Chapter 8
The heat was oppressive, even at night! It was 102 degrees! Raquel was sure she was baking inside her uniform. The helmets they wore only made it worse. Even though she wore a bandana over her hair, she just sweated through the fabric. Reaching up she loosened the strap; it was making her itch under her chin. Damned heat rash again!
She was lying in the dirt; they’d been told to get down and wait for a signal. Unfortunately, the slight breeze wasn’t helping keep the sand out of her eyes. She wished she’d brought her goggles. Turning her head to the right, she checked their line; her team was spread out, they were tasked with checking out a warehouse, but there had been some insurgent activity, and their sergeant was being extra careful tonight. They had lost a guy a few weeks back, and she was sure that had made the sergeant a little more paranoid.
“Clear!” came the radio call.
Raquel was climbing to her feet when there was sudden burst of gunfire from the left. Someone yelled hit the deck, and Raquel did, but her helmet dropped and skittered across the sand. Regardless, she dropped to her knee and brought up her rifle, looking through her night sites to see if she could see movement from where the firing had occurred. There was yelling and firing, and Raquel identified a person moving from the side of the warehouse.
“I have contact!” she called to her sergeant.
“Do not fire!” the sergeant ordered back. There were radio calls trying to figure out who their opponent was. The last thing they needed was a friendly fire incident. They were not sure the firing was meant for them, or if it was between two other combatants.
Raquel settled her finger on the trigger guard, awaiting an order. Things grew quiet again, but the radio chatter continued. Glancing over at her helmet laying six feet away, Raquel wondered if she should try to retrieve it. She debated, thinking about the ass chewing she would get for it not being on her head, but not wanting to move, in case she needed to fire.
After five minutes, she finally decided to grab her helmet. Just as she moved to crouch, there was gun fire. She never felt the bullet hit her…things just went black.
“Hey,” Jaims answered like she always did when she knew it was Raquel, which made Raquel smile, inordinately happy that their friendship still seemed intact.
“Home now?” Raquel asked.
“Yep, they decided the dent in my head was fine,” Jaims joked. She heard Raquel’s swift intake of breath and hurried on. “I’m good, Rock, I really am. They said the migraines were probably due to a small bleed I already had and the accident just really pissed it off.”
“I’m sure what I did, didn’t help either,” Raquel put in seriously.
“Maybe not,” Jaims allowed, “but the important thing is that I’m fine. Okay?”
“Okay,” Raquel said, not sounding convinced, but obviously not in the mood to argue.
“How are you doing?” Jaims asked.
“Withdrawals were fun,” Raquel commented. “But I lived.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.” Raquel nodded. “I’m just glad that part is over.”
“So, what’s happening now?”
“A lot of talking, like a lot.” Raquel curled her lips in disgust. “They want me to talk about my feelings about being shot.”
“That’s probably a good thing, right?”
Raquel blew out her breath. “I hate it.”
“Do you want to talk to me about it?” Jaims offered, moving to sit up in bed. Raquel was silent for a long moment. “Do you want to tell me about how it happened?” Jaims encouraged.
“It was dark out,” Raquel began. “We were on patrol. I was a dumbass and loosened my chin strap, ’cause it was so fuckin’ hot and it fell off when I hit the deck…”
“Oh geeze…” Jaims breathed.
“Yup,” Raquel said, “that’s when it happened.”
Jaims grimaced. “Would it of made a difference if you had the helmet on, though?”
Raquel was quiet again; she’d never actually thought about that. “Maybe not…I mean it was a damned sniper…maybe not.”
“Those are high velocity rounds, aren’t they?” Jaims asked, surprising herself with what she’d remembered from all their talks about weapons.
Raquel let out a short laugh. “Damn, J, you remember everything I tell ya, don’t you?”
Jaims laughed. “Yeah I just shocked myself with that one too.”
“But you might be right,” Raquel commented. “Never once thought about that.”
“Well, think about it.”
“I will,” Raquel said, shaking her head at her end of the line. “So, what’s up with the crew?”
It was a shift away from the serious talk, and Jaims knew that Raquel needed to chew on what they’d been talking about, so she indulged her.
They talked for another hour, Jaims regaling her with the happenings of the bar, and with their friends. By the time they were ready to hang up, Raquel was smiling.
“Hey, they have a family day here coming up like next week, would you come?” Raquel asked.
“You bet,” Jaims answered. “Are the boys coming?”
“I’m gonna ask them, I wanted to ask you first.”
“Just text me the deets and I’ll be there,” Jaims told her.
“Roger that.”
They both hung up feeling better.
***
“What’s happening? Where are you going?” Sam’s tone was panicked.
“I have to get down there!” Davis told him, his voice raised for the first time since they’d met.
“Why?” Sam said pleadingly.
Davis turned to him as he pulled on his jacket, his face etched with disbelief. “How can you ask me that?”
Sam sat down on the chair in the foyer, looking defeated. “I don’t know, I just…” His voice trailed off as he raised his hand in a gesture of futility. “I thought you loved me,” he offered quietly.
Davis blinked a couple of times as he digested what Sam had just said. He went down on one knee in front of his partner, taking Sam’s hands in his. “I do love you!”
Sam raised his eyes to Davis, his look reflected both hope and confusion. “Then why do you have to go to him?”
Davis blew his breath out, shaking his head. “Because he’s in a dangerous place right now, baby. I loved him once; I need to make sure he’s okay. He’s at the store right now, I need to get down there.” Davis squeezed his hands gently. “Do you understand?”
“But what if he hurts you?” Sam asked, his true concern coming to light.
“He won’t,” Davis stated as he stood up. “I have to go.” He leaned down and kissed Sam on the lips, then turned and left the apartment. A loud crack of thunder shook the apartment, Sam shuddered.
The early winter storm raged outside; lightning lit up the therapy room. Regardless, Charlotte went on with the session she was having with Morgan. Glancing down at her watch, Charlotte hoped she could get through the rain to the train station. Why hadn’t she driven today? she pondered idly.
Pacing the floor, Sam did his best to calm himself. Davis would be fine, he told himself over and over again. He just couldn’t get himself to believe it. Jake, Davis’s ex-boyfriend, was a manic depressive and could be very volatile, it was the reason Davis had left Jake. The more Sam thought about Davis going down to the bookstore that Jake owned, the more pictures flashed through his head. Sam knew that Jake had a gun, he kept it in the store for protection, and the idea that Jake would use it either on himself or Davis was the thought that kept rolling around in Sam’s head.
It had been a half an hour, and Sam just couldn’t take any more. Grabbing his jacket, he left the apartment, running down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. He ran out into the rainy night, getting instantly drenched by the downpour. Lightning still flashed, followed by loud claps of thunder as he ran the ten blocks to the store. As he rounded the corner, he could see the lights were on in the bookstore. The bar next door was lit up as well, with music pumping out of the open double doors. It was a gay bar, what else was there in The Castro? Men hung around under the small awning. Sam and Davis had gone there a few times, but tonight was different, and Sam couldn’t think about the good times they had there until he knew Davis was safe.
Before he could get to the door of the store, Sam heard a sound that terrified him. It was a gunshot! Sliding as he skidded to a stop at the door, Sam threw open the door, screaming Davis’s name!
Suddenly there was a sound like a small explosion right outside the window of the therapy room. Charlotte all but fell out of her chair. It was the sound of the transformer blowing with a shower of sparks, and then the lights went out. Charlotte got up and ran out to the outer office looking out the windows there, seeing that the sparks were still coming off the transformer. She grabbed the phone to try and call the fire department, not sure what else to do.
Morgan jerked upright, looking around the room in a panic. Her heart was racing and she was breathing heavily. She was overwhelmed with dread and it drove her to her feet. Before she could gather her thoughts clearly, she was running out of the room through the open door and out of the office. It was dark so she felt her way down the hallway, toward the glass doors that she could make out because of the lightning firing off. I have to get there; I have to get there! Was the thought occupying her head.
Outside the double doors, she made a right and began to run. Her heels caused her to slide a few times so she kicked them off and continued on her headlong flight down the wet streets. She had to get there, she needed to make it!
***
“Oy, it’s pissing rain out there!” Case complained as she pulled her beanie off, shaking the rain from the material as they walked into Fancy’s.
“Yeah, it’s bad.” Steel curled up her lips in disgust. “Means the site will be a mud pit tomorrow. That’s gonna suck.”
“Who’s going to suck, what?” Flynn leered next to them.
“Alright, none of that,” Zion told the younger woman, giving her a narrowed look. She shook her head, a grin forming on her lips. “BB and Errol are at the table, get outta my doorway.” Zion gestured with the bar towel she was holding.
As the small group walked away, a woman burst through the doors to the bar. Zion turned to greet her, but the woman’s disheveled appearance and the fact that she looked nearly hysterical had Zion immediately calling to her friends. Despite the commotion, the bar owner couldn’t help but notice the striking red hair, as wet as it was, and the bright green eyes.
“Where is he!” Morgan screamed; her eyes were wide with terror.
Zion moved to her side. “Ma’am, who are you looking for?”
“He’s here, I know he’s here!” Morgan’s head swiveled from side to side, her eyes scanning the crowd. “The bookstore, the bookstore! It’s gone!”
Zion nodded. “Yes, it closed last year…” Her voice trailed off as she steered Morgan over to a chair. She gestured to Case. “Run upstairs to my apartment, grab me some towels.”
“He has to be here…” Morgan said, her tone dazed.
Zion knelt next to Morgan, taking her hand, looking up at her. “Ma’am, who has to be here?” Her tone was soothing. “I can help you, if you’ll tell me who you’re looking for.”
“Davis!” Morgan cried. “I heard a gunshot!”
Zion took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Okay, you think that Davis was shot?”
“Oh God no…not my Davis…” Morgan began crying uncontrollably.
“We don’t know that he was shot,” Zion told Morgan, realizing that this woman might be in the middle of some terrible trauma, and wanting to be as gentle as possible with her state of mind.
Suddenly Morgan focused on Zion’s face. Her bright green eyes flicked from haunted to terrified and then recognition finally dawned on her. “Your eyes…” Morgan said, “they’re like his.”
Zion didn’t know what to make of the statement, so she nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Morgan blinked a couple of times, like she was trying to come out of a trance. She shook her head. “Where am I?”
Zion stared intently at the woman for a long moment. “You’re at a bar called Fancy’s. Can you tell me your name?”
Morgan opened her mouth to answer, but her eyebrows knit in confusion. She shook her head, looking down at her hands.
“Okay.” Zion nodded, as Case approached them with towels. Zion stood up, taking the towels and giving Case a pointed look.
“Let’s get you dried off and warm, maybe we can talk in a little bit, okay?” They draped one of the towels around Morgan’s shoulders.
Morgan gave Zion a wonderous look, but then blinked again, and nodded.
“Take her up to my apartment and stay with her, okay?” Zion instructed Case. “I’ll be up in a bit.”
“Got it.” Case nodded, pulling her beanie onto her head and then helped Morgan out of the chair and carefully lead her to the back of the bar, and up the back stairs.
Upstairs in Zion’s apartment, Case tried to get Morgan to sit down, but Morgan shook her head and wandered around. Case helplessly followed her. Morgan entered the bathroom and sat down on the side of the large soaking tub, looking wistful for a moment. Then she got up and wandered again.
“Ma’am?” Case queried gently, her British accent evident. Morgan’s eyes turned to her. She didn’t really see the beanie cap, or the dark-rimmed glasses Case wore.
“Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?” Case asked hopefully. “A cup of tea maybe?”
Morgan blinked a couple of times, and nodded her head. Case let out a sigh of relief, grateful she could do something useful.
“Aces! Why don’t you sit right here…” Case guided Morgan to a chair at Zion’s small kitchen table, within sight of the galley kitchen. She knew Zion would kill her if she let this lady out of her sight. “I’ll make the tea.”
Morgan sat obediently in the chair, her look still very dazed and confused.
As Case made tea, she glanced repeatedly at Morgan trying to assess the woman’s state of mind. When the tea was finished, she brought it to the table, and offered her cream and sugar. Morgan shook her head and took a sip of the warm drink. Case sat at the table with her, hoping that Zion got upstairs soon.
“You’re from England?” Morgan asked softly.
“Yes ma’am.” Case smiled.
“What brought you here?” Morgan queried.
“Trouble.” Case grinned laconically.
Morgan smiled, wistfully. “A boy?”
Case raised an eyebrow, obviously this woman had no idea what kind of bar she’d stumbled into this night. “Not bloody likely!”
When Morgan looked back at her in confusion, Case shook her head. “I got into a bit of a pinch with my habit of hacking things.”
“Oh, on the computer?”
“Yes.”
“So, you’re a hacker.” Morgan nodded.
“I’m a white hat, not a black hat,” Case clarified.
Morgan looked perplexed. “I’m sorry?”
“Never mind.” Case waved away the conversation. “How’s your tea?”
“It’s perfect, thank you.”
It was another hour before Zion could break away from the bar and come upstairs.
“Where is she?” Zion asked, glancing around as she walked into the living room.
Case, who was now lounging on Zion’s couch with long jean clad legs crossed, her foot bouncing as she played with her phone, grinned and hooked her thumb toward Zion’s bedroom.
“The lady got tired, so I figured you’d be okay with her crashing in your bed.”
Zion stared at her friend, her mouth agape. Case looked unconcerned, knowing that Zion was always the gallant type, and would have offered Morgan her bed anyway. “Oh, and I gave her a pair of your sweats and shirt so she could get dry.”
Zion sighed nodding. “Okay, I’ll take it from here.”
“I’ll bet.” Case chuckled as she rose from the couch.
“Watch it…” Zion warned.
Case put her hands up, even as a devilish smile curved her lips. “I’m going, I’m going.”
Zion did her best to be quiet as she creeped into her bedroom to grab a pair of sweats and a shirt.
Glancing over at the bed, Morgan was sleeping peacefully, the covers tucked up under her chin. It was impossible not to notice how beautiful this woman was. She reminded Zion of Ginger Rogers, with her fiery red hair and sweetheart-shaped face. Sighing quietly, Zion made her way back out into the living room and quickly changed her clothes. After doing some work on her laptop, she finally stretched and made herself comfortable on the couch, listening to the rain outside.
Morgan sat cross legged on the floor in front of Zion, her green eyes surveyed the woman asleep on the couch. She took in the dark blue sweatpants with the Navy emblem on them, and the white Henley style long sleeved shirt. The woman was indeed handsome, with her white-blonde hair cut short; the blonde hair covered dark hair underneath. She noticed she had chiseled cheek bones and a strong jaw.
Morgan remembered some of what had happened the night before, but she was hoping this woman could fill in the blanks.
As Zion opened her eyes, she saw that she was being stared at.
“Well, good morning.” Zion grinned. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Morgan pressed her lips together, watching as Zion sat up and stretched. Her eyes widening slightly when Zion looked back down at her, meeting her eyes.
“I…” Morgan stammered, a bit entranced by the cornflower-blue eyes she’d seen so many times in her hypnotized state. “It’s you…” she whispered.
“Me?” Zion’s eyebrows arched. “Me, how?”
Morgan laughed softly, shaking her head, knowing she sounded like a crazy person.
“Never mind.” Morgan waved away her comment. “I was wondering if you could fill me in on what happened last night?”
Zion stifled a yawn, and nodded. “But can we get some coffee going first?”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Morgan shook her head, looking somewhat aghast. “You need to wake up, I can just sit quietly while you do that.”
Zion stood up, holding her hand out to Morgan. “Come have coffee with me.”
Morgan smiled at the gesture, and took Zion’s hand, allowing herself to be pulled gently up to her feet. As they made their way to the kitchen, Zion glanced at Morgan with an odd smile on her face.
“By the way, I’m Zion.”
“Oh!” Morgan chuckled, realizing how odd their situation really was. “I’m Morgan.”
Morgan watched Zion boil water in a kettle, grind coffee beans and put them into a glass pitcher looking contraption. It was fascinating to watch her pour the water over the grounds and then replace the lid of the pitcher.
“Now what happens?” Morgan asked.
“Gotta let it steep for a bit.” At Morgan’s quizzical look, she continued, “You’ve never used a French press before?”
“Oh! Is that what that is? I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen or used one. Is it really better?”
Zion shrugged. “I like it, but you can be the judge.”
Morgan couldn’t help but admire Zion from behind as the other woman got down coffee mugs. She had a long lean look about her, and a rather nice behind, even in sweatpants. Morgan felt herself blush and looked away when Zion turned around.
A comfortable silence passed between them before Morgan spoke. “I think you’re right about the French press, this tastes better than normal coffee.”
Zion smiled, and nodded in agreement. “So about last night, what do you remember?”
Morgan closed her eyes for a moment. “I remember being completely terrified about something, and I remember it was raining cats and dogs outside…” As her voice trailed off she shrugged, shaking her head.
Zion blinked a couple of times, surprised at the information Morgan remembered. That was all she remembered? She proceeded to explain to Morgan what had happened the night before.
“Wow!” Morgan exclaimed, stunned by what all she’d apparently mentally missed.
“You can say that again,” Zion agreed warmly.
“I was at my appointment with the hypnotherapist and—”
“Say what?” Zion interrupted.
Morgan pressed her lips together, knowing how weird it probably sounded to the woman before her. “I know, it sounds crazy…”
“No, no.” Zion shook her head. “It’s just not something you hear very often, or ever.”
Morgan nodded. “I know, but I started having these dreams that seemed so real, but they were always from another time and place. I had to find out why it kept happening. A friend of mine suggested this therapist that was trained in hypnosis, so I’ve been giving it a try.”
Zion sat back in her chair, a curious look on her face. “And what have you found out?”
Morgan hesitated. Maybe this woman would think she was insane, but then again, this woman had just allowed her to stay in her home overnight, not knowing anything about her. Zion obviously was someone put in her path for a reason, and Morgan really did want to investigate that too. Deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to tell Zion everything, Morgan continued.
“So last night…” Zion prompted at the end of Morgan’s explanation.
“Last night I was experiencing Sam and Davis, and Davis had gone to check on his manic-depressive ex that owned the bookstore.”
“The bookstore that I bought and am working on incorporating into the club,” Zion added, nodding. “You were asking about the bookstore, that’s why.”
Morgan blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “I guess so. I was probably still experiencing Sam and did what he may have done.”
“That is wild.” Zion sounded amazed.
“Do you want to hear the really crazy part?” Morgan asked.
“What’s that?”
“In every scenario I experienced, there was a person with the exact same color of eyes as yours,” Morgan told her, wondering if she should have said anything.
Zion’s reaction of complete shock and disbelief answered that question for.
“I’m sorry,” Morgan offered immediately, “I shouldn’t have…I mean, that’s just not…” Morgan moved to stand, thinking she needed to get out of there before Zion threw her out for being a nut. Zion’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“Morgan, it’s okay,” Zion told her. “It’s just kind of an odd experience to hear about all of this.”
“I understand.” Morgan nodded. “I’m sorry if it’s too much.”
“It’s not too much,” Zion assured, gesturing to the chair Morgan had been sitting. “Please, finish your coffee and let me ponder on this a bit.”
Morgan did as she bade, quietly trying to read Zion’s thoughts.
Zion’s thoughts were racing, marveling over what she’d just heard, and contemplating what it all meant. For whatever reason, she believed everything that Morgan had said. She knew that it was probably strange to trust a random stranger, but she felt a kind of pull toward the woman, and she didn’t know what to make of it all.
Zion’s cell phone broke the silence, interrupting her thoughts.
“Excuse me,” Zion said as she got up to pick up her cell phone lying on the kitchen counter. “Hello?”
Morgan watched as Zion’s visage darkened, her lips twitching in agitation.
“No,” Zion said, making a cutting gesture with her hand, “I don’t have to listen, I’m already finished with this conversation.” Zion stood holding her phone away from her face, as the person on the other end of the line continued talking. Zion shook her head, rolling her eyes.
“Fancy, we’re done talking, there is no deal. I don’t need your help, so stop sending your little minion here to bother me.” She stood shaking her head as the person apparently wasn’t convinced.
“Well, if I fail, then I fail and you can come to pick at the remains. Now, I need to go. Goodbye.” With that Zion disconnected the call.
Morgan pressed her lips together as she physically held herself back from commenting on the call. Even so, her green eyes widened slightly.
“I’m sorry about that,” Zion declared as she put the phone down on the counter.
Morgan shook her head. “No need to apologize, this is your house.” She smiled, eyes sparkling with humor.
Zion laughed. “True.”
“I really should get out of your way,” Morgan said, as she set her empty coffee cup down.
As she made a move to get up, her memory jangled, causing her to wince. “Oh, hell.”
“What?” Zion asked, looking concerned.
Morgan sighed loudly. “I forgot,” she said, putting her hand to her forehead, rubbing it, “I didn’t drive yesterday. I took an Uber, because of the storm. No matter,” she added, “I’ll just order one…” Her voice trailed off as she looked around. “And I have no idea where my phone is.”
Zion chuckled. “Your clothes are in my bathroom, drying out. Maybe there?”
“Aw, yes.” Morgan nodding getting up from the table. “Is it okay if I get them?” she asked, since she needed to go back through Zion’s bedroom to get to the bathroom.
“Of course.” Zion nodded, picking up her coffee and taking a long sip.
Morgan entered the kitchen again after checking the bathroom, shaking her head. “Nope, nothing there. I’m guessing I left my purse with my phone, back at the therapist’s office.”
“Well, let me get dressed and I can drive you over there,” Zion said, standing. “Actually I can give you a ride home if you’d like? I have a light day today.”
“I don’t want to put you out…” Morgan vacillated, knowing she was already probably being a pain.
“You’re not putting me out at all. I’ll go get dressed.”
A little while later, Zion emerged, dressed in black slacks and a long-sleeved grey shirt. Morgan couldn’t help but notice that the woman definitely had style, even down to the black boots she wore and the leather bomber style jacket she pulled out of the closet.
“You should put this on,” Zion instructed her, as she handed her the jacket. “The rain has stopped, but it’s still pretty chilly out there. I’ve gathered your clothes; they are in a bag by the door.”
“Wow, thank you.” Morgan smiled as she pulled the jacket on. It smelled of leather and cologne, it was a wonderful combination.
Next to the bar was a single car garage that Zion led her to. She opened the garage door with a remote on her key ring and Morgan found that she was a bit surprised by the car parked there. It was a blue Mercedes sedan, it looked very sporty and expensive. When she glanced over at Zion, she saw that the woman silently grinning to herself.
Zion noticed Morgan’s gaze; she was tempted to ask what kind of vehicle she’d expected her to drive, but decided not to put her on the spot with the teasing question. Walking into the garage, she unlocked the doors, and opened the passenger side door for Morgan.
Inside the vehicle, Morgan was surrounded by the smell of leather and cologne again.
Touching the seat she noted that it was very supple leather, and the dashboard looked more like a jet cockpit to her.
“This is really nice,” Morgan commented as Zion got into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks.” Zion smiled. “It’s my biggest indulgence. I save a lot of money living above the bar.”
Zion drove them to the therapist’s office with Morgans directions. Morgan went inside and spoke to Charlotte’s receptionist, Sandy, who handed over her purse.
“She’s in session,” Sandy told her, “but she said you left this here last night. She was really worried about you, are you okay?”
Morgan nodded. “I am, tell Charlotte not to worry.”
Sandy smiled. “I will.”
Back in the car, Morgan looked over at Zion. “All ready,” she asked. “Are you sure you want to drive me all the way home? I’m down in Pacific Grove.”
“Just give me an address,” Zion told her.
“It’s three hours away,” Morgan told her.
Zion smiled. “I’m aware.”
Finally, Morgan relented and gave Zion her address. Zion typed the address into her navigation system, and they were on their way.
A few minutes into the drive, Morgan looked over at Zion’s very handsome profile. “I really do appreciate this, I just don’t want to be a huge inconvenience.”
Zion grinned. “I know how to say no, Morgan, and I say it when I want to.” With that she winked.
Morgan laughed softly. “Well thank you.”
They were both silent for a while. Music played from the car speakers, and when the opening notes to Fleetwood Mac’s ‘The Chain’ began to play, Morgan exclaimed in contentment. “I love this song!”
Zion obliged by turning up the volume. They sang the lyrics together. Morgan couldn’t help but noticed Zion’s look singing the chorus. She seemed quite connected to the lyrics if the person didn’t love them now, they’d never love them again.
“Is that—” Morgan began, but realized that she shouldn’t ask.
“Is that what?” Zion glanced over at Morgan.
Morgan shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. Sometimes I let my curiosity get the better of me.”
“It’s alright. Ask, if I don’t want to answer, I won’t,” Zion told her.
Morgan pressed her lips together, trying to think of a way to ask the question that wouldn’t sound too rude. “I was going to ask if that particular song had anything to do with someone.” Zion looked puzzled but she continued anyway. “You sang those lyrics, you meant them.”
Understanding dawned on Zion then and she nodded. “Yes, you could say it had to do with someone.” She chuckled as she said it, but the sound was far from humorous.
Morgan’s eyes widened; the question leaped suddenly to the forefront of her mind, Who would be dumb enough to leave you?
But she forced herself not to ask it, knowing she’d be prying at that point.
“I saw that.” Zion grinned.
Morgan pursed her lips, dropping her head and shaking it. “I’m really a hopeless snoop, you’d be wise to stop the car and kick me out now.”
Zion chuckled again. “I can take it, go ahead, ask away.”
“Well, in all honesty, what I was thinking a minute ago wouldn’t be appropriate to ask someone I just met, so I’ll keep that one to myself,” Morgan intimated.
“Oh, now I really need to know.” Zion looked over at her, a wicked smile on her face.
Morgan opened her mouth in mock surprise. In truth she found Zion’s smile incredibly endearing. The handsome woman held an endless amount of interest for her. She was very intriguing.
Sighing, Morgan dropped her head again. “I’m caught,” she admitted, “I was thinking that someone would have to be incredibly stupid to leave someone like you.”
Zion’s lips twisted in a disappointed curve. “She’s not stupid, she’s just not a very good person.”
Morgan instantly felt bad that she’d poked at what was obviously a still open wound. “I’m so sorry.”
Zion shrugged. “No need to be, she’s just a specter that never seems to go away.”
“Is that the Fancy that was on the phone this morning?” Morgan blurted before she could stop herself.
Zion murmured derisively, “Yeah, that was her.”
Morgan chewed on her lower lip, dying to ask more questions, but knowing that she shouldn’t. She decided, instead, to change the subject.
“Your friend was very nice last night,” she said with a smile. “I at least remember that. She was very solicitous.”
Zion grinned. “Solicitous?”
“Considerate,” Morgan clarified.
“I knew what it meant,” Zion said. “I just don’t actually hear words like that used too often in my profession.”
“I’m guilty of using words like that quite frequently,” Morgan admitted.
“And why is that?”
“Oh, I’m a writer,” Morgan explained.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Zion commented. “What do you write?”
“Normally I write romance.”
“Normally?” Zion asked.
Morgan sighed. “I’m hopelessly blocked lately.”
“That sounds bad.”
“When it’s how you make a living, yeah, it’s really bad.”
“Yowsa,” Zion quipped.
“Yes, definitely, yowsa,” Morgan emphasized. “So how did you get into owning a bar?”
“I know a lot of alcoholics,” Zion deadpanned, causing Morgan’s mouth to drop open. Zion laughed, shaking her head. “I’m just kidding. I actually started out buying property. The bar was just the last thing I bought.”
“So, you’re a real estate mogul,” Morgan quizzed.
Zion laughed her familiar laugh. “Not hardly.”
“What got you into real estate?”
“I had a CO in the Navy that told me to buy property anywhere I was stationed, but since I ended up assigned to an aircraft carrier, that didn’t work. So, I saved a good percentage of my pay for the entire time I was in, and starting buying property when I ended up here in San Francisco.”
“Wow!” Morgan exclaimed. “That was really smart.”
Zion grinned, nodding. “It’s worked out well.”
“So the Navy…what led you there? And what did you do in the Navy?”
“Getting away from home led me there,” Zion answered. “I did a lot of things, but my final duties were working in avionics as an air-crewman.”
“And that entailed…” Morgan prompted.
“I worked with the pilots, in-flight tech, deck crew, basically whatever was needed.”
“I see,” Morgan said, listening intently. “How long were you in the Navy?”
“I did eight years.”
“Well, thank you for your service.” Morgan smiled.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” Zion inclined her head.
They drove in silence for a while, then Zion’s cell phone rang. The view screen in the vehicle read Dax.
“Excuse me,” Zion said looking at who was calling, “and I apologize in advance for what you may hear.” She emphasized her words with a sardonic smirk.
“Hey D, what’s up?”
“Just checking in, how’s Jaims?” Dax asked.
“She’s good, she’s home now.”
“That’s good. Any word on Rock?”
“Aww, that one’s more of a Charlie Foxtrot,” Zion commented.
“Geeze, what now?” Dax asked.
“Jaims won’t tell me everything, but the upside is that Rock’s gone into rehab.”
“Yeah…” Dax murmured. “That one has a high drift factor lately, so I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Indeed,” Zion agreed. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Sounds good. How are you doing?” Dax asked.
“I’m good.”
“Fancy still up your six about the expansion?”
“Oh yeah, she called again this morning.” Zion sighed.
“She seems fairly determined.”
“Pain in the…” Zion began, then glancing over at Morgan she said, “backside.”
“Seriously dude, that one’s a major pain in the ass!” Dax corrected.
Zion grimaced, shaking her head as she mouthed to Morgan, “Sorry.”
“Hey Dax, can I call ya later?”
“Sure, but why the bum’s rush?” Dax’s voice teased.
Zion’s eyes narrowed, her expression turned into a sneer. “Which one of those little shits called you?”
Dax’s laugh echoed through the speakers of the car. Zion shook her head, rolling her eyes. “With friends like you…” She let her voice trail off, knowing Dax would get her meaning.
“Hey, CBC bay-bee!” Dax crowed.
“I’ll talk to you later, and the rest of the crew is paying for their drinks from now on!”
Dax’s laughter was the last thing they heard as Zion hung up.
There was silence in the car for a long moment as Zion pressed her lips together. “I really am sorry about that.”
“I have questions,” Morgan commented, a smile forming on her lips.
“Bring them on.” Zion chuckled.
“Jaims?”
“She’s a friend of ours that was in the hospital.”
“Rock?”
“Her actual name is Raquel; she’s having issues with substances.”
“Charlie Foxtrot?”
“Uhh.” Zion grimaced, looking embarrassed. “It stands for Cluster Fuck.”
“High drift…um…something,” Morgan stammered, not recalling the whole phrase Dax had used.
“High drift factor, it means she’s highly unreliable.”
“Aw.” Morgan nodded. “I got the Fancy being up your, um, six, thing, I’ve seen Top Gun enough times to understand that one.”
Zion laughed at the reference.
“And then there’s…wait, I’ll remember it…oh, yes, CBC?”
Zion drew in a breath, smiling. “That’s what we call ourselves, our little group of friends.”
“What does it stand for?”
“Castro Bois Crew.”
“Boys?” Morgan queried.
“Not the boys you’re thinking of, it’s more B-O-I-S, not b-o-y-s. Bois are what we call our more butch, or masculine, friends and lovers.”
“I did not know that,” Morgan said smiling. “I like it. So, you’re a crew?”
“Well, Dax and I were both Navy, stationed on the Carl Vinson. So, we refer to the people we hang out with as ‘crew’ by habit. We all live in the Castro, and we’re all butch leaning, so Castro Bois Crew.”
“Aww, I get it now,” Morgan uttered. “It’s like a gang.” Her smile grew wider.
Zion laughed. “We’re more of a family.”
Morgan nodded. “I like that even better.”
It ended up being a very nice drive out to Pacific Grove. When they finally got to Morgan’s condo, Zion parked the car, and got out to go around and open Morgan’s door for her. She offered her hand to help her out of the vehicle.
“Thank you.” Morgan smiled, impressed by Zion’s chivalry. “And I really want to thank you for everything, all of this has been so crazy.”
“It has been my pleasure,” Zion replied sincerely.
“I’d really like to make it up to you, if you’ll let me,” Morgan said, staring up at Zion.
Zion’s cornflower-blue eyes held her gaze for a long moment, then she inclined her head. “It’s not necessary, but I’d like that. What do you have in mind?”
“Maybe we could go to dinner? What does your week look like this week?” she asked, feeling desperate suddenly to keep this connection.
Zion pursed her lips. “Well, I was planning to head out to Napa this week. I like to go there to pick up new wines for the bar. If you have time, would you like to come with me?”
“That sounds fantastic!” Morgan exclaimed happily.
Zion reached into her back pocket, pulling out her wallet and withdrawing a business card which she handed to Morgan. “Call me and we’ll make a plan.”
“I absolutely will.” Morgan nodded. Taking the card, their hands brushed. Morgan took Zion’s hand in hers, and looked up at her. “Thank you again for being so kind, not everyone would have gone out of their way like you did. I’d dare say most people wouldn’t have.”
Zion placed her other hand over Morgan’s. Those oh so blue eyes bore into hers.
“Things go the way they’re meant to; people are put in our path for a reason. I sincerely believe that.” Morgan felt her breath catch in her throat as she felt Zion squeeze her hand gently.
“I’ll wait for you to get inside,” Zion told her.
Morgan smiled, feeling very much like the damsel in a romance novel, with the gallant suitor escorting her home from the ball. Taking a chance, she leaned up and kissed Zion on the cheek, then walked away as quickly as she could, wincing a little to herself, wondering if she’d just been far too impulsive. When she approached her door, she looked back over her shoulder. Zion was leaning against her car, watching intently with a smile on her face.
Morgan unlocked her door and walked inside. She shut the door and leaned against it, feeling like she’d just been on the best date of her life.