"Stop rubbing yourself against me," she counters.
"I had to lean to keep my balance."
"Uh huh."
Finally, my hands stop betraying me and I grasp the earpiece and pull it clear of her shirt. The black lead wire blends in with her hair perfectly.
She takes it from my fingers and presses the small device into her ear. "Thanks." Turning around, she gives me another long look, then she leans in and does something I’m not expecting.
"You missed some," she says as she licks a bit of cream from the corner of my mouth.
Oh, I want to turn my head and kiss her senseless, but I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to do it. No matter how much my mouth and other parts of my body want to. I am not going to do it. No.
While I struggle with my now raging hormones, remembering the taste and feel of that kiss we shared in the closet, she drags her jeans back up her long legs, zipping them and then fastening the button. Her shirt is tucked in next.
I successfully resist the urge to lean into her breasts and whisper "testing, testing." I should get an Emmy for that restraint.
For her part, Harper seems completely unaffected by our game, having recovered from the Twinkie moment with her usual smug grace.
She’s just finishing up the prep on the camera and helping me with my mike when the door opens again. It’s one of the younger guards, much bigger than the last one. Tall and very meaty, he looks like a human wall. My guess is he would be our host’s attempt to intimidate my partner.
"Boss is ready ladies. C’mon."
"After you, Kels. Stick close as we go outside." She adds this last bit for our non-viewing audience.
"Oh, no problem there, Tabloid, trust me." I take a deep breath and adjust the mike one last time, remembering the feeling of her hands raising my shirt to put it in place. God, I’m reduced to this as foreplay. You know, it occurs to me that I used to put my own damn mike on, but I haven’t since we met.
Harper takes a moment to adjust and collect all our gear. She gives me a look that says ‘trust me’ and I know I do, with my heart and soul. She hands me a jacket that looks like hers, but by the smell of the cologne I know it belongs to Jims. Sweet kid, but he needs help with his taste in aftershave. I slip the jacket on, grateful for the extra warmth now that I’ve lost Harper’s. Stop it, Kelsey!
The human wall leads us down the hall and out to the porch. Jesus, there are cops and National Guardsmen everywhere. Even this idiot must realize he isn't going to simply make this go away. Scamp is standing there too, seemingly oblivious to the danger posed. I follow him as he leaves the porch for the front yard. I hear Harper right behind me. I watch as our host takes a deep breath, as he seems to survey everything around him. He’s far too calm.
Harper rigs him up with a mike and presses one of his goons into service, holding the antenna for her so we can broadcast back to the truck. Then Harper lifts the Betacam to her shoulder and winks at me, giving me another smile. Okay, I like that smile … a lot. Even Beth, whom I adore, doesn’t have a smile like that. And, certainly, doesn’t make me feel as safe as Harper does. Less sexually frustrated, yes; safe, no. Sometimes, actually, most of the time, safe is a hell of a lot more important.
"We’re ready. Are you?" I ask, as I take my mark where Harper has pointed to the ground as she begins rolling.
Scamp turns slowly and looks at us. "Are you really ready? Are you prepared to air to the entire nation the death that will most certainly take place here today because people refuse to allow us to live here in peace."
I fight to not roll my eyes, okay, Kels, be a professional. Instead of what I want to say, I say, "There are those who say that you have provoked this antagonism – that you would have been allowed to live here in peace if you had not deliberately encouraged the young men of this community to terrorize the local citizens. If that is true, then it suggests that you deliberately set up your own downfall. Why did you take such an aggressive course of action?"
"It’s important for people to know how corrupt our own government has become."
I hear Harper snort behind me and I can almost hear the Lewinsky joke rolling around in her head. I take another deep breath. "Risking the lives of more than a hundred and forty people being killed is going to prove how corrupt our government is? How so?"
"Men are no longer allowed to live as God intended. Free from the restrictions of a government that now has to control our every movement. From the moment we are born until the second we die, they know what we are doing."
Great, just great, a paranoid maniac with conspiracy delusions, this should be fun.
He continues as he looks at the law enforcement surrounding him. He knows they are closing in. "We are forced to register our children when they are born by getting social security numbers for them. Our young men must register for a draft to fight unjust wars on foreign soil. You have to register to vote. Provide ID to buy guns to protect your family. You work hard and the government takes money from your pocket and food from the mouths of your family to pay for its own decadence."
He takes a long, deep breath then turns to face me, giving me a long stare that starts very hard then softens just a bit. "Miss Stanton, do you believe that there are some things worth dying for?" he asks as he cocks his head at me.
Oh, I really don’t like the sound of that question, and I most definitely don’t like the look in his eyes. "My personal beliefs have nothing to do with this situation – my commitment is to report …"
"Well, perhaps this might help you get in touch with those personal beliefs a bit more." This last comment is delivered as he reaches around to his back and draws a very large hand gun, pointing it directly in my face. "Because your death will save the lives of those hundred and forty people. Too bad your government was willing to let you die."
I have those visions everyone talks about. My life, such as it is, flashes before my eyes. I hear a roar and my world starts spinning. There’s something in my eyes, burning and causing them to tear up, I can’t see. I feel myself stagger as my hands go to my face. Then I feel someone grab me around the waist, pulling me hard to the ground. I can’t breath, I can’t see and I know I need to get away, so I fight. Lashing out, my hands are pinned right away as I feel a body cover mine.
"Stop, Kels! Stop! Just lay still! I have you!"
I realize it’s Harper on top of me, covering my body with hers. I try to hold still as she has commanded, but the burning in my eyes makes me want to fight. I hear distant gunfire, people screaming, metal crashing, vehicles roaring into the compound, sirens, men running and yelling.
"Harper!" I’m shaking my head trying to force my eyes to see, but the burning is so intense. "I can’t see!"
"I know, baby, I know. Hang on. It’ll all be over in a few minutes! Trust me, we’re safe. Lay still. Stop fighting me." She whispers in my ear, "Please stop fighting me."
I try to relax as much as possible but it is so hard. As I do, her body tightens around mine holding me closer and she continues to murmur in my ear. "I have you. I have you."
Then I feel her pulled away from me. I’m left blind and alone, and the panic starts to settle in again. Someone grabs me and rolls me onto my stomach. Oh God! I’m gonna be shot in the head. But instead of a bullet, I feel handcuffs being snapped into place on my wrists pulled behind my back. "Harper!"
"It’s the cops, Kels, the good guys. Don’t fight them. Lay still. They’re doing this for their own safety. They’ll let us go when they get it sorted out. Just relax."
I can hear all kinds of things but none of it makes any sense to me. There is only one thing that does makes sense to me. "Harper, talk to me. Please talk to me."
"It’s okay, Little Roo…"