Authors: Christina Moore
“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” Billie retorted as she reached around her back underneath her shirt. John watched her deftly unhook her bra, then reach up her sleeves to pull the straps down, removing it completely through her left sleeve without once flashing him.
When she noticed him staring, she frowned and asked, “What?”
“I am always fascinated by how easily women can do that,” he said. “Yet we men tend to have such difficulty with those damn things.”
Billie grinned as she wadded the bra and threw it at him. “That’s because you men types ain’t got no skills…though you didn’t seem to have a problem with it yesterday.”
John picked up the garment from the floor and tossed it onto the chair where her jacket was, then reached behind her and pulled the bedcovers down. “Okay, now I know you’re tired—you’re not being your usual pithy self.”
Billie waved off his words and dropped onto the bed. He stood and pulled the covers the rest of the way out from under her, then lifted her legs up and slid them so that her feet, at least, were tucked in. He next rounded the bed and climbed in beside her, slipping an arm over her waist to spoon himself against her. With a soft giggle, Billie wiggled her ass against him as though to get a better fit, and she sighed contentedly when he, on impulse, snuck a hand under her shirt to cup her breast. She took hold of his hand and held it there, and it wasn’t long before both of them were fast asleep.
Billie started to wake feeling very warm. In the next instant she realized she was not alone in the bed, and briefly wondered if she and Sergei had drunk too much tequila.
Then full consciousness dawned, and she remembered where she was and with whom. The last few days came back to her in a rush, and she remembered last night asking John to just sleep with her. For a moment she could not believe her own audacity, until she realized that for the first time in over a year, she had slept the whole night through. Though her head and neck ached a little
, she felt very well rested.
Not wanting to
disturb him, she decided to just lay there a little while longer, and noticed that sometime during the night she had turned and wrapped herself around him. John was on his back with one arm under her head and around her shoulders. Her head was on his chest with one arm pinned between them and the other holding him around the waist, their legs twined together in such a manner that if she moved even an inch, she’d graze his groin…which was spouting impressive morning wood.
Unable to help herself, she giggled at the sight. John’s other arm snaked around her and gave her a squeeze. “What’s so funny?” he mumbled sleepily.
“Nothing,” she replied, looking up to find him watching her. “I just, uh… I was just realizing how well you must’ve been sleeping.”
He lifted his head and looked down at himself, then looked back to her wi
th a tired grin. “I swear he’s got a mind of his own.”
“Apparently,” she replied, then carefully rolled away from him and threw her legs over the side of the bed.
“I smell coffee and bacon. If we want the chance to actually get any, we’d better hurry downstairs—Teddy’s a wolf when it comes to food,” she told him as she sat up and stretched.
John laughed and rose from the bed. “I’d better run out to my car first—I think there’s still something in my bag that’s not water-soaked or blood-stained.”
Billie walked over to the small dresser across the room, pulling clothes out of a few drawers and tossing them onto the bed. “Better get to it,” she said with a grin, then dashed across the hall to the bathroom.
After relieving her bladder, she returned to her room and quickly dressed. When she descended the stairs she found her brothers and Michelle in the dining room. The broken chair from yesterday had been removed, presumably outside, and the table was covered with dishes of eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, and pancakes. There were gallon jugs of milk and orange juice on either side of the carafe of coffee.
“Who did all this?” she asked as John was coming out of the half-bath in a fresh polo shirt and jeans.
“I did,” said Michelle. “Andy has been telling me it wasn’t necessary, but I’m a chef—I can’t help cooking. Besides that, feeding yourselves is the last thing any of you should be worried about, so I’m happy to do it for you.”
Teddy, who had a little of everything on his plate, lifted his fork in her direction. “I ain’t complaining,” he said cheerfully.
“You never complain when you don’t have to cook,” Andy pointed out
. “Only when you have to clean—which you’ll be doing by yourself for being such a smartass.”
Billie laughed as she at last took a seat at the table. Andy and Michelle were next to each other on the other side, and Teddy was seated on the end opposite of where their father usually sat. John moved to the last empty chair and asked, “Is this seat taken?”
She shook her head, fighting a grin as she reached to fill her glass with orange juice. “I don’t think Casper the Friendly Ghost is going to be joining us for breakfast, Spy Boy,” she joked lightly.
John grinned as he sat and began to fill his plate. Billie exchanged light conversation with her brothers and Michelle as they ate, John speaking up when asked or interest
ed. The topics were unimportant everyday matters, as no one really wanted to discuss why they were all together.
She had just decided to indulge in a second glass of juice when the phone rang. Everyone froze and looked at one
another, then Billie set the juice back on the table and rose to answer it. She walked to the phone fighting to keep her breathing calm, telling herself that it was not bad news over and over like a mantra as she reached for the phone.
“Ryan residence, this is Billie,” she answered when she put the receiver to her ear.
“Oh, thank goodness,” said Rebecca’s voice on the other end. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be there, but I didn’t know how else to contact you, so I looked you up in the phone book. You weren’t listed and there are a ton of Ryans in there, but then I remembered Eddie telling me your family’s names once, so I decided to try calling every Thomas Ryan in the white pages. Your dad is like, third out of fifteen Thomas Ryans.”
Billie chuckled. “We Irish are prolific, and Thomas is a popular name,” she replied, and behind her she heard both Andy and Teddy sigh with relief. “But I daresay you didn’t call to discuss the procreation habits of the Irish population of Virginia.”
Rebecca laughed a little and then sighed. “No, I certainly did not,” she said solemnly. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me yesterday—hardly got any sleep over it. I admit that I must’ve picked up the phone to call my mom half a dozen times or more, but I stopped myself before I dialed. I remember the looks on everyone’s faces, the grave expressions you all wore. You truly believe that General Wainright is up to something sinister, and I believe you’re right: he must be if he hasn’t even bothered to inform the families of the dead that their loved ones are gone. I didn’t want to put my mother at risk—Eddie would come back from the dead and kill me for it, so I didn’t call.”
The younger woman sighed again, and Billie waited for her to continue, suddenly feeling on edge. “
I want to help,” Rebecca said at last. “And I’m going to do it today.”
B
illie called for John, telling him in a hushed tone when he came to her side that Rebecca had agreed to help them. John then took the phone and gave Rebecca his cell number, instructing her to call the moment she found anything, or to let them know if she’d found nothing at all.
When they returned to the table, Andy regarded them with a
neutral expression. “I take it that call means you won’t be coming to the hospital today?”
Shaking her head as she slipped into her seat, Billie said, “No, I’ll be there.”
Teddy looked at her then. “Does that have anything to do with what happened yesterday?”
“No, I already told you it’s an unrelated matter,” she replied. “It is, however, very important, so I may have to leave the hospital at some point.”
“Have you rejoined the CIA or something?” her younger brother pressed.
Billie glanced sidelong at John. “No, I haven’t.”
“This has something to do with that guy John was fighting with yesterday—Gabe, the one from your recon team. Is that right?” asked Andy.
Stifling a groan but allowing herself a sigh, Billie looked between her brothers as she said, “Yes. As a matter of fact, the whole team is involved. But that is all
that I can tell you right now. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”
Andy and Teddy exchanged a glance. Poor Michelle simply looked lost, and Billie felt sorry for her to be caught in the middle of such a confusing exchange. The rest of the meal was conducted in silence, and when it was finished Teddy dutifully loaded the dishwasher and set it, then they all climbed into their vehicles and headed for the hospital.
In the car, John got a call from Rex. His friend informed them that he had arranged for Dr. Stone to return to the safe house to see Wayne, as she wanted to treat him for withdrawal to see if it would ease his symptoms. She also wanted to take a look at Darren’s shoulder wound to make sure it was still healing well. Billie was relieved that she was so dedicated to taking care of the team, though if Darren’s behavior of the day before was any indication, she was going to have her hands full with him.
Upon their arrival,
Thomas expressed gratitude to Michelle and kissed her cheek when she handed him a canvas bag with a change of clothes in it. “You’re welcome,” she said with a blush, “though if your son didn’t have me along, you’d be stuck wearing yesterday’s clothes for another day.”
Stella laughed then. “It takes a woman to think of the small things, my dear. Had you not brought him something, I would have eventually forced him to go home and change.”
Michelle grinned and agreed with her. Thomas and Andy both seemed relieved to see that the two women were getting along, and Billie surmised they were glad it was one hurdle overcome. It meant that future family get-togethers—happier ones—wouldn’t be fraught with tension. Billie found herself liking them both as well, as they were doing an excellent job of keeping her father and brother occupied and not thinking too much about the seriousness of Kevin’s condition.
While her father was in the men’s room changing, Stella informed them that Kevin’s condition had not changed through the night. “Which is good news, really,” she said. “He hasn’t gotten much better, but he hasn’t gotten any worse. There is good news in that there’s no sign of the swelling around his spine the doctors were worried about, and so far there’s no sign of infection. The doctor also told us that so long as he responds well to being weaned off the ventilator, he may only need a lot of rest and recuperation
and should make a full recovery. His condition has been upgraded to stable, though he’ll remain in ICU until after the ventilator is removed.”
Billie sighed with relief—it was indeed good news. However, her brother’s stable condition
meant that there wasn’t much for any of them to do there. As much as she loved her family and wished to lend her support, she suddenly felt superfluous. She felt like she should be out doing something. Still, she took her turn visiting with Kevin as he slept, telling stories from their childhood to pass the time. John, who had of course accompanied her, found some of them funny and some of them downright shocking.
“What can I say?” she said with a mischievous grin. “Before Teddy came along, Kevin was my closest playmate. Sure, he wanted to hang with the older boys, to be seen as one of them, but the fact that I liked helping him with his pranks cemented our relationship.”
“And I bet that being the only girl got you out of a lot of trouble,” he mused with a grin.
“Indeed it did,” she replied. “Of course, when Mom found out that Teddy was a boy, I admit to being disappointed. I’d wanted a sister to commiserate with about my
brothers being pains in the butt.”
“What changed your mind about him? I’ve noticed you two seem very close.”
“Hero worship,” Billie replied succinctly. “Tommy, Andy, and Kevin were already teaching me to defend myself, even when I was just a little girl. They taught me a little too well, as one day, when Andy had decided to pick on little three-year-old Teddy, I stepped in to defend my baby brother and kicked Andy’s ass. Teddy’s idolized me ever since, and now we’re the best of friends.”
“How old were you when this happened?
You couldn’t have been more than four,” John asked.
“I was six, actually, and Andy was ten.”
“You know,” he said, glancing at Kevin’s still form on the bed. “Sometimes, when I hear stories like that, I wish I hadn’t missed out on having siblings.”
She smirked. “And I bet when you see brothers and sisters fighting, you’re glad a hundred times over that you don’t have any.”
John grinned and shrugged wordlessly. Then his phone beeped, signaling that he’d received a text message. Billie couldn’t help but sit straighter, wondering if it was from Rex or Rebecca.
“General out to lunch—going now before I lose my nerve,” he read from the screen
, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Which reminds me, it is about that time—are you ready to refuel?”
“John!” she admonished, rising from her seat. She then leaned down and kissed Kevin’s forehead, told him she’d be back again later, and pointedly walked out of the room. John followed, catching up out in the corridor.
“Man, how can you think of eating at a time like this?” she bemoaned. “I’m too sick with worry for Rebecca to even care about eating.”
“The tough former Marine and spy is too scared to eat?” he teased her.
Billie punched him in the arm playfully. “I told you, I’m concerned for Eddie’s sister. She’s not a spy, John, and we’ve asked her to play at being one. There’s no telling what the general would do if he caught her.”
John put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Billie, she may not be a spy,” he said, “but Rebecca
is
a Marine.”
“That girl has never seen battle and you know it,” she pointed out sourly.
He nodded. “Maybe so, but she’s still a Marine, honey. She’s had the same basic training that you did.”
Billie sighed as they came to an elevator and stopped. She punched the down button as she said, “I know. Logically I know she’s got some spine—she’s going to be snooping around in the office of a brigadier general, after all
, so she’s got to have some steel in there somewhere. But I feel incredibly responsible for her now. I feel like it should be me in there instead of her, and I hate that I’m not the one taking the risks.”
The elevator pinged its arrival and the doors opened. They had stepped inside and she had pushed the button for the first floor before John responded. “I understand how you feel, believe me. It’s never easy to be sitting on the sidelines waiting for news.”
“’Never easy’? I hate that shit,” she said as the car started its descent. “I’m a woman of action—at least I used to be. And I’ll be honest with you, Johnny B. Goode, despite all the bad shit that’s gone down, everything that’s happened the last few days has actually served to remind me how much I
miss
being a woman of action. I actually miss the tension, the intrigue, even the danger—okay, so I probably miss the adrenaline rush more than the danger. But I’ve come to realize that I have been missing out on life by hiding away from it, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how much I want to be doing something useful again.”
John looked down at her with a look of amazement on hi
s face, and a smile spread from ear to ear. Billie felt almost embarrassed under the scrutiny and looked away from him, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. At that moment the elevator settled and the door opened, and as they were stepping out, John threw an arm casually around her shoulders and planted a kiss on her temple.
“Welcome back, Billie,” he told her.
As the afternoon wore on, Billie fought her restlessness. There had been no further communications from Rebecca, and it was hard not to worry. To assume the worst. To her it was not a matter of trust, as she had complete confidence in the younger woman. It was just that her mind kept returning to the fact that Rebecca was not a field operative or battle-hardened soldier—she was a file clerk, and thus was not as well-equipped mentally to think on the fly. Billie was beginning to wish she had never thought to involve her.
At one point during the day,
the family was seated together in the ICU waiting room. Michelle asked John a question that sufficiently derailed her train of worry: “If you’re in the CIA, why aren’t you out doing, you know, spy stuff?” Billie turned to him even as he laughed, curious as to the answer herself.
“
Only operations officers are quote-unquote spies, Michelle,” he began.
“But you carry a gun. And I read something online
once about how not all CIA agents carry guns,” she pressed.
The others were watching John attentively, probably wondering how much he would—or even could—reveal. “That is correct,
” he said. “Much of what the agency does is to gather and process information vital to the security of the United States, and then decides precisely how to act on that information. Operations officers, or OOs, are the ones who gather the information—again, they’re the so-called spies. Their stock and trade is establishing relationships with people who have access to intel on foreign governments, agencies, and individuals, as well as terrorist organizations, and yes, sometimes they are required to carry a gun. Most do not. Everyone else processes the information they gather and decides what to do with it or about it. I am licensed to carry a sidearm no matter where I go due to my ranking within the company, and frankly because my life has been threatened more than once.”
“
That is, I believe, a fancy way of saying he’s a spy,” Andy said with a grin.
Michelle slapped Andy’s knee. “He still hasn’t answered my question. Why’s he here and not out on assignment or something?”
She then glanced at Billie. “Not that your support is unappreciated, of course.”
John, too, glanced at her, then back at Michelle. “Most
operations officers spend years—the bulk of their careers, in fact—gathering intelligence overseas. The same is true with me, as most of my work has been in Europe and Asia, with a few jaunts to Africa and South America. I’ve done paramilitary jobs as well as standard intelligence gathering and I speak several languages. The reason I am here instead of elsewhere is really quite simple: I’m in transition. I was recalled after my last assignment and came home to decompress. My superior at the agency took advantage of the opportunity to send a trained field agent on what was supposed to be a minor assignment, but…it turns out it’s not so minor. Things have gotten complicated and I’m remaining Stateside to see things through.”
It was a lot
more than he needed to say, Billie mused, and Michelle looked as though she hadn’t quite understood it all. But Andy, Teddy, her father, and surprisingly Stella, all seemed to have grasped the explanation fairly well—John had not only described why he was still around, but the root of what the CIA was all about. Perhaps he’d simply intended to erase from their minds the common misconception (thanks to movies and popular thriller novels) that all spies did was shoot people and blow shit up.
A thought occurred to her then and she turned to him
. “I’ve been wondering, come to think of it, how it is that you have the latitude to keep with this. I would’ve imagined an agent of your caliber getting pulled and debriefed and then reassigned the moment you informed the agency you’d returned with me.”
John looked to her for a moment, then his brow furrowed in thought. “It’s a good question—one I haven’t got the answer to.”
“Maybe they’re hoping by your helping Billie out she’ll agree to return to working for the CIA?” Teddy suggested.
“That’s certainly a possibility,” John replied. “By all accounts she was an exceptional field agent, and I’m fairly certain the agency would welcome her return.”
“No doubt the Marines would as well,” said Thomas. “She’s still eligible to re-up for a few more years.”
“Looks like you got some thinking to do, Billie Jo,” Andy told her.
Billie looked around at the group, and she saw in the eyes of her family members that no matter what she decided, they were just hoping she’d choose to let them remain a part of her life. Though she knew she was not prepared to make a decision about her future career plans at this point, she did know for sure that she was not going to shut the people who loved her out of her life again.