Angelique Rising (19 page)

             
Wyatt reached Angelique who was still flailing her arms rowdily, gesticulating her victory and shouting. Without any pause Wyatt shoved himself directly into her midsection hurling her up onto his shoulder, turning and running back to the helicopter into which he pitched her none too ceremoniously.

             
I am
so
gonna kill her, he fumed in utter wrath.

*****

              "It's done," Johnson said to Wyatt later that night in Wyatt's house, in his study.

             
"You want a drink?" Wyatt asked him.

             
Normally Johnson would have said no, not a good idea to drink with the boss, but this... "Okay," he said.

             
"How did it go down?" Wyatt asked handing him a pretty stiff one, Wyatt figured Johnson could use it. The whole thing had probably brought back some pretty bad memories for Johnson, reasons why he'd left the CIA in the first place.

             
"I met them in the hanger, made the transfer there. They're sure it's him."

             
"I imagine they were fairly delighted."

             
"As delighted as I'm sure our own people are pissed. You must have had your hands full keeping them occupied."

             
"It was worth it. The Saudis will be doing a far better job of administering justice than our people could. Ours might have even traded him for something, some information he'll offer them. I wouldn't like that."

             
"Well the Saudis definitely won't. Blow up one of their princes, his wife and three kids, no, there will be no bartering. His punishment... will be severe."

             
"Pity he was the only one you got out of that car. I'm not criticizing, just... I would have liked to have gotten all of them."

             
"Alone I could only handle one and I took the most important one," Johnson said sitting down on Wyatt's couch.

             
"What will happen to the other two?"

             
"When they're released from the hospital they'll be sent home. They'll have diplomatic immunity. Their government, however, is quite displeased with them. Which brings me to Rashid."

             
"He's probably on a plane home by now. That bastard didn't even stop to pick up his own men. I will deal with him."

             
"I would like to talk to you about that." Johnson could see it in Wyatt's face, clear as day, and it shook his soul.

             
"He tried to take my wife, Johnson. You know there can be only one punishment for that."

             
"Please... Wyatt." Johnson had never called him that before. "Hear me out. What I know you are going to do, it changes a man. I know that. You have a beautiful wife. You must stay a beautiful man, for her. Do what you're planning to do to Rashid and you won't be, not for a long time, maybe never again. You know I speak from personal experience."

             
"You expect me to just let it go?" Wyatt asked, sitting in a leather chair near his picture window, his own drink in hand (actually his second).

             
"No, no. I have spoken to my contact in Rashid's government. They are not happy with any of this, not at all. They are particularly peeved that Rashid was going to saddle them with that Chinese port just to line his own pockets. They have asked for some time before you carry out your... retribution. They want to look into this, verify things. Once they do they would like to handle this internally. With your agreement. And by the way if you
do
agree, they will give you the port deal just as starters. They are asking for a week."

             
"A
week?
Rashid hired the world's premiere kidnapper assassin to abduct my wife, risked my sister's life, and they want a
week
to sort it out? Shit no."

             
"Two days. Give them two days then. Sir, I guarantee their punishment of Rashid will be appropriate. They very much do not like this kind of embarrassing behavior committed by their members in the West. And his money will actually work against him, they will now have grounds to appropriate it. Please."

             
Wyatt was burning. He wanted to pick up the phone and call in the favor he'd thought he'd never use, but Rashid had tried to kidnap Angelique and what he would have done to her... Wyatt couldn't stand it. But Wyatt knew that Johnson was
asking.
In all the time Johnson had worked for Wyatt, Johnson had never asked for anything yet now he was. And the thing that Johnson was asking for was that Wyatt not become a killer. Like Johnson had once been. He paused and there was silence in the room for several minutes. Finally Wyatt spoke.

             
"Two days," he brooded. "And it better be fitting. For all of them."

             
"Thank you, sir," Johnson said, his insides mercifully unclenching. "I will keep you informed. Now I must go deal with State. They are nuclear we handed that filth over to the Saudis instead of to them. And you..." he didn't know how to say it, he didn't have the words and worried this might be the very wrong moment, "will... speak... with Mrs. Cochran tonight? She meant no harm, sir. This situation was completely new to her."

             
"Mrs. Cochran," Wyatt said putting his drink down, his eyes suddenly hard, "I
will
be dealing with."

             
Johnson nodded. There was nothing more he could do for her. It just wasn't going to be Angelique's night.

*****

              Angelique lay on the bed near paralyzed. He'd actually
done
it. When he'd finished, she'd fled into the bathroom staring at her cherry red bottom in the mirror. She couldn't believe it.

             
I said I will take you over my knee right now. I wasn't kidding. You ever again do anything I think puts yourself at serious risk --like that poker game of yours-- I'll do it. Maybe worse. I don't know. You choose to be my wife, you accept that right now. No crying about it later.

             
He'd told her to stay at the restaurant. She hadn't. And that had earned her... she just couldn't believe it. And the ferocity of it!

             
And you can bet if there's ever a next time it won't just be my hand, Angelique.

             
Come to think about it, how could he do that to her without his hand being just as sore as her... And strangely, in all of it, he hadn't even mentioned his
car
, his try-not-to-scratch-it eight hundred thousand dollar car she'd nearly destroyed.

             
Who cares, how could he have done
that
to her! Where does a man
learn
that sort of... she gasped.

             
But I have to admit, he did teach me some stuff.

             
Malcolm.

             
That stinking godrotting uncle of his, that's who she had to thank for Wyatt hauling her across his lap, yanking her pants down (oh
Gawd
she groaned inwardly) and walloping her backside again and again and...

             
Malcolm.

             
"I know you're awake," Wyatt said in the dark beside her, his voice strained, feeling like he was in the eye of a storm but nonetheless craving her. "If you want to cry, go ahead, but if you're going to pout for heaven's sake go put some more clothes on."

             
She wouldn't look at him and for a moment she almost wasn't going to answer him, just continue the silent treatment. But the sulking wasn't doing it for her so she went back to making him feel badly. Before leaving the bathroom she'd stared at herself in the mirror hard, thinking
wounded fawn.
That had gotten him but good when she'd emerged, he'd looked positively stricken. Served him right.

             
"It hurts," she whimpered a bit theatrically.

             
"It's supposed to."

             
She'd been right. He
was
a shit.

             
"I can put some cream on it if you want."

             
Okay now that made no sense. One minute he was smacking the hell out of her rear end, the next he was offering to rub cream on it?

             
"Why did you do that, Wyatt?" she asked trying to keep the sniffle out of her voice.

             
"I told you why. And I'd do it again. You
have
to learn, Angelique. I don't demand much but I do demand that you not take risks with your safety."

             
"I'm your
wife
not a five year old kid."

             
"I believe I warned you about the
painful lessons for both of us in the you-sure-won't-do-anything-like-that-again department
. Quite clearly as I recall. Hopefully you are now sufficiently enlightened."

             
"I should leave you."

             
"I'd bring you back and spank you again for risking your safety by going."

             
"You know what really burns me up about this, Wyatt?"

             
"Well, yeah, I know what's burning you up, that's why I offered to go get the cream."

             
"It's my name!"

             
"What?"

             
"My nickname!
May-May
. It's the name of a character from a novel, a character who's the
tai-tai,
wife, of a rich businessman.
And he spanks her!"

             
"Well... sorta prophetic then, wouldn't you say? I told you to stay at that restaurant --where you would have been safe and we would have gotten to you within minutes-- but you wouldn't do it. Something like that doesn't
ever
happen again, or Angelique, I'm warning you, you and this May-May character will again share sore butts."

             
She couldn't think of an answer for that because even in her pique the horrible, wretched, awful, humongous truth of it was that she knew he was right --she shouldn't have left the restaurant, and, she needed him to protect her. Somehow she knew that. And knew he knew it and knew she knew he knew it.

             
Damn it to hell!

             
"Angelique, I love you. I didn't enjoy doing that. But when I was up in that helicopter, helpless, watching those guys after you, knowing what Rashid wanted... I died a million deaths, baby. You have to understand that. Please. Never again."

             
"How'm I going to be able to sit down today?" she sniveled.

             
He heard the tiny inflection of forgiveness in her voice, petulant forgiveness perhaps but still forgiveness, and he carefully reached out to her. She didn't shoo him away so he slowly and gently pulled her toward him, rolling her onto her side and wrapping his arm around her.

             
"Could'a been a week," he mumbled with zero delicacy.

             
"Yeah? Why not?" she sniffed, furtively rubbing her backside quite grateful for any restraint he'd utilized.

             
"Something Johnson said, he pled your case to me. I'm going to go get the cream, don't worry about tomorrow, you can hang around and mope all day if you want. I'm taking the day off, I'll wait on you hand and foot." There it was, the concern.

             
The love.

             
Oh screw it
she simmered, a rather magnificent understatement considering, and for some inexplicable reason she just felt herself beginning to write it off. And she had to admit, the next time he told her to do something, well, she maybe might give it a bit more consideration.

             
And then again she might not.

*****

              A few weeks later, Angelique was on the phone. "Will you call?" she asked. "I don't mean right away, I mean after you get settled, I know you're going to be busy. Or send me an email."

             
"Absolutely, Ange! City-of-Lights, I'm gonna check out every one of them! The car's here! A stretch limo no less. I gotta go. You take care of yourself, Ange, if that gorgeous megalomaniac hubby of yours ever tries that again, I'm telling you --the nuts! Always go for the nuts! Bye!"