Night Blind (The Technicians #11)

Chapter 12 -Prime

Helen wasn’t hungry although he had ordered a light meal that had been delivered at the same time they arrived at the inn. She’d found, over the years, her appetite waxed and waned depending on her levels of stress. Honestly, she hadn’t eaten an entire meal in days. Here and there she nibbled on enough to sustain energy levels, but a true appetite had not returned to her for some time. Today, only made her life more stressful lessening her desire to eat.

In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror, going over the night. The plan was solid: get in the door, shoot him twice, free the women, allow The Collector to watch the freed women leave, then kill him. However, she’d hesitated. She shouldn’t have hesitated.

All of her life, she’d hesitated. She’d hesitated to tell her mother about the things Smiley Roberston would whisper to her when no one was around. The man had bad intentions, which could possibly have been prevented, only if she hadn’t hesitated. The two boyfriends in her past had hung around past their expiration dates because the first serious man in her life came after Cherry was away in boot camp. He was an asshole who coerced her into intimacy simply because she needed to keep the lights on and eat food regularly.

The second man, a wolf who dressed as a wolf, had more disposable income to spare. From him, she managed to get shoes, clothing, and actual meat in her freezer. He was a lousy lover but generous with funding. The conversations with him were equally as mediocre as his bedroom skills, but to live, she did what needed to be done.

None of them were by choice. Each of the times she’d had sex wasn’t really by her choice or her desire. She sighed, thinking of where her life would go from here. She was being trained to be a Technician, and yesterday she’d taken two lives. Tonight, she’d been prepared to take another.

“Jeez, Helen,” she said, coming from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy robe. Mustang sat at the table, reading through notes in a folder he’d taken from his briefcase. “Are those notes on a case?”

“Yeah, I’m wrapping up the liaison assignment with the Michigan State Troopers and preparing to head home tomorrow,” he said.

She sat, looking at the folder, then asked, “What will happen with the boy?”

“I reached out to Azreal; there is a safe place for him with Bad Apple,” he said.

“Bad Apple?”

“Azreal is an Archangel like Gabriel. She oversees the Fruits of the Great Lakes,” he said. “Michigan is Bad Apple ’s territory. Cherry oversaw Indiana.”

“And you, Mustang, what is your territory?”

“I’m not an assassin. I am a tracker,” he said. “My territory is anything in the Western Region, but my home base is Oregon.”

“And the handle Mustang?”

“The Western Region are the Horses, The Midwest Region are the Storms, the Southeast are the Directions, and Northeast are the Trees,” he confessed.

She crinkled her brow, showing her lack of understanding. Softly, she inquired, “The Directions?”

“Yeah, my brother is Mr. Slow, there is Mr. Yield, Stop, One Way, yada yada,” he said, stopping to smile. “Some of the names are appropriate handles for each Technician. We have a big son of a bit…I mean a really big dude named Clydesdale and a little short runt of a guy named Shetland. He’s so cute, I am often tempted to pick him up and walk him over to the school bus stop to see if the driver will let him on board.”

He looked up to see her smiling. Her entire face changed when she smiled, and he had to catch himself. His smile faded. This was not the time, nor was this the place.

“Too late. I saw it in your eyes,” she told him, leaning back in the seat. “A funny thing about me, Mustang, is that on a good day, with a bit of makeup and some blusher, I can be cute. I’m not pretty. I don’t have an amazing figure or luxurious hair. I’m average, but for some reason, I attract the worst people to me.”

“You are far from average, and what they are attracted to is the light in you,” he told her. “Even I am pulled towards that light.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop, the look of defeat on her face, “Then why does it always feel so flipping dark around me?”

Her gaze went to her hands. She needed to have a conversation with him to move herself forward. The hesitation was back and fear covered her as she breathed slowly, mustering her courage. Mustang was tired of her second-guessing her natural instincts.

“For goodness’ sake, Helen! In the last two days, you took out a child trafficker, and on instinct, took out the second man, who was worse than the first. The second man was elusive to trained government agents, and on instinct alone, you took him down, then the next day freed four women from captivity and a young boy, and God only knows what that weirdo had planned for that child,” Mustang said. “You’re here. You’re a badass. Ask for what you need.”

“I need a night as your lover,” she told him, looking up at his surprised face.

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting you to ask for that,” he said, leaning back in the seat, in his heart, already knowing she was going to ask. He would say no, again, but he still wanted to hear her pitch to change his mind, “We discussed this, and I think when the time comes for us, and it will, because I also want it, but not now; not like this, Helen.”

In her head, it all made sense, and she would carefully, explain it to him. At the end of what she had to say, it would either work out or she would take the couch. Her days of hesitating were over.

“I have never initiated sex,” she told him. “Any time I have experienced coitus has been by force or by coercion. I’ve never had a sexual encounter I initiated. I’m initiating an evening with you.”

His face held no expression as he listened to her carefully laid out plan. In the past 72 hours, his first-hand knowledge of her thinking had intrigued him and held him in a holding pattern, not wanting to be far from her. Uncertainty filled his gut, fueling him with doubts about his own desire to be her hero or the simple fact that she was far more beautiful than she realized on the inside as well as the outer woman. What made her stunning was the unawareness of the power she wielded.

“Also, the last sexual release I experienced was by his hand. I don’t want to live with that. I don’t want to close my eyes and relive that trauma. Leave me with a night of passion between us,” she told me.

“Helen, I can’t erase what happened to you.”

“No, but you can replace the feel of his hands on my body with the feel of yours,” she told him. “His mouth on me can be replaced with the sweetness of the memory of you tasting me with your tongue, my hands in that thick black hair, and the power of the freedom of giving myself to you with no hesitation, not holding back, giving you everything I’ve never shared with anyone else. I am asking you to allow me to be free, sexually with you, holding nothing back, sharing everything in my broken spirit that wishes to soar. I want to ride the stallion, with my hair whipping free, me holding the pommel and clamping on tight with my thighs to stay seated as you buck without restraint.”

“Well damn,” he said, sitting upright in the chair. “My entire soul reacted to every word you spoke.”

“Good,” she told him, standing. The robe opened to reveal her bare form underneath. “He scarred me. He scarred me so I would never desire for another man to see my body. I’m showing you my physical scars. I’m telling you my mental scars. One night, hell a couple of hours, a few rounds…I don’t care. I am asking you for what I need. I need you to make me feel beautiful and wanted as a woman, Mustang. I can even rationalize it in my head that I am spending the night in your arms as your woman.”

He was frozen in place. The light he spoke of shone around her form. His body was eager to give her everything she needed and more. “Helen, I’m not prepared for a night of intimacy. I have nothing with me.”

“I’m barren. Nothing we do tonight come to fruition, other than giving me seeds to bury my insecurities,” she said, holding his gaze.

“And this is seriously what you want from me on this night, well, the wee hours of the morning?”

“Mustang, this is what I need from you, along with that truck,” she said, smiling. “Hell, the way I’m feeling about this, about you, just might get a sister a brand car, a diamond necklace and a weekly phone call as well when I’m done riding the stallion into a lathered sweat.”

She winked at him, allowing the robe to drop around her feet. He stood up, all six feet, two and a half inches of him. His muscles were evident through the cotton tee he wore, and the most amazing erection she’d ever seen in her life greeted her and she gasped.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, my dear,” he said, walking to her. He lifted Helen in his arms, cradling her head to his chest and carrying her to the bedroom.

Mustang sat on the side of the bed, a nude Helen in his arms. He lowered his head to kiss each scar on her breast. Hands, rough with callouses from years of manual labor, ran across her thigh. The scent of her ambrosia filled his nostrils. He would make this good for her even if it killed him to not rut like a bull in heat. The draw to her was powerful. He wanted her and asking her to wait was simply him trying to prevent the inevitable. He’d give her everything she wanted because it was what she deserved.

“You are wrong, Helen,” he said, his lips finding hers, providing a gentle kiss. “You are more beautiful than you know, and I’m honored you asked me to be the gear to shift your life forward, to be here in this moment, and to share this intimacy with you. I will make it good for you. I will make this good for us.”

****

Louisville, Kentucky

Cherry paced the floor with one crutch and a cast on her foot. Helen should have been back by now. On the news feed, she saw where the women had been freed in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Although Helen had her Technician's phone, Cherry had the laptop. When she checked the account, the banking stated the assignment had been completed with a bonus payment for an additional high-end target. Those funds weren’t hers to divvy up, and Helen had earned the money. Cherry split the money into three accounts, one a high-yield money market, the second a working account, and the third an IRA. Helen was no longer broke or needed to be dependent upon Cherry or Slow for money. She had over a hundred thousand new opportunities to live her life however suited her needs.

At a quarter past three in the afternoon, she heard the crunch of tires on gravel as the black F-150 pulled into the drive path, heading around back to the garages. Cherry hobbled to the kitchen and looked out the window above the sink as her cousin pulled in the shop. She watched the garage door come down, and then the side door opened as Helen walked out carrying the go bag over her shoulder.

Cherry spotted the change in Helen immediately. The steps were more confident. She wasn’t looking down when she walked, but her head was held high. The sway of her hips wasn’t downplayed as she moved. Before, Helen had intentionally hidden any femininity about herself. This Helen wasn’t hiding from anything or anyone.

Fear coursed through her, as she blinked several times, “What in the hell happened to her?”

A light knock came at the back door as Cherry hobbled over and opened it wide. Helen entered, and before she could stop herself, Cherry flung her body into Helen, holding her close. Tears she didn’t realize she’d been holding poured from her eyes, dampening the side of Helen’s face. She even planted a kiss on her temple, then her cheeks, squeezing her cousin tight.

“You’re safe. You’re home,” Cherry said. “I was so worried. I was so worried.”

“Hey, girl!” Helen said, pulling away. “I’m fine, Abi. I do however need to get Melody cleaned, as well as the mini.”

“Oh, okay,” Cherry said, stunned by the assuredness in Helen’s tone. “Do you want some tea?”

“Tea sounds good and maybe some cake if there is any left. I’m feeling kind of peckish,” Helen told her, coming inside the home and laying the weapons on the table.

Cherry was at a loss for words. Her cousin had a full four days of working as a Technician, and she was just as calm as if she’d been over to the museum to see the latest art exhibit. Slow was teaching Cherry to not rush things, and this was one of his teaching moments. She put on the kettle, pulling down a new pot she’d recently found at a thrift shop with matching cups and saucers. Last week at the local farmer’s market, a pineapple mango tea had caught her eye and was what she was making today.

“Let me lend you a hand with that,” Helen said, retrieving the gun cleaning kit from the go bag. “Ooh, there is enough cake left for me to get a slice. How is Naomi?”

“She’s fine. She asked about you,” Cherry said, taking a seat.

“I can’t wait to see her and give her hugs,” Helen replied, smiling at Cherry. “That girl is growing so fast, and call me sad if you want, but I am looking forward to hearing about her day. She does the recap so well about her macaroni art.”

Helen was smiling.

Helen didn’t smile.

On a good day, she watched people with mild contempt, but she didn’t smile. Something had happened, and Cherry needed to know what it was. Her husband may like to move Slow, but she didn’t. She blurted out, “You slept with Mustang, didn’t you?”

“The first night, yes, I slept next to him,” Helen said. “That come down is rough after an assignment. Seeing the red splotches when you close your eyes, I wasn’t prepared for that bit, and it rocked me.”

Cherry’s lips were tight, “And the second night?”

“Was it three nights?”

“Helen, stop playing with me and dish the deets. He didn’t coerce you or force you, did he?” Cherry said, watching her cousin pour tea as if the Duchess was coming over for crumpets.

“No, he didn’t, and I actually initiated intimacy with him. I’m late getting back because round three took a little longer,” she said, bugging out her eyes.

“Round three! You had three rounds of sex with that man? How are you even sitting down right now?”

“Well, he made me a tub of water to soak in when we were done with the first session of me reconnecting with my faith in the Lord because I called out for Him often. I think toward the end of that first round, I was bordering on blasphemy,” she said. “Girl, it was so good, he couldn’t wait for me to get out of the tub for the second one. There was water every damned where, and the third one, well, my footprints are all over that shower wall. My God, what a man! That is prime manhood right there, so powerful, yet thoughtful and gentle at the same time.”

She sat down at the table, and in several rapid hand motions, broke down both weapons to clean. Cherry had taught her how, and watching her work was almost poetic. It was then that a thought hit.

Cherry asked, “You’re going to replace me, aren’t you?”

She looked up, the bottle of gun oil in her fingers, “Replace you?”

“Yeah, my broken foot means I can’t work, and if I conceive, I can’t work,” she said. “Would you be willing to replace me?”

Helen leaned across the table and took her hand. “No one can replace the Cherry On Top. I will do what is needed for our family, Abi. You’ve taken care of me for so many years, and if this is what is needed to take care of you, then I will do what is needed; nothing more, nothing less.”

“You seem…different,” Cherry said, still dumbfounded by the arrival of Helen McDaniel. The careful Shenita was truly no more and Helen had taken charge of her cousin. Cherry didn’t know if she liked Helen.

“Bitch, I killed two people, shot the man who held me captive? twice, then freed his other captives along with a ten-year-old white boy child and made wild, reckless love to a man named after a fast horse, who is also hung like one,” Helen said. “How can I not be different after three days of that insanity? Plus, Italy, one of the women I called myself freeing, is the legal wife of The Collector. She helped her husband collect his dolls to satisfy his weird sexual appetites, and, might I add again for the people in the cheap seats, he had the ten-year-old boy in a closet with no light. So yeah, I’m different.”

Cherry burst into laughter. “I don’t know what to react to first in all of what you said; that is a lot to unpack.”

“Well, Mustang wouldn’t let me kill that bastard, and Italy was trying to stop him from bleeding out while still wearing a fucking dog collar with a little flag of Italy like some sort of Sicilian sheepdog!”

Her cousin was still. Helen picked up on the change in the energy. Cherry knew something she was not saying.

“Spill it, Abi,” Helen said.

“The Collector, he’s dead,” Cherry said. “He tried to escape at the hospital and fell down several flights of stairs, breaking his neck.”

“See, the universe is listening,” Helen said and burst into laughter. She started to clap. She looked at the teacup, pushed it aside, and went to the pantry for a bottle of wine. “This calls for hearty red with some white cheese.”

Tears were forming in Cherry’s eyes again. “It is so good to see you laugh, Helen.”

“Honey, after that first forty-five-minute ride on the Mustang, I felt like Harley Quinn, thinking, ‘hmm, I love that Joker!’” She laughed harder. “I didn’t know that is what sex was supposed to feel like. Whew! I might have to dip out once a month and fly to Oregon for a bottle of Pinot and ride on dick-o.”

“Good grief,” Cherry said. “Let’s get these weapons cleaned and prepare dinner for when Michael and Noami get home.”

She looked at her cousin and smiled. They had come so far, been through so much, and were still together. Moreover, the love between them sustained a friendship and understanding neither spoke about but clearly understood.

“Oh, I wanted you to know the bonus you received and payment for the second job was distributed among three accounts to lessen the tax liability,” Cherry said to Helen.

“Okay, in your accounts?”

“No Helen, the money is all yours. you did the job, so it’s yours,” Cherry said.

“What, all of that money is mine?”

“You earned it, it’s yours.”

“Well, look at that,” Helen said, staring into the glass of freshly poured red. “This day just keeps getting better and better. Does he have any pork chops in there? We need some pork chops, fried, with mashed potatoes, and some green beans. Ooh, I can cook some of Ruth’s biscuits. You know she taught me how?”

In silence, they worked to clean the weapons. An hour later, they started a simple dinner of spaghetti with turkey meatballs and a side salad. The pork chops would come the day after, once they went to the market. Helen was in the mood for a pie, and in the pantry was a jar of spiced apples she’d use to make an easy dessert. While kneading the dough for the crust, her mind wandered to Mustang.

“If you can feel me, Mustang, thank you. Lord, what a man,” she said, smiling to herself.

****

Corvallis, Oregon

Mustang sat at his kitchen table taking inventory of his life. He’d never been one for a great number of friends or a man who needed constant companionship. Four days with Helen McDaniel was making him rethink a great number of things.

He was drawn to her quiet power and brilliant light which she often tried to dim but couldn’t. As much as he was drawn to her, it was not his intention to take her to his bed, but when she had asked, explaining why it needed to happen now rather than later, a man only had so much resolve, especially after she laid it out so eloquently. Seeing the scars on her breast left by that monster, he wished he hadn’t stopped her from killing the bastard. Fate had intervened and handled the matter for them both. The Collector was no more.

“I made the lady a promise which I need to keep,” he said, picking up his Technician phone. He pressed 2 and waited for a connection. A voice answered after the second ring.

“State your need,” a voice said.

“Archangel, saddle up for the Mustang ,” he said.

“How may I be of assistance?”

“I need to place a few orders, and you’re the most likely to make this happen,” Mustang said.

“Listening.”

“One, a Chevy Colorado, used, low miles, good condition, four doors if possible, in dark green. Two, a new mid-sized SUV, both vehicles for Helen McDaniel,” he said to the Archangel.

“Really?”

“She asked me for what she needed, and I’m delivering,” he replied.

There was a pause in the line, “Did you fornicate with that woman?”

Mustang responded, “Do you ever mind your business?

“Fair enough. What are the other two items?”

“These two, you’re going to love,” Mustang said, trying to hold his laughter. After the request, he said, “Transferring funds to you now along with your fee. Please let me know when the items have been delivered.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, love you, hope to see you at Christmas. Mustang out,” he added, without the custom whinny he had perfected as a teen. He leaned back in his recliner, holding a beer which had grown warm, and thought of Helen.

There was one more item he needed to send to her. This item would be off the books. Maybe two items. His heart felt full when he thought of the wee hours of the morning. She’d given herself to him so freely as if the sensations she experienced were all so new to her. The facial expressions of the pleasure she experienced with each of his movements brought him back to her soft mouth, the tender kisses, and even her asking him if what she was doing felt good and pleased him.

“Shit, now I understand why The Collector was obsessed with that woman,” Mustang said. He looked at his crotch, “And you shut up too.”

It was going to be a long night.