Dead Love (3 page)

He touched her, his hand between her legs, his fingers exploring her, both wanting more, but she pushed him away, grasped him, and began licking and sucking his full male hardness, wanting and needing him inside of her. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have her. Now. He entered her and gently but rhythmically made love to her. He was an adept lover and Suzy was craving his every move, every caress, every kiss, feeling his strong masculine chest against her breasts. She clung to him, feeling no inhibitions, only longing. He was part of her, his power lunging into her; holding her beautiful ass, he was pulling her against him with each thrust. Her heart pounded as his exquisite cock filled her, making her fall into the hypnotic trance of passionate love, and she began to moan, very low, whispering, “Max, oh Max,” and he couldn’t stop until they both came, his warmth flowing into her, neither thinking of anything but the now, this moment, and never wanting it to end.

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6

J
oey got to the Subway Office, Upper West Side, by 6:15 a.m. He had about fifteen minutes to spare. He clocked in and said good morning to the station manager.

“Hi, Marty,” he said to his boss, who was sitting at his desk, head down, shoulders hunched, staring at his computer screen.

Joey wasn’t sure how old Marty was, probably mid-fifties, but he knew the hours were long and Marty could get pretty stressed out. He complained a lot about the constant bureaucratic bullshit emails and endless reports he had to complete. Five maintenance staff worked this station and Marty had to write up any and all out of the ordinary events that occurred, plus maintain schedules for two other stations as well. When summer vacations started, his work load would get worse, but Joey and the other guys liked Marty and put up with his attitude. He and Marty were good friends and Joey knew Marty relied on him when any problem cropped up.

“How was your weekend?” Joey asked Marty.

Marty said, “The usual, how was yours?” Marty wasn’t much for small talk, but was an okay boss. He left Joey alone, knowing Joey was a responsible guy. He had to ride several of the others, so Joey did pretty well, just showing up and being there on time. Plus Joey didn’t miss much, keeping his eye on the crowds, the rails, and keeping the place swept and orderly.

“It was a good weekend,” Joey answered. “Did you see the game last night? Unbelievable. I didn’t think they would win, and then Jeter hit it out of the park. The Yankees may have a chance to win the pennant this year.”

Marty said, “Yeah, loved the game, but fell asleep after the seventh inning. Crap! I hate when I do that. Then I miss the best part. At least they won. I hate waking up to a blowout.”

Joey put his lunch in his locker, poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup, and then sat down in one of the chairs at the lunch table. He didn’t have much time, but needed a bit more coffee to get him started.

“Sure is a hot June,” Joey observed. “If the whole summer is like this, the city is going to be miserable, and the passengers are going to be a pain in the ass. It’s going to mean more trouble with gang bangers and robberies and God knows what.”

Marty said, “We just have to rely on the cops, and if you see anything out of the ordinary, just radio for help, and you’ll get back up fast. The cops are always on patrol at most of the stations.”

Joey said, “Yeah, I know, but five minutes can be a long time when I am in a face-off with a gang of punks and I don’t have jack for protection.”

Marty understood fully. Joey had been in several tussles with purse snatchers, drug users, and other assholes causing trouble. The police were diligent, but shit happens fast, and Joey knew it. He was a big guy though and had confidence. Other maintenance staff began to arrive as Joey finished his coffee. He headed out of the gray door that would take him to the steps leading to the platform. “Hey, fellas,” and a few “Monday morning” comments were made in passing.

It was early, but that gave him some time to sweep, empty the trash bins, and do his routine safety check before crowds got really heavy. It was boring at times, but he liked staying busy and knew it was an important job. Anything thrown on the rails could be trouble, and he didn’t want a problem on his watch.

Joey headed up the stairs to the platform from the lower level. At least it was a cool place to work, out of the summer heat.

People were milling around, waiting for the next car.

“Another day at the salt mines,” he thought.

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7

T
he phone call came in to the main switchboard at the Manhattan Field Office of the FBI at exactly 8:00 a.m. that Monday morning. The call had been recorded, and the alert operator immediately informed her ranking supervisor, who contacted Special Agent Georgiana Reed. The NYC subway system was the target of a possible terrorist threat. The source was unknown, possibly a hoax, but all threatening calls were taken seriously.

Agent Reed reacted immediately and picked up the phone to call her partner, Mark Strickland. “Come to my office right away, Mark.”

Georgiana’s tone made it clear that this was no ordinary bullshit session. Mark was a fairly new agent at the Manhattan Field Office, early into his second year with the FBI, but he had ten years of experience on the NYPD. Georgiana recognized him as a proven asset and they worked well together. She felt lucky to have him as a partner.

When she and Mark listened to the playback, the menacing call sounded like the real deal, and George, as her staff called her, knew instinctively not to let this one pass.

The muffled male voice made it brief, uttering one sentence: “Subway hit today.” The trace was to a public telephone in downtown Manhattan.

“Damn,” she said, under her breath, looking at Mark.

They listened to the recording several times. George knew that the public telephone would offer no useful information, but she had to check it out anyway.

Georgiana was a tall, attractive redhead with green eyes. She was well known for her serious, take no shit attitude. An expert marksman, her Glock never left her hip. Both she and Mark were single, somewhat friendly, but stayed focused on their jobs. She met Mark when he was assigned to be her partner and liked him immediately. In fact, she liked him too much. She kept her feelings buried and maintained a strictly professional attitude toward him.

Georgiana was divorced, no kids, and had leftover scars from her brief marriage. She and Denny had been high school sweethearts and were still going together in college. He was the love of her life, but when George found out he had gone out with another girl, she was crushed and broke up with him. Several years after graduation, they ran into each other and reconnected. She fell for him again. She had never really gotten over him. They soon became engaged, and everything felt so right. He had a business degree, plus an MBA, and was working in marketing for a large corporation. George had a degree in criminal justice and was in training at the FBI when they got married. Everything felt so perfect, and she loved him with all of her heart and soul, but it hadn’t taken long for her to realize he was the same old Denny. She had been in denial at first. He had to travel frequently on company business, and all the signs were there. After an ugly confrontation, he admitted he had been with someone else. His assertion that it meant nothing to him didn’t work for her. The marriage was over. She hoped the right man would come along some day. She put the job first and kept relationships on an impersonal level. Being a “loner” worked best for her, but in her heart, she needed love. For now, work filled the gaps.

Mark was single and didn’t have much free time to date. His career was foremost right now, but he wanted marriage and a family someday. Being an agent was a high-risk profession requiring a lot of overtime hours. It would take the right woman to put up with the demands of his job. He was tall with dark brown hair and a dark shadow of beard. He trained hard to stay in shape, a habit he learned while working on the force.

His sexy appearance had not escaped George’s notice. She sensed that he liked her but had to maintain a barrier. She often wondered how it would feel to have him hold her, but she forced herself “not to go there.” It was at night, though, when she was struggling to fall asleep and feeling alone, that she imagined someone in bed next to her, holding her. In those moments, the only man she ever envisioned next to her was Mark.

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8

M
aggie entered Century Air crew scheduling, said hi to the guys as she signed in for Flight 227, and then went into the adjoining flight attendants’ lounge. The chairs were full with FA’s between flights or waiting out delays. She was an hour ahead of departure and saw the other four flight attendants from 227 had already checked in.

“Hey, Jackie, Mary Ann, how did your weekends go?” Maggie asked of both.

“Very hot but I enjoyed the days off,” said Jackie.

“Me, too,” said Mary Ann.

Maggie waved hello to the other crew members, Justin and Terry, who were also working 227.

After a quick chat, Maggie went into the supervisor’s office to talk with Laura Cameron. She was not just her manager but a friend as well. She and Maggie had known each other for the ten years Maggie had flown for Century. Both had been around long enough to see many flight attendants come and go. Some flew only a few years and then left to get married or got tired of the pace.

The new regulations following 9/11, plus the increasing number of unruly passengers were frustrating, but Maggie was upbeat and found laughter was the best way to deal with the stresses of the job. And she loved flying. She enjoyed the friendships of the other crew members, and the pay and perks were unbeatable.

“Laura, how’s everything is going?” asked Maggie. Laura was leaning down, putting her purse away in a desk drawer.

“Great, Maggie, how about Mike and the boys?” asked Laura, looking up as Maggie walked in.

Laura was around fifty, with blonde shoulder-length hair, worn in a stylish bob. She was strikingly pretty with a great figure. Having been a flight attendant when they were called stewardesses, she knew all facets of the job. She was old school and had the highest standards for all who worked for her and Century Air. She drove a black classic 300 ZX, taught classes to flight attendant trainees every other month, and always stopped to look up when she heard a plane overhead to see if it was a Century airliner. Flying was her life.

“They are fine. Mike and I had fun taking them to the park. We rode our bikes, but we mostly hung out. What did you do over the weekend?”

Laura replied, “I had a date.” She had a pleased smile on her face.

“Oh, are you still seeing Bud?”

“Yes, he is truly amazing. We spent the whole weekend at his crash pad, alone. I’m falling for this guy, and it scares me.” She laughed. Maggie knew Bud Wittwer, a Century Air captain, very good looking and recently divorced.

“He’s a really great guy, Laura. I hope it works out.”

Laura said, “We sure click in the bedroom, and I think he likes me. We can’t keep our hands off each other. He’s all I think about. He calls every day, and we have another date this weekend. I can hardly stand it. Horny doesn’t cover it.” They laughed. “He is my dream lover.”

“Laura, it sounds wonderful. I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Just let things happen, right?” smiled Maggie.

Laura said, “Yes, I’m letting things happen.” She blushed. “I don’t know why I keep buying sexy lingerie. It doesn’t stay on very long.”

Laughing, Maggie said, “I better get to the gate and start setting up. See you later, if you are still here when I get back. Flights are on schedule so far?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, the weather is good with no delays. Have a good one,” said Laura.

“You, too. And let me know how the weekend goes with Bud,” said Maggie.

“Oh, I will,” said Laura, looking happy.

“Ciao!”

Maggie left the lounge, noticing that the other crew members were gone, so she hurried to the gate.

Before boarding, she checked with the gate agent, Steve, asking how many were on the flight.

He said, “So far, one hundred thirty-seven. Not too bad.”

Maggie smiled and said, “Sounds like we’ll be busy,” and headed for the boarding ramp.

Steve couldn’t talk further, as passengers were lining up, checking on their boarding passes. The MD 88 was her favorite equipment, and it was easy to work. With some unfilled seats, she and Terry would have extra time to assist the other crew members with the meal service, if necessary.

Since Maggie was senior, she had the responsibilities of doing all flight reports and assigning duties to the other flight attendants. They had worked this flight as a team for over eight months, so they knew the routine. They switched off when necessary and had formed close friendships, enjoying the pleasant camaraderie.

After stowing her gear in the first class coat closet, Maggie began the safety check of fire extinguishers, safety doors, slides, oxygen tanks, and first aid kit. She counted and signed off on the liquor and meal counts with the food service agent, and greeted the other FAs. The cockpit was empty. The captain and first officer were still doing their standard exterior visual safety check. Terry started the coffee and assisted the other crew members in the rear cabin.

Maggie sliced the lemons and limes for cocktails and made sure the warming ovens were turned on. She noted several extra meals and was glad there would be hot meals for the crew. A champagne brunch would be served to first class on white china with white cloth tray covers and napkins. She loved the elegant service, reminiscent of the earlier days of flying that she had heard about. Century was trying to bring deluxe service back on some of the longer flights. It was good PR, and the deluxe flights were popular and booked well in advance.

The captain and copilot came on board and began their routine preflight checklists. Maggie poured them each a cup of coffee in china mugs, one regular, one with cream.

“Morning, John, Allen.”

“Hey, Maggie, thanks,” said Captain John Wesley, as she handed them their coffee.