Black Pawn (Michael Cailen Book 1) (4 page)

She sat up and appeared relieved when she saw him.  He found
that curious.  If anything he thought the sight of him would make her scream
more.  She didn't say anything, she just lay back down.  He adjusted her
blankets and started to return to his post.

“Don't leave me,” she pleaded.

He turned and looked at her.  The request was puzzling.  Why
would she want him near her after what he did?  He took a moment trying to
discern if maybe it was a trick, but her distress was real.  She closed her
eyes and buried her face in the blankets.  He didn't understand, but he wasn't
going to argue.  He probably would've done anything she asked at that point he
was so racked with guilt.  He crawled over her and took the spot next to her in
bed, thoroughly confused.

Jessica felt Michael's body move over her.  He didn't touch
her, but she knew he was there.  Memories from her past were creeping in on her
and she was desperately trying to push them back.  She felt a strange sense of
security when Michael was near.  It didn't make any sense to her.  In between
the blows to the head, handcuffing, and nearly being drowned, he treated her
with a dignity she rarely felt.  She never caught him leering at her.  He
barely touched her unless he had to.  Even when he changed her clothes, he did
it quickly rather than taking his time.  It was as if he had no libido at all,
she thought.

Morning seemed to come too soon for Jessica and not soon
enough for Michael.  She didn't smell brewing coffee.  She glanced around the
room.  There was no trace of Michael.  She remembered him lying next to her.  Was
he still there?  She rolled on her back and turned her head.  There he was,
awake and watching her.

“Good morning,” he greeted her.

She let out a nervous smile.  Her smile was greeted with a
smile from him which sparked an intense feeling of butterflies in her stomach. 
He saw her expression change.  She looked afraid.  He thought maybe it was time
to give her some space and hopped off the futon.

“Do you want coffee?” he asked, trying to divert her focus,
as he walked towards the kitchen.

“Yes,” she replied.

She found herself feeling strange emotions about this man who
was holding her captive.  On one hand, he seemed so cold and emotionless, but
she kept seeing glimpses of someone who was warm and caring.  It was like he
was two men in the same body.  She didn't know what to make of him.

“Can we watch the news?” she asked as he was making the
coffee.

“Not right now.”

“I want to see if there's more on the shooting.”

He knew that's what she wanted.  He also knew they probably
connected bullets at the cafe to the guns on the men in the car and eventually
would connect the blood at the scene to the passenger.  And it was probably all
over the news.

“Later.  I just want some quiet right now,” he said, hoping
she would drop it.

She wanted to ask him when he was going to let her go, but
she didn't have the courage to bring it up.

After the coffee was brewing, Michael went into the
bathroom, relieved himself and washed his face.  He looked at his reflection in
the mirror and wondered what had happened to him.  Almost four years on the run
and he didn't know who he was any more.  He had to leave everything and
everyone behind.  The closest thing he had to a relationship with anyone in the
past four years was this woman he was holding captive.  His face looked tired,
weary.  He had been on the run too long and it was catching up to him.  He
thought about giving up more and more over the past few months, but couldn't. 
Lives depended on him.  And now, one more life depended on him.  It was a heavy
burden to bear.  He opened the door and was surprised to see Jessica standing
there.

She bounced up and down on one foot.  “I didn't think you
were ever going to come out.  I have to pee.”

“Sorry.  Why didn't you say something?”

“I was about to when you opened the door.” She squeaked by
him and closed the door.

She thought about trying to run when he went into the
bathroom.  The door was unlocked and she could have just hobbled out.  She
wouldn't get far in her condition though and she had no idea where the keys to
the truck were.  If he caught her trying to escape again, there was no doubt he
would restrain her again.  And then there was the urgent need to pee.  She
decided her best bet was to try to gain his trust and perhaps a better
opportunity for escape would arise.  Either way, she didn't want to be
handcuffed any more.

Michael carried two cups of coffee to the table.  It was
time he told Jessica what they were up against.  He looked at his watch.  It
was 8:43 a.m.  He was tired already.  He dreaded what he was about to do.

Jessica came out of the bathroom and saw Michael at the
table.

“Sit down,” he said.  “We have to talk.”

That made her nervous. 

Talk about what? 

She sat with angst, wondering what he had to say.

He took a sip of coffee. 

“There's something I have to tell you.  Something I was
hoping I wouldn't have to.” 

His face, normally emotionless, now looked conflicted.  “The
men in that cafe were there for me.  They were there to kill me and they
weren't going to leave witnesses.  When I heard them kill the cashier, I knew I
couldn't leave you there.  That's why I came back.  I didn't let you go because
I didn't know how far they would go to make sure there weren't any witnesses. 
I needed to make sure they weren't going to come after you.  Yesterday, I got
my answer.”

His words sunk into her.  She feared she knew what was
coming next.  She didn't want to know.  Michael walked to the lockers and
pulled out a digital camera.  He moved his chair next to her and began showing
her photos.  She saw two men sitting in a gold Ford Taurus.  The passenger was
wearing an arm brace.  He flipped through the pictures until he came to one
with the buildings in the background.

“Do you recognize where they are?” he asked.

She looked pale.  “That's my street.”

“Do you remember one of the shooters in the cafe took a hit
to the shoulder?”  He watched her reaction.

“Yes.”  She felt lightheaded.  This couldn't be happening. 
“Are you saying those are the men that tried to kill you?”

“Yes, Jessica.”

She nodded, never taking her eyes off the screen.  “And you
think they're after me now?”  She barely got the words out, afraid of what the
answer would be.

“Yes.”

As the word left his lips everything seemed to go dark.

“Jessica!  Jessica, wake up,” she heard through the
darkness. “Jessica.”

She opened her eyes.  She was on the floor.  Michael was
cradling her, his hand cupping the side of her neck.

“You're all right.”

He pulled her head to his chest and wrapped his arm around
her. 

“It's okay.”

She felt him gently rocking her.  It felt like a dream.  Her
mind started racing with thoughts.  She pushed him away. 

“How do you know they were the same men?  Maybe it was just
a guy who hurt himself playing sports.”

He looked in her eyes.  A mixture of pity and sadness showed
on his face.  Her life was ruined and it was because of him. 

“There's more.”

He helped her stand and walk to the futon.  He turned the TV
to the news.  The weather was on.  He looked at his watch. 9:05 a.m.  He was
sure it hadn't been mentioned yet.  She sat next to him in a daze listening to
how cloudy the sky would be and that there would be a slight chance of rain.

Coming up next, breaking details in the recent cafe
shooting.  Stay tuned.
  Then it broke to commercials.

Jessica felt herself getting weak again.  Her head felt light
and the room seemed to be moving even though she was not.  They sat silently
waiting for the commercials to end.

Welcome back to Channel 10 Eyewitness News. We have
breaking news on the two men arrested on Carter Road.  Police have confirmed
that the weapons found on the men were used in the cafe shooting and that one
of the weapons was responsible for killing Cara Rice.  They also believe DNA
from one of the men will match DNA found at the cafe.  Police tell us the men
are not cooperating and they are still looking for two other shooters from the
cafe.  An anonymous tip led police to the two shooters and they are asking the
caller to come forward.

“You called in the tip?” she asked, staring at the TV.

“Yes.”

“There are more of them?”

He didn't want to answer.  There would always be more, a
never-ending supply of assassins hunting him.  He had to get at who was
responsible for all this.  With Jessica's life hanging in the balance he was
even more determined to do so.  “Yes, Jessica. Unfortunately others will take
their place.”

Tears streamed down her face.  She didn't want to believe
him, but he seemed to be telling the truth.  Her mind was a mess.  All she
could do was cry.  He wanted to hold her and try to comfort her, but he didn't
think he should touch her.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't retire your
worthless behind,” Morgan said to Rick.  And by “retire” he meant “kill.”  In
Rick's line of work, you didn't get fired, you got “retired.”

Rick stood there, afraid to make things worse by opening his
mouth.  Afraid maybe he wouldn't live to see the rest of his hair fall out.

“Was the girl your 'possible lead'?” Morgan asked.

“Yes.”

Rick looked down as he replied.

“What exactly did you think they were going to do after he
rescued her from that abomination you call an operation?  Go back to her place
and make out?!”  His anger was rising and the vein on his head was starting to
protrude again.

“We thought he would let her go and she might lead us to
him.” He cleared his throat, knowing how ridiculous that sounded now.

Morgan sighed. “Did you find anything in her apartment?”

“Not yet, but we're still combing through her computers. 
She's got one heck of an encryption protocol on her drives.  Our techs are
still trying to get into the main files, let alone any private ones. They said
they've never seen anything like it.”

“Keep trying, though I doubt you'll get anything.  What do
the police know about our two screw-ups?”

“Nothing yet.  They aren't talking.”

“They will,” Morgan warned.

“I know.  I've already made arrangements.  They'll be taken
care of within hours.”

“Good.  What about the girl?  Do they know about her?”

“No. We left no trace she was there.  They aren't looking
for her.  Someone will eventually file a missing persons report.  We could try
to use that to our advantage,”  Rick suggested.

“I'd rather we find her before then,” Morgan replied,
knowing full well it would never happen.  Michael had her and that scared him
more than the fact that Michael was still alive.  She could ruin everything, he
thought.  It was stupid to put them together in the same place.

“Keep me posted on your progress, Rick.  If you make any.”

“Yes sir.”  Rick quickly left Morgan's office.  He didn't
really think they would “retire” him, at least not right now.  But if he didn't
do something to make up for his mistakes they wouldn't hesitate in the future.

As Rick left the office, Morgan picked up his phone and
dialed a number.  “Yes. It's me ... I have a job for you ... Yes, a woman ...
Pay is the usual ... I'll get you the details.”  He hung up the phone.

Morgan sat in his chair, staring at the file on his desk. 
He opened it, pulling out a picture of a pretty brunette.  He shook his head. 
Such a pity.  He put the picture back in the file, straightened the papers, and
closed it.  The name on the file was Jessica Nickoli.

Jessica's sobs had turned to quiet tears as she tried to
absorb everything Michael had just told her.  She suddenly sat up straight. 
Something dawned on her.  “How did you know where I lived?”

“You talk in your sleep,” he replied casually.

She looked at him with suspicion.  “What do you mean I talk
in my sleep?”

“You were pretty out of it from the Vicodin and when I asked
you a few questions, you answered me,” he lied.  There was no way he was going
to ever reveal to her that he had drugged her.  He already felt terrible enough
for what he had done to her.

She furrowed her brow, not sure she believed him.  His
expression though, was calm and reassuring, and she was pretty out of it.

“Did you go inside?”

He nodded.  “I did.”

“Did you look through my stuff?” she asked, wondering how
much of her privacy had been invaded.

“I just glanced around.  I didn't want to stay long.” He
didn't want to tell her that her computers were gone or that it looked like her
place had been searched.  Nothing they could do about it now anyway.

She wasn't thrilled that he had gone into her apartment
without her permission, but she supposed it didn't hurt anything.

“Why are they after you?” she asked.

He took a deep breath and released it.  He didn't want to
tell her, but she deserved to know why her life was ruined.

“About four years ago,  I was on leave along with one of my
combat buddies.  His name was Shaun.  He was going to China to visit some of
his relatives.  His parents lived in the states and he was born and raised here,
but he had an aunt, uncle, grandparents and a few nieces and nephews who still
lived in China in a tiny village out in the middle of nowhere.  'Would be like
camping', he said.  China can be very beautiful when you get away from the
city.  And I speak Mandarin, so I opted to join him.  They lived a simple life
and that was often refreshing coming off a stressful mission.  No phones, alarm
clocks, TV.

We had three weeks leave and planned on spending most of it
there.  We had been there a week and a half and had gotten to know just about
everyone in the village, which was about a hundred people.  They all wanted to
meet the giant American,” he chuckled. 

Then his face got somber.  He took a deep breath and stared
at the floor.

“It was barely light.  The sun was just starting to rise. 
Shaun and I woke to terrified screams.  We didn't know what was happening. We
ran toward the screams and saw a group of men using swords and knives just
killing people.  We heard screams behind us.  They were coming at the village
from all directions.

We split up.  They weren't expecting any resistance.  They
probably had no idea that two highly trained elite soldiers were staying
there.  They were easy to pick off.  We took the last guy alive.  We wanted
answers.  It took a little work, but we got him to talk.” Michael's voice was
unnervingly calm as he described the horrific events. 

“He wasn't told why they had to kill these people, he was
just hired to do it. We asked who he was working for and he said he was hired
by an American.  He thought the man was maybe CIA.  After we were sure he had
nothing more to tell us, we killed him too.  What we didn't know was that there
was apparently someone watching over the operation.  He must have snapped
pictures of me and Shaun and identified us later.

Shaun and I both agreed it wasn't safe to stay there.  We
packed up his family and anyone else that was willing to leave and we headed
for the city.  Some refused to leave.  We couldn't force them.  The ones who
stayed were never seen again.  Shaun stayed with his family to find a safe
place for them to resettle.  I flew back to the states.  When I got home, there
was someone waiting for me.  He tried to kill me, but didn't succeed.  After a
persuasive interrogation, he told me he worked for the CIA, but wouldn't tell
me anything else.  I'm not sure he knew anything else.  At that point I knew
something big was going on, though I didn't know what.  Shaun and his family
were in danger.  If they could ID me then they would've ID-ed him as well.  I
contacted him in China and told him to disappear, just before I did.  I've been
trying to figure out what's going on ever since.  Shaun is in hiding with his
family and will be until I can settle this mess.”  He breathed a heavy sigh as
if he were relieved to get it all out.

Jessica sat stunned.  “So it's the CIA that's after us?”

“Someone in the CIA, at least.  I'm hoping it's a rogue
division and not an officially sanctioned operation.  If someone's gone rogue,
then there's hope of stopping it.  If it's officially sanctioned, then we're
dead.”

“So you were in the military before all this?  What branch?”

“The one you don't talk about,” he answered. “I joined the
military when I was eighteen.  I was very good and got bumped around between
Special Forces, SEALS and the Green Berets, which is virtually unheard of.  I
even did some work for the CIA a few times.  I finally got recruited for a
special black ops unit.  Had been doing that for six years before I had to
disappear.”

Great, she's been held captive by a man that killed for a
living.  She started pondering what her life would be like now, on the run
living in places like this.

Michael had been studying her reaction.  She looked shocked,
then curious, and now he was seeing despair.  She turned away from him and
started to cry.

“Jessica.”  He wanted to find the words that would comfort
her, but they eluded him.  What could he say?  There was no way he could make
this better for her.  He looked at her as she tried to cry quietly.  The sight
of her tore at his heart.  She was innocent in all this.  And now her life was
never going to be the same.

“Jessica,” he said again as he touched her shoulder and
turned her to him.  He grabbed her arms and pulled her to his chest.  Her
restrained cries turned to wails in his arms.  She couldn't hold back and as
she wept in his arms, he felt helpless.

Jessica finally calmed, melting into Michael's embrace.  His
strong arms wrapped around her made her feel safe.  Her body relaxed and her
breathing returned to normal.

As he held her he thought to himself how good it felt to
have contact with another human being.  He had lived alone, in the shadows for more
than three years.  No friends, no women even.  He couldn't be close to anyone
without putting their life at risk.  Things were different with Jessica.  She
was safer the closer she was to him.  He could protect her.  He wanted to
protect her.  He needed to protect her.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She nodded her head against his chest.

“Do you want to go out or do you want me to bring you
something?”

“Can I go with you to pick it up?”

“Yeah.”  He rubbed her back. “Maybe we can buy you some
clothes while we're out.”

“Okay.  But I'm not going in any stores looking like this,”
she warned.

He couldn't stop the smile that crept across his face. 
Typical woman, he thought.

Her sprained ankle made putting her shoes on unappealing. 
She managed though.  It hurt, but not nearly as much as two days ago.

As she limped out to the truck, Michael resisted the urge to
carry her.  His clothes were absurdly huge on her, but he still thought she
looked amazing.  Even with her hair a mess from her swim and her eyes red and
swollen.

JESSICA LOOKED
quietly out the window at the passing
scenery.  She'd been locked in that warehouse for almost three days.  It felt
good to be outside.  It was cloudy, but every so often the sun peeked out. 
Michael kept glancing at her to make sure she was all right.  He knew she would
have a hard time adjusting.

“You think it could be a sanctioned operation?”  Her words
broke the silence.

“I don't know.”

“You worked black ops.  Does the government really run
around slaughtering innocent people?”

“They never asked me to,” he shrugged. “My feeling tells me
it's a rogue operation.  Someone is using the CIA for their own purposes.  But
there's always a chance I could be wrong.”

“I hope you're not,” she said as she stared out the window.

He looked at her.  “Me too.”

After picking up some sandwiches, Michael drove to a nearby
park where they could have their lunch.  He parked away from the other cars and
they sat in the truck quietly eating.  Jessica watched children playing in the
playground, mothers walking behind strollers.  A couple was cuddling on one of
the benches.  Another family was sitting on a blanket having a picnic.  It was
peaceful and she felt relaxed.

“You have any kids?” she asked.

The question took him a little off guard.

 “No.  Never had time for a family.”

“Hmph.” The playing children held her attention.

“What about you?  You got a boyfriend?”  He already knew the
answer, but she didn't know that.

“No.”  She took another bite.

“How come?” he asked, hoping to solve that mystery.

“I don't know.  I don't trust them.”

“You don't trust men.  Why?”  He took another bite of his
sandwich.

She pursed her lips.  “Bad experiences.”

“Like what?” he asked, unfazed by her vague answers.

“I don't know.  Maybe I just have bad taste in men.”  She
stopped eating and stared out the window at the playing children.

“Give me an example.”  He stopped eating, his gaze intently
fixed on her.

She looked down. “My last boyfriend didn't like something I
said.  I ended up in the hospital with two broken ribs and a fractured
cheekbone.”  She said it without emotion, like she had blocked out all the
feelings surrounding that event.

His expression turned serious, but his eyes never left her. 
“I'm sorry.”

“Well.”  She looked out her window.  “I should have seen
it.  I'm familiar with the type.”

Michael continued surveying her; she seemed lost in her
thoughts.

“My boyfriend before that was a pathological liar,” she
continued. “And I do mean pathological.  Everything he told me was a lie. 
Everything.  Even stole from me.  It took me a long time to trust again after
him and then that blew up in my face.

The one before that broke up with me because I wouldn't
dress like a slut.  He always wanted me to wear tight-fitting and revealing
clothes.  Told me to do my hair a certain way, what to eat.  It was like I was
a Barbie doll to him.  I didn't see it though.  I was nineteen and I thought I
loved him.  I thought he loved me.  I was stupid.  One day he told me he didn't
love me and that he never would.  I thought he was just scared and that he
would come back to me.  But then he started dating a girl who did dress like a
slut.  She wore her hair the way he wanted.  And I even found out through
mutual friends that he paid for her to have a boob job.  He was never
interested in me.  Just my body.”

This time, a tear came to her face which she quickly wiped
away.  She cleared her throat and took another bite of her sandwich, pushing
away the feelings that were creeping up on her.  It was becoming clearer to
Michael why she didn't have a boyfriend.

“Not all of us are like that,” he said, still watching her.

“I know.” She turned to him and forced a smile. 
Only the
men interested in me
, she thought.

They finished eating, and Michael started up the truck. 
“There's a little clothing shop nearby.  I can pick you up a few things so you
have something that fits and we can go shopping for more another time.”

“Sounds good to me.”  She'd be glad to wear some clothes
that fit.  She had to hold up his sweats when she walked or they would fall
down.

THEY PULLED
into a parking lot littered with trash and
Jessica stared at the uninviting building with barred windows and doors. A few people
loitered outside.  They looked like people she wouldn't want to meet, ever.

“Nice place,” she said sarcastically.

“No cameras,” he replied. “Sizes?”

“You want to write them down?” she asked.

“Nope, just tell me. I'll remember.”  And he would.  On
missions, it was critical he remember even the tiniest of details.  He couldn't
exactly carry a notebook to refer to.  Jessica rattled off shirt and pant
sizes.

“Underwear? Bra?” he asked as he stared at the entrance of
the store.  He purposefully didn't look at her, knowing she would be
uncomfortable telling him what size underwear she wore. 

She sat for a minute wondering if she could make do without
them.  She really didn't want him buying her underwear.

He looked at her with a raised brow, “You do want clean
underwear, don't you?”  He glanced down at her chest. “And bra?”

Point taken, she thought as she crossed her arms over her
chest.  She blurted her bra and underwear sizes and looked away.

“I'll be right back.” He grinned as he got out.

Since she wasn't coming in to try things on, Michael figured
he'd be safer buying something with an elastic waist, rather than jeans or
slacks.  He went through the athletic section and found a pair of black workout
pants that he imagined might look rather good on her.  He picked up a plain red
long-sleeve shirt and a black hooded sweatshirt in case she got cold.  He
grabbed a package of white athletic socks and then moved on to the trickier bra
and underwear section.

He looked at the racks and racks of bras and knew he was out
of his league.  He knew not all bras were comfortable.  His ex had complained
incessantly if she wore one that wasn't comfortable.  It's too itchy, the
straps keep falling down, it won't stay put.  He really didn't want to deal
with that.  He decided he'd just suck it up and ask for help.  He'd been in
some of the most dangerous combat zones on the planet and he was breaking a
sweat buying a bra?