Tomahawk (6 page)

An over excited little boy and girl brought a cake from the back of the class and the room sang Happy Birthday.  Drew by no means was a man of sentiment, but the gesture touched him.  The woman had total control of the class filled with little monsters.  Some grabbed plates, other forks; ice cream was being carried in by another little boy with shaggy red hair.  The whole thing was crazy, because he couldn't take his eyes off of his best friend's girl.

Tonya approached him.  "Victor told me that Saturday was your birthday.  He said that you had to work over the weekend." 

He stood there speechless. This woman didn't even know him and she gave him a party.  "Yeah, I had to lie to the big guy so he could leave the office. Forgive me, bro?" 

He was still speechless at the gesture but more from her beauty and kindness.

"Everyone deserves a party.  I know that this probably isn't your type of crowd."  She smiled and looked at her students giggling and staring up at them.  "But a friend of Vic's is a friend of mine.  Now have some cake."

Years later he would hold on to that memory of his first encounter with her.  Drew felt more guilt than jealousy over their relationship.  After they broke up, there were days that he wanted to just see her, talk to her, and maybe touch her.  Tonya wasn't that type of woman, even if she had hated Vic for breaking her heart, she wouldn't disrespect Vic or herself with fooling around with his best friend. Vic not only hurt himself but him. There was a void when she left.  A hole that they all seemed to ignore but felt it grow bigger and bigger in her absence.  Their lives were never the same. Moving on was the only option.  Drew knew that in their line of work you lose men--good me--in the field every day.  But you don't lose women.

"Are you going to get that?"  Melissa sounding more irritated than before.

Drew's phone was ringing.  "This is Roberts."

"Hey, Drew. This is Manny."

Emmanuel Ford was another one of his and Vic's buddies from the Secret Service.  Manny was an old school guy. He had been in the service for over 15 years.  A good guy by all standards, but he had a vice for young women and gambling.  "Hey, longtime no hear from."

"Um, I called Vic. No answer. Thought I'd call you to relay a message."  The man cleared his throat.  "This will probably be on the news today. Just thought you should know from me first."

With the down pour of crap today, Drew held his breath for what would be more bad news.  "What's going on?"

"Well, the kid is getting out today.  Served his time."

It took all of a third of a second to realize what Manny was saying.  The kid was getting out of jail today.  "What time is he getting out?"

He knew the old man was looking down at his watch.  "Well, probably in the next hour or so.  Not going to keep you on the phone all day. Just thought that the two of you should know.  Look, I'll talk to you later. And tell Vic, hope all is well."

Drew didn't even give him a goodbye, just hung up.  "Was that Abraham Lincoln on the phone?"  Melissa asked peeking over the computer.

"What?"  Drew was still gripping the phone.

"You just turned a different color; you are as white as a sheet.  And that is a pretty good for a man in your state."

"Being black is not a state.  And no our 16th president wasn't on the phone."  Drew turned and looked at the phone and then looked at his spaghetti.  He had forgotten just about everything that he had been doing moments ago.

"Soooo, who was it and why do you look like a man that is about to do something really stupid?"

Drew had no idea how to answer that question.  "The president's son has just been released from prison."

"I'll go wait in the lobby."  Ryan walked backwards to the door out of one of the most awkward experiences that he had ever encountered.  "If you need me. I'll have my cell."  Then he shut the door.

I stood in the doorway of the hotel bedroom.  "This looks like the hotel we got when we went to Vegas that time."  Which it did.  That was our first vacation that we took as a couple.  It was a short trip. Got there Thursday night and left Sunday morning.  Tonya and I had only been together maybe four months at the time. It was the first time we ever made love.

I didn't want to put any pressure on her. I had even offered to pay for separate rooms.  I'm glad that she declined that offer.  "Yeah, it kind of does.  The room in Vegas was a little bit bigger," she said, looking out the window.

"That was a good weekend."

"It was."

"Tonya, I know--"

"Vic, look I'll be good.  I won't run away. I will allow you to keep an eye on me.  But that's how far it will go, okay?  You and I do not have to travel down memory lane."  Still not keeping eye contact with me. She scratched the air cast that covered her arm.

"That sounds fair."  I pulled a chair towards the bed.  It wasn't fair. I wanted her to remember me.  I desired for her to feel what she felt in that hotel room years ago.  "Tonya, I have to ask you a few questions about everything that's going on. Is that okay?"  She nodded in agreement.  "Let me get the stupid ones out the way for first.  Do you know who would want to kill you?"

She shook her no and looked back out the window.  The clock on the nightstand was reaching towards 11:30.  "Did you notice any strange men hanging around at your work or at your house?  Maybe some guy that you blew off. Anything?"

"Right now your guess is as good as mine."  She stood barefoot and hobbled over to the window.  I had no idea what she was looking at, but she stood on her tip toes to look.  "I just want this nightmare to be over."

"I know you do and I will do everything in my power to find him."

"Then what?"  Tonya turned and looked at me.  "You catch him then what, Vic?  I can still feel him on me. I can smell him."  She paused and closed her eyes.  "You never told me what you did for a living.  I knew that you worked for the Secret Service, but in what capacity I don't know.  You never talked about your time in the military either."  She smiled.  "I know that you have killed people, Vic."  Her statement took me by surprise.  I tried my hardest not to let her see that part of me, let her know what my hands were capable of doing to another human being.  I never wanted her to know. 

She walked towards me, slightly hopping over to me on her good leg. "I know that you want to protect me, simply because that is the way that you are programmed.  If you ever cared about me in your life, ever had a shred of feelings for me, you will let me do one thing."

Tonya stood in between my parted legs.   There was a dried up scab on her upper lip and black, swollen bottom lid on her right eye.  I would grant her any wish, give her anything she desired no matter how impossible the task may be.  I took a deep breath.  "What's your one thing?"

"Let me kill him."

"Why the hell won't he answer the phone?"  Drew began to pace in Vic's kitchen.

"You need to sit down. You are wearing a path on the tile." She was still looking down at her computer screen. Melissa gulped some water out of the bottle.  "Right now, Vic is trying to make nice with the girl, get her to trust him again.  He'll be back soon."

Drew didn't have the responsibility of the other group members.  He was never burdened by thinking a plan completely out, just to finish it.  He was their weapons man.  If it could kill, Drew knew how to handle it.  If Vic needed a man dead, he was dead that day.  But this, the situation was saying something to him, but he didn't know what.  Tonya's attack, the president's son.  They said things happened in threes. Drew's heart couldn't take another beating.  "Vic just needs to answer the phone."  He looked Melissa's way, who seemed to care less about everything that had happened in the last few hours.  He wanted to tell her about herself, let her know that her services were no longer needed.  He was just plain sick of looking at her.  "Give me the address to the hotel."

Before she could register his words, Drew was already out the door.  Melissa sent the address and room number to his cell phone. She thought, what was it with this girl?  She must’ve put it on Vic for him to be so wrapped up in love with her.  Melissa was brought up on strength. She had to be. There was no other option.  Just one of 17 women in the field of expertise in black bag operations.  True, she never had to be in the thick of things, but working covertly on human intelligence was dicey at times.

Scooting away from the computer, she took another swig of her bottled water.  Tonya Irvine reeked of weakness, filled the house with it.  Melissa wrinkled her nose.  If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that Ryan had a thing for her too.  The way that he screamed in her face, the way that he pointed his finger at her.  She shifted in her seat, now suddenly uncomfortable.  Ryan was quick to run to her defense.

Melissa stood and went to the fridge for more water.  If only Ryan could see her as more than one of the guys.  She was never the one to play the dumb blonde to get attention. Her dance card was never full on a Saturday night.  Most men didn't want to date a girl that they knew could kick their ass.  She smiled at that thought.  Melissa had been on over 70 missions, listened to over a thousand hours of conversation in her career for her government, which gave her the experience of people.  She had watched people turn their once loyal backs on their people and their country.  Half-truths had been said and implied and downright lies had been told to cover their own asses or others.  That much experience lead her to believe this goody two shoes was lying about something.  She knew something about the attacks.  No way in the world you live through the shit storm in the last few hours and not have an idea of who was behind it.  Melissa continued to dig.

There was a knock on the door.  "Shit."  She pushed away from the table.  Swinging the door wide.  "Can I help you?"

"Hopefully--" a black-haired man said.  He wore a wrinkled suit and looked like he had been up for days.  "Is a Mr. Thomas Moore in?  I would like to speak to him."

Melissa thought quickly. Victor went by his middle name.  "Who are you?"  Melissa barked.  One hand on the door the other on the small of her back where she kept her .45.

She watched him close as he went into his breast pocket and pulled out a badge.  "I'm Special Agent Richard Kinney.  I would like to speak to Mr. Moore."

Giving him a look up and down.  "I'm sorry to disappoint, but Mr. Moore isn't here."  She began to close the door; the agent was faster than she thought.  He put his foot in the door, lowered and put his shoulder down and barged in the house.  Before she could raise her weapon he had a grip on her wrist.  Melissa held on until the strain of his vise grip made her release her gun.