for Henrys safety. Henry is dead because you showed
wavering commitment.
Then get your own bloody guns. He dropped his head back for dramatic affect.
But, she said quietly and he looked up, permitting a tear to roll down his face. This
will protect the woman if shes survives the captivity. Such a foolish woman, your
girlfriend. Going to the press? Very foolish.
Ill have a long talk with her when I get back.
Ah, but you will not return until I have finished with you. There are tanks in Kazakhstan
that I want.
For what? Whats that gonna fuckin get me?
Your partner. We will not kill your partner. Does this sound fair?
Terry groaned, doubled over in pain. Fine. Fine. Then were finished?
Oh no, Mr. Thorne. He looked up. She was close, so close his nose nearly touched her
crotch, less than an inch from her tight skirt. There is more I want from you.
More cards to play. Terry always had an ace up his sleeve. With surprising strength, his
arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close, nuzzled erotically then looked up.
Yeah, I remember that time, Rehema. Cant forget fuckin like that. Not ever.
She didnt struggle or push him away, simply clapped her hands and two soldiers scurried
into the room. Terry nuzzled again and listened carefully.

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This man is to receive antibiotics, food and water. He is to be cared for. I must have him
strong in two days. Go! Get out!
Terry cupped hands on her arse cheeks and squeezed. Wont take me two days to get
strong, love.
No, it will not. Ill have you in my bed tonight and in Ryiahd in two days after
Ive finished with you. The AK74s, the tanks and this. Then we are finished.
I can count on that?
You can, Mr. Thorne.
He stood and looked down into her eyes. Rehema must have been an amazing Egyptian
beauty in her day. Her face showed the strains of numerous plastic surgeries but radiated
the loveliness that was once there. Not so God awful. Terry had done worse things to
save a person. His lips touched hers and he reveled in the sigh she released. In her early
sixties and she was bloody putty in his hands. If he had a weapon, shed be dead. If he
had the strength, shed have been dead moments ago. As it was, hed need to play this
hand carefully. He had two days to concentrate and guide Andy Wilder, the Incredible
Psychic Man, to that bloody warehouse or the lights were really going out this time.

132
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

TWENTY

The Saudi government was appropriately shocked and appalled. General Hartford had no
other options; either he made his presence known and convinced them to assist, or he
risked everything. He and his team would spend the rest of their lives in prison if this
went down badly.
Oddly enough, Andy Wilder with his wildcat attitude, irreverence and blasting voice
seemed to get further than Hartfords political politeness. How the team knew what they
knew or how they planned to save their man and rid the Saudis of the plague that is
Rehema was not made clear, but something in the Arab soul connected with Andy.
Hartford was given permission to proceed and a veritable army to back his efforts. It
seemed more than one Saudi official was familiar with the name Terrence Thorne, the
terrible news of his captivity and his sons murder. They were eager to support.
Things didnt look so hopeful the evening before, though. After the briefing, Harford was
reduced to sending Gila out to find his missing soldier. Wilder had simply left the big
house and walked away. When she and a house servant located him, Andy was in a
strange trance. It snapped quickly, replaced by his dazzling grin and he chuckled,
pointing at a massive warehouse and laughing louder.
Dont go losing your mind, buddy, Gila reprimanded with an ominous hiss. Hold your
tongue until we get back to the General.
Ah, he said loudly, but I have a thousand romantic things to speak in your lovely ear.
A thousand magic words to bring you the treasure and glory of passion.
What? Are you channeling Ali Baba? spat Gila and they rushed toward HQ. Wilder
calling that kind of attention to them was not only socially and culturally frowned upon,
but embarrassing as hell not to mention dangerous. Quiet.
You must love me, my dear little one; we must wed and enjoy the fruits of a blessed
marriage.
Her glare intensified. Why was he shouting such foolishness?
Though you are but a poor servant, I will love you for eternity!
Wilder was far too calculated for prolonged silly play. Something was up. Her eyes shot
around and sure enough there were three thugs, treacherous and moving in close.
Damn, she whispered.

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Be cool, follow my lead. Wilder corralled her and her male chaperone to the market.
The hustle and bustle was waning so late in the day as patrons headed off with their
purchases and merchants packed their wares. The startled servant at Gilas side, Andy fell
to his knees and shouted at the top of his lungs. Your father has given permission! Be
my wife; give me peace so my heart may soar with the joy of loving you, my little one!
A crowd gathered and Gila looked down into his begging eyes. Wilder was speaking
English, not uncommon as many young men temporarily leave Arabia to study in
England or the States. The scenario he had created wasnt unfamiliar in this day and age.
A daughter would never refuse her fathers choice for her, but she would most definitely
make her future husband believe she could. Her eyes rolled. This was a situation she
never in a million years imagined having to play out. But blessedly, it would sufficiently
deter their pursuers.
She lowered her face, masking even her eyes from the crowd tightening around them and
then shook her head. The gathering booed. Gila chuckled. Wilder sobbed dramatically.
The house servant shrugged; it seemed he was used to such displays. As though shed
rehearsed the scene, she spun on her heel and walked away, Wilder still crying out and
following, the escort careful to do his duty and protect her, and the rest of the onlookers
keeping in step, afraid to miss the outcome unknowingly shielding them from
enemies.
The performance ended abruptly when they scurried inside the servants entry of her
uncles big house, leaving the whispering crowd behind. Good thinking, Gila teased,
having strangely enjoyed the whole thing.
But Wilder was all business; he brushed past her to the Generals rooms and reported his
findings.
Now they sat in that room again, twenty four hours later and with the military backing of
the Saudi government behind them. The problem was they had no sure plan and would
not until Wildcat received another blast of cosmic intel from Terry. It seemed Thornes
mind and energy were otherwise occupied.
***
It wasnt so bad. The thrust and surge of sexual energy brought with it several healing
qualities. Physically, it quickened the heart as well as the soul. Emotionally, it bolstered a
mans confidence, even though in Terrys case, it was only an illusion of power or
was it?
This wasnt the first time hed been in a bed with Rehema. Literally. All those years ago
he was a young soldier of nineteen, she was nearly forty and only suspected of being a
possible threat. He hadnt yet joined the S.A.S., hadnt yet perfected his skills as a

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military man or a lover (although he had already seeded his young girlfriend and Henry
was firmly written into his future).
As shed ordered, that very night he was there under her sheets, fed and watered like a
favorite potted plant near the window. But even Rehema had a heart, or at least a good
memory. Her intentions were to enjoy what she could and that wasnt possible until he
was strong enough. For five days he rested and was pampered, but not once disturbed or
required to perform. It gave him ample time to perfect his plan, including a few levels of
it he seldom activated.
Terry wasnt a man to manipulate a woman and her affections during his downtime.
But on a case, he never feared reaching out for what he needed if a sexual encounter
would help center his nerves or garner important information. He never had a second
thought about using the power of sex, especially in the way a woman saw it, to attain his
goals. A case was a case. A hostage must gain freedom in this case, himself. There
were pleasures when Rehema joined him between those silk sheets. For three days and
nights they touched and teased, they climaxed again and again and Terrys mind focused
on tweaking his true strength. It finally came just as Rehema dressed and sat at the edge
of the mattress.
Today we move. I meet with my men to assure the weapons will come into my hands
and her voice had crackled, softened and he ran a gentle finger along her spine.
Love, ya dont trust me?
Of course I do not trust you. You are here to fulfill your agreements with me then you
will return to your lover; if she has survived. Her eyes grew hard as she trained them
over a shoulder at him.
Terry was ready. He captured her lips to his and gasped. Fuck her, I know what I want.
This is too bloody good to walk away from and we both know it.
She melted, lowered beneath him as he stripped her to the bone and suckled wilted
breasts. All of Rehemas age showed below her neck. Living in the Middle East had
saved her a shit load of plastic surgery expenses. Hed show no distaste.
He played her like a fiddle then rested at her side. Together theres so bloody much we
can do. Think of the money Rehema, the possibilities
The sex? She wriggled like a contented cat but her eyes were sharp and Terry knew itd
take far more than a few roots to make her trust him. He had one more ace up his sleeve.
He propped head on hand and looked down at her. One finger trailed her hairline and he
twisted his lips. Love, we gotta talk.
No, She stiffened. We have a deal, Terry.

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Hear me out. He leaned in, licked the shell of her ear and watched her tremble. Then he
whispered. I dont want you in harms way, Rehema. You were mad commin here,
risking so much. Too many eyes are lookin for you.
She pulled away to watch his expression. Terry was a pro; hed played a liar and a thief, a
soldier and a captive. He knew exactly what she needed to see on his face.
Are you concerned for me? she said, a teasing lilt in her thick accent.
Someday hed take his act to the stage or screen, but at that moment, it had to be worthy
of an Oscar. He groaned and stood. Enough fuckin about. What happened twenty years
ago is as good even better now. Im bloody tired of bein alone, off all the time, no
place in my life for anything that matters. My son is dead. What reason is there for me to
ever go back?
She sat up, pulled sheets to her neck and blinked. Her eyes narrowed then widened.
What are you saying?
I fuckin want what you and me can do together. You know how good I am at this, thats
why Im here in the first place. You and me, well be richer than God. But He pushed
a hand through his hair and paced. I dont wanna risk you.
Youre taking over my operation?
Course not. Rehema, Im just gonna make it work better. Im your right-hand man,
your muscle. Theres no bloody need to be showing your face anywhere outside this
house. Youll lay low until we get the goods and can get our arses outta here safely.
She stood, blocking his path and the well performed pace stopped. Her eyes were
smoldering with passion and as much as it choked him to know how far hed gone, he
could do nothing but play it the distance. He knew for a fact that Tamara was not in
Rehemas clutches, but the mere idea sickened him.
The panther went straight for the jugular. If you care so much for me, Terry tell me to
finish the woman. To order her death. It is the only way I will trust that you are being
truthful. What say you? Shall I have her executed?
His stomach twisted but his expression remained smooth as silk. Darlin, he whispered,
pulling Rehema into a strong embrace. Shes already fuckin dead to me.
She melted against him, sighed softly. His fingers itched to choke the life from her but
instead he kissed her hard and long. Rehema, dont make me worry that youll be dead
too. Dont make me die tryin to get you from a prison. Its time we live like were meant
to. You are my woman. I want you safe. You stay here while I get the guns. Give me
three men, thats all I need. When Ive made the delivery, well disappear for a while.

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She blinked.
Ya know Im bloody right. They catch you, you will not survive the day. I fuckin want
you alive I need you alive.
I will wait.
***
The bustle at her apartment had gone stagnant. Tamara knew the score, knew that they
were all in a holding pattern waiting for intelligence only Andy Wilder could learn. She
knew Terry was still a hostage and every moment of his captivity wore on her soul and
heart. It took monumental effort not to imagine how he was being hurt, what they were
doing to him. Her nightmares intensified. She no longer slept in the dark and was seldom
she alone. Dino and Henry took shifts watching over her. She was grateful but would
have preferred them to be watching over Terry. He needed them far more than she did.
The frenetic energy that began with the arrest of Gomez and General Hartfords advance
into Saudi lands was now at a heavy stand still. The men sat at her dining room table and
played cards. They flipped channels on the television and they stood outside on the
balcony and smoked. There seemed no place for her in her own home.
On the forth day she woke rested and content. It was comforting and unnerving at once
and she knew she could not face another day trapped in the apartment with the team. She
snuck out and took the elevator up. At Terrys apartment door, she turned the key and
slipped inside. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sent of him. It was weak but very
much there; a layer of aftershave, soap, cigarette smoke. Surprisingly, it didnt make her
cry.
As though something had lit a fire under her butt, she moved into action. It was a warm
early spring day, so she opened all the windows to air out the stale rooms. She emptied
the refrigerator of moldy bread and ruined bananas, then cleaned every shelf and prepared
a grocery list. She checked the dishwasher and found clean dishes. Putting them away she
slowly, systematically learned Terrys personal habits. How he liked things, the
simplicity and military efficiency of his life even during downtime. She gathered his mail
from the lobby lock box and carefully stacked it in neat piles on his desk. She reset his
alarm clock, as it would soon be Daylight Savings Time and the hour would spring
forward. Surely Terry would be home by then.
Or would he? She sat on his bed and fought tears that hadnt threatened all morning.
Sokay ya know.

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She looked up. Her heart had jumped. The depth and resonance of the voice was familiar.
Of course it was. It was just different enough but similar enough to open the floodgates.
Henry groaned an apology.
Did I frighten ya love?
No. Come sit beside me. I think Ive lost my mind. He settled and she continued.
Maybe I just cant take the waiting any longer maybe Ive gone off the deep end. I
mean Henry; Ive cleaned out his refrigerator and changed his bed. Whats wrong with
me?
Nothing. He grinned and tucked her under his arm. I do the same damn thing. Last
two times I was here in the New York and dad was in trouble, I just came to a strange
point where I well I just knew he was comin home and coming home soon. So I
did his bloody laundry and stocked his favorite beer. Seems a little nuts but, he chuckled
and looked down into her tear filled eyes, why the hell do ya think I came up here? I was
thinkin maybe he needed the place aired out or something. Were on the same page, you
and me.
Or heading for the same nuthouse.
No, dont believe so. Every time I got that feeling before, dad came home. Hes coming
home, love. I know it, and so do you.
Neither dared even wonder if Terry was coming home whole or damaged, dead or alive.

138
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

TWENTY-ONE

There was little time for Terry to be alone. If he wasnt with Rehema, tossing about on
the mattress, he was surrounded by her three chosen men, discussing the plan. She was
close by at all times, watching, listening, waiting for any clue of how Terry might betray
her. Frankly, he didnt blame her. Hed have done the same, but the situation forced him
to continually be on guard, constantly perform at his best like an actor whose life
depended on a standing ovation.
He needed silence, alone time. At least, thats what he assumed was required to reach
Wilder and communicate his plan. He was looking at it like any other communication.
Terry was wrong to do so.
He was actually in the middle of heated coital action when Wildcats voice boomed
through Terrys head.
Thorne!
He gasped, stilled and froze for a moment.
What is it? Rehema mewed.
Nothin, love. Terry whispered, afraid to interrupt the stream of information pounding
at his brain. Nothin. He continued his physical activity trying to get a mental message
across to slow Wilders rapid-fire debriefing.
You dog, played the mental voice.
Just gimme one bloody minute, Terry thought at the psychic, trying not to
imagine the vast range of Andy Wilders unique talents. He heard am ethreal chuckle.
His physical climax met, he dramatically dropped to the pillows. Jesus, love. Youre
gonna bloody kill me, he groaned.
Not if you perform correctly, my dear young lover. Here and out there.
Wont let ya down, Rehema. I will never let ya down. He yawned wide and let his eyes
drift closed. Rehema snuggled at his chest and he forced his body still as slumber
although every nerve sparked and every brain cell fired.

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Talk, he addressed Wilder and in a constant stream of connected thoughts and images, he
came to understand the state of things. There was Saudi military support. Wildcat knew
the exact warehouse Terry had in mind and strangely enough, it was the same warehouse
Kashi had stored the weapons. Weapons? The next bit of intel nearly made Terry leap to
his feet. There were no weapons. The crates were empty. Hundreds of crates, some
labeled some not. Kashi was playing at his own war with Rehema. Could this get
anymore complicated?
Chill, Wilder bellowed inside Terrys head. We got this under control. Whats your
strategy aside from fucking yourself into a stupor?
Got three of her men, will arrive at the warehouse gates after midnight. Need backup.
You got it covered, buddy. Rehema? asked Wildcat.
Staying behind but not. Andy, mate, shes gotta be taken. Taken out or taken into
custody. No two ways about this.
Got it. At the gate, on the left, under a rock, the hidden key for the padlock. You get
yourself and your three escorts inside then duck. See ya later tonight.
Wait. Andy. Andy? He was gone. The communication was over. All Terry needed to do
now was follow through. Rehemas hand had trailed to cup his balls. Was it a threat or an
invitation? Did he have the energy to focus on one more root? He opened his eyes and
spied the bedside clock. Nine p.m. Should he hold his strength or play this to the hilt?
No choice. Shed slithered under the sheets and taken his wilted cock deep into her hot
mouth. There was only one way hed get through this. Tamara. He told himself it was
Tamaras tongue, Tamaras teeth, Tamaras fingers manipulating, exciting and finally
exploding him to fruition. And this time Terry really did drop into a deep sleep.
***
Two men climbed into the back of the huge truck, an eighteen wheeler. Terry instructed
Muhammad, one of Rehemas favorite soldiers, to close and latch the door. Terry called
the man Mo, because it was quicker, easier and pissed Muhammad off big time.
Sgo, Mo.
Mo scowled but heaved himself into the high cab.
Terry climbed behind the wheel, watching the big rearview windows and wondering how
Rehema would follow. It never occurred to him she wouldnt, he knew shed be
watching, hopefully close enough to catch a bullet to take her down. If she died, fine by
him. If she ended up in prison, even better. After everything shed put Henry through and
everything shed done to him, mounted on top of the multitude of vicious crimes shed

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committed over the past twenty years, all he could hope for was justice. Harsh, long-term,
preferably final justice.
He grinned and turned to his passenger. Theyd reached the warehouse. Mo, under a
rock there, left of the gate, the keys hidden. Go on, unlock it and lets get our arses
inside.
Muhammad was suspicious, of course. I will not. You get the key.
Terry knew this would come and he was glad of it. Mo probably imagined a rigged bomb
sure to blow off his hand, not a bad idea but no one had thought of that. In fetching the
key himself, Terry would have the opportunity to gain yet one more layer of trust. He
shrugged and climbed down from the cab, leaving the door wide open.
What Terry didnt realize was that he was meant to get that key, that there was more intel
connected to his touching it. Again he marveled at Andys powers. The moment he
fingered the key and worked with the big padlock, images of exactly where the team was
posted flashed like a movie trailer. Sure enough, all he had to do was get himself and
Rehemas three men into the third dock door. The key would open that as well. Brilliant.
He was grinning ear to ear when he returned to the truck.
Slow going, he maneuvered the truck, backed up against the correct dock in the darkness,
careful to get as close to it as possible without thudding the bumper. Together, he and Mo
unlatched the door and freed the two waiting inside. Terry led the way, unlocking the
massive door and all four men lifted it until it was high enough to walk beneath.
Terry stepped in first then instinctively dropped prone onto the ground. He closed his
eyes and covered his head but heard not one gunshot. There was shuffling, grunts, the
sound of cracking bones then silence. One eye opened then the other. He got a view filled
with Andy Wilders smiling face.
Score, Terry. Quick.
The warehouse was dark as pitch and they dragged the three downed men deeper. Terry
looked down at them then pointed. Mo and Griffin were approximately the same size.
The other two men were average and already Andy was stripping one to don the black
uniform.
The General patted Terrys shoulder and whispered into his ear. Alls fine on the home
front. Lets finished this fucker and get outta here. He pointed. Rafters, six Saudi
soldiers. Outside the gate, nine more. The General turned and gave a hushed order.
Load the fucking crates!
Twenty, thirty, fifty crates were loaded by the three men and Terry. Every time he moved
from the dark warehouse out onto the dock, Terrys eyes scanned the surroundings.
Where the fuck was Rehema? This whole performance was for her. Bloody hell, what if

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she listened to him and stayed back? No. Not likely. Instinct told him she was somewhere
just out of sight. He went inside for another empty crate.
They were light as air, only the weight of the wood they were made of, but the men acted
like each crate was heavy with weapons, carrying them together and expressing quiet
grunts for good measure. Sixty, sixty five, seventy crates. Far more crates than should
have been there were loaded into the truck. Hed promised Rehema there was more than
her rebuilt AK47s to steal from that warehouse and he was determined to make it look
that way. When he felt the performance was completed, Terry waved for General
Hartford.
Follow, he said. If she doesnt show herself, Ill lead ya right to her.
Is that truly how you imagine this would happen? Lights suddenly flickered and
brightness filled the space. Rehema stood less than twenty feet away, more than a dozen
armed men behind her.
At that moment, Andy was out on the dock. He slipped down and under the eighteen
wheeler. Gila stepped forward and took aim, right for Rehemas heart.
An explosion rocked the floor and flames shot into the door. The truck was history but
Rehema and her men were taken off guard, down, a few injured. Rehema shockingly
stood, glared directly into Terrys eyes then did something no one expected. Just as six
Saudi military men aimed rifled down at her from the rafters, she lifted a pistol to her
own temple.
What was in her eyes? Did she really believe Terry? His gut roiled, twisted and he lifted
his hands to hold their fire but almost simultaneously, her pistol and six rifles blasted
and the woman once feared and in control of illegal weapons trade in the Middle East
was nothing more than a bloody pulp on the ground.
Her men were taken and soldiers closed in from all directions. Terry ran out onto the
flaming dock. Wilder! he shouted, an arm raised to shield his face against the heat.
Jesus bloody Christ! Wilder! He moved forward, unsure where the man had gone and
terrified of the worst. Andy!
Gila joined him, almost charging into the flaming truck. He held her back. Andy!
Andy! she screamed, her face streaked with tears as Terry tried to hold her close,
comfort her. But who the bloody hell was going to comfort him?
Fuckin Wilder! Where the bloody hell are you! he yelled. Andy!
What?

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The voice was right beside him and Terry jumped. Ya bloody bastard, he shouted but
laughed and embraced the psychic. Ya fuckin crazy bastard! He finally stepped back
as Gila wrapped herself completely around Andy.
The man was covered with soot and seemingly unharmed. His mouth was devouring
Gilas and her legs had wrapped around his waist. Terry shook his head and grinned.
Mates, he gripped arms and tugged. Lets get this all cleaned up.
***
Twenty-four hours later at the American military hospital in Bahrain, Terry and General
Hartford reviewed the report theyd compiled.
Case number: 70042-09
Hostage: Terrence Thorne, K&R operative
Captivity Duration: Twenty-three days
Location: Saudi, Arabia
Result: Negotiations, none. Extraction, successful
Hostage Condition: Excellent. Medical recommendation, six weeks downtime.
Casualties:
General Charles Hartford; flesh wound, right shoulder
Andrew Wilder; second degree burns, back and left shoulder. Andy had successfully
planted the bomb in the truck but apparently forgotten that it was filled with nothing but
tinder and didnt move quite fast enough.
Terrence Thorne; minor cuts and bruises
The report also included the injured men in the Generals original team.
Prognosis: Excellent for all
Outcome: Successful.
Yes, successful. Terry sighed, rubbed his eyes and grinned. The Saudi government had
been tormented by Rehema and he minions for decades. He was sure no report would
question whether it was the bullet wound at her own hand, or those of the six soldiers had
caused her final demise. Did it matter? Not one bloody bit.
Terry quickly made his move, offering both Andy Wilder and Gila Solome positions
within his company. He then spoke with the General.
Listen mate. Youve done your time and gone well beyond the call of duty for us here.
Theres no way Im askin you to do field work, Terry said, noting the exhaustion
written in every line on the old mans face. But your expertise is invaluable. All Im
askin is that you consider consulting on specific cases. Will you consider it?
Charlie Harford tightened his lips, nodded. Ill think about it, Thorne.
They flew home to New York together, both wearing clean army fatigues donated by the
base in Bahrain. Silent and deep in their own thoughts, they were the last to leave after

143
assurance that every team member was well, safe in the states and on their way to
healing.
Terry couldnt sleep. He couldnt close his eyes. His knee bounced and he accepted
several whisky and waters from the flight attendant. Even those didnt help. Hed spoken
to Henry on the phone and knew all was well with his son. He worried for his partner and
worked harder than he ever had in his life to not think about anything or anyone else.
And for a while it worked.
Stepping from the plane and into the airport he wasnt sure what he expected but it wasnt
what he saw. There, flanked by two airport security guards stood yes stood on his
own two feet Dino.
Bloody hell! Terry embraced the man and looked him over. How damn long was I
gone? A year?
Mightve felt like it, buddy, Dino laughed. The last tweak worked. Im now vertically
mobile. Cool huh?
Ya look great, mate.
Yeah, and you look like hell.
They walked slowly from the gate, the General, Terry and his partner, all moving at
Dinos slow pace. But it wasnt until they were in a cab alone together that Dino spoke.
Ive scheduled a full debrief for three days from now when the whole team can be
present. Ive already begun orientation for your new employment choices. Who knew
wed be taking on a psychic and a woman? Dino chuckled. Uh General, he
continued. I know you havent made a final decision about joining us, but well need
you at the debrief.
Of course, grunted the old man, his eyes struggling to stay opened.
The cab dropped off General Hartford first then swung uptown to drop off Dino. Get
some rest, Terry. Lots to deal with and you need to be strong for it. Oh, Ive got Henry at
my place. Hes got a redheaded lady friend there too. Your kids got some good taste.
Terry was about to say just like his dad, but swallowed back the comment. Those were
thoughts he wasnt ready to deal with. Perhaps hed best just forget about it. He had a bed
calling to him.
Kashis son? Terry asked.

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In good shape, traumatized, reunited with Kashi and his wife. Its been years, they have
some adjusting to do. But worked out well.
Terry thought about that. Well? How could a world where a young boy can be used by a
trusted CIA superior to manipulate a retired military man into stealing weapons be
well? It was fucked up. Period. Fucked up, but the world they lived in all the same. Dino
would have called it job security, Terry could only repeat fucked up.
Last to leave the cab, he paid and entered his apartment building alone. The doorman
nodded with more respect than ever, probably because of the camo fatigues Terry was
wearing. No worries, hed explain another time. He took the elevator directly to his floor
and fished the key from his pocket.
He opened the door and almost immediately felt tears of exhaustion and emotional
misery run hot down his face. First, the mail. Nothing that cant wait. Next, the
refrigerator. A gulp or two of juice would be nice, but instead he went to the bar and
poured two fingers of scotch, downing the drink quickly and giving himself to his own
exhaustion.
He went to the bedroom, the camo already unbuttoned and ready to be peeled away when
he stopped, paralyzed. It was well past midnight and in his bed Tamara, curled to her
side and sound asleep.
He couldnt make a decision. Should he wake her? Why was she there? Could he deal
with the questions? Was he prepared for the inevitable showdown?
Terry Thorne slowly, silently lowered into an overstuffed chair at the far corner of the
room. He watched her sleep. And he prayed just before his eyes closed for the night.

145
The Downtime Woman
by Riley

TWENTY-TWO

It was a dream. He knew because hed been having them every night since leaving New
York to gain Henrys freedom. A simple dream. Most times it didnt reach culmination,
merely brought him awake with a screaming hard on signifying he needed a morning
piss. But the dream. Such a dream. And always Tamara.
Tamara, but not in the way the waking mind thinks. It wasnt memories of Tamaras
body that triggered the dream. It was other things, subtle things, unseen senses that were
enough to convince Terry a waking skeptic that his dream was about the woman he
wanted. The scent of her flesh, so very unlike any other. The texture of her hair, rich and
thick and deep red. The quiver of a tender breast. The pink rose paleness of her flesh
the rise of a hip the depth of her heat her core
Terry shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Vertical. Why was he vertical? Ah but the
dream called and he turned to it. Hungered for it. Where was he? Didnt matter, he dove
for the dream. Hadnt he returned to the States? Wasnt the case over? This dream was
wonderful. He could feel Tamaras tender, long fingers comb through his hair, settle on
his face. And her lips! Hot. So bloody hot!
Again He shifted, no longer giving a good God damn why he was in a chair. The chair
was far, far away. There was nothing but the dream. His mouth rooted, seeking the
nourishment of a stone-hard nipple and he suckled, at first tentatively, then harder and
harder. Sound. This dream had sound! Round, deep sound and as Terrys hands moved
along the terrain of Tamaras body he heard her familiar sigh, the mellow whisper of a
cat, safe, loved.
Safe? Was she safe? Had he kept her safe? How could he? He was halfway across the
bloody world! This dream had to stop.
But it did not. Instead, it became more intense, more solid, more real. He was fumbling
with his camo, pulling tugging, holding her tight against him, sucking a breast for all he
was worth while attempting to free his desperate cock. Small, delicate hands helped,
whispered his name, sighed and mewed, creating a strange symphony against his grunts
and gurgles. And finally, finally he was free! A man wielding a sword, ready for battle
and love at once. No logic slithered between him and the dream. No questions of
positions or optimum pleasure, no curiosity as to why he was not lying flat, or over his
lover the way he preferred. Only need deep rooted uncontrollable need.
There was a harmony to the dream lovers, as though theyd been performing this
particular act all their lives. Terrys fingers tightened over her, pressed, bruised then

146
found entry. This dream woman had unreal heat, nearly searing Terrys skin but he
probed deeper, slid his fingers out and sought other entry, a tighter, less smooth entry.
And as he worked his hand and panted, his arm wrapped around this dream lover, lifting
her perfectly and settling her over his weapon, effectively piercing her, pinning her to
him. Terry groaned so loud the dream nearly dissolved but did not. Like a diver he
quickly went deeper, deeper into her and deeper into the dream. No matter the cost if
Rehema was listening or even receiving the benefits of the dream he would not
relinquish it.
Tamara, he whispered, afraid to permit a sound louder than a summer breeze.
Tamara.
Did he hear her call to him? Did it matter? He felt restraints, a tight strangling of his
thighs and he wriggled in the dream. It seemed the world spun around and around, over
and over, up side down then right side up. Finally his legs were free to control his thrusts,
powerful, mammoth thrusts up and into his dream lover.
Sounds came to him, reaching his ears from a great distance. An explosion, the sound of
gunfire. He tried to cover Tamara, protect her but his body was under a spell, hed
become a sexual animal, hell bent on reaching fruition and reaching it against all odds.
Images slipped past his closed eyes, Wilders soot covered face. Rehemas evil black
eyes. The exhaustion in General Hartfords face. This dream must stop. There are
important things to deal with.
But it did not, would not. Could not. Tamaras sweet dream lips were on his, sucking,
biting, almost chewing. Her tongue dove and danced with his. His hands tangled and
knotted in her long hair and still his hips pounded up into her.
No, no. Just a dream, just a dream. Tamara is asleep in the bed. Hes asleep in the chair.
When they wake, they will end, as it must be. Ah, but the dream, the copulation, the
communion, the intercourse of body, soul and mind was occurring right now in his sleep
life. He needed it. He wanted it and his body demanded it.
Building, reaching closer and closer to climax his mind slipped into play, rational thought
interjected, slowed his movement. His hands cupped Tamaras perfect arse and he
managed his motions, regulated them, shifted gears. If this was the dream he most
needed, hed enjoy it fully. His head dropped back and seemed to fall a million miles
onto soft clouds. His cock was larger than life, a Grecian pillar and upon it the sacrificial
lamb. The willing, beautiful Tamara. His dream eyes worked to focus on her face but
could not. His rational eyes reprimanded. Who cares, Thorne. Finish this! Finish this!
Finish what? Reach spectacular orgasm? Set the lamb free? Face life as it had always
been - alone, empty but safe for those he loved? But was it? Henry was taken. Tamara
had been threatened. Was there ever safety for those he loved? Dare he love?

147
The dream lover straightened and finally Terrys vision took in the sight. Up into the
heavens, through the clouds of two beautiful pale breasts, danced waves of deep red hair.
The dream lover gasped, trembled. That tremble quaked the entire earth and squeezed his
cock unbearably.
Terry gasped, again loud enough to wake himself but the dream had interwoven tight
with the orgasm and captured every part of his being. It was explosive and he cried out,
gripping tender flesh between his hands to press her down, down, so he could be deeper,
deeper than possible. He was suddenly a farmer, planting seeds, demanding bounty from
the gods for his efforts. Again he gasped and groaned a long growl that trembled his flesh
as the final spurts of his ejaculation painfully left his body, now to reside in hers. In
Tamara. His dream lover. The one he would free. Forever.
God, Terry, came a voice and Terry felt kisses over his face, a sweet tongue licked at
his sweat and tears and his hands cupped her face.
Not a dream. Not a dream. Tamara? His heart was wild, almost terrifying wild and he
was reminded of his age. He blinked, looked around. He was not on a plane. Not in
Rehemas bed. Not in captivity. Not in a hotel in Cairo.
His apartment, New York, his bedroom, his chair. He held her close and released a deep
breath.
I love you, she whispered.
He didnt think, had no time to think or control what his mouth was doing. Bloody hell,
I love you, Tamara. Damn! Now how would he release her, set her free of the misery,
loneliness and danger that was his life? There was no time to correct it. It was done.
Darkness hovered just outside the windows but his body knew it was not far until dawn.
He lifted her carefully and stood, kicking the last restraint of camo pants from an ankle as
he took her to the bed and snuggled in beside her. He kissed her tears as she had his, then
spoke softly. Sleep, love. Hush now. Sleep.
***
Tamara woke with a jolt. The bed was cold and Terrys side was empty. Controlling
panic that something terrible had happened, she steadied her breath and listened. The
shower was silent, but ah the scent of fresh brewed coffee drifted under the bedroom
door. She climbed from the bed, relishing the pleasant ache between her legs, and pulled
Terrys discarded camo jacket over her nakedness.
Terry?
Silence. The living room was empty, as was the dining area. In the kitchen a full coffee
pot waited, a note leaning against the sugar bowl.

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Gmorning love,
Ran to the office. Well talk later.
X
Terry
Huh? Why would he go to the office? Wasnt he exhausted? Seeing him sleeping like
that in the chair last night had nearly broken her heart. She worried for him, but as she
neared, she could do nothing but straddle and hold him close, wanting to feel his heart
beat and his breath. What came next was natural to them. They had always been lovers,
in tune with the others needs. Last night, Terry had the needs and she had the power to
fulfill them. Her hope was that it would be replenishing. She wondered about the time
change between Arabia and New York, about jet lag and the emotional residue from his
captivity and it made her shiver.
Sipping coffee she fingered the note. The office? Why not Dinos to see Henry? Why not
just roll over and be with her? Terry never was a simple man to figure out, and she
suspected that after his experience, he might be even more complicated. It didnt matter.
It was like buying a lottery ticket and looking at the numbers. Too late to change them,
shed already paid for the ticket. In Terrys case, shed already fallen in love. Everything
that came after, just happens. She grinned, imagining what was to come then pressed a
hand to her heart, wondering exactly what had transpired on the other side of the world
and how it would effect what came next for her and Terry.
Tamara shrugged, best to take Terrys cue and move with life. She flipped over the note
and wrote her own.
Terry,
Gone to check on dad. Will cook dinner tonight. 7 sharp.
I love you,
XOXO
Tamara
There, at least now he wont start thinking she was a clingy woman, although in truth she
felt like holding him close forever and never letting him out of her sight again. Like that
was going to happen? Not.
She filled her day with menial things, the things of normal life. She didnt feel
endangered or threatened, just happy, like any woman whose lover had returned after a
long, grueling business trip.

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She picked up dry cleaning shed forgotten about and grinned, realizing that with the shift
from winter to spring, shed most likely not wear the wool dress or sweaters again until
next year. Something pleasant and normal inside her heart asked if Terry had ever seen
the sexy dark blue wool dress, and wondered what hed say next winter when she pulled
it on.
She checked her i-phone calendar as she sat in a cab. Her three week sabbatical from
work was over and shed been granted a personal leave of absence for the next seven
days. A wise decision on her part, as she was unsure of her father or Terrys condition
when she made the request. All she knew was that they were coming home. Now, rather
than being care-giver, she could simply relax and enjoy their presence.
Tamara called her mother and informed her that the General was home, safe and sound.
Her mom really didnt give a damn, but for Tamara, she acted like she cared. Her next
stop was Charlie Hartfords apartment. Tamara braced herself.
Shed spoken to her father already once that day, noting the tired slur in his voice but
determined to see his safe return as a good thing. He asked her not to visit, but she
insisted and with a long, old-man sigh he agreed. You bring lunch, sweetheart.
She knew the mans M.O. It meant he didnt want to see her until noon, he didnt want to
go out, and he wasnt interested in a long visit, as thered be no cooking or cleaning
involved. She picked up deli sandwiches at Macs and entered the Generals apartment
building with her coat over her arm. The noon temperature had reached fifty-five, an
abnormally balmy March day for the Big Apple.
Charlie Hartford looked ten years older. He ate pastrami on rye and coleslaw, washing it
down with a beer and he spoke little.
Suddenly, normalcy seemed to have slipped away and Tamara found it hard to eat a
single bite. Dad, what happened over there?
Charlie wiped his mouth with the thin paper napkin, crumpled it into a ball and leaned
back in his chair. He pushed the sandwich wrappings aside, folded his hands on the table
and groaned.
Tamara realized he was stalling and, he had yet to look into her eyes. Daddy?
He looked and she gasped. Whatever Charlie Hartford had endured was written in the
lines of his face, in the wavering pale blue of his eyes, the tremble of his hand. Andy
Wilder did well, said the General.
Good. She was afraid to ask more.
Sweetheart, the bad guys were caught, the good guys came back safe and sound. End of
story. I need sleep.

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I want you to see a doctor, her voice shook slightly but her father just grinned.
Ive been looked over, honey. Several times. Im just old. Too old for this stuff I think.
Time for you to go. He stood slowly and she followed him to the door, gripping him
tight in an embrace that startled her. He seemed so frail, so depleted. And, he grunted,
pushing her at arms length. When I talk to you next, you have a lot to explain, missy.
Hey, the press conference was Dinos idea.
Later. Well talk about it later. Maybe uh Thursday. Ill take you to the club for
lunch. Now, go home.
From his apartment to the market, she had plenty of time to mull over the visit. Was it a
visit? He hadnt told her anything at all, hadnt asked about Henry or Terry. Hadnt even
asked how she was. It was very, very strange.
The market changed everything, the light around her and the lightness in her heart had
shifted, determined to be positive. That night she would cook for Terry, something
wonderful, comforting, welcoming. She chose to make roast salmon, dill potatoes and
salad. Purchasing a bottle of wine and lovely fruit tart for dessert, she beamed with a
feeling of accomplishment.
It wasnt until after she got home and put the dry cleaning away, after she set the dining
table with her favorite china and silver, after she cook the meal and after she waited
hours for Terry to arrive that she clearly knew she was being purposely kept in the dark.
He never called to say hed be late. Never even called to say anything at all.
Tamara sat on the sofa and pulled a blanket over her. The evening had become very cold
and if she wasnt mistaken, there were fat snowflakes drifting like sad ghosts past her
window. She tried not to cry but failed.
***
Terry made the coffee knowing he wouldnt share it with Tamara. Oh he wanted to. He
wanted to share a whole bloody fuckin life with her, but he also knew better. This kinda
thing just didnt work out. Period.
He left the apartment in jeans, a flannel shirt and heavy jacket then walked. Just
walked. Finding himself in Central Park, he sat on a bench and proceeded to detach
himself from everything around him. His mind cleared it all away, the joggers and
business people chatting each other up on their way across the park, the mothers with
noisy nippers, the barking dogs and squawking ducks, the sounds of far off traffic and
overhead planes. He needed empty. Complete empty. When he imagined he could hear a
pin drop and reverberate in the silence, he permitted himself to think.

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I love you.
Hed actually told her he loved her. Not just said the words, but felt and tasted the words.
They had weight and volume, color and sound, a whole rhapsody of sound behind three
damn words. The last time he spoke those words with such conviction was exactly
three hours before his wife took baby Henry and walked out on him.
The last time he wanted to speak those words, exactly like that, was the moment he saw
Tamara waiting, asleep in his bed. But when he said them this time he didnt want to
say them, he simply had no options. His heart had taken over, and there was no real place
in his life for his heart. Bloody hell, he knew better.
This is bad. Real bloody bad.
Whats bad? asked a wino sitting and stinking beside him.
Terry didnt respond, simply turned back to his blank stare ahead and attempted to regain
his silence.
Early spring aint so bad. Cept its just a tease, like those hookers on Fifty-Second.
Terrys eyes narrowed with irritation.
Know whats really bad? grunted the drunk after taking a glug-glug from the brown
bagged bottle. He burped and ran a slimy sleeve across his mouth. Whats really bad is
women. Period. I mean, theyre whats really good too, ya know. But they can be really,
really bad.
Terry turned a glare and the old man shrugged, stood and shuffled off to another park
bench.
Were they bad? Women? Terrys always found women to be his salvation. His
touchstone. The place for refreshing and restarting. The only problem was that he had to
start all over again with a different woman every time he needed to be quickened. Not the
womans fault, or the female gender for that matter. No point in blaming half of mankind
for what his work demanded. Henrys mother was right. Nothing mattered but the job, the
money, and all those strangers.
Or was she?
This time the job, the money and the strangers collided and hit home. The hostage was
Henry, then himself. The money came from his own pocket to protect them all. Yes, a
few strangers were protected or saved in the mix; Kashi and his captive kid. Wilder and
Solome were offered positions of substance in the field. And Terrys mind slipped to
Andy Wilder and Gila Solome embracing. No question that theyd begun a
relationship. No question it would suffer. Right? Or, perhaps they had a better shot, since

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both parties concerned not only understood the work, but did the work. He found himself
simultaneously happy for them and bitterly jealous of them. Didnt matter, back to the
point.
Tamara was a perfect Downtime Woman and if hed played his cards right, it could have
continued. But he hadnt. Not even remotely. Hes asked her to keep contact with Dino,
which she apparently had, to the extent of getting far more involved with the case at hand
than safe. She took care of Henry, another act above and beyond. She hosted the
Homeland HQ in her own apartment. And . he told her he loved her. Really told her,
and Terry had no delusions that she didnt understand the intensity of his comment.
This was his fault and his responsibility to end it. Clean and quick. Otherwise he could
not function.
He stood and walked out of Central Park, the noise and racket of singing birds and
growing grass, greening almost visibly in the spring-like sunshine. Bloody hell, even the
soft sound of crocuses blooming unnerved him. Everything seemed off kilter, louder,
brighter, unbalanced. How could he have let this happen?
He thought to hail a cab and visit with Dino and Henry, but did not. He considered
stopping by to chat with General Hartford, but knew the man needed some RR before
debriefing. He imagined simply going back to his apartment and dragging Tamara back
into his bed. Just imagined. The thought was so painfully beautiful it stopped him in his
tacks. Terry did none of those things. Instead, he walked and walked and walked, seeing
parts of Manhattan hed never seen before.
Still unsure of how to handle his personal mess, he sat at a bar and sipped cheap scotch
for hours. The whisky wiped away a layer of confusion. Wasnt he always like this
immediately after a case? Seriously in need of time alone and quiet? Didnt he always
suffer over every detail until debriefing freed him of it all? Maybe the roughest part of
this case was that debriefing would not take place until Wednesday morning, a good three
days away.
How the hell as he going to deal with this limbo?
Nine thirty-five, dark and cold as Terry walked toward his building in the swirling
snowflakes. His hands were deep in his pockets, his collar up and head bowed. He knew
he should go right up to his own place and sleep, hide, hibernate until he could really
think, but there he was at Tamaras door. And he knocked.

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The Downtime Woman
by Riley

TWENTY-THREE

When she heard the knock at her door, Tamara had just dozed off.
Determined to wait for Terry, she refused to go to bed or cry selfishly and wallow in her
own miseries. She struggled not to think about how bad things really were for him but
mostly she suffered over how something that seemed impossible could be made real. On
the coffee table lay a notebook filled with page after page of pros and cons. Why he was
right for her, why he was wrong. It was oddly comforting to see the strange balance of
the lists. If he was all good, shed have been as suspicious as if he was all bad. And just
before her eyes drooped to drift off, shed come to a remarkably rational decision.
This hand had to be played out. She had to be patient. And Terry had to give her a
chance. He owed her that much. She knew he loved her, but she also knew that the mere
idea of it terrified the hell out of him. She had lots of time to explore his life while he was
gone. Not only had Dino subtly (and not-so-subtly) made points about existence with a
K&R junkie, Henry too had let a few things slip about his father. Some things were
obvious and after taking the time to write it all down, the facts were right there in black
and white. Terry was a wounded man, wounded to his soul and hed been that way for a
very long time. The question was could she be the woman to heal him?
It all seemed too complex for her exhausted mind, but shed gained enough insight and
understanding to accept the rest her body demanded. Sleep was toying at the edges of her
consciousness, tugging her deeper, wrapping around her, warm and safe
And now, there was someone at the door.
She glanced at the mantle clock. Ten-thirty-five. Even before reaching the door, Tamara
knew it was Terry and in one of those Duh moments, she suddenly realized he never
saw her note about dinner. If he didnt know he was late for a date, technically he wasnt
late, right? Having nothing to be angry about, she opened the door an attempted to smile.
What she saw frightened her more than the look of the old General. Terry was pale and
drawn, thinner than shed noticed during their night of passion. His hair had lost its
bounce. His beautiful eyes seemed dull and sunken in the blue-tinged heavy bags
underneath. Terrys hands were deep in his coat pockets and his head, hunkered low into
the raised collar. He looked at her from beneath his brows.
Sit too late to talk, love?

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And she saw it, something she knew would come, and exactly as Henry had
unintentionally warned. Terry Thorne, the most capable and powerful man shed ever
known, seemed to actually cower before her. Did he expect shed be angry with him? For
working? Or thinking or being alone or whatever he needed to do this day after such a
terrible, long ordeal so far away? Who had done this to him? And why?
Come in, Terry. My God, youre freezing!
He actually followed her all the way to the kitchen and lowered slowly onto a chair. She
poured a mug of coffee and prepared a plate of food without even asking if he wanted it.
She sat and she watched his every move, every nuance that told her hed had a difficult
time, made difficult decisions and although his mission was successful the path to that
success weighed heavily on him. His hands slightly trembled until he was warm enough
to slide out of his coat. He ate slowly, said nothing, focused on the plate and she was
pleased to be able to nourish him.
After a long, still silence, he stood and placed his soiled dish into sink. This was a bad
idea, he said so softly she could hardly hear him.
What? The salmon? The visit? Or the offer to talk?
When he turned she delighted in the small grin that pulled at one corner of his lips.
Please Terry, sit down. If you dont want to talk its okay. Just sit. She refilled his
coffee and his large hand wrapped around the mug. When he sighed, it so pitiful she had
to squeeze her eyes tight to keep from crying.
Finally she took a deep breath; she had a demanding urge to make her move. I know
what a downtime woman is.
His bloodshot eyes rose and narrowed. Dino?
No, my dad explained it. I know what it means and I dont want to be your downtime
woman. Sorry, but Im better than a convenient fuck between jobs. It came out far
harsher than she intended but gained a strong reaction from Terry. His face tightened and
he glared. She raised a hand. Dont get me wrong, I know you respect these women, you
like them and in some ways you might even love them, but I dont want that with you.
Im not interested in serving your needs while youre home then going off with some
other guy when youre not. It just doesnt work for me. I dont want to be your downtime
woman. No way, no how. And I dont want to let you go either. Complicated, huh?
The muscles in his jaw knotted and twisted. He drew in a breath and rolled his neck. She
couldnt tell if shed triggered real anger against her, or if he was about to fight for her.
She also recognized that this might not be the best time for such a conversation. She
gulped. Okay, so maybe we can talk about this another time, after youve rested

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and she blinked. What happens now? Do you all talk about the case? Decide what
went right? What went wrong?
He blinked. Good, shed redirected him. Terry cleared his throat. Debrief. Wednesday.
More silence.
Then what? Then you can talk about what happened? Work through it? Get back to life?
Honestly, I dont understand the process but Id like to.
Tamara.
Good God, the sound of her name on his voice made her tremble. Uh, sorry, am I asking
too much?
No, no. You have a right to ask its just, some things I cant be tellin you. Some
things are a mater of security.
What can you tell me about the process? She could see his shoulders slowly relax and a
small glow of success warmed her heart.
He shrugged and sipped coffee. Debrief its usually right after a case but in this
situation, key people are in variously places or at, another shrug, various stages of
recovery. We all need to be together for this one. Its complex.
Can you tell me who was hurt? Were you hurt?
His eyes closed tight. Tamara. His soft word was a warning.
I know, I understand, really I do. Its just, she whispered and wiped an escaped tear. I
just want to help you.
This was a bad idea, he said again but didnt move a muscle. His eyes caught hers and
held her still as stone. Bloody hell, Tamara. What the fuck do ya really know about me,
my life about the reasons for downtime women? You have no clue
Then tell me, explain it to me. I have to know because, God damn it Terry, I love you
way too much to just play the comforting screw every time you get home. I want I
want
Just what the hell do you want? Listen to me, love. Terry pushed knuckles across his
face, catching tears that broke her heart. She reached across the table and gripped his
hand.
Im listening, Terry.

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His fingers intertwined with hers as his spoke and she realized with every word, that it
was his only way to hold her to him, the only way he must have believed shed stay and
listen. It helped, because everything he said was going to hurt deeply. Tamara steeled
herself, held tight onto her logic and tried to protect her fragile heart.
Darlin, my life isnt a life. It belongs to the work, its dangerous not only for me, but
for everyone I love. You saw it with Henry. And there were threats, he swallowed
hard. Against you too.
Tamara nodded and held his hand as tight as he held hers.
My life on a case its complicated, Tamara. I have to lock away the things I
love, bury them deep so I can think, react, have access to my instincts.
She nodded. I understand.
And, when I get back He fell silent.
Tamara stood behind him and wrapped her arms tight around his neck, she kissed his
cheek softly and whispered, Its okay, Terry. Its okay.
No. He pulled her arms loose and tugged her back to her own chair. No, you dont get
it. You got no bloody clue. Cases are often long, grueling, so far from home wherever
the fuck that is I sometimes dont know where Im supposed to be. Im human,
Tamara. I have needs and with no end in site, I fuckin get those needs taken care of. Do
you understand?
Another nod, her eyes wide and lips tight.
Now tell me, how the bloody hell am I suppose to have someone waiting here for me,
someone who expects a solid man and be off rootin some hooker in Bangkok or
Columbia or God knows where? Hows a woman supposed to deal with that? How the
hell am I supposed to deal with that?
Terry, I think I understand though. I mean
No! No ya dont understand! He released her hand and pushed fingers through his hair.
He eyes glowed and brow curled. You dont even remotely understand. Twenty years
ago I was send on a covert mission to gain information on a woman a powerful
Egyptian woman who was building a terrorist empire. I was embedded deep, Tamara,
nearly fourteen months deep, and at that depth I was someone else. I was that
womans fuckin lover. He stopped, carefully watching her eyes for a reaction she didnt
give him. That same bloody woman took my son, made me trade my life for his then
held me captive again! If you understood my work, how bloody complicated it is, how
twisted and dark

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What did you do? she asked, her voice a mere rasp.
I had to gain her trust. Just what do you think I did? His eyes locked on hers again and
didnt waver. So. Maybe now you understand what a downtime woman really is. Shes a
touchstone, Tamara. A single link with reality.
I want to be more than a downtime woman.
Are you mad? I just told you, I fucked my captor!
To save your own life! Tamara was on her feet and shouting as loud as Terry. Am I
supposed to prefer you died?
He groaned and dropped his head back. It doesnt work, love. With the life I lead, Im
just not built for marriage and stability.
You can be!
How? What do ya want from me? To quit? To stop doin what I do so well? If you knew
about captivity, about torture and the kinda pain kidnappers can and will inflict! Mental
anguish! Physical and emotional wounds. The agony of a victim waiting for release or
rescue! Theres no bloody way I can turn my back on that!
Thats not what I want, Terry.
Im trying to explain, darlin, finally his voice had softened. When Im gone, I got
nothin to give to those back home and when Im home, Im empty.
You were not empty last night, youre not empty now. Tell me the truth, Terry. Do you
love me?
He stood and leaned back against the counter, sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.
God help me, I do, Tamara. But, this just doesnt work. I know. And this is my fault; I
let this go too far, too deep. Im so sorry, love. Theres no chance of a solid, successful
relationship for me with a woman.
Well, youve never tried with this woman! Her voice could have rattled the china in the
cabinets and Terrys eyes widened, watching her pace right in front of him. You are the
most stubborn the most blind stupid self defacing man Ive ever met, Terry
Thorne! Youll sacrifice for a stranger and thats good! Its fine, its perfect. Its what
you were put on this earth to do! But you? YOU DESERVE MORE!
Just what the hell do you want? His voice was exasperated.
She stopped and stepped even closer, poking her finger into his chest with each
statement. I want to love you. I want to be here for you when you get home. I want you

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to do your job well and do whatever you have to do to get back to me, safe and sound.
She gulped back a sob and continued. I want to be the woman praying for you when
youre gone. The woman worrying for you and thinking of you. I want to be the woman
who nurtures you when you get back and feeds you and loves you and cares for you.
God, Terry, I dont want to be your downtime woman I want to be YOUR woman
the one who heals you. Thats what I want. Thats all I want.
Exhausted, she thumped down into a chair and roughly pushed tears from her eyes.
What do you want, Terry? And again, she braced her trembling heart.
He was quiet for a very long moment, tears filled his eyes and slipped to his chin. They
were locked together in the eternity of uncertainty.
What do you want, Terry? she repeated softly.
Terry cleared his throat. I want to be healed.
It had run the course and the hand had been played. Terry had given her the chance she
hoped for, the chance to state her case, to at least make her point. They looked into each
others eyes for a full moment then he took his coat, careful to avoid touching her in the
process. He leaned down and gently kissed her brow.
I need to be alone, Tamara. I need to think. I need to prepare for debriefing. I need
and he left her apartment.
EPILOGUE
Life never gets easier, but it certainly gets more interesting. Just three months before
shipping out for his first assignment with the RAF, Henry Thorne traveled across the
pond for a most important visit to New York City. Hed been with Amanda Cleaving (his
personal redhead) for three years and it was Amanda who made the critical decision that
they needed to be in the States on that specific sunny Autumn Saturday.
He stood, looking in the mirror and wearing his first personally-owned tuxedo ever. He
fumbled again and again with the bowtie. Bloody hell, I shouldve gotten one of these
things already made up with a clip. I cant do this!
Behind him his father chuckled. Nervous, mate? he teased and tied the perfect bow at
his sons neck.
Course Im nervous. Ive never done this before.
Youll do fine. Rings?
Check.

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Did ya confirm the limo to the airport?
Yes, sir.
Henry, you havent called me sir in fifteen years.
The young man shrugged, smoothed his hair and shrugged. Guess its best we get to
this.
Together they stood at the altar; Henry with his twitching fingers and Terry, dapper and
polished in his own tux. Terry cleaned up nicely and knew it. Hed had years to learn
how to move from the grimy filth of battle and into civilian life, how to adjust, how to
find balance. Henry was still dealing with his RAF training, his concerns about leaving a
young wife behind for the first time, and all the adventure ahead. But Terry knew the
twenty year gap between father and son would close quickly as their personal and
professional experiences would finally merge. He was beyond proud and beamed at his
boy, pleased that past mistakes can in fact be corrected.
The bridal march began and everyone in the church stood as the radiant bride walked the
aisle, her father at her side, her eyes sparkling and only for her groom.
And at the perfect moment, forty-four year old Terrence Ira Thorne stepped forward to
claim his bride and take her from the arm of General Charles Hartford.
You know the drill, Thorne, Harford whispered with a teasing wink.
I fuck up, I die. I got it, sir.
The veil was lifted and Tamara was radiant, but before they mounted the few steps to the
altar, she squeezed his hand. Terry, she said so softly he had to lean close to her lips to
hear. Tell me why youve asked me to marry you.
Terry looked into her eyes, smiled. Because. He sighed and ran a palm down his chest.
You heal me, darlin. Because I love you, and you heal me.

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