part0099

S avage and Terry arrived at the Irish bar where Sam told them to meet her, and by the looks of it, only the woman herself was there with no unannounced visitors to join them. Terry hadn’t been joking when he said she would start on the shots for them. She had also ordered what looked like nachos and cheesy fries for the table too, which she had already dug into by the time they arrived.

“Hey, you’re here,” she shouted, a little loudly and with a slight slur. “You’re all fucking late, so I had to start without you.”

“Well, this is a charming little place.” Savage looked around. It seemed too small to have a kitchen in the back, but New York had a way of teaching people to be efficient in the use of space. Still, it wasn’t anywhere near as big as most other establishments he’d been in. Of the fifteen or so tables, about half were full, although more people trickled in as the hour grew later. Most had the look of regulars who were there almost every night. The room was dark. A couple of TVs above the bar showed sports channels Savage didn’t think he had time to catch up on. He had been out of the loop when it came to sports and simply saved all the games on his TV at home, so when he eventually had the time to get back to it, he could.

Not just yet, though.

“So, is everything in place?” Sam asked. Her gaze encompassed them both as she started to pass the first round of shots.

“We have a plan to work with, yeah,” Savage said with a grin as he took the first shot of Irish Whiskey and his companions followed suit.

“It’s a crazy fucking masterpiece of a plan,” she said and actually shivered as the burning liquid moved down her throat. “And that’s the highest compliment I can pay, so you’d better be all impressed and shit.”

He looked at Terry, who bristled visibly at the profanities she used. Thankfully, the man had spent a fair amount time around her over the past few months, so he had begun to build up a tolerance to her foul mouth.

Kudos for him, he thought as he downed another shot and scowled. Sam pushed the plates of nachos and fries over to him.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, a working dad and all that. I assumed your tolerance is all the way down since you don’t drink that much,” she replied cheekily.

“I’ll kick you in the shins,” he retorted, but he decided to go with the starchy foods anyway. She was wrong about his tolerance, but he didn’t want to actually try to get drunk. He wanted to drink and celebrate. Libations were important before a big fight.

He grabbed a couple of the fries and shoved the nachos over to Terry, who chuckled.

“Unlike the two of you, my tolerance for alcohol is actually rather low,” the sniper said. He chewed on a couple of the nachos while Sam called the bartender over. The man took the empty glasses, set up another group, and poured until they were full.

“Leave the bottle,” Sam said. “And bring another round of beers. It’ll be a long night.”

“My kind of night,” Savage said with a grin. He pushed a couple of the shot glasses to Sam and Terry and took another for himself. It would definitely be a long night. His gaze drifted to scan the bar as they all did despite the relaxed occasion. It was in their blood to constantly assess their surroundings and learn the exits no matter how drunk they were.

His gaze wandered a little. The shots had begun to affect him but he was able to refocus when the bartender brought their beers to the table and jolted him back to reality. He glanced at the bar again and the stools around it. More precisely, the brunette in a criminally short skirt who had just perched on one of the seats. He craned his neck slightly to try to get a view of the rest of her.

“I think we lost Savage,” Sam pointed out as she looked at Terry, who dug into the starches to help his body process the liquor he had consumed.

“Well, we were bound to eventually,” he replied, leaned back in his seat, and stretched. “I suppose I was hoping we would get to hang out for a while longer, at least until we were all equally drunk.”

Savage turned to his group. “I’m not lost. Promise. Merely…appreciating the view from over here.”

“I think we should make a drinking game of it,” Sam said with a firm nod and took a sip of her beer. “You know, something like…drink when Savage’s eyes start to wander, long sip when he loses track of the conversation, and we all take a shot when he decides he’ll get our refills at the bar?”

“That sounds about right.” Terry chuckled.

“Yeah, you two are playing it off like an old married couple.” He raised his glass in a mock toast and took a big sip to taste the beer they’d ordered for him. It wasn’t the best he’d ever drunk, but it was ice-cold, which made up for that.

“Ugh, for the last time, we’re not fucking sleeping together,” Sam protested.

“Like I said, an old married couple.” He grinned and ducked when the woman tossed a handful of chips at him.

The bartender sent them a couple of dirty glances, which was really all he could spare as the place had filled up. Still, they took the hint and the two men quickly cleaned up Sam’s mess.

Savage did notice that the brunette he’d noticed before sighed and looked around the room, a classic indicator that she was looking for someone to come along and buy her a drink. The chances were good that she simply wanted a way to kill time until her date, boyfriend, or group of friends showed up, but at this point, he really didn’t care. His inhibitions were lowered by the sudden intake of alcohol, and dammit, he would take advantage of that.

“You two,” he said as Terry and Sam continued to argue about not being an old married couple. “Drink, and drink.”

He pointed at the beer first, then the shots, as he pushed himself clear of the booth they shared and wandered to the bar. His beer didn’t need refilling. It would still be there for him when he returned once he’d been shot down. Or maybe not. In which case, Sam would be there to finish his beer for him. She seemed the type to not waste good alcohol.

It took a while to push through the crowd that now filled the small pub but he reached the bar without mishap. He wasn’t attended to immediately, so he took his time before he approached the young woman. She noticed him and offered him a tentative, invitational smile as he sat down beside her.

“Not to be cliché or anything, but can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

She was about to answer when a hand touched his shoulder. Well, grab was more appropriate. He was dragged around to face the person in question. As drunk as he was, it took him a second to realize who it was.

“Anderson!” he said, a little too loudly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came in to try to talk you out of doing something stupid,” the man said with a grin. “And then maybe get you to avoid going into a heavily fortified bunker on your own.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked and glanced at the brunette. “By the way, meet my friend… What was your name again?”

It looked like the woman was about to answer, but Anderson cut in first. “Whatever her name is, she came in with her boyfriend who’s sitting in the corner over there.”

“Hey, thanks a lot, asshole,” the woman snapped and pushed herself up from her seat.

“You’re trying to steal drinks from gullible, drunk guys,” he retorted, his tone sharp. “Get lost, asshole bitch.”

Her eyebrows raised but she knew he was in the right in this particular situation. All she could really do was huff, act offended, and return to her boyfriend, who looked annoyed at her inability to score him free drinks.

“Well, I think I owe you one for that,” Savage said with a grin.

“There was the one in that other bar,” the former colonel reminded him as they shuffled through the crowds to the table where Terry and Sam waited.

“I paid you back for that one by saving your life a couple of hours later, so that doesn’t count,” he said and shook his head decisively.

“Well, I’m cashing in on this favor right now to get you to rethink your current strategy,” Anderson said. He slid into the booth beside Terry, which forced Savage into the opposite seat with Sam, who draped her arm over his shoulder. “It’s suicide and you know it. Suicide’s a sin, Savage. It should be me going in there.”

“Not if you’re not Catholic,” he pointed out and reclaimed his beer. “I’m not Catholic. I can do crazy shit all I want. Besides, it has to be me. Otherwise, the plan doesn’t work.”

“I disagree with that,” she said. “I like you, Jer. You shouldn’t do any crazy shit. Leave that to me. I’m the crazy one. Everyone knows that.”

“The woman has a point,” Terry said with a chuckle.

“I’ll drink to it.” He grinned, picked his beer up, and added the contents of the last shot glass that was still full before he raised it in another silent toast.

Savage staggered out of the bar, but by the time he reached the street, he had managed to straighten his steps and his clothes. He was drunk, more or less. His tolerance for alcohol was still strong, and it took him more than five or six shots and a couple of pints of beer to bring him to the strip down to his underwear and sing kind of drunk. He’d starched up, hydrated, and taken his time, and he was done with the drinking part of the night in less than an hour and a half. That was a personal record.

Of course, he’d had to sell the whole schtick of having a low tolerance Sam had hinted at or outright goaded him into, but he didn’t mind. He did his best drinking in smaller, safer locales with fewer people around. He’d never bought into the appeal of a crowded bar—too much noise and too many people he hadn’t specifically chosen to be around. Terry, Sam, and Anderson were all well and good, but the same couldn’t be said about the literally dozens of people who crowded into the place. It had reached a point where he simply hadn’t been able to enjoy himself.

He had booked a room in a hotel for the night as he didn’t want to sleep in the cot in the abandoned building where Terry and Sam were still headquartered. He was sure they had rooms elsewhere too and had only set the cots up in case they needed to hunker down there for the night or take a nap in the middle of the day.

It wasn’t the best accommodation but was within walking distance, so he didn’t need to take a cab. Besides, a brisk walk in the chilly New York evening had a shocking effect and would dispel the warm, drunken feeling he was filled with at the moment. A ten-minute walk was enough to exorcise most of it and to make his nose and ears numb before he reached the hotel.

Check-in was a quick and easy process. He used the ID Anja had provided him with earlier that day in the name of David Baker. Sam had mentioned something about a doctor, but she hadn’t actually given him an explanation so he was none the wiser. He would ask her about it later if he had the time and remembered something so inconsequential. There were other more important things, like requesting a room with a queen-sized bed.

“Of course, sir. The room was already selected in your reservation,” the night manager said with a polite smile.

Savage didn’t remember doing that, but maybe he had pressed the button and simply not noticed it.

He asked for a full mini-bar and about the kitchen. Food was a definite requirement in order to keep his stomach settled. He was informed that the room service menu was available all night long.

The man remained quietly polite, but the operative wondered if he could tell he was halfway to drunk—or maybe a little more than half. It seemed likely that he could, if only from his breath. He liked to think he would have been able to tell if someone as drunk as he was approached. Besides, these guys dealt with drunk patrons all the time, right?

With check-in complete, he located the room and unlocked it with the key that had been handed to him. Too late, he realized he should have noticed that the light inside was already on. His hand instantly found the pistol under his jacket. It might not have been the best idea to bring a gun to a bar, but he hadn’t really thought all that much tonight.

Compared to most of his life, the night had lacked uncomfortable surprises. That alone meant he should have seen this one coming.

“You can put the gun away,” Dr. Jessica Coleman said with a smile, still seated on the single chair in the room which had been pushed into the corner beside the night light.

Savage realized he’d drawn the piece halfway out of his holster, his thumb already on the safety, ready for a fight.

“Sorry,” he said and shook his head as he shoved the piece away and covered it with his coat. “I’m still a little jumpy. It’s been one of those…weeks.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jessica said with a chuckle.

“How did you hear that?” he asked and narrowed his eyes. “Actually, how are you here in my roo— Damn it, Anja!”

“What? I said I liked her,” the hacker said over the comm link he still had in his ear. “You might want to take the earbud out, though, if you don’t want me listening in.”

“You’ll simply hack into my phone,” he reminded her.

“Well, I’m curious, but I’m not that curious,” she protested. “You kids deserve some privacy. Have fun!”

He took her advice and removed the device from his ear and placed it on the bedside table before he sat on the bed. “Kids. Yeah, right. I’m reasonably sure I’m older than she is.”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant,” Jessica said softly, her gaze assessing but not challenging.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked with a little more heat in his tone than he’d intended.

“Anderson filled me in on what you were doing, and…well, I assumed everyone would tell you to reconsider.”

“And you won’t?” His question was a little curt as he removed his jacket and placed it on the bed.

“No, I’m here to wish you good luck.” She grinned cheerfully. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you it’s that once you settle on the course of action you think is right, you’re the only one who can convince you to change it. That and the fact that fortune tends to bend herself over backward to accommodate your schemes.”

“Fortune, huh?” He snorted derisively. “Is that what you call me getting shot and beat up in that hotel in Charlotte?”

“Not that specifically, but me being there to bail you out and help you out with your injuries was fortunate, wouldn’t you say?”

Savage nodded. “What happened later that night of course was…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, mainly because he wasn’t at all sure what it was. It continued to elude his attempts to explain it.

“We both needed each other that night,” she said. “It was a moment of crisis and danger, and we found comfort in each other. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“It did make things complicated, you have to admit that,” he pointed out.

“Sure,” she responded but her small shrug was almost dismissive. “But complicated doesn’t always mean worse. It was an enjoyable evening for us both, but that doesn’t mean anything needs to come of it. We’re both adults, we should be able to move on and keep things in context.”

He needed a moment to compose himself as there was still a little too much alcohol in his system for him to trust whatever came to his mind first. “I’ll be honest, I really did want something to come of it. It’s been tough, and being with you was one of the best things I’ve had in this short new life I’ve lived. The only problem I see is that…well, I don’t think it’ll be what you’re looking for. I won’t be able to engage myself fully if that makes sense. There’s too much baggage on my end. Too much Savage, and not enough Jeremiah left—I suppose that would be the best way to explain it.”

She nodded and pushed up from her seat. He stood as well and assumed that as she hadn’t heard the answer she’d wanted, she would therefore take her leave. It was entirely understandable, and he didn’t blame her. He wasn’t the family man he’d been before—or at least someone who tried to be—and the truth was that he had moved way past normal or even halfway committed relationships.

“I understand,” she said softly, but instead of making her way to the door, she moved closer to him. There was a moment where he thought she might want a goodbye hug or something. While he wasn’t much of a hugger, he could make an exception for her in this instance. She had made it worth it, he thought.

It seemed he had completely misinterpreted her intentions. She hesitated for only a moment, then draped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him in. He didn’t resist when she pressed her lips to his with a warm, tender touch. The kiss was soft at first, but the longer it lasted, the more intense it became. He realized that she used the opportunity to push him slowly into the bed behind him.

Savage landed roughly and it creaked loudly beneath him. Jessica clambered after him and straddled his hips in a smooth motion. She pressed her lips onto his neck and ran her hands under his shirt to find and trace his hard-planed torso.

“I thought you said—” He tried to voice a protest but his words were cut off by a sudden and almost electric shiver up his spine.

“Well,” she replied to his unfinished question, her lips still close enough to his bare skin that he could feel her lips move and the vibration of her voice and the heat of her breath on his neck. “I decided that I’d come all this way, so I might as well have something to remember you by, right? And I don’t mean something from the JFK Airport souvenir shop.”

He couldn’t really argue with that as she already busied herself with removing his holster, followed quickly by his shirt. She added her own to create a growing pile of discarded clothes and shifted a little over his hips to compensate for the disparity in their heights. He drifted his hands down her sides and she grinned at him from her perch.