Die for You

Chapter 11

Cover photo: Sarge's army passing out photo

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I avoided her after that conversation. I only spoke to tell her to use the bathroom without turning the light on or opening the blinds. I was on stag duty, watching through a crack in the curtain. Finally my phone rang again, cutting through the atmosphere that had built since our frank little talk.

"JJ, fucking hell! I asked you not to leave me hanging for fuck's sake, what the hell is going on?"

I wasn't so much angry at him, but angry at the situation he'd left me in. I was feeling burnt, stung by the re-opening of the festering wound that had never quite healed, trapped in that endless moment where you're forced to examine your own life and you find there's not a lot to like.

"Easy Sarge, we've had a bit of trouble arranging the team, that's all. Can you get Rebecca ready to move quickly? The police are ready to move in now."

I summarized the plan as quickly as I could, confirming that I understood what he needed me to do. When the red flag goes down, there's no time to fuck around; the less time spent asking stupid questions, the more time we had to execute the plan.

"Text, down stairs, police car, Armstrong Industries, got it, LT."

"Right, good luck, Sarge, see you on the other side."

"Gotcha LT, and sorry, okay?"

"No problem, Freen. Take it easy."

"Yeah, slow and low, LT."

"Low and slow, Sarge."

Sure enough, five minutes later I received a text that just said 'Now'. I'd already briefed Miss Armstrong on the plan; and once we heard the knock, we were already out of the door and heading down the stairs, the two officers in full body armor carrying their MP5s were a welcome sight as we headed into the hallway.

As operations go it had been swift and effective. Forty minutes we'd lost spent confined in that seemingly endless moment. Forty minutes I'd spent trapped with her with no means of escape; and a small part of me wished it had been forty minutes more.

As we drove through London, the police radio kept us informed that the suspects were quickly caught, but there was no mention of weapons. It could be another recon team, but it left me curious and worried about how they found us.

We arrived at Armstrong Industries' underground car park and were greeted by Rob Armstrong himself. Standing next to him, looking pleased, was James.

"Becky, love, are you all right?" Rob asked as she got out of the car pulling her into a hug. "I was so worried about you, thank heavens for Freen and her quick thinking."

"I'm fine, daddy," she said, suddenly back in her alternate form, sounding so different to the woman I'd spoken to in the darkness of her flat. "Can we just go upstairs? I'm sure our guests won't want to be kept waiting any longer than they have to be."

Without even a backwards glance, she set off with her father, her mask held firmly in place. Smiling to myself, I fell into step with James behind them.

"Interesting morning, Blondie, seems you have a knack for finding yourself in trouble."

I gave him a sidelong glance, "I need to talk to you about that, boss, I'm just a little concerned about how easily they picked us up. I think they might have a leak."

"Oh, they certainly have a leak, since your face has been plastered all over the news since this morning. That picture of you in your dress uniform is quite a good one, you know?"